by JL Merrow
Not-Cain gave me a look. “You’re not actually going to murder your mother, are you? Because I really don’t fancy going down as an accessory. And you’re too good-looking to go to jail, although at least you wouldn’t be wearing those jeans.”
“What’s wrong with the jeans?” I asked, hurt. I mean, I’d accepted they didn’t work their usual wonders on him, but did he have to diss them as well?
“Nothing’s wrong with the jeans. That’s the point. Now, do we ring the bell, or have you got a key?”
“We ring the bell,” I said firmly. “I had enough of walking in on my mother in flagrante while I was still living with her.” I rang it, loudly.
Lilith actually looked a bit harried when she opened the door. “Finally! Where on earth have you been all morning?” She stepped back. “Come in, come in. Cain, it’s lovely to meet you. Or would you rather I call you something else?”
“Lilith!” I managed not to stamp my foot like a toddler, but it was a close call. “What the hell did you do?”
She did hurt-face. The one that always makes me feel like the scum of the earth—no, like the dogshit on the heel of the scum of the earth. No, like a microbe feeding on the dogshit on the heel…I wrenched myself back to the here-and-now so I didn’t miss what Lilith was saying. “What I told you, darling. Just a little mother’s magic. And I’m very disappointed you didn’t bring Cain round this morning, like I asked you to.”
“You asked me—What?”
“Don’t frown, Sam, you’ll get wrinkles. Now, why don’t you come in and have some coffee?” She wafted through the hall in front of us in a haze of honey and green apples. She always swears she doesn’t wear perfume. “Ken was just leaving, weren’t you, darling?”
I nodded at my ex, who was slumped over the kitchen counter munching on an apple. He nodded back, and slunk out of the kitchen. Hopefully to put a few more clothes on.
“Sam, would you be so kind?” She waved at the kettle, and I filled it and put it on. I got out a couple of mugs, but I let her make the coffee. She always uses the cheapest instant, but somehow it always tastes really good. I’ve no idea how she does it.
We all perched on stools at the counter to drink it. “Did you make me out of a doll?” not-Cain blurted out. I noticed he didn’t call her on the making-it-black-with-two-sugars-without-asking.
“Don’t be silly, dear. Nobody can make a person just out of plastic. No, it takes dreams, and magic, and the weakening of barriers…”
“Weird shit happening, acid trips, all that crap?” I suggested.
Not-Cain dragged us back to the point before we could get lost in psychedelic imagery. “But basically, I’m a doll?”
“Not anymore.” Lilith’s green eyes were glittering. “You’re as real as Sam, here.”
Something about the way she put that sent an icy chill down my spine. After all, it’d explain a lot…why I’ve never even seen a picture of my dad, for instance, and why I look so much like Lilith. Me being gay—it’d be just like Lilith to want to make sure she’d always be the only woman in my life. Even the way I look so different to how I am inside—Lilith might think she wants a son who’s as confident and free-spirited as she is, but I’ve always thought deep down, she prefers the socially-inept home-lover I really am…
I took another gulp of coffee and made a firm decision not to think about it ever again. Denial: not just a river in Egypt, but a wonderful place to spend the rest of your natural (or not so natural) life.
“So tell me, dears,” she purred, “is everything in working order?”
“Lilith!”
“Well, you must have been doing something all morning. I just assumed you were getting to know each other a bit better.”
“For your information,” not-Cain ground out, his kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed to tiny slits, “we were travelling half-way across the country to find out why the hell was going on!”
“Well, up to Stevenage,” I corrected, feeling I had to be fair. “Just to Cain’s mum’s.”
She gave a tinkling laugh that somehow managed to sound charming and apologetic. “Oh, no! You didn’t! Oh, darlings, I am sorry. I didn’t realize Sam’s subconscious would be so accurate.”
“Wait a minute—you’re saying Sam created me?” Not-Cain stared at me like I’d sprouted an extra head or something. A really frighteningly hideous one.
“No!” I protested, just as Lilith said, “Yes!”
I glared at her. “You know, I really think I would have remembered if I’d performed any acts of spontaneous human creation recently.”
“Honestly, dears,” Lilith said, getting up and padding to the cupboard. “You’re both being rather dense today. Fudge, anyone?” She offered round a plateful of roughly-cut chunks.
“Has this got cannabis in?” I asked suspiciously, taking a piece.
“Would I?” she asked innocently.
“Yes,” I said firmly, but popped it in my mouth anyway. I noticed not-Cain—and this was getting tiring; we were really going to have to come up with another name—doing the same.
“Well, if you ask me, you could both do with mellowing out a little. Now, of course Sam didn’t do the actual magic—but it was his dreams that shaped you, dear. You’re Cain Shepney—but the idealized version, the one that Sam dreams of.”
Well, that explained some things, at least. I glanced involuntarily at not-Cain’s crotch, and my eyes met his on the way up. I blushed. So did he. Then we giggled.
“Have some more fudge,” Lilith said with a smile, taking some herself.
* * * *
Things got a lot more relaxed after that, and we ended up staying for lunch, which was good if you like mushrooms. For some reason the meal’s a bit fuzzy in my mind, but I know we had a big discussion about what not-Cain should be called. He kept saying he’d always fancied the name Adam, but Lilith threatened to turn him back into a doll if he chose that one and he eventually went with Shane.
“This is a lovely house,” Shane said, smiling at Lilith in a way that was sadly all too familiar to me. For a moment I almost felt sorry for the absent Ken. Still, maybe they could have a threesome. “Nice area, too. What do you do for a living?” he asked.
“I’m a herpetologist,” Lilith said. “More fudge?”
“Oh,” Shane said, taking some. “Isn’t that, well, a bit gross? I mean, looking at diseased pr—”
“She works with snakes,” I interrupted. “Real ones, not euphemistic one-eyed trouser ones.”
“Oh. Oops!” He giggled. It was kind of infectious.
“It’s nice to see Sam’s found someone with a sense of humour,” Lilith said winningly, dividing the last of the wine between our glasses.
“Yeah, well, I reckon I’ve needed one today.” Shane drained his glass. “I nearly hit the bloody ceiling when I woke up this morning, naked in Sam’s bed!”
“You were naked?” Lilith’s eyes lit up like searchlights, the sort that are usually accompanied by rapid machine-gun fire, and they were trained right on me. “Little Cain wasn’t naked when I gave him to you, darling!”
“Well,” I protested, feeling my face get hot. “You said I was supposed to be having wicked dreams about him.”
“You saddo.” Shane smirked. “Perving on a plastic doll. I bet you’ve got a lifetime ban from all the local toyshops.” He turned to Lilith. “And what is this weird teddy-bear fetish he’s got?”
“Honestly? I try not to think about all that, I really do. You won’t believe this, but one time I walked in on him…” I tuned out the rest, trying to prevent my already battered ego from totally disintegrating. They had their heads together like they were best mates already, and I was starting to feel distinctly green and hairy. I got up and started to make, a bit unsteadily, for the door.
“Darling, where are you going?” Lilith asked.
“I’ll just leave you two alone, okay?” I said, with what felt like a reasonable approximation of a smile.
“You what?” Shane w
as doing his puppy-kicked-in-the-bollocks face again. “I thought we, well…” he trailed off.
I stared, my stomach doing weird flip-flops. Bloody mushrooms. “You did? I mean, you’ve met Lilith and you still want to come home with me?”
“Er, yeah? I mean, she’s a laugh and all, but no offence, Lilith,” he turned to her, “you’re not really my type. Bit too female, for a start.”
“You’d be amazed how little difference that’s made in the past,” I muttered darkly. “Anyway, you said I wasn’t your type, either.”
“Yeah, well, that was before I got to know you, wasn’t it? I thought you said you were used to giving people the wrong impression?”
I swallowed. “Yes, but it’s never actually been in a good way before.”
Lilith got up, graceful as ever. “That, darling, is because you’ve been hanging around with entirely the wrong sort of men. Now, I’m calling you a taxi. I really don’t think you should be driving any more today.”
“Shame,” Shane said, standing up and knocking over his stool, nicely distracting everyone from the way I was standing there sputtering at Lilith, completely speechless—after all the bloody times she’d messed with my love life…. “Oops. I was getting to like that van. Had my first proper shag in a Ford Transit…” he trailed off, frowning. “Except I didn’t, really, did I?” He grinned up at me. “Bugger me, I’m a virgin!”
Those jeans of mine were rapidly getting way too tight at the thought of taking him literally. I took a deep breath, my heart racing. “Lilith?” I called out shakily. “Tell that taxi driver to hurry up, will you?”
She padded back into the room looking like the cat who’d got the cream, and we’re not talking dairy products. Which is not a thought that anyone should have to have about their mother. “You should have more faith in me, darling. Your taxi’s here already. Now, go and be naughty!”
* * * *
The taxi ride was torture. But, you know, the good kind. Shane’s hand kept creeping up my thigh towards my crotch, making it really hard to concentrate on the driver’s rant about declining moral standards. I think he was only talking generally, but I wasn’t keen on giving him any specific examples to get irate about. I may have whimpered a bit when I realized he was going via St Peter’s Street, but either fate was smiling on us or Lilith had worked a little mother’s magic on the traffic, as we made it back in under twenty minutes.
I shoved a handful of notes at the driver, wished him a Merry Christmas, and let Shane drag me up the garden path. My fingers fumbled as I unlocked the door. So did Shane’s, but not on the key. “Bloody hell, I can’t wait to get these jeans off you,” he breathed into my ear.
We almost fell in the front door when I finally got it open. “What is it with you and these jeans? These are my best jeans. My pulling jeans.”
“Yeah, and you’ve pulled, so right now they’re surplus to requirements.” Shane slammed the door shut behind us, and then slammed me up against it. His hands shot up my shirt and homed in on my nipples, and suddenly I was in total agreement about the jeans. I somehow managed to get them undone and shoved them to my knees, while my cock breathed a metaphorical sigh of relief on gaining its freedom. I was about to grab Shane by the ears and kiss him to within an inch of his life, but he’d disappeared.
Panicking briefly, I looked down. He was there on the doormat, thankfully still life-sized, on his knees and staring at my cock like it was the best Christmas present he’d ever had. Obviously appreciating the attention, it gave him a little wave.
I gasped as Shane grabbed hold of my erection—and let out a strangled cry as he plunged his mouth down over it. “God…”
He looked up at me, eyes twinkling as his lips moved up and down my shaft. Then he pulled off with a pop and started running his tongue up the shaft, right from the base to that little spot just under the head that feels like it’s hotwired to heaven. “Stop…” I moaned. “Too good…” I grabbed him under the arms and pulled him up for that kiss. He tasted of salt and musk, with undertones of Lilith’s home-made fudge. Luckily the jeans he’d borrowed were loose enough on him that I could get both hands inside to knead at his arse. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I breathed.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
I laughed. “For a little bloke, you’re a bit pushy, aren’t you?”
Shane grinned. “Not that little, am I?” He ground his denim-covered crotch against my hip to demonstrate his point. “Not where it counts.”
God, yes. He’d been impressive enough when he was soft—my mouth watered at the thought of that massive cock fully erect. Suddenly the only thing that was important was getting those jeans off him. I practically ripped them off in my hurry, only just retaining enough presence of mind to avoid doing him an injury when I opened the zip, remembering he’d gone commando. His cock sprang out like a Howitzer ready to lay waste to the opposing troops. As one of the opposing troops, I was all for that idea. “You top?” I asked hoarsely.
“Top, bottom, sideways…they’re all good, far as I’m concerned,” Shane said. He frowned. “That is, assuming your imagination didn’t misfire, and this thing works how my fake memories tell me it ought to.” He rubbed his massive erection against mine, which was way too busy enjoying the friction to get intimidated by the size difference. Not that I’m small, or anything, mind. But he was huge.
“There’s nothing wrong with my imagination,” I said. The thought of getting that monster inside me was making my knees weak. “Bedroom,” I said. “While I can still get up the stairs.”
“What’s wrong with down here?” Shane asked cheekily, stripping off his t-shirt and distracting me with his nipple ring.
But not that much. “You think I’m letting that thing anywhere near my arse without lube?”
“Well, maybe not the first time. Come on, then.” Letting the jeans fall to the floor, Shane kicked them off and ran starkers up the stairs. I spent a frustrating few minutes struggling with my jeans, which were a fair bit tighter, then I pulled off my boxers and t-shirt and followed him.
There’s only three doors at the top of my stairs, so I didn’t reckon he’d have got lost. One leads to the bathroom; one to a small cupboard only an estate agent would even think of calling a bedroom, and one leads to my room. Which was where I found Shane, lying on my bed and gently stroking his cock, like it was a wild animal that needed calming.
Desperate as I was to get it in my arse, I couldn’t pass up the chance of a taste first. I dropped down on the bed and looked it in the eye. God, it was even bigger close up, the head flushed a rich purple. I gave it a cautious lick, and it twitched in approval. “Hey, careful!” I complained. “You could take my eye out with that thing!”
Shane leered suggestively. “You’d better find somewhere safe to put it, then. Keep it under control.”
Opening my mouth as wide as I could, wondering how I’d ever explain it at the hospital if I ended up dislocating my jaw, I wrapped my lips around it. The heat of it was intense, the skin a velvety-smooth covering over an iron bar. It tasted earthy and strong, with a salty tang at the tip that took my breath away.
“Fuck, yeah…” Shane moaned. “You’d better get yourself lubed up and ready, or it’ll be too late to bother.”
I pulled off long enough to reach into the bedside drawer and grab the lube. Kneeling astride Shane’s body, I was about to start stretching myself when he spoke. “Hang on a bit. Turn round, and put your arse in my face.”
I felt a warm tingle in my belly when I realized what he had in mind. Scrambling over him, I positioned myself like he’d said. From here, I could get my lips round his cock again while he…God, yes…
Shane’s tongue slithered down my crack, coming to rest at my hole. His hands were pulling my arse cheeks apart, and I reckoned I’d have finger-shaped bruises in the morning. I shivered as I felt that wet muscle working its way round my pucker—and when he plunged his tongue into my hole I almost bit his prick off, only just managing to control m
yself in time. I pulled off him shakily, but he carried on rimming me, working his tongue in further and further. I was starting to wonder if it was possible to come just from this, when he pulled back.
“What’d you stop for?” I moaned.
“Lube. Gimme.” The tongue was replaced by slicked-up fingers that seemed to know just the right angle to hit. I rutted against them, desperate for more. It seemed like an age before he finally pulled out and gave my arse a slap. “Think you’re as ready as you’re going to be.”
“How do you want me?”
“On your back.”
I grabbed a pillow so I could shove it under my arse, and got into position, hands clenched under my knees. Shane moved round me and slicked himself up, using plenty of lube. It was just as well. There was a pleasant fluttering of nerves in my belly at the thought of taking his cannon-sized cock.
“Okay?” He pushed in slowly, getting access more easily than I’d have thought possible. He’d done his job well. For a few minutes my whole world was concentrated in my ring, as it stretched to accommodate the Cyclops. It was almost too much—then, suddenly, the burn eased, leaving only a desperate need.
“More,” I gasped, and he obliged, pressing forward until the whole of him was sheathed in my arse. A drop of sweat fell from Shane’s forehead onto my lips, and I licked it away greedily, the saltiness seeming to spread fire through my body. “Move, you bastard!”
He moved. I could hear the slap of his balls against my arse as he slammed in and out, but it was like it was coming from another world. All I could think of was the incredible sensation of that monster cock pounding my prostate. I was flying, floating in air, desperate for release but at the same time never wanting it to end. I knew I’d be finished the minute anything touched my cock, so I wound my hands in the sheets to stop them doing anything stupid.
And then, as Shane straightened up to pound me even harder, another drop of sweat fell from his forehead right onto the tip of my cock, and that was all it took. I think I screamed as I came, spurting harder than I’d ever done in my life, utterly helpless in the sea of sensation. I heard a shout, almost drowned out by the rushing in my ears, and was dimly aware that Shane was coming, too. We both seemed to go on forever, but in the end he collapsed down on me, our bodies slick with sweat like we’d just run a marathon.
