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lobelia321FICLET: "Engaging in masturbation"
SERIES: Nr. 18 of the Boring!Orli series. Back to nr. 17.
Author: Lobelia; lobelia40@yahoo.com
Pairing: Orlando Bloom / Orlando Bloom's vagina.
-----
After his fifth orgasm of the evening, Orli staggered towards the loo. The toilet seat was covered in a pink tulle toilet-seat cover. On the tank, there sat a spare loo roll, disguised as a Rococo shepherdess, complete with crinoline and herding crook.
Orli lifted the toilet-seat cover and sat down on the black plastic seat. His insides felt tender, especially after that last romp. He hadn't had a pee with his new anatomy. Or perhaps he had had a pee but that would have been while he was in hospital and drugged and unconscious and probably hooked up to a catheter.
He relaxed his muscles in the usual way. The pee felt hot and a little stinging, as it had always felt. But it also, somehow, felt different. It streamed differently and emerged at a different angle.
Orli took about four minutes to wipe himself.
Then he sat on the loo and moved his tongue around his mouth. His tongue felt the same as it had always felt. But it, too, somehow felt different. It tasted different. It tasted of vagina.
Orli's tongue had tasted of vagina before in its life. Of course, it had. But this time there was also another aftertaste. The taste of vagina was intermingled with the taste of semen.
Orli's tongue had never tasted semen before. Orli had never tasted his own semen (had not occurred to him) nor had he tasted the semen of another man (ditto).
But now he had. And it had been interesting. Some of it had been pleasant, and some of it had been not so pleasant but there was no denying that it had all been very, very interesting. The feeling of the penis in Orli's mouth had been interesting, sort of big and sort of pushy and sort of stretching his lips wide apart. It had been interesting to keep his teeth away from it, and it had been interesting to lick its glans, and even that moment of horror had been interesting when Orli, whose right hand was fondling the man's scrotum, had felt that tight pull in the testicles -- Orli knew that pull! -- and sure enough, ejaculate had immediately after filled the back of Orli's mouth.
He had swallowed some of it, and some of it he had kept in his mouth until the penis had pulled out, and then he had spat it into one of the tissues from the floral-patterned tissue box on the bedside table.
It had been an interesting experience, no doubt about it. And now he was curious to experience it again. With another penis, perhaps. With another man. Orli was curious and apprehensive and frightened and elated, all at the same time.
He stood up and flushed the loo. He washed his hands. He picked up the shepherdess and inspected her mundane innards. He spotted a cabinet fixed to the wall and opened it.
Inside the cabinet, he saw:
- one plastic beaker, see-through
- three toothbrushes, each encased in a cellophane wrapper
- one round plastic container, holding q-tips
- one box of floss
- one razor
- no razor blades
- one cardboard box, marked 'Ladies' Pantyliners'
- one plastic package, marked 'Always Alldays'
- one ceramic Pekinese dog with a pink bow tying together the long fur on its head
- one blonde hair (Yellowette's? pubic?)
- one bar of soap in a cellophane wrapper
- two spray-on underarm deodorants, marked 'Mum Aquabreeze'
- one book of matches, with two matches missing and two scratch marks on its friction strip
- one bottle of oral disinfectant
- eleven three-packs of assorted condoms
- two loose condoms, individually shrink-wrapped
- one all-round plastic hair brush
- one hand-held mirror
Orli took out the mirror. He angled it so that it reflected the orange ceiling light bulb (naked) and then the lurid tiles (lurid). He held it in front of his face and looked at his eyes and his nose and his mouth. He stuck his tongue out at himself. His face looked at is had always looked. But it also looked, somehow, different.
Orli put the toilet seat down and sat down. The tulle seat-cover scratched his naked bottom. He propped his right foot up on the toilet brush stand. He held the mirror between his thighs and angled it just so.
There it was. His vagina.
It looked just as it had when he had first discovered its existence. Except that he didn't faint this time around. But it also, somehow, looked different. It looked plump and pleased with itself. It looked deflowered. Bits of it were pink, and other bits of it were brown. One bit, near one of those labia things, was red.
Orli put his finger on the red bit. He lifted his finger and looked at the rust-coloured spot.
Blood.
Could you lose your virginity twice? Apparently so.
After the licking and the sucking and the astonishing coming (twice over), there had been the giggling and the winking and the "You wait for us here, don't go away now!" The two ladies of the night had disappeared through a door, and when they had returned, they had brought three men with them.
The first man had been big and heavy-handed, with sagging jowls and man-boobs. This man was the one who had stuck his penis into Orli's mouth.
The second man had been slender and bejewelled, with a long, slim penis and a pair of soft, brown-nippled breasts. "He's one of your sort!" Except that he wasn't, not really. This man was the one who had stuck his finger in Orli's vagina, and his other finger in Orli's anus, and his tongue in Orli's mouth. (Orli had come from that.)
The third man had been black and rough, with a scar on his lip and the northern lights in his eyes. This man was the one who had stuck his penis into Orli's vagina.
And that had been...
...interesting.
(And in the end, Orli had come from that as well.)
Orli looked at his finger some more. Then he licked his finger. Then he worried about catching some disease. He jumped up and frantically washed his hands and gargled with the oral disinfectant from the cabinet. Then he burst into short shocks of laughter because it was ridiculous to be worrying about disease after all that he had done this evening. Then he stopped laughing and worried about whether the third man had been wearing a condom or not. Then he burst into another sharp laugh because his brain must be completely curdled not to have noticed such an important detail. Then he stopped laughing.
It had occurred to him that if the third man had not been wearing a condom then his, the third man's, semen must still be in his, Orli's, vagina. All that Orli needed to do was check.
For a brief insane moment, Orli wondered whether he was able to get pregnant. He sat down on the loo again
He held the mirror in his right hand and moved his hand towards his groin. He switched hands and moved his left hand towards his groin. He thought of former girlfriends. This was just as it had always been with those former girlfriends. Except it wasn't. It was, somehow, very different.
Orli put the mirror down on the lino. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He didn't know why he should be taking a deep breath and closing his eyes after all that had happened to him this day. But perhaps it was because all that had happened to him had been fast and too much.
And this was slow and not enough.
He moved his hand across pubic hair. That felt as it had always felt. He moved his hand across his pubic bone. That felt, somehow... hmm. He skirted the little hump at the top of his mound. He moved his hand across a rough terrain, hairy and fleshy, like liver, and then along one of those folds. Then his forefinger slithered along a slithery bit. He pushed it down and in. His flesh felt scratched by a fingernail.
Orli held still. He took another deep breath. He opened his eyes. He closed his eyes.
He pushed his finger in deeper. He pushed a second finger in. He pushed a third finger in. He stopped. He took a breath.
He moved his fingers tentatively up and down. There was a burning sensation. He crooked his fingers. There was an urging sensation. His thumb was sticking out to the side tensely. He let it fall, and it fell on...
...on...
(He moved his thumb.)
...on something...
(He circled his thumb.)
...something hard and nubby, something a bit bendy, something nestling and waiting to come out.
(He pulled his fingers out, rubbed their dripping skin all over his thumb, pushed the fingers back in and rubbed his dripping thumb all over his...
...his...)
Oh.
Oh, lord god and all his daughters.
(Is this...
Is this what happens?)
When Orli came to (and it felt like a coming-to), he was bent double over his knees on the pink-tulled toilet seat. His thumb was at rest on his clitoris. The fleshy insides of his vagina were pulsing softly around his fingers. One pulse, two pulse, another slow, late pulse, like a little internal knock.
Orli pulled out his fingers. There was a squish. He looked at his hand. His thumb glistened. His fingers were streaked with blood. He pressed the heel of his hand down against the top of his mound. He let out a long breath. He smelled his fingers. They didn't smell of semen. Something somewhere in those new insides of his was beginning to hurt.
Six times. How could a vagina manage to come six times in a row?
Orli's clitoris smiled sweetly. A Mona Lisa smile.
-----
TBC
lobelia@yahoo.com
30 November 2004, the wee hours
SERIES: Nr. 18 of the Boring!Orli series. Back to nr. 17.
Author: Lobelia; lobelia40@yahoo.com
Pairing: Orlando Bloom / Orlando Bloom's vagina.
-----
After his fifth orgasm of the evening, Orli staggered towards the loo. The toilet seat was covered in a pink tulle toilet-seat cover. On the tank, there sat a spare loo roll, disguised as a Rococo shepherdess, complete with crinoline and herding crook.
Orli lifted the toilet-seat cover and sat down on the black plastic seat. His insides felt tender, especially after that last romp. He hadn't had a pee with his new anatomy. Or perhaps he had had a pee but that would have been while he was in hospital and drugged and unconscious and probably hooked up to a catheter.
He relaxed his muscles in the usual way. The pee felt hot and a little stinging, as it had always felt. But it also, somehow, felt different. It streamed differently and emerged at a different angle.
Orli took about four minutes to wipe himself.
Then he sat on the loo and moved his tongue around his mouth. His tongue felt the same as it had always felt. But it, too, somehow felt different. It tasted different. It tasted of vagina.
Orli's tongue had tasted of vagina before in its life. Of course, it had. But this time there was also another aftertaste. The taste of vagina was intermingled with the taste of semen.
Orli's tongue had never tasted semen before. Orli had never tasted his own semen (had not occurred to him) nor had he tasted the semen of another man (ditto).
But now he had. And it had been interesting. Some of it had been pleasant, and some of it had been not so pleasant but there was no denying that it had all been very, very interesting. The feeling of the penis in Orli's mouth had been interesting, sort of big and sort of pushy and sort of stretching his lips wide apart. It had been interesting to keep his teeth away from it, and it had been interesting to lick its glans, and even that moment of horror had been interesting when Orli, whose right hand was fondling the man's scrotum, had felt that tight pull in the testicles -- Orli knew that pull! -- and sure enough, ejaculate had immediately after filled the back of Orli's mouth.
He had swallowed some of it, and some of it he had kept in his mouth until the penis had pulled out, and then he had spat it into one of the tissues from the floral-patterned tissue box on the bedside table.
It had been an interesting experience, no doubt about it. And now he was curious to experience it again. With another penis, perhaps. With another man. Orli was curious and apprehensive and frightened and elated, all at the same time.
He stood up and flushed the loo. He washed his hands. He picked up the shepherdess and inspected her mundane innards. He spotted a cabinet fixed to the wall and opened it.
Inside the cabinet, he saw:
- one plastic beaker, see-through
- three toothbrushes, each encased in a cellophane wrapper
- one round plastic container, holding q-tips
- one box of floss
- one razor
- no razor blades
- one cardboard box, marked 'Ladies' Pantyliners'
- one plastic package, marked 'Always Alldays'
- one ceramic Pekinese dog with a pink bow tying together the long fur on its head
- one blonde hair (Yellowette's? pubic?)
- one bar of soap in a cellophane wrapper
- two spray-on underarm deodorants, marked 'Mum Aquabreeze'
- one book of matches, with two matches missing and two scratch marks on its friction strip
- one bottle of oral disinfectant
- eleven three-packs of assorted condoms
- two loose condoms, individually shrink-wrapped
- one all-round plastic hair brush
- one hand-held mirror
Orli took out the mirror. He angled it so that it reflected the orange ceiling light bulb (naked) and then the lurid tiles (lurid). He held it in front of his face and looked at his eyes and his nose and his mouth. He stuck his tongue out at himself. His face looked at is had always looked. But it also looked, somehow, different.
Orli put the toilet seat down and sat down. The tulle seat-cover scratched his naked bottom. He propped his right foot up on the toilet brush stand. He held the mirror between his thighs and angled it just so.
There it was. His vagina.
It looked just as it had when he had first discovered its existence. Except that he didn't faint this time around. But it also, somehow, looked different. It looked plump and pleased with itself. It looked deflowered. Bits of it were pink, and other bits of it were brown. One bit, near one of those labia things, was red.
Orli put his finger on the red bit. He lifted his finger and looked at the rust-coloured spot.
Blood.
Could you lose your virginity twice? Apparently so.
After the licking and the sucking and the astonishing coming (twice over), there had been the giggling and the winking and the "You wait for us here, don't go away now!" The two ladies of the night had disappeared through a door, and when they had returned, they had brought three men with them.
The first man had been big and heavy-handed, with sagging jowls and man-boobs. This man was the one who had stuck his penis into Orli's mouth.
The second man had been slender and bejewelled, with a long, slim penis and a pair of soft, brown-nippled breasts. "He's one of your sort!" Except that he wasn't, not really. This man was the one who had stuck his finger in Orli's vagina, and his other finger in Orli's anus, and his tongue in Orli's mouth. (Orli had come from that.)
The third man had been black and rough, with a scar on his lip and the northern lights in his eyes. This man was the one who had stuck his penis into Orli's vagina.
And that had been...
...interesting.
(And in the end, Orli had come from that as well.)
Orli looked at his finger some more. Then he licked his finger. Then he worried about catching some disease. He jumped up and frantically washed his hands and gargled with the oral disinfectant from the cabinet. Then he burst into short shocks of laughter because it was ridiculous to be worrying about disease after all that he had done this evening. Then he stopped laughing and worried about whether the third man had been wearing a condom or not. Then he burst into another sharp laugh because his brain must be completely curdled not to have noticed such an important detail. Then he stopped laughing.
It had occurred to him that if the third man had not been wearing a condom then his, the third man's, semen must still be in his, Orli's, vagina. All that Orli needed to do was check.
For a brief insane moment, Orli wondered whether he was able to get pregnant. He sat down on the loo again
He held the mirror in his right hand and moved his hand towards his groin. He switched hands and moved his left hand towards his groin. He thought of former girlfriends. This was just as it had always been with those former girlfriends. Except it wasn't. It was, somehow, very different.
Orli put the mirror down on the lino. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He didn't know why he should be taking a deep breath and closing his eyes after all that had happened to him this day. But perhaps it was because all that had happened to him had been fast and too much.
And this was slow and not enough.
He moved his hand across pubic hair. That felt as it had always felt. He moved his hand across his pubic bone. That felt, somehow... hmm. He skirted the little hump at the top of his mound. He moved his hand across a rough terrain, hairy and fleshy, like liver, and then along one of those folds. Then his forefinger slithered along a slithery bit. He pushed it down and in. His flesh felt scratched by a fingernail.
Orli held still. He took another deep breath. He opened his eyes. He closed his eyes.
He pushed his finger in deeper. He pushed a second finger in. He pushed a third finger in. He stopped. He took a breath.
He moved his fingers tentatively up and down. There was a burning sensation. He crooked his fingers. There was an urging sensation. His thumb was sticking out to the side tensely. He let it fall, and it fell on...
...on...
(He moved his thumb.)
...on something...
(He circled his thumb.)
...something hard and nubby, something a bit bendy, something nestling and waiting to come out.
(He pulled his fingers out, rubbed their dripping skin all over his thumb, pushed the fingers back in and rubbed his dripping thumb all over his...
...his...)
Oh.
Oh, lord god and all his daughters.
(Is this...
Is this what happens?)
When Orli came to (and it felt like a coming-to), he was bent double over his knees on the pink-tulled toilet seat. His thumb was at rest on his clitoris. The fleshy insides of his vagina were pulsing softly around his fingers. One pulse, two pulse, another slow, late pulse, like a little internal knock.
Orli pulled out his fingers. There was a squish. He looked at his hand. His thumb glistened. His fingers were streaked with blood. He pressed the heel of his hand down against the top of his mound. He let out a long breath. He smelled his fingers. They didn't smell of semen. Something somewhere in those new insides of his was beginning to hurt.
Six times. How could a vagina manage to come six times in a row?
Orli's clitoris smiled sweetly. A Mona Lisa smile.
-----
TBC
lobelia@yahoo.com
30 November 2004, the wee hours
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 01:39 am (UTC)thanks for sharing!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 01:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 03:41 pm (UTC)*rubs hands* Mission achieved!
I knew that the next-to-last chapter was not lure-worthy. I was very, very rusty. I had to go and re-read and just remind myself of all the events and characters, and then thought that I'd better remind everyone else, too. It was this chapter which truly was a new departure. And hah, such pleasure to write! (Except for that moment when it disappeared, grrr.)
I may have to employ a ruse in order to keep Orli a genital woman for a while longer... *g* It's just too delicious.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 03:40 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading! I don't think you were one of the initial adherents of this series. It had quite a little fan club way back when (13 months and 11 days ago) but here's a lesson I learned: WIPs without regular postings lose their audience! You have to woo everyone back all over again.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 01:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 03:43 pm (UTC)You have found the philosophical grain within the fabric of Boring!Orli!!
I was thinking just that as I was writing it. Well, I think just that a lot of the time, actually. *snorts* This gets me to celebrate the feminine orgasm and the female 'bits' while keeping the lovely psychology of slashiness!
Eeek! Since when was Boring!Orli supposed to be intellectually meaningful??!!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 03:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 03:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 04:14 pm (UTC)Love this line: Then his forefinger slithered along a slithery bit. I knew just where he was, and felt a funny "hey I've been there too!" sensation, as if he had visited my town and gone to my favorite coffee shop.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 04:22 pm (UTC)Oh, the coffeeshop comparison! I love it.
Wow. Writing vaginas. It's a whole 'nother ball game. (Minus the balls.)
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 04:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 03:48 pm (UTC)Besides all the ramifications of sex change (delicious as they are), I found myself pondering this morning in the shower the ramifications of boringness. Because the idea in Boring!Orli was always to make him boring but not nasty or awful. This is actually very tricky to do. Boring but nice. Because what constitutes boringness? I think I inadvertently ended up doing at least two versions of being boring: Orli's and Dom's.
Thanks so much for sticking with it!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 09:20 am (UTC)And I love your list of bathroom contents, as always. It's some sort of trademark of yours by now. In 20 years, I could pick up some random novel and know it was written by you just by the toiletries listed!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-30 03:51 pm (UTC)Heh, it's not perverse to want to get back in touch with one's vagina, surely! *laughs mischievously*
Yeah, and I just held forth on the complexities of boringness to
(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-01 08:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-01 10:01 pm (UTC)And omg, have I got a compulsive-obsessive toiletry disorder that I was unaware of heretofore?? Toiletries in Up Shit Creek?! I don't even *remember* them!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-01 11:35 pm (UTC)It's a bit of a rite of passage- I think most of us have done it at least once during our rebellious youth!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-02 12:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-01 07:51 pm (UTC)Now this is interesting. Wouldn't the owner of a vagina - not automatically, but finally - be a she?
A yay for realism in fics, be it toiletry inventories (oh, I, too, remember Viggo's seaweed toothpaste fondly) or engaging in such quite un-porny, but very realistic activities as masturbation.
Boring? There's nothing boring here - thanks to your creative approach.
Orli's clitoris smiled sweetly. A Mona Lisa smile.
Perfect. I *love* this sentence - reminds me of some drawings/graphics I have seen somewhere, but I have forgotten by whom.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-01 09:59 pm (UTC)You have seen drawings of a smiling clitoris??? *gasps for air*
Thank you so much! This is such kind feedback! And I am so flattered that you not only remember boring!Viggo (heh) but his seaweed toothpaste. Goodness, I myself couldn't have reconstructed that detail without looking.
No, the fic is not boring but Orli is boring. Was boring. That was the trick of it: how to make someone boring. It's not all that easy. And then it's not all that easy making a person interesting, either (as opposed to making interesting things happen to that person -- I was thinking today that I now needed to make Orli's life boring in order to show how Orli is now interesting whereas before his life was interesting but he was boring. If that makes sense.)
His vagina.
I know just what you mean! My head reeled as I was typing that! And it was such pleasure typing it because it was so weird. There is a lot of debate about how gender is defined and assigned. Some people go for the exterior genitals approach (have cunt, be woman), others look at DNA (have Y-chromosome, be man), others insist on cultural construction... well, it's a while since I read Judith Butler but that's the kind of thing that made me write 'his', because I thought he's still Orli, he's not psychologically a woman (like those girls trapped in boys' bodies, like Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex who was a boy in a girl's body), he hasn't got a womb (despite worrying about pregnancy). So this is interesting, too. I was thinking 'should I make it more problematic about losing his vaginal virginity'? Because is it really realistic that a person who's still bleeding from being deflowered would go and have an orgasm during sex? But then I thought: a man would.
Thanks for prompting these musings!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-02 09:14 pm (UTC)How to describe it? These drawings depicted faces, consisting of vaginas so-to-speak. Damn, if only my mind wasn't such a sieve. A have a vague recollection they were shown in some sort of laterna magica inside the body of a dead whale, maybe that was in Fellini's Casanova, but I maybe I'm completely mixing up things here.
There is a lot of debate about how gender is defined and assigned.
Very, very interesting topic. So is your Boring Orli a contemporary interpretation of Virgina's Woolf's Orlando?
And what about Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex? Is it worth reading. I was given it as a present, but couldn't get past the first few chapters, struck me too much as some kind of family saga, but maybe it gets interesting after that?
Because is it really realistic that a person who's still bleeding from being deflowered would go and have an orgasm during sex? But then I thought: a man would.
Not only a man, I'd say.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-12-02 10:15 pm (UTC)*giggles*
Well, hasn't been in my experience but I am but one of billions. *giggles again*
Middlesex: I loved it. But I loved it from page one so maybe we have different tastes? It is a family saga but centred on the main character who is a hm, how shall I put it? Unusually gendered person.
Boring!Orli was not meant to be an interpretation of the 'other' Orlando, omg! It was started as a getting-rid-of-writer's-block mad romp without beta or even coming up for breath while writing every chapter in under 15 minutes! Ack! And look what happened to the bugger!
However, I am flattered, nevertheless.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-11-10 10:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-13 09:24 pm (UTC)I just spurted some more out of my sleeve just now, can you believe it?