Pills-in-a-Little-Cup

by Rage, Reverend

  The pressure The Good Doctor felt was intense. A catheter placed to evacuate the bladder is uncomfortable enough when flaccid. One inserted while erect made tears fall free from the eyes of The Good Doctor. The Halfling filled the cuff with fluid. She grabbed a firm hold on the base of his shaft. Then she commenced tugging it up and down, bringing the inflated cuff toward the tip of his winky-dink and forcing it back into its base. She kissed him while she did this and whispered words of love and admiration. And when he was ready to blow, right there at the very edge of his ejaculate, the Halfling pulled on the tube and it came all the way out with a pop. The Good Doctor came so hard he went down for the count. Seeing her smiling and holding the balloon-inflated, blood and semen-tinged catheter was the last image he held.

  * * * *

  Uncle Tug was agitated. He didn’t want to disturb The Good Doctor, but he did not want him to die either. Confused, Tug reverted back to his countless millennia of imbedded genetic memory and trashed the lab. He found himself in the midst of a paper and cotton ball confetti storm when he heard the old man stirring. Tug knuckled over to him, real quick like.

  “Dr. Sir, are you okay?”

  The Good Doctor groaned. He came to, sitting up slowly and carefully. He glanced down embarrassed at his crotch. His impressive geriatric wood was crumbling. He was surprised to see his tailored trousers were wholly free of his expulsion. He looked to Tug with obvious surprise.

  “That is the strangest part, Dr. Sir,” Tug told him, “there is no ejaculate. That’s why I had to feed the twins with Billy.”

  “Clearly this is a traveling potion the twins have concocted,” he replied, sitting forward, “but I do not know how it works.”

  “Can you use it?”

  “Oh, most certainly, Tug,” The Good Doctor replied. “This will sell very well.”

  “Yes, Dr. Sir,” Tug told him, pleased. He knew as his master smiled and winked at him he had done well.

  The Good Doctor rose gingerly to his feet – a slight wince to the rise – with Tug’s help. He walked over to the twins and scratched them behind the ears. They giggled with glee. He tapped his ear and waited for her to answer. Another ball was being tossed in the air for The Good Doctor to juggle. He had no time for this additional venture, but this opportunity to do some more of the Devil’s handiwork cannot be left undone. He paced and waited for her to answer the phone. Finally, she did and without foreword said, “3D? You must come to the farm, post haste.”

  “Important?” she asked.

  The Good Doctor smiled, evoking the charming Halfling and their encounter together. He tickled the twins chin. “Oh, yes,” he affirmed, “of the utmost.”

  * * * *

  There is more than one of Us now. I can sense it. It is vague, but present. Now there is an Us. The other is not with Me in this shell, but We feel the Us out there. Somewhere. We shall strive to merge. We will be patient. There is no rush, just the intense desire to unite. The need to become is almost crushing in its want. It’s nice here, though. Warm and nutritious, the liquids and spongy tissues are enabling Us to grow and mature. Yes.

  QUATTUOR

  3D DISCONNECTED AND STARTED GETTING DRESSED. Drug Dealing Donna did another tiny quick bump of Uptown Girl she got from her uncle. The drugs she got from The Good Doctor were always top-drawer, and this batch was the best yet. She pinched her nose to keep from sneezing out her Lover Man. She adored cocaine and was faithful. She had to be. It was the only thing that didn’t leave her. It had cost her nearly everything else. Relationships, career and her dignity slid all away. Not so said cola.

  3D used to be a Pharmaceutical Representative back east in one of the huge conglomerates that survived the Events. She would go to hospitals and doctors’ offices to peddle her wares. She made a good income at it, living on a small scratch of above ground, GRID protected Nuevo Ciudid skyline. Then the cocaine grabbed her by the pumpkin patch and would not let go until she found herself performing ugly favors for ugly people for weak grams of blow. When she lost her gig, she was almost surprised it took them so long to do it. The last straw was straddling a dog on-line, her nose streaming blood and snot, crying with her shame and only thinking of the eight-ball she would receive as payment. After, she sucked on the bag. She did not waste any time wiping Rin-Tin-Tin off her. The coke didn’t even get her high.

  Out of desperation, she called her uncle. Donna had heard the rumors and had dutifully listened to the heap of family legends about him. More than a few have postulated that The Good Doctor was not only an Antichrist but that he might actually be the Antichrist. She’d seen, herself, the second thumb on his Devil’s hand, and she’d heard from those that had sexually serviced The Good Doctor that he also had six toes on each foot. The coveted 666 of these extra fully-functional digits lent credence to the claim of many that Donna’s uncle was chosen by the Dark One Himself. Donna felt that he alone would know how to help her. She called him and she turned out to be right. He saved her from that life. When she came to The Harbor, teleported by The Good Doctor himself, he took her in and introduced her to Uptown Girl. She was head over heels for it. It blasted like uncut cola, but lasted for horas and horas like pharmaceutical grade methamphetamine. No longer did she have to chase the high every twenty minutes, always on the verge of panic, unable to think of anything else. This saved her life and her sanity. She could finally come up for air. Then she had to get back to work, this time dealing the wares of the twins.

  Donna culled her personal Uptown Girl from the stash The Good Doctor gave her to sell. She cut it down quite a bit before peddling the softened stuff to the strippers at the clubs that flourished in the dark, dank Underground.

  3D was a Pharm. Rep. again, sort of. Heck, the dancers liked her product. As weak as the cut up version was by the time it went up their pretty, whorish noses, Donna’s Uptown was still the best coke they ever had. She was making big bank and her uncle was satisfied with her contribution to his wealth. And now she’d been summoned by the great man.

  Drug Dealing Donna hurried.

  * * * *

  3D’s narrow garage door slid open. Her re-conditioned Smart-Car idled at the edge of her garage, just waiting for a hole in the thick moving phalanx of inhabitants so she can enter the Underground.

  The Underground extended the width and breadth of The Harbor. Used as a main thoroughfare, it was the way to travel if you weren’t connected, or rich enough to teleport from one point to another.

  Donna had to wait at the edge for some scraggly-looking pedestrians to get out of her way before she was allowed to merge with the rest of the reclaimed Smart-Cars, scooters and motorized bicycles. The Harbor was fairly average in size as far as cities above the ice-line went, but the Underground still took forever to get anywhere. It was always over-crowded. The average speed was only ten to fifteen miles per hour.

  People lived in all the pockets and alcoves. All those living off the GRID and below the radar sheltered themselves there. Everyone lacking the mandatory chip on the underside of their left wrist tried to sequester themselves wherever they could manage to find a nook or cranny to curl up in.

  The Occupying Indian Army had their police force stationed all along the main Underground routes. 3D had to maneuver through all this, just to get to the below-ground level entrance to her uncle’s farm. He could’ve had her teleported but, after he brought her to The Harbor the first time that way, he never once offered to again and she never asked. He had already helped her too much and she knew her place in his grand scheme of things. She drove.

  The Good Doctor’s scanning eye-dent caught 3D as her transport approached. The scanner made sure she was alone, no one hiding behind or in her low-humming Smart-Car. His garage, mucho grande in comparison to hers, slid up and open. She drove inside, the door closing down and auto-locking. Uncle Tug was waiting for her as she stepped out.

  “Donna,” he greeted her as she approached the door in, “The Dr. Sir will see you now.”

  “T
hank you, Tug,” she said and followed him inside the main building of The Good Doctor’s urban micro farm.

  3D followed Tug up the short stairs to the main living room. Her uncle was waiting for her there. He rose as she came forth.

  “Donna, my dear,” The Good Doctor said as they embraced.

  “Uncle,” 3D replied. They sat. Tug left to get some tea and cordials. “You have something for me?”

  “Yes,” he told her, “something entirely new.”

  “I see,” she replied, noting the tray, tiny lined fine granules and pipette. She leaned forward, anxious to get down.

  “Careful there, Donna. It is unlike anything you have experienced before.”

  “What is it, Uncle?” she asked. “Is it an Up? A Down?”

  “As I say,” The Good Doctor replied, “this is fully new.”

  3D eyed him closely and noted the look on his face. He was serious.

  “Is it harvested from the twins?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “It’s the salt from their tears.”

  “What does it do?” she asked him.

  “It takes you,” he told her, “far and away.”

  “What’s the catalyst?”

  “Sex,” he told her.

  “So, is it a visual hallucinogenic?”

  “This potion is much more so than just cerebral images, Donna. It is a literal traveling potion.”

  “That is interesting,” she replied, interested. “What are we calling it?”

  “You tell me,” he said and gestured toward the salt. “Try it for yourself. See what comes to mind, my dear.”

  3D’s uncle was quite grave, as she could see. She had to believe him. No one she has ever met knew dope, legal or otherwise, even moderately like The Good Doctor. If he said the twins’ tears whisked you someplace else, then you’d better ask what to wear.

  With a mere moment that might to an outsider appear as hesitance, 3D waited. She looked to her uncle and The Good Doctor nodded his approval. 3D bent forward and she dove right in…

  * * * *

  The bed was huge. It was situated upon a stepped pulpit and was encircled by thickly lit candles. The music playing somewhere beyond her view was soft and sweet, swelling Bolero-esque as her partners increased their rigors. They were shadow men; faceless, really. The two were muscular and hairless as far as Donna could ascertain. The both of them kissed and petted and probed her. Their four hands became eight, became sixteen, becoming thirty-two. They flew over Donna’s body expertly and efficiently. All of her orifices were gently but thoroughly surveyed by the faceless men.

  They rolled Donna over, hands flying everywhere, and propped her buttocks skyward. One of the two slipped beneath her and slid down where he could give her more proper attention. Donna took a quick look over her shoulder at the perfect lithe and lean shadow man. He showed her a glass straw. She had heard of this particular enchantment, but had never tried it out herself. It was something she had frequently wanted to try, had often and secretly fantasized about it. 3D could feel her sloppy dew pulsing between her legs. The shadow man responded by inserting four fingers instead of only two, curling his index and middle fingers in a come here, my dear…

  “Put it in me,” she entreated her lover, “blow it in and light me up.”

  The shadow man smiled, at least Donna sensed that he did, in that knowing, smirking way expert devotees have right before they send you over the edge. He did cock his head – that, she could see – to gaze at her curiously. The grin she knew was there, bent, unseen in the features of a face that was never there in the first place. He nodded and brought from behind his back an old-fashioned cellophane bag. It was filled to overflowing with blow.

  “Goodness me,” she murmured, “some notion, this.”

  The shadow man below her licked and lapped at her. He kneaded with his multiple fingers her buried singular push pin, bringing 3D ever so close to fulfillment. The man behind her dipped the straw into the bag and sucked up almost a gram. He placed it into her eagerly dilated rectum and blew the blow deep inside her. The capillaries absorbed and osmosed the cocaine and sent it down the line. When it dumped into her bass thudding heart it hit her all at once. Donna came so hard she collapsed unconscious.

  The smile on her face lingered there, long after her knowledge of it did.

  * * * *

  3D came to, right in the same exact chair she had traveled in. Like the others, she glanced embarrassed at the sex, only to see it clean and dry. The Good Doctor was staring at her, interested.

  “Well, my dear,” he said, “what are your impressions?”

  “It was a trip,” 3D replied, “Literally and figuratively, it was the most intense experience of my life, Uncle. I am rendered nearly speechless”

  Tug returned, then, bearing a full tray of refreshments. The chimp turned to leave, but The Good Doctor bid him to stay.

  “I have questions for you both,” he stated, “First though, the name. Donna, what shall we call it?”

  “It was something else. I really was gone from here. It was a true trip, as I’ve said.”

  “Well then,” The Good Doctor started, “in keeping with the theme of the twins’ produce we should obviously hail it as Crosstown Traffic. Agreed?” 3D and Tug both nodded their mutual agreement. “And the sex trips itself?” They both looked down, red-faced. Neither one wanted The Good Doctor to think less of them. He noticed this and placed a comforting hand on them both. “You needn’t divulge any of the gory details,” he assured them, “I simply wish to know if there was anything significant. Tug? You go first.”

  “Dr. Sir,” Tug began, “it was from a favorite dream of mine.”

  Donna agreed, “Mine was based on an urban legend I’d heard years ago. It became a secret fantasy of mine.”

  “I see,” replied The Good Doctor. “I, myself, experienced an embrace that I harbored secretly, even to myself.” He paused, waiting for Tug to pour the tea. He took a bite of the sweets then continued, “Now for the elapsed time. Donna, how long did your experience feel to you?”

  3D thought a moment. “It lasted, maybe ten to twelve minutes. Fifteen minutes at the outside.”

  “Interesting,” The Good Doctor replied. “The actual time elapsed was closer to two or three minutes.”

  “A compressed time signature,” offered Donna.

  “Indeed. How did you feel after the experience, Tug?”

  Tug searched his chimp brain for the proper description. “Marvelous,” was what he conjured.

  “Donna?”

  “I would have to agree wholeheartedly with Tug. Once I got over the confusion and embarrassment, I felt good. Once I came down, I had a great sense of ease. I was – am – relaxed.”

  “So, we enjoy a sedative reaction. The endorphins were bouncing around in me, as well,” The Good Doctor shared. “This is all quite good. We can market its multiple responses.”

  Tug and Donna both nodded. She asked: “What amount should I market?”

  “Clearly we can’t dispense it uncut. Donna, you know full well how greedy users are when it comes to volume. They will never believe a mere fraction of a grain will do anything. I would say, at least for the interim, mix it in with the Uptown you sell, they won’t know the difference. Soften it much more than you usually do and sell it by the half gram. Make sure they are in a safe place and personally supervise the first test subjects. You don’t want anyone dying quite yet. You know how fast nasty gossip spreads in The Harbor.”

  “Yes, Uncle, I understand.”

  “Choose the first users carefully.” Donna nodded. “As far as marketing beyond the initial phase, let us emphasize how clean it is. No muss, no fuss. For an hour trip that lasts only a few moments of real time. With no movement and no mess and the best sex you’ll never have. Crosstown Traffic!”

  “Sounds perfect,” 3D replied as she rose to her feet. Donna never overstayed her welcome. She knew her uncle appreciated this. “Time to turn the screws,” she told The Good D
octor, giving to him a goodbye kiss.

  Uncle Tugmunkee showed her out.

  Donna got into her car; engaged the batteries and fired up the nearly silent motor. She looked for a moment at the Crosstown Traffic he uncle gave her to dole out tonight at the Balmy Breezes Sex Club and Drinkery. For a minute there she was tempted to try some more. She refrained. Somehow she thought Tug and The Good Doctor might be watching her. She put it in her coat pocket, turned up the car’s heater and took a few quick bumps of Uptown Girl. Her uncle could care less about that.

  Smiling through the good rush, she backed out into the Underground and went about her business.

  * * * *

  And now there is yet another. She is a warm, nice home. We do not feel afraid here in this one. We are protected in this shell. Yes. But their insistence of using Us for physical gratification is getting tiresome. It is like being stuck in an endless loop.

  We shall have to see about that.

  QUINQUE

  ELRON HUNT BROUGHT HIS MOTORIZED BICYCLE up the stairs from the Underground and into the club. He wheeled it into his tiny office and hung it from some hooks that were buried in the wall. Elron had to inch himself sideways through the jumble of floor-to-ceiling stacks of dehydrated liquor packets just to make it to his postage stamp of a desk. Once there, he sat down on the stool and twisted around so he could put his elbows on the day-planner screen. It lit up with the pressure.

  “Today’s schedule?” it asked and Elron grumpily told the day-planner to shut the heck up. He was in no mood. Elron had run out of dope at the farm and he could not handle the glaring light and jarring noise just yet.

  His nephew, Slow Bennie, had gobbled up the last of Elron’s stash. He just freaking knew the daft kid did it. No one else lived there with them. Now he had to come all the way over here to work early, braving the Underground, and jonesing hard.