Transformations: Tingles – The Hazards of Saving the Earth
The world of Transformations is one very much like our own, but in this reality, the Church of Morpheus, a shadowy, perverse organization has taken power in Cuba. Now, they are extending their tentacles of depravity into the rest of the world.
Their aim is simple: to control the world by driving humanity into specific roles, with a class of brainwashed whores to keep the masses entertained.
The church is devious, and it will stop at nothing to draw its victims into a world of mind-controlled lust and perversion.
Tingles are short vignettes telling different stories in the world of Transformations.
–***–
Rita Gaia Blotchley bit her lip and hoped for the tenth time in an hour he would just get on with it. Kyle was a sweet, sensitive Sociology undergrad with a man-bun and kind eyes. He had over this past hour brought her within a hair's breadth of orgasm four times on her dorm room bed.
It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and they had spent the morning with the other students in Advanced Women's Studies discussing the Patriarchy and the evils of a Cisgender, misogynistic society based on penetration and subjugation of the feminine.
She had been immediately attracted to Kyle with his kind eyes and soft spoken manner. No alpha male dominance coming from him, no descent into man-splaining. And, his views were one hundred percent in sync with her own.
Rita had invited him back to her dorm room, and she had made it clear she wanted to have sex with him. Frankly, she had been impressed by her own forcefulness.
His submission made her feel powerful.
Unfortunately, there was precious little way for a woman to force a man to penetrate her, and, for over an hour, Kyle had kissed his way down her body from her lips (no tongue), to her nipples (gentle sucking, no biting), and finally to her pussy (licking only).
She had managed to coax him into actually licking her clitoris (he seemed unfamiliar with the territory), but he refused to use his fingers at all, and no amount of wiggling or verbal feedback (moaning and sighing) could guide him to at least lick inside her vagina.
It was like fucking a house cat.
"Kyle," she whispered.
"Mmph?" he mumbled from her muff.
"Could you use your fingers?" She whispered. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes preparing for that slow delicious penetration... that never came. Instead, she felt his mouth move away from her crotch.
She opened her eyes.
He was looking at her with those soulful eyes. "I mean, no. I really feel strongly about the evils of the male dominated society we're living in with it's culture of rape. I would like us to have a relationship based on non-penetration."
Rita nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, that is so evolved, really. But, umm, I mean... you're going to want to... I mean, your penis? You're going to want to... put it in me at some point?"
Kyle looked terrified. "No. No, I gave up on penetration before college. I truly believe in destroying the patriarchy, so my doctor prescribed a medication that makes me stay soft - no erection, no penetration."
She shut the door behind him as he left, thanking him for the half dozen almost orgasms he gave her and suggesting next time she should touch him as well.
When the door was safely shut, she slid down the doorframe and sat on the floor.
"Fuck," she whispered.
Ten seconds later she was on her back on the bed, legs flung wide, and bending her torso to dig in the nightstand drawer. She grabbed the lube and squirted a dollop onto her hand. She knew she should hold it in her hand for a few seconds to warm it, but then she figured: to hell with waiting.
She slathered the cold lube on her pussy lips and drew in a short breath.
Fuck! This shit is made of ice!
She thought.
Rita fidgeted for a moment, and then it began to warm up.
"Mmm, yeah." She slid the middle finger of her right hand gently over her clit and then penetrated herself. It didn't feel like she was embracing the Patriarchy as she slowly plunged her finger in and out, transferring the lube inside her pussy.
It felt like she was finally getting fucked.
With her free hand, she dug in the nightstand until she found the barrel of her trusty eight inch symbol of the penetration culture: her plastic vibrator.
She twisted the base and Bruce buzzed to life.
Bruce the vibrator had been with her a long time, which is why she had given him a name.
Bruce had no concerns about rape culture or feminism.
Bruce liked to fuck, which is why he was Rita's longest lived romantic attachment.
He liked her pussy. Truth be told, he had even been known to slip into her butt (with a condom, naturally) when she was feeling especially adventurous.
She held him up and smiled at his trembling magnificence.
And, then he stopped trembling. His teeth rattling buzz stopped.
Batteries? She had just put in fresh batteries the night before.
Frantically, she worked the cap to turn it off and back on.
She almost cried.
Bruce was dead.
Ithaca, NY, home of Ithaca University, had a lot of things to offer the student body: pizza, movies, Chinese take-out. Downtown, they even had establishments where you could buy Bruces.
And, there was no way Rita could show her face in one.
What if someone saw her walking into one of the sex stores? Here she was, majoring in Women's Studies and walking into a den of male dominance to buy a phallus.
So, instead, she drove her electric car ten miles outside town into the wasteland of Interstate truck stops where no one would know her. She parked in the lot of Stallion's Adult Novelties and Videos. A neon sign announced XXX Video Booths.
A handful of cars were parked in front of the cinder block structure.
She steeled her nerves and got out of the car. Her sneakers crunched through the white gravel.
She had tried to dress as unsexy as possible: baggy jeans, hemp sandals, and her Mecha-Girl Miyaki t-shirt. The anime character swung a lightning sword over her robot head, igniting a fireworks display of rainbows.
She hoped the bright colors would distract any of the perverts in the store from ogling her breasts.
The outside door opened into a foyer with a locked door and a sign that read: No Minors! No One Under 18 Admitted! Show ID in window to enter.
She pulled her driver's license out of her purse and held it up to the window.
A deep bass Bronx accent rumbled on the other side of the window. "Twenty? Like fuck you're twenty, beat it."
"No, no I really am twenty." She dug in her purse and pulled out her student ID. "See?"
He growled on the other side of the glass.
The door buzzed.
Rita opened it and stepped inside the bright interior.
Bruces. Bruces everywhere.
She was overwhelmed. There were long Bruces, short Bruces, thick Bruces, rubber Bruces, glass Bruces. It was a fucking Bruce convention.
"Video booths cost a dollar for five minutes. Machines take cash only, ones and fives. Lesbian porn starts on channel twenty-four. I'm obligated by law to tell youse there is no prostitution allowed in the video arcade. That said, you sell that ass in there, you owe us a cut, capiche?"
She turned and looked up into the chiseled face of the man who had challenged her at the window.
He wasn't a man so much as a mountain of flesh colored rubble. Muscles bulged in his chest and arms and his hands looked like they were carved from cured hams.
He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt.
A wife beater
, Rita thought. He looked like the kind of man who didn't discuss feminism on Saturday mornings.
