Chapter 12

"You thought we...I...I wanted to fuck you?" Jeffy asks, one voice atop another, two separate pitches, one a ball--the other a strike.
"Yeah," you say, "that is until the raccoons turned your face into pizza cheese with the sauce bleeding through. But I think I can still have my way with you, if we stay in the dark."
"I'm not really interested," says the alto.
"I'd fuck you right here, dead raccoons and all."
Jeffy's male sexual half walks out of the shadows and into the moonlight, dick in hand and blood in mouth.
The other half, now clothed doubly in what Jeffy had just been wearing and what Jeffy hadn't been wearing, stays in the shadows. You take a step back, half aroused sexually and half homicidal; you don't know which half to fuck and which half to kill, even though the decision seems to have already been made for you.
"I'm not really ready for this, Jeffy--what about Doc?"
"Doc has a sexual disregard mode that stops him from imagining that the act of two violently thrusting bodies on top of one is actually Life Threatening©, which has been copyrighted by UPMC to separate sex from real violence."
"What about sex with a corpse?"
"A cut in state funding prevented those tests from being conducted; I think the money went to our Library instead," he said, looking off toward the glowing hospital on Penn Avenue whose arrival preceded this madness, slipps, pols and all. Doc sits down, heads on paws and other heads on furry remnants.
You mount a distracted Jeffy, who quickly refocuses his energy toward your advance. His penis is thick but sterile--a stainless steel dildo with human flesh; gives new meaning, or at least childish explanation, to the phrases 'Rod of Steel,' 'Metal Boner,' and "Thrusting, mechanized dick," all of which plagued your early erotic fiction like convenient slipps in an unfocused, round robin cyberpunk story.
You measure Jeffy's stalk with your digital measuring device, $98,001 installed at UPMC.
Four and a half inches in diameter, sixt--stop, length is irrelevant. Your urethra spreads and your lips gush, your penis end swallowing his prosthetic in an attempt to rid the world of robot pols with divided sexual urges in snake jaw-widening fashion. But why stop there?
"Stop! What are you doing to me?"
You say nothing, sliding your hand down your own shaft to the switch on your vaccum cock: Suck.
Jeffys hairline whips back, taking his scalp with it--the epidermis splits horizontally, mimicking what the world must see when a forest of perennials is lopped off and leveled, but with added removal of flora, fauna and topsoil. Advanced hairloss, follicles stamped out at the root.
Blink and you missed it. Of course you blinked. Jeffy's now skinfree on the floor having rabid fits, the second noticable problem (after oxygen became privatized and fortified with rabies and aids) of losing your Skin 2.0®, the first being that you're a fucking bloody mess all over the goddamn floor, ya fucking fuck.
"Uncle Frank!" is the only thing you can think to say, as you remove the penis vaccum, now filled to capacity and too heavy to wear any longer. You reach for the TV and a VHS tape.
"What, what the fuck are you talking about? Who the fuck is Uncle Frank?"
"Jeffy, have you seen Clive Barker's Hellraiser?"
"No! I don't get your fucking references? I never have!"
You reach down and grab Jeffy's stainless steel dick, now slick with his own bloodcells and lifefluid. You turn it left and pull it out, revealing a three pronged electrical outlet.
"Plug it in," requests Jeffy's other, less testoneronically driven half.
Now, with the TV playing Hellraiser from Jeffy's dick outlet (or is it an inlet?) you and Jeffy (the other one, the one with skin and outward, fairly traditional female characteristics and real sexual organs not made of steel or subject to a man's sexual blindspot) sit and masturbate until boredom sets in.
"Did I ever tell you about that one time I saw Green Day open up for the Scissor Sisters?" Jeffy asks, spreading his legs until her intentions were obvious enough that even Doc, a sexual conservative and a densely configured cyborg dog with an uninstalled sexual disc drive, takes notice.
"No, but you're going home after the opener."