Recursion C.N.

RECURSION

∞

Olive stumbles on her four toes into somewhere she cannot see, because, she realizes, she no longer has eyes. “Jo?” She asks in a small worried voice.

Jojo barks and nuzzles her wife, her master, lettering her know she’s there. Where, Jojo isn’t entirely sure. It’s a large apartment, old looking and expensive, with beautiful hardwood floors, clean white walls with elaborate moulding, and sculpted light fixtures. There is furniture too, fancy antique chairs and lounges and solid wood tables and shelves, much nicer than what Olive and Jojo have in their own home. The room is filled with sunlight from three large windows overlooking an unfamiliar skyline of handsome antique buildings descending down a city slope. Were they in Europe? France? Italy? Jojo has no idea.

“Oh thank god “ Olive says, and then: “Are we… are we still like we were at the party?”

Jojo whines, meaning yes. Olive is still blind and armless and the owner of a strange four-legged body like a centaur made from two women stuck together, but with the extra torso and legs inverted so that her legs point in opposite directions. All four of her legs are coated in purple latex from the thighs down and her feet are still locked into a severe ballerina tippie-toe, maybe permanently. Jojo for her part is still some sort of hybrid dog creature with four canine legs and a dog muzzle and ears and a blonde furry tail. She still has six big breasts and the strange exciting weight of a canine cock between her hind legs instead of a pussy. She wishes she could explain this to Olive, but instead all she can do is bark.

“Fuck,” Olive says, getting the overall message anyway. “Okay, bark twice for yes and three times for no.”

Jojo barks twice.

“Good girl,” Olive says and Jojo wags her tail and blushes. “Are we safe?”

Jojo makes a noncommittal dog sound but barks twice. She thinks so.

“Do you know where we are?”

Jojo barks three times. No.

“Is this…. Is this real?”

Jojo barks twice with conviction. She isn’t sure how she knows, but she is absolutely certain they are back in the real world and that these inconvenient, exciting, sexy new bodies are theirs to keep.

“I agree,” Olive says, rolling her limbless shoulders and worrying her lip. She has no idea how they’re going to live like this, an armless ballet porno centaur and her sexy dog, but somehow her strange new helpless body feels right, feels like the culmination of something. The truest form of herself. “I hope it’s real.”

“Bonjour? ‘Allo? Iz evry-ting okay?” Jojo turns and barks at the slender brunette woman who enters the room. She is dressed like a non-kinky maid in a smart black dress with a white collar. “I ‘erd barking?”

“Who’s there?” Olive asks, scrambling awkwardly to face the voice. Jojo steps between her master and this stranger, tail down, teeth bared.

“Iz just moi, Gisselle. I did not mean to startle!” She steps forward with a click of kitten heels on the floor and reaches down to scratch Jojo behind her floppy dog ears. Jojo blushes and wags her tail and licks at Giselle without consciously thinking about it. “I wanted to know if you need any-ting? Le driver? Dinner? A bath? More kibbles for our precious petite Jojo?”

“No, um, that’s fine. Thank you. We don’t want to be a bother…”

“No bother, it iz my job.” Giselle musses Jojo’s hair and retreats back through the door she entered. “Appelle-moi when you need ‘elp!”

Olive waits for the door to close and asks: “So we are sexy freaks and have a French maid?”

Jojo barks twice.

“Well, you wanted a more interesting sex life,” Olive says with a smile she hopes is aimed at her pet wife. “Alright Jojo, guide me to our new bedroom. If you are a good girl I might let you fuck me.”

Jojo wags her tail and barks and so the rest of their life together begins.