“She deserves kindness.”
“She deserves love. She’ll get kindness if she earns it.”
He still has me impaled by the ass as he gives a devastatingly accurate picture of my needs. He knows me, this bad Zed, this terrible incarnation I hate as much as I love.
“You should give up,” he says. “You’ll never have control of her.”
“I have her heart. She loves me.”
“It’s not enough. She’s better off with a beast she hates who can keep her where she needs to be than some weakling.”
“I am not weak,” Zed snarls.
“Prove it. Take her. Give her what she needs.”
“I need to be in you,” Zed says, his eyes intense, his hands behind my thighs. He lifts me up a little, enough to draw me off the other Zed and toward him. I am soaked with need, the rear Zed’s cock in my ass making my pussy feel incredibly empty. I want to be completely filled. I want to be stretched to capacity. I want him to take me the way I crave being taken. And that’s exactly what he gives me. His cock finds my pussy, slides between my swollen lower lips, and pushes all the way in with one satisfying, cosmically perfect stroke.
“Yesss…” I groan and moan, wrapping my legs around his waist. I embrace him, impale myself on him, and yet I am still being fucked by his shadow side, Bad Zed working his cock into my tight ass with firm, strong strokes.
I am caught between two aliens, two realities, two potentials. They wrap themselves around me, one Zed sliding his arms around my waist and the other, the one behind me, cupping my breasts. I think I can tell which is which, and then I am no longer certain. They are one and the same, separated by time and choices, and maybe they’re not entirely distinct. Maybe one becomes the other and then they switch again. I give myself to them and to this moment. It is not my struggle. It is my honor and my pleasure to feel them both, their hard, thrusting rods nearly meeting one another inside me, kept apart by the thin wall of flesh between pussy and ass.
The three of us fail to notice the passing of time, or lack thereof. We could be caught in this tryst for eternity and none of us would object. I am the vessel, and they are the substance that fills me. I yearn for their come. I need Zed’s seed to flow inside me, not only for the tingling pleasure I know will suffuse me when it does, but for the ultimate release we are all seeking with our wet and writhing bodies.
It is coming toward us, a bright light casting warmth upon us, meeting us at the nexus of our combined genitals. Usually I feel like my orgasms come from inside me, somewhere between my clit and my pussy, a secret place nobody can ever truly fathom. This time it feels as though the orgasm is wrapping itself around us, urging the rough thrusting in my ass and pussy on, making my toes curl and my breath come in rasping gasps only barely audible between the rough, animal growls of Zed and Zed’s aggressive mating.
I come, shrieking and gasping, drawing them into my climax with my shaking, shuddering body. I grip them tightly with both of my holes, becoming a conduit for endless pleasure and ultimate forgiveness. Zed holds me so fucking close, kissing me deeply, keeping me all for his own. Behind me, I feel a loosening. This is not something both Zeds could ever hope to survive. We knew what would happen when we started, when they plugged me full and submitted to the decisions of time and conscience. Something would be gained, and something would be lost.
When I come to my senses, we are alone. And by alone, I mean there is one Zed holding me on his lap at the pie counter. There’s a half-eaten pie in front of us. Looks like strawberry. I look around the station, and then back at him curiously. “Is there only one of you now?”
“Just one,” Zed says.
“Which one won?”
Zed smirks brightly. “Which one did you want to win?”
“That’s not a fair question.”
He keeps smiling and pushes the pie plate toward me. “Eat,” he says. “You need your strength. That took a lot out of you.”
I pick up the fork and take a bite. When I look down, I see that I’ve been clothed in a plain white shift dress. That doesn’t give me any clues. Either it’s a sensible bit of clothing, or it’s simple packaging, depending on the surviving Zed.
The pie is very good. Sweet and rich, perfect for post-coital people facing an existential crisis.
Zed draws his teeth lightly across the nape of my neck, sending little shivers through me.