Recharge

Lois lay back in the chair, eyelids heavy, the speakers over her ears hissing a soft lullaby of rhthymic noise. Things moved around her; a tube touched her mouth and her lips closed around it without thinking, greedily sucking at the cool liquid within. Her body was sore, muscles protesting as though from a vigorous workout—including muscles that she didn't know she had, in her crotch. Quietly, parts of the chair began to vibrate, a sudden and unexpected massage that the reporter quickly leaned back into.

Her cock, the great serpent of flesh that she had so recently obtained, lay flaccid and spent. Small manipulator-arms washed it with tiny sponges, peeling back the foreskin to scrub the sensitive raw red flesh. One of them even extended a q-tip to rub a cool gel on her burning urethra. It was weird to her, as her cock was pampered, how absolutely normal it felt to have a dick. It wasn't some alien appendage. Lois' prick felt like a completely natural part of her.

Except it was fucked out, and so was she. A weird chemical smell wafted under the new dickgirl's nostrils, and Lois' eyelids finally closed. The chair tilted back into an almost-prone position...and the reporter could feel the world slip away. No more games, no more sex, just a chance to relax and rest, recharge her batteries...

The darkness was tinged with pink. It was hard for Lois to describe. Like the blackness around her was only a painting, a skin, and that wherever the skin cracked it showed through the bright neon pink beneath. Naked, Lois moved through the darkness, feeling leaves and dirt beneath her feet. There was no wind, no smell, but the black took on shape and texture. Long skinny poles, covered in bark. A game-path trampled out by deer and rabbits. Dark soft mosses that squished beneath her toes.

A black forest limned in pink.

Someone was speaking, far and away. Lois recognized her own voice—but it was like some old gospel song, her crisp voice speaking, then waiting for an answer, and her own voice rumbled out a reply. Call and response. Except she couldn't make out the individual words. Just the sound of them, rolling through the treetops. Whispers on a dead wind.

The reporter moved through the woods, dick swinging back and forth before her thighs. She had never given any thought to what it really felt like to walk with a cock before. Her feet kept to the game trail—the hard-packed earth underneath toe and heel, well-trodden, had to lead somewhere. A stream or a lake, or maybe the edge of the forest. So she walked and wandered...and her eyes lit on the marvels of the forest.

Strange phallic mushrooms sprouted along the edges of the trail, their gills limned with pink, accentuating their appearance like little cocks growing from the dark earth. Fleeting flashes of bare skin caught Lois' attention on either side—naked people, running through the woods in the same direction she was headed. Here or there she could catch glimpse of a shapely flank moving between the darker boles of the trees or the warm round heart-shape of a pair of buttocks in front of her. Part of Lois wanted to run after them, to join in the game, to ask them where they were or where they were going...but, she was glad to see, her cock didn't twitch in lust after any of them. She was not some rapacious satyr in search of a nymph.

In time, the dark sky was shot through with pink—the promise of some kind of neon dawn, not far off—and the trail split, to left and right. A single tree marked the fork in the road, and Lois could see some traveler had carved a word in it...sign or marker for those who came after. The reporter came up close to the tree, squinting in the darkness. The word was obscured by dirt and grime. With her left hand, she rubbed away at the filth, feeling it crumble away beneath her fingertips, and the word stood revealed...

CROATOAN.

Lois stared, remembering suddenly one salient fact: You can't read in a dream. Then she stared downward, and her cock was pointing straight ahead, perfectly erect, quivering for quim. The other signs came to her a moment later...the sudden thunder of her heart pound in her chest, the flush spreading across her cheeks, nipples hard and erect... The flash of a naked body dashed through the woods to Lois' left, and in a heartbeat, Lois was racing down the path, cock an iron bar leading the way as she scrambled madly after the merest hint of pussy...and for the next several minutes she was lost in the chase.

Yet the pink dawn was breaking, finally, and the call-and-response ended so that there was only one voice speaking again, Lois' own voice, crisp and clear, and now she could make out the words as they came down from the sky...

Stage Three complete. Initiating Stage Four.