Edward Lee - Trolley No. 1852

I forced my thoughts to still, and merely watched—

—as the conductor’s waxen face lowered to Miss Aheb’s, and their mouths joined.

Minutes passed; the oral contact roused Miss Aheb noticeably. She stood in a slowly rising craze as the mouth-hole of the conductor’s abhorrent mask ranged from her lips and down the slope of her scum-hued throat, then lower to suck into its lurid parchment aperture each gorged nipple.

“Yes, yes,” panted the raven-haired madam. “Harder… That’s just… so… lovely…”

The conductor continued his ministration until a veritable gloss of excitement effused from Miss Aheb’s vulval groove and shined down the insides of her thighs. Eventually, rapid-breath’d, she pushed her servant’s counterfeit mouth away and ordered, “Get the thogg. I’m ready now…”

There’s that strange word again, I mused. Thogg…

While the conductor parted, Madam Aheb lay back on the high, plush bed and crudely brought her knees to her face, whereupon her mal-coloured hand began to titillate the furred pubis. Again, I was in paresis from the dichotomy of her unflawed curves made monstrous by the mysterious skin disease.

When the conductor returned he brought with him the equally masked motorman…

No words were spoken then as the demented procedure began. My stomach quivered, for when the bulky motorman displayed his hand, I recalled my impressions when I’d glimpsed it getting off the trolley, dismissing a trick of moonlight as the cause for my initial alarm.

I now saw the fact of the matter.

It was no real hand that existed at the end of the motorman’s arm but instead a hideous facsimile: a cluster of elongations of boneless, jointless flesh. Just as harrowing, though, was the hue of the boneless flesh: the same grub-white spotted by pond-scum green.

First, these fingers, if one could call them that, extended, then wriggled; and then they curled inward to form a parody of a fist which then incredibly swelled in size, then shrank, swelled, then shrank, as if throbbing with some unearthly pulse. Miss Aheb seemed delighted by the demonstration, her splayed legs tensing and buttocks writhing at the sight. Next, her fingers parted the shining lips of her vulva within the nest of hair—a lewd invitation.

Without abatement, the motorman contorted the boneless digits forward and inserted his “hand” into the teeming, pink purse of Miss Aheb’s vaginal vault…

In and out, then, the monstrous hand delved, begetting a regular slick, wet sound that reminded me of one trudging through mud, the digits obscenely undulating and obviously heightening the pleasure of his (or I should say its ) mastress. Soon the derrick-like penetrations probed deeper, to the extent that Miss Aheb’s reproductive orifice had swallowed the motorman’s hand nearly to the point of mid-forearm…

“Now,” the abyssally-skinned woman panted. Her pleasures mounted to tighten every muscle and tendon in her body.

It was to the stoic conductor that the order was directed, for first he removed his gloves, then woolen regulation-blue jacket, then the white shirt beneath…

Expression gaping, I now beheld the length of this evil ruse: when the conductor’s clothes were tossed aside, his nudity revealed him to be no “he” at all, but a woman, and one with a physique nearly as comely as Madam Aheb’s.

My shock racked me at my peeper’s post.

But the conductor (or I should say now the conduc tress ) even in her stunning beauty, shared some of the same hideous dichotomy as the madam and this “thogg”: that nauseous sickly white skin-tone blended with the mucous-green splotches.

The carnal aberration I bore witness too now was surely a scene forged in hell…

Butternut hair fell when the regulation cap was undonned, and then the conductress removed the parchment mask…

Simultaneously I felt on the precipice of cardiac failure and a fit of madhouse screaming. How I was able to stave off both, I know not. But this was the coup de grace of all I’d visually attested to thus far: the revelation of the conductress’s face, which I suspect the perseverant reader has already deduced.

It was my sister Selina’s face that had been until now secreted beneath the gruesome mask.

What has that hideous BITCH done to my sister! my thoughts railed. Dangling between Selina’s ample yet similarly discolored breasts was a pendant like that of Miss Aheb; this I could glimpse as my either brainwashed or subjugated sibling turned for a moment, knelt up on the bed, and then lowered her mouth to her superior’s clitoral nub. All the while the motorman’s unearthly hand plungered wickedly in and out…

“Yes, yes,” issued the accented hiss. “Lick it faster, dear, faster.” Dung-brown nipples erected to inflamed teepees as the order was complied with. Meanwhile, as if by psychic cue, the dead-faced motorman finally withdrew the marauding forearm while the madam’s bare foot caressed the thing’s trousered crotch. A lump hardened there and with the attendant stimulation, this less-than-human being lowered said trousers—

I nearly fell into a swoon!

—to reveal genitals as monstrous as its facsimile for a hand.

Indeed, less-than-human was no exaggeration; I could only thank Selina and Erwin’s God that it retained the parchment mask, for by now I could not, would not contemplate what its true face must be.

“What a beautiful cock,” the madam profaned, eyes enkindled by the throbbing sight.

From the wax-white and utterly hairless groinal region, an identically waxen prong of queer white flesh stuck out. I estimated the erect pudenda’s length at roughly eight inches, with perhaps two inches’ girth at the base. It seemed to lack the sheathing skin as one would typically expect, and tapered queerly to a fleshy point rather than sporting an also-expected dome of glans; I could only think absurdly of a paste-white carrot. Blue traceries of veins ghosted beneath its dread whiteness as it throbbed; likewise, it shined as if effusing its own preludial lubrication. The only aspect that made this vision more hideous was the curious absence of scrotum and, hence, testes.

Selina’s next instruction didn’t have to be voiced; she held back her madam’s legs to more effectively part the groove of the shapely buttocks.

“Now, now,” Miss Aheb seethed—

—and it was into her nethermost aperture that the motorman—this thogg —inserted the macabre phallus and began to pelvically thrust; all the while, Selina re-tended her superior’s swollen clitoral metus. The sought-after effect took little time; soon Miss Aheb’s hideously skinned yet voluptuously curved body began to buck madly on the bed as the obvious crisis of her climax was at hand. She shrieked, then whinnied as the spasms of release began to pulse—a sound barely human, while in concurrence the motorman’s frame stiffened, then began to quiver.

“I can feel it!” Miss Aheb lewdly rejoiced. “Pouring into me! Filling me!”

The denouement wound down; then, the motorman withdrew its carrot-like “cock” from the woman’s bowel. My sister turned away, appalled.

“That was lovely, dear,” Miss Aheb commended. She lay slit-eyed and grinning, the quaking orgasms leaving her limp on the plush bed. “But now that I’ve had my moment… You know what to do…”

The thogg stepped away, stuffing his sullied organ back into his trousers; yet my sister, in motions that were clearly gruelling, came round to kneel at the edge of the bed between the madam’s upthrust thighs.

“I just can’t abide the idea of the thogg’s jism being in me for long,” Miss Aheb remarked as Selina pressed her lips to the plumbed sphincter and began to suck.