Genetic engineering

mf oral sf mutual

The many lights set into the ceiling, white, tinted slightly with halogen
green, threw intersecting beams even though the air was clear, and every
surface in the room threw back sharp splendent glints. The room was filled
with the party. Suddenly she appeared, perfect, among the guests, and I was
impaled. Her arms and legs, hands and feet had been engineered genetically
to be iridescent drake-head green-black. Her feet had been surgically
altered--there were no high-heeled shoes to take off: she stepped daintily,
faun-like, on toeless high-heeled feet. Her torso was fish-belly translucent
white, almost greenish, her breasts small, tense, and tipped with scarlet,
her pubic hair sparse and pale auburn, her face pale, expressionless, with
large grey-greenish eyes, her hair, fine, wisps of coral-red. In sunshine,
should she ever go outside, as if she ever would, she would be freckled. At
first glance she looked anachronistic, as if she were wearing thigh-boots
and shoulder-length gloves of black patent leather, but then you'ld notice
that the shining black fades gradually, merges seamlessly with the skin of
her thighs and upper arms; and if you touched her hand, no doubt, it would
be soft and warm.

Other people's tastes in elective body-improvement sometimes amaze me.
Courtesy demands a small improvement: it would be impolite not to have taken
some trouble with one's appearance: without that there would just be
ugliness and anarchy, but a certain restraint is essential, though fashions
do change slowly. Today the knee-length penis is commonplace but when I had
mine modified ten years ago many thought me coarse and gross.

A hundred years ago they had fashion: they altered their appearance by
wearing garments, pieces of cloth cut, and sewn together, shaped to to cover
their bodies; and one sex, I forget which, also smeared coloured grease upon
their faces. They did so, I believe, because they could not change
_themselves_, only their garments, ornaments, and maquillages; but then they
changed them very quickly, and one year's fashions would be quite different
from those of year before and of the year to come, but even then they had
the primitive beginnings of bodily modification, piercing their bodies to
hang ornaments from themselves, but usually only from the earlobes or
nostrils, and some, but only a few, used permanent dyes to draw crude
pictures in their skins.

It was only when genetic engineering developed that the possibilities for
bodily modification began to be explored. At first most people sought
conventional bodily perfection and we had a whole generation of uniformity,
blond perfectly muscled men and women, beautiful and bland, the art of
National Socialism brought to life, and perhaps it was that dulness that
provoked the first flowering of the new bodies. Sexual characteristics were
emphasised: the waists of women were progressively reduced, the breasts and
buttocks inflated, and women's bodies, as the years passed, became more and
more hourglass-like, and this too palled, because a body with a 100 inch
bust above an eight inch waist is inconveniently fragile, and likewise, a
man's a body with a penis needing its own trolley for support, is, after
all, somewhat ungainly; and then there was the sudden recognition of the
full range of possibilities. People did not have to be bipedal human beings
any more: for the first time in the history of the world the zoomorphic
myths were manifested in their children's flesh: there could be, and then
there were centaurs and seraphim; the many-armed gods of India were
embodied, and Anubis and Horus walked among us in the circus of diversity.

After the first exuberance of fantasy it was discovered that parents were
wise not to inflict bodyforms of too baroque a shape upon their offspring.
Though it is possible in later life to make some surgical modification to
the pattern set _in utero_ there are limits to what can be achieved at
present, and people came to feel that parents ought not to cause the bodies
of their children to depart too far from the original, natural, but by now
only traditional, human form, because the extremes were not attractive to
other people: the diversity of human types was not matched by a diversity of
desire, and romantic extravagance and excess was succeeded by our restraint.

I remember walking, while still a little boy, with my parents, one day, down
a sloping street, between two rows of houses, with gaps opened where bombs
had fallen, the devastation masked by weeds, fresh, green, primavernal, more
beautiful than the houses in between, and there I saw the leather lady with
her iridescent green and glossy face, noseless, quite featureless, and
smoothly curving except for the nostrils, eyes and teeth. I remember that
suddenly my shorts seemed tight. I couldn't understand it; but now I know it
was my first erection. Afterwards I tried, by thinking of her, to recreate
the feeling: it gave me pleasure, was exciting; but somehow I never quite
discovered the orgasm so the game was not quite satisfying, and since that
time I have been searching for another, solid, faceless, leather lady but in
vain.

She isn't there across the room, but someone else is who is close to my
ideal. I stand transfixed, paralysed with desire. She must have noticed my
staring because she comes towards me. She stops in front of me.

'I could see your beautiful penis and I had to come and talk to you. May I
touch it?'

'Please do.' I sigh in ecstasy. She reaches for it and naturally it begins
to stiffen.

'Oh, lovely,' she says, 'Sometimes these very big ones are not fully
erectile.'

'Yes, I know. That's why I settled for fifteen inches. The problems seem to
start at about eighteen, and they get worse the bigger you get from there.
It's to do with the blood supply.'

'Only fifteen inches; it looks much bigger. It's really beautiful.'

I looked at the black, glossy hand grasping the shaft, noticing that her
fingers were quite nailless, and of course by this time, between flaccid and
erect, the shaft was a fleshy hose, white, veined, vined, with purple blood
vessels and with blue.

'Fifteen inches flaccid.' I snapped, nettled by the 'only'.

'Yes of course.' she said, turning, looking into my eyes, and smiling.

By this time it had become a pharaonic column with purple-painted capital.
She went down on one knee, bent her head towards its head, and looking up
into my face said 'May I?' once again.

I nodded, and she opened up her lips. Of course her mouth was far too small
even to enclose its head, but I felt her tongue flickering over the tiny
lips and the heavy, torpid, languor in my limbs.

After a while she stopped.

'It's really lovely,' she said, 'but we don't want to rush things do we?
What I like best about a man with an enormous penis is that he can't do any
of that _really_ obscene stuff about sticking it into you anywhere: that's
just out of the question if he's very big.'

'I know what you mean.' I said, thinking of other things. 'Think of it as my
gesture towards feminism. Let's sit down.' I said pointing to a vacant sofa.
'Now you can carry on...'

'With the hands?'

'Of course, how else?' and there, unnoticed by the others embroiled in their
own intimacies, leaning across me, clasping me within the prison bars of her
interlocked fingers she slowly pumped me to ecstasy.