Poem: "Cycling Through the Options"

[ysabetwordsmith]

This poem fills a square on my card for the kink_bingo fest. This fest encourages people to push the limits of their comfort zone by creating erotica, pr0n, smut, and other sexy stuff in the many flavors of kinky, sensual, and otherwise exotic activities. I'm hoping to attract some new readers for my writing.

The following story belongs to Schrodinger's Heroes, featuring an apocryphal television show supported by an imaginary fandom. It's science fiction about quantum physics and saving the world from alternate dimensions. It features a very mixed cast in terms of ethnicity and sexual orientation. This project developed with input from multiple people, and it's open for everyone to play in. You can read more about the background, the characters, and a bunch of assorted content on the menu page.


Fandoms: Original (Schrodinger's Heroes)
Kink: Gangbang
Medium: Poetry
Summary/Preview: Quinn is the fandom bicycle. When he's the only one affected by the sex pollen (which is called catnip in this fandom), his friends help get him through the effects.
Content Notes: No standard notes apply.
Additional Information: NSFW. Canonical trans/genderqueer character (Quinn is genderqueer). Canonical asexual character (Ash). Canonical characters of color (Ash, Bailey, Kay, Morgan, Pat). Sex pollen. Oral sex. Pegging. Toys. Frottage. Also worth noting is that Quinn's flavor of genderqueer can vary from one fanwork to another; here he is a transman with the kind of bits one gets by applying male hormones to a body with XX chromosomes.


"Cycling Through the Options"


Quinn likes sex,
has always liked sex even when
the body he was born in didn't fit his identity,
likes sex even more now that his body does fit properly.

He dates people of any and all genders,
sports so enthusiastically that his friends gently tease him --
"What are you, a bicycle? Everyone gets to hop on and ride?" --
but Quinn is always careful with people's feelings.
He's an ethical sort of slut.

So he doesn't mind as much as some folks
when they get hit with catnip or another aphrodisiac
and fall into a rutting pile of body parts.
When Quinn is the only person who gets hit --
well, that's a bit more awkward.

Pat promptly steps up to deal with the situation
because he is polyamorous and always happy
to help out a friend in need of an orgasm.
Pat starts with a blow job and moves on to fucking
and then adds a hand job before he taps out.
"Kay, this catnip just won't quit," he declares.
"I'm going to need some backup in here."

Kay shows up with a trunk full of equipment
that they hopefully will not need all of,
and all the other human members of the team.
Quinn hears her quietly explaining
the clinical details of his body
for the benefit of those friends
who haven't already slept with him.
"Now if you want to go down on him, do it like this,"
she says, closing her mulberry lips over
the small phallus that used to be a clitoris,
and Quinn's world whites out with pleasure.

Alex, being a genius in bed
as well as everywhere else,
calculates the most efficient course of action.
She buckles herself into a harness
and fucks Quinn with a pearl-white dildo
while fingering him around the front, and yeah, that works.

Bailey, too, has been busy in Kay's toybox.
He does not need a strap-on
and gladly gives Quinn his dick,
but he does have a palmtop vibrator
which he cups over Quinn's front,
and that works too.

Ash is asexual, and Quinn feels vaguely guilty
about dragging her into this -- or rather about
Kay dragging her into this -- insofar as he can feel
anything other than mind-numbing lust.
But Ash pets him gently, forks their legs together
and says, "Rub yourself against me."
Quinn did not even realize how much she knew
about his fantasies until she whispers them to him
until he shudders and moans and comes
over the coppery hardness of her thigh.

Morgan picks out a strap-on
but then lies down and beckons to Quinn,
saying, "Fuck yourself on this."
He does not hesitate to straddle her soft body
and obey, grinding down with desperate haste.

Chris takes the last turn,
because he is heterosexual and
clearly hoping he wouldn't have to help.
"You don't have to," Quinn pants,
not wanting to damage their friendship
even though his body is still burning for sex.
"I choose to," Chris says solemnly.
"Reckon I can manage this much."
Then he takes Quinn in hand,
stroking rhythmically, a practiced motion,
and does not slow until Quinn shivers with release.

Now everyone has gone a round,
but the sex-pollen-catnip just won't quit
which means that Quinn can't quit either.
So Kay waves a hand and calls,
"Everybody line up again," and they do,
some of them already digging in the toybox.

Quinn's friends fuck him in every position,
sometimes two or three of them at once
to see if the teamwork will help,
which it's starting to do, at least a little.
He holds them close, clings to them
with sweaty hands, skin slipping and sliding.
He is tired and sore and stretched,
and they've changed the sheets twice
but the bed is a mess again.

By the time the sun is setting,
they are all exhausted.
Even Quinn can barely move,
the aphrodisiac finally washed away
by the work of his friends.

"Time to put the team bicycle back in the garage,"
Kay says. She checks everyone for damage,
declares them acceptably intact,
gives them all a cursory cleanup,
and somehow finds the energy
to change the sheets again.
Everyone piles together, drowsy and warm,
with Quinn curled up in the middle,
the wheels of his mind slowly spinning to stillness.