Tony Burgess - The n-Body Problem

The doctor turns me around. I see her naked thigh through the hole. I feel my anus drop then pull in. She drags the black bag up. Her tits are fat against the glass. She opens the door. Her breasts smell like change room. I look up and she looks down. I am brought out to the bed. She lies me near the bottom then drops her legs on either side of me. I watch as she pushes against her vagina with three fingers. She pumps it then slides her fingers back and forth quickly. With her other hand she tugs her nipple, lifting her large breast then letting it fall. It is a mesmerizing and mechanical sequence of actions. No hurry. I am to watch this. She wanted an audience. She wants me to stare at her pussy. Her heavy tits. She slides a finger in deeply. A clear fluid runs down her wrist. She makes a sound. She draws her knees up slowly and reaches under. Now she has a finger in her asshole and three in her pussy. She works the two holes at different speeds. The vagina is occasionally pulled and the finger in her anus drops out and turns briefly on her sphincter. She looks up from time to time to see if I’m watching. No smile, nothing, just a check. I feel a buzzing near my bottom. Peripheral neuropathy. My anus feels as if hard beads are vibrating in it. She points a wet finger at me and curls it. She wants me there. I rock slowly, moving on my corners.

Her pussy meets my face and I feel her hands on the back of my head. I cannot breathe. She holds my head tight against her. I feel my lung climbing into my throat. My lung is my tongue. I panic and shake my face. Her thighs start to close, then she shoves me back hard. I breathe quickly. I can smell her pussy. Rainwater and salt. Below that, the heavy sugar of her asshole. She pulls me in again. This time I suck. I take her entire vagina into my mouth and suck. I can breathe through one nostril. She pulls me in tighter to seal it. I lose consciousness for a brief second. When I come up, I’m gasping. I hear my buttonhole whistle and she shakes. The doctor reaches down on my body and lifts my back end. She lays me on her belly so my face hangs down over her lips. I flick. The sensation of her tongue on my anus makes me jump. She twirls around slipping the tip in and out. I feel that if this is to proceed much longer I may die. I don’t have the body to withstand this. Maybe that’s what she wants. She wants to kill me with her tongue up my ass. Before I reach whatever it is that could happen, she pushes me down. My tongue stump slips from her pussy to her anus and I try to breath normally as I do to her what she did to me.

There is someone else in the room. I feel the bed dip. I try to raise my head to see but can’t. The bedsprings twang under the weight of three. I feel the doctor’s finger in my ass. Deeper. Bigger. It’s not a finger. Its a cock. Someone is sitting on her face and sliding his cock into my flat, featureless body. I hear her slurping and suck his ass and balls. Her pussy rises under my chin. I am supposed to suck, too. I draw her clit in while she flips fingers inside. The cock is now fully in me and has begun to pump. The tissue in my hole is banging and open. The doctor starts to come first. She clamps my cheeks with her thighs and starts to buck. The cock in me reaches deeper and faster. I feel the fat tip punching through me into the mattress. A series of sensations run up and down my entire body, like hoops across a levitated showgirl. The hoops multiply and crash, meeting in my back then plunging dramatically into my anus. I can’t tell who is moving now. No one maybe. The air is glittery and colour is thick. Her legs fall. The cock dives forward once then slips back and out. I turn my head so my ear shell is on her pudenda. I see a tee shirt on a chair. Brown not orange.

I am back in my box and under my hood. I am faced out to see this evening’s show. The vans are gone. We’re on our own. Dixon will like this. After we finished on the bed no one spoke a word. The doctor said nothing as she dressed. Y shot me a look before he left. A wet filthy grin. He’s a dirty old man now. The doctor placed me here. I see her now below, leading families to spots on the mat. Y is lying in the grass under a tree. Dixon is greeting on the driveway. I remember when we first heard about the dead not dying. We were told they were predators, killers, cannibals. Now we are making the dead. The window is closed and so is my case so I won’t hear what’s being said. I have a great view though. The mat now nearly full. The line of trees back to the road. And beyond that a wide hill specked with cattle.

The mat is lit with no warning. This is the new way. They are not brought to it by an evangelist. There is no ecstatic moment, no praise, no Oracle. The mat contains a powerful jolt. It lights up like an overly full bug zapper. People shake and pop and sizzle. It lasts no more that a minute. In the darkness I see clothes and bodies glowing, then they fade. The scene remains like this for some time. Black fog rising. Silence. Headlights on the road. WasteCorp is leaving. Dixon is a janitor now.

The door opens behind me. I sense two people on either side of me. Doctor and Y. They look out.

“He’s not happy.”

“They told him to go inside. To watch.”

“What do you think he’s going to do? “

They step back from the window. The doctor turns on a night table lamp. She removes her clothes, draping them over a chair. I close my eyes. I’m not ready to do that again. The ceiling light goes out. I open my eyes. The doctor gets into her side of the bed and leans on her elbow. She draws a paper out and starts to read. Y is turned away in the dark. The front door bangs. Dixon. I try to see into the dark yard but he has turned the porch light off. I hear his chainsaw start up. I decide to watch the doctor’s reflection as she reads. Her black hair is bunched up by the pillow and looks bouffant. There is a tail of grey across her shoulder. She turns the page. The chainsaw screams in the oil slicks just beneath her reflection. I lean my head back to rest against the case. I fall asleep.

I am woken by the sound of bed wheezing. They are fucking. I lean up to the eyehole just to confirm then drop back.

I am woken by yelling downstairs. I check the eyehole but they are still in bed. The doctor is reading again. Dixon is breaking the place downstairs and bellowing like a moose. The doctor’s light goes out.

I have been moved while I slept. I am at the top of the stairs looking down. The stairs are worn and shiny. People are in the kitchen but I can’t hear what they say. The voices sound calm. I guess they are getting ready to leave. I wonder about being left behind. There’s a grandfather clock on the wall at the base of the stairs. Stopped at 4:35. I must look a bit like his son. Framed pictures on the walls going down. I can’t see them at this angle. Not hard to guess what they look like. The mom. The kid on a pony. The dog.

The doctor backs in from the kitchen. I strain, listening.

“No. I think this is good news. Give me a second.”

She turns and briskly makes the climb, sidestepping around me.

I want her to be careful coming back. I don’t want her to accidentally knock me down the stairs.

Y swings around the corner, one hand hooks the door frame. He’s up, two steps at a time. I am lifted, quickly, like last luggage in the hall and descend sideways under Y’s arm.

In the kitchen I face the stove. The oven window has been smashed. The range hood is crumpled and pulled down like a prom dress.

“How are we supposed to carry that big mat thing?”

“They left us a trailer. I did it all last night.”