Golden Gloom - POOR - Part Seven

15

BARBARA

I looked down the length of Tommy’s pointing arm into the toilet cubicle, at the graffiti on the walls, the puddle of water around the base of the pedestal.

It was gross but that wasn’t stopping him. He looked positively excited as he pulled me toward it but I tried to resist. “What if someone comes in?”

“We’ll do it quietly. And what the fuck does it matter?”

“But they’ll know!”

“The door’ll be shut and who gives a shit anyway. Let em hear!”

“Charles—”

He stopped, glaring at me. “It’s Tommy. For now. Alright Lorraine?”

I shrugged. “I suppose.”

He became genial. “Come on legs, it’ll be hot. We ain’t never done this kind of stuff. We’ve missed out on all this kinda shit. It’ll be a laugh.”

“I don’t know...”

“Quit fuckin whining and let’s do it.” He gripped my wrist tighter and pulled me into the cubicle, pulling me close so he could shut the door.

“There’s no lock Tommy.”

“No problem.” He sat on the seat and stuck his foot against the door. “Hop on.”

He shuffled out of his jeans as far down as his buttocks and pulled me closer. It was gross and I felt under pressure but it was wrong in so many ways that it kind of felt right, especially with all the shots I’d had. And he did look sexy, from his six pack etched in the ultraviolet light to his hard playful expression and the big cock sticking up to greet me. He flicked two fingers from each hand back into his palms, beckoning me. “Come on darlin. Or I’ll cum just lookin at ya and you’ll miss all the fun.

“Ah fuck it,” I said and clambered over his legs awkwardly, putting the seediness of it out of my mind. I laughed at how difficult it was to get into position in the narrow space but my body was so much lighter now and his arms were so strong, helping to lower me down. I used my free hand to hook back the centre strip of my panties and bit my lip in anticipation as his dick made first contact against my fanny. There was that little bit of resistance then it glided in and I gasped from the sensation, surprised by how deep it went.

We stayed like that for a long few seconds, then he used his arms to lift me, half withdrawing then lowering me down again, his own eyes flickering closed as his lips spread in a broad and satisfied smile. I braced my feet on either side of the cistern. There were horizontal pipes on one side. I used them to push up against to capture the rhythm; up and down; up and down: the gratification warming and spreading from my crotch.

“Oooah Tommy,” I groaned. “Oh Tommy, you’re so big. You’re fucking huge.”

He pushed my boob tube up, first one tit then the other dropping free with a shudder. He leaned me back, bending his lips to them, chewing harder than he should have done but increasing the pleasure with the broader angle, making me feel him inside me all the more.

This was just like the first time we’d done it, in the karsey at me mam’s work, where Tommy worked fixing up cars. Except that had been even filthier. And when we’d come out everyone had known we’d been doing it. I’d never been so fucking embarrassed in my life.

It wasn’t like me mam could talk though. Word was she’d shagged every bloke that worked there, especially that Tony, the bald one with the bushy moustache. They couldn’t expect me to grow up a princess if me mam was a total slag.

They could—

Wait.

“Wait,” I said.

Tommy didn’t stop. He kept nibbling my boobs, his steely fingers digging into my narrow back.

“Wait, Tommy. Charles! Stop it! This ain’t right!”

“Shut your mouth. You’re ruining it.” He went on pumping me up and down, ignoring my squirms to get free. “I’m going to cum. Just keep going.”

“No. Charles. This is all wrong. I keep— Charles, listen to me! I keep forgetting who I really am! This is fucked up! We have to stop it now!”

The lights dimmed, the cubicle narrowing perceptually, Charles’s glaring eyes becoming brighter, capturing all the remaining light.

“Lorraine! What is fucking wrong with you now?”

“I’m not Lorraine! I’m Barbara! Charles, we have to snap out of this. It’s wrong! We don’t want this!” I tried to struggle, to get off him, but he was holding me tightly behind my shoulders.

“What are you talking about? Who the fuck is Charles? Quit struggling!”

The gloom was closing in, surrounding us, making it darker and darker.

“No! Let me go! Charles, get off me! Let me go!”

I couldn’t see anything, but he kept hold of me, resisting my efforts to pull free. I was crying out, panicking, knowing how trapped I was, not just on top of him but in this crazy situation.

Then the light flashed back, the cubicle came back into view and Tommy’s face became visible once more. Except now he was gaping at me in astonishment and disgust and it only took me a second to realise why.

I was wearing glasses again. My arms were plump and round. My big breasts and bulging stomach were pressed against him as my flabby legs made an inverted V outside his muscular arms.

I was myself again. I was Barbara. But his cock was still in me. And this nineteen year old bad boy looked like he didn’t know me at all.

16

Charles

“Woah, get the fuck off me! Who the hell are you?”

Lorraine had gone and there was some fat fucking middle-aged woman in her place!

I pushed myself up, tipping her back off me, scrabbling to pull my jeans up as my cock popped clear and she banged her head against the toilet door. It was a scramble as she tried to get up in the confined space, crying out in pain and effort as I did my best to just back the fuck away from her.

Then she got the door open and flew out by the bank of sinks, fucking crying her eyes out. I zipped myself up feeling really fucking confused, my head blotted from all the cocktails and followed her out of the cubicle..

She put her hands to her face, covering her eyes, weeping now and she looked a mess, her hair mussed, her skirt all out of place. She looked like somebody’s mum and I had no fucking clue why the lights had gone out and she’d suddenly fucking appeared riding my todger.

“How’d you get in here? Where’s Lorraine?”

She went on crying, louder if anything.

“Hey!” I snapped out. “Hey, fatso! Dry the fucking tears. I’m talkin to you!”

She lowered her hands a little peering at me through her pebble lenses, eyes overlarge. “Charles...”

“Huh?”

“Tommy. Listen...”

“What? How’d you get in here? Where’s Lorraine?”

“I am Lorraine. Sort of. I was her.”

“Get bent.”

“It’s true. Really. We’ve changed; both of us. You aren’t who you think you are. You’ve forgotten.”

I squinted at her. “Are you pissed or something?”

“No. Charles, I’m sober. I was drunk, as Lorraine, but... Just listen to me, please. This is wrong. I know that now.” She held up her hands like she was making the sign for STOP. “This... darkness, whatever it is. It’s tricking us. It’s been goading us all along, and now it’s trying to make us forget who we really are.”

“You’re out of your mind.” This was a fucking waste of time. I went toward the door.

“Charles stop!”

“I’m not Charles! What are you fucking on?”

“Tommy, listen to me, please. Just for a second.”

I flicked my eyes down and then up her body at her chubby legs and torso, her plump arms and double chin, her mumsy hairstyle and clothes, her chunky glasses. I sneered and turned to leave. “Fuck you.”

“I’ll pay you!”

I stopped.

“Cash. Look!” She had a big handbag over her shoulder. She fumbled with it, taking out a purse and withdrawing a bunch of notes – local currency. “Here. I’ll give you this if you talk to me. Just talk. That’s all.”

I eyed the money. She was clearly a fruitcake but I was pretty strapped. I’d paid for the holiday on a credit card and I’d already maxed out two others. Debting agents were after me and the bailiffs had been round a couple of times while I pretended I wasn’t home. And me and Lorraine had already pissed away most of our spending money on going out.

“Alright,” I said. “Talk. But I want half the cash now.” She held it out with a shaking hand and I grinned, counting it then shoving it into my back pocket. “Not bad for a little conversation. What, do you want me to talk dirty to ya or something?” I chuckled.

“No. Just listen to me.” I leant against one of the sinks and she started pacing, clearly very uncomfortable in these surroundings. “It’s very important that you pay attention to me,” she said. I shrugged my shoulders. “You think you’re nineteen years old and that your name’s Tommy, right?” I shrugged again. “But it’s not. I swear to you it’s not. Your name is Charles Hawthorne. You’re the head of a corporation that brings in millions of pounds every year. You’re my husband. We live in a mansion. We have a pool in the garden. We drive a BMW.”

“Give me a fucking break. Why the fuck would I marry you? You’re old enough to be my mother.”

“I know! Just— Charles! Please! This isn’t real! It’s the magic! It’s done this to you!”

“I’ve had enough of this. You can keep the rest of the money.” I opened the main door and the music got a whole hell of a lot louder.

“Charles, for God’s sake, listen!” she cried, grabbing me by the shoulders and turning me round before I could stop her. “Listen to me you stupid little man!” She slapped me hard across the face, staggering me a little then followed me out and slapped me again on the other cheek as hard as she could. “Charles! You have to listen!”

My face was smarting. Tears were coursing down her cheeks.

I saw red.

I pulled my hand back near my ear, closed it into a fist and swung it out, rapping her hard in the mouth. She screeched and fell backwards, her glasses flying off. She went down hard. People were shouting, barely audible over the beat.

She didn’t jump back up; she just lay there, quivering; crying, gripping her face with both hands.

And suddenly it all came back to me.

I knew who she was. I knew who I was and what had happened to us. I remembered everything. And I realised exactly what I’d done.

I got to my knees next to her, lifting her head, talking rapidly. “Barbara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t realise. I remember now. I know who I am.”

“Ch-Charles?” I nodded I handed her glasses to her from where they’d fallen. “Is that really you?”

I nodded again.

“We have to get out of here,” she said, weeping again now. “We can’t stay here any longer. You have to concentrate on changing back. Before it’s too late.”

I helped her to sit up and slide back against the wall. Already disinterested, the other punters who had come to see the spectacle started to wander off. Her face was red where I’d struck her, her lip cut slightly, her glasses bent out of perfect alignment.

“You might forget again in a minute,” she said. “We need to go back to the penthouse where it’s quiet so you can clear your mind. We have to go now. Oh thank God you remembered. Thank God Charles.”

I gazed off in thought for a moment, then my face hardened. “I’m not ready,” I said.

“What?”

“I’m not going back. Not yet.”

She jerked forward. “What are you talking about? Are you mad? You’ll forget again. It might become permanent!”

I shook my head. “I’m not ready. It ain’t happening.”

“Charles, think about what you’re saying! You already forgot who you were! We both did! It’s too dangerous!”

I got up, leaving her where she was lying. “No,” I said. “I’m not done with this. I like feeling like this. I like being Tommy.” I paused. “And I want to get laid. Like this.”

Barbara scrambled up, using the wall to get vertical. “Charles, no! You can’t! You don’t even know what’s happening to you. This isn’t you talking. You’re thinking like a nineteen year old would. You’re making all the wrong choices. You have to consider the consequences!”

I turned my back on her and walked away, fists down at my sides. “Fuck the consequences,” I said. “I’ve got things to do!”

“Charles!” she called after me. “For God’s sake Charles, come back!”