Joan and I had been best friends since middle school. I don’t know why she liked me so much. She was so very popular and beautiful. I had never been either. Most girls of Joan’s popularity and beauty would have ditched a girl like me long ago, but that was one of the things I liked so much about Joan. She was not pretentious. She didn’t need to be. Everyone seemed to like Joan. Boys wanted to be with her and girls wanted to be her. Joan could have easily been vain and arrogant, but she was not.
Joan had her friends in the popular crowd. She could have easily ignored me. I was not welcomed by the popular girls. That did not stop Joan from spending time with me separately. I think that I must have provided something to Joan that none of the popular girls did. I related to Joan on a more personal level. I was able to talk to Joan about anything. Other than our physical appearance and social status, Joan and I were so very similar. We thought alike. We had the same sense of humor, the same outlook on life, the same tastes in just about everything.
I was proud that Joan was a sensitive and mature enough person to accept me despite our few differences. I know that several of the more popular girls in high school had often told Joan that she should not associate with me, but to Joan’s great credit, she never followed their advice. Joan and I remained close friends all through high school. It was simply a case of Joan hanging out with her popular friends on some occasions and her hanging out with me on other occasions. But, no matter how many parties Joan was invited to, she always made time for me. I always cherished those times.
We had grown apart in recent years, not through any fault of Joan, but simply because Joan was off at the local college and I was off working as a low-paid and underappreciated secretary. For not only was Joan the more beautiful and more popular of us, but she had the brains too. Yes, Joan could go out and party all night, barely study at all, and still ace her tests. I, on the other hand, could stay home studying all night and still just barely manage to pass. I had wanted to go to college with Joan, but my grades just simply weren’t good enough. Joan had brains and beauty and I had neither.
Over the four years since Joan started college, we saw less and less of each other. Joan becoming more an more involved in her college studies and college boyfriends. She always managed to find time to see me whenever I asked. As the years went by, I started asking less and less. Why should I spoil her good times? No need for her to spend time with this charity case.
In her four years of college, Joan had more boyfriends than I could count. I, on the other hand, had been just as dateless after high school as I had been during it. At age 22, I was still just as much a virgin as I had been in high school. My shyness, lack of confidence, and general unattractiveness combined to create a situation were it was unlikely that I would ever find a boy to date.
I had always loved Joan’s body. Not in any sort of sexual way, but in an envious way. Joan had been a beautiful child and had grown into a gorgeous and sexy adult. Joan could have easily modeled if she ever had such an interest. Boys almost uniformly referred to her as “hot.” Joan had always had long hair. Unlike when I tried to grow my hair however, hers was always shimmering and lovely. My hair would always seem to be a tangled mess no matter how hard I would try. Joan’s hair had the radiant look of those models in the hair care advertisements with the unbelievably thick and lustrous hair, the ones you never believed could be real. Joan’s hair was thick and beautifully full and vibrant. It was straight and coal black but shimmered more beautifully than a rare diamond. I had never seen a single split end and rarely ever saw a hair out of place. Joan kept her hair long and even now it stretched down to the center of her back.
Joan’s beauty didn’t end with her hair though. She was beautiful from head to toe. Her jet black hair framed her milky white and flawless face. Joan often wore makeup, but she didn’t need it. Nature had almost provided her with the perfect face already. Her skin was silky smooth her lashes naturally long and thick. Her eyes were steel blue and burned like a sapphire under her long lashes. Her lips were naturally red and succulently thick. Her gorgeous face sat atop a long and slender exceptionally feminine neck.
I had the opportunity to see Joan’s naked body many times, something that every man that had ever gazed upon Joan would have sold their souls for I’m sure. I would often admire her naked body in gym when we changed or showered. Again, it was never in a sexual way, and I hope that no one ever caught me staring. My looks at her naked flesh was purely that of envy. I would look at her perfect body and dream of having a body half as fine myself. Her breasts were perfect in just about every sense. She was a full C-cup, though the natural firmness and roundness of her breasts created the impression of them being even larger. Her breasts sat atop a tummy that was flat as her hips were curvaceous. She had a perfect hourglass figure with a round yet firm butt. Her legs were incredibly long and slender and radiated pure femininity.
How I dreamed. Dreamed of having a body like hers. My body was almost the complete opposite. I was a blond, though the type of blond that would inevitably be referred to as “dishwater” or “dirty” blond. I always tried to maintain my hair as best I could, but no matter how hard I tried, my hair would always find a way of its own. Not quite curly, not quite straight, not quite wavy, it was just a mass of split ends. I invariably had to keep it quite short to preserve any sort of control over it. My short, boyish cuts didn’t do anything to accentuate my already deficient femininity. Indeed, with my large forehead, and chubby cheeks, I would sometimes be mistaken for a boy despite my constant attempts to dress as feminine as possible. My eyes were a murky color that fell somewhere between green and brown, behind lashes that were equally fine as my eyebrows were full. My eyes were magnified behind thick glasses. Coke-bottle lenses revealed my extremely poor vision.
My skin was just as blemished as Joan’s was flawless. There was rarely a time when any portion of my face, not to mention my shoulders and back weren’t covered in unsightly acne. I joked to myself that the pimple bumps on my chest were sometimes bigger than my breasts were. I was barely an A-cup. I had hips, but I was hardly and hourglass. No, I more resembled a pear, tiny top and fat bottom. My pear of a body sat atop short and squatty legs.
Yet, despite all of these flaws, and a personality that screamed of self-loathing, Joan was prompt in her invitation for me to attend her college graduation party. My immediate thought was that I could, of course, never attend. All of her pretty little airhead college buddies would be there. I would be just as unwelcome with them as I was with their counterparts back in high school. But, that wasn’t the real reason that I so quickly declined Joan’s invitation. No, it was Joan’s latest boyfriend. I couldn’t stand to even be near him. Not that he was a bad person, quite the contrary. He was perfect. Incredibly handsome, charming, wealthy, popular, sensitive, and just about every other adjective of which most women could only dream. But Joan wasn’t most women. She was one of the privileged few that could actually find such a rare male specimen. I was, quite simply, jealous. I was so very attracted to her boyfriend, that it took every ounce of self control I had not to put my hands all over him. Not that he would ever even consider someone like me. He was charming enough to be cordial to me, but I could tell that but for our mutual friend, he would never even share the same space with me.
Joan wasn’t about to accept my refusal. Within minutes of my sending my regrets via e-mail, my phone starting ringing. It was Joan. I looked at her name on the caller ID and let the phone ring a few times, contemplating not answering it, knowing that Joan would demand an explanation for not attending her joyous day. On the last ring, I reluctantly answered.
“Hello,” I answered timidly.
“Anna!” I heard the familiar voice of Joan excitedly utter. “How the heck are ya!”
“Fine,” I answered with none of Joan’s enthusiasm.
“Fine?” Joan questioned playfully. “Hair is fine, not people. I asked how the heck are ya, girl?!”
“I mean that I am doing well, Joan.” I responded in a bored monotone.
“Jeez, lighten up would ya, girl?” Joan continued in her playful way. “It is party time, hon!”
I sighed and then answered, trying to force a slight amount of enthusiasm in my voice. “Not for me, Joan. You know I’m not much for parties. I’ll just catch you sometime in the next couple of weeks. We’ll have our own little celebration. We’ll go out for lunch or something.”
“I don’t think so, Anna,” Joan’s tone became more serious. “Drake is going to be there. I need the two most important people in my life to be there.”
Just her mentioning the name of her boyfriend brought his handsome image to my mind. I felt my own sense of lust bubbling to the surface at the thought of him. “You and Drake have fun. Like I said, I’ll catch you later on.”
“Oh no!” Joan practically shouted into the phone. “You aren’t getting out of it that easy. Give me one good reason you can’t come to the party.”
“I… I just can’t.” I managed to say, lost somewhere between my feelings of guilt at disappointing my friend and my lingering feeling of lust at the thought of Drake. Joan started to say something more but I cut her off. “Look, I have to go, I’ll talk to you later, I promise.” I abruptly ended the phone call. Joan attempt to call me back three times but I refused to answer. She would undoubtedly be upset, but I knew she would forgive me.
I put the phone down and returned to my only companion of the evening, my book of ancient lore. I may not have been book smart like Joan, but I did enjoy reading for reading sake. Usually I found myself reading mushy romance novels, dreaming of what could be. Yet, for some strange reason, when I went the library this morning, I found myself checking out a book from the nonfiction section. I rarely browsed outside of the romance section, and almost never set foot in the nonfiction section. Though for some reason I felt strangely drawn to a book of ancient Greek culture.
The book itself seemed almost as ancient as the subject matter. It was covered in dust and cracked audibly when I opened the cover, as if it would break apart just from being opened for the first time in decades. I noticed that the inside cover of the book had a handwritten card tucked in it, not a barcode like every other book I had borrowed in the last 10 years. It must have been a long time indeed since this book was checked out, it hadn’t even been updated in the library’s computer system it seemed. I pulled the card out of the cover to see the last time it was checked out. The lines on the card were blank. It appeared that I would be the first to check this particular book out. Indeed, When I went to check the book out, the librarian couldn’t so much as find it in their system.
“I think someone forgot to update it,” I told the librarian when she was struggling to find any trace of it in her computer. “It still had the handwritten card in it.” I held up the book for her to examine.
“We should still have a record of it.” The librarian explained. After a few more minutes of searching, the librarian finally made a handwritten note of the title and the date of checkout. I think she had observed my growing impatience.
Strangely, I found myself deeply involved in the history contained in the book. Usually I had no interest whatsoever in that sort of topic. Yet, despite feeling guilty about hanging up on Joan, I couldn’t wait to immerse myself back into the story.
The chapter detailing an ancient and mysterious oracle especially caught my attention. It spoke of travelers journeying many miles of treacherous terrain to come to this mythic oracle on a frozen and desolate mountaintop. The oracle supposedly held the promise of one wish for whomever could survive the journey. The traveler only needed touch the stone edifice of the oracle and speak their wish and it would invariably be granted.
As I read, I clearly envisioned the stone oracle in my mind. I imagined myself as a traveler of old, barely alive after suffering so long and so far to find the mysterious oracle. I imagined myself reaching out and touching the cold stone surface, my feet half frozen in the snow of the mountaintop. With chapped lips and starving voice I spoke the words of my greatest wish. “I wish I had Joan’s body so that I could sleep with Drake…” I startled myself realizing that I had spoken the words aloud in the emptiness of my living room. I laughed slightly at my stupidity but continued to speak aloud nonetheless. “…Yes, sex with Drake, oh…” I stuttered. “But Joan can’t be mad at me for sleeping with him, she can’t ever leave me…” I laughed in the emptiness of my room again. “Ha, some wisher I am!” I said to myself. “I think that was three wishes, not one.” I told myself. “Let’s see, number one, want to have Joan’s body. Number two, want to have sex with Drake. Number three, never want Joan to leave me.” I giggled and continued to speak aloud to myself. “Gee, I guess I’m thinking of the magic lamp, too bad this oracle only gives one wish. Wonder which wish it would have given me.” I closed the book and started to giggle uncontrollably to myself at my fanciful thoughts.
Suddenly, I threw the book down. It was red hot! I quickly checked my fingers, and saw the slightest trace of blisters as if I had just burned myself. I looked down at the hardback and saw that the cover was now glowing a bright red. “What the hell?!” I again spoke to nothing but the empty room. The glowing started to become more intense and started to pulse in rhythm with an audible low pitched hum. I reached down as if to pick up the book, but as I drew closer, I could feel an intense heat radiating from the book. Despite the extreme heat, the carpet beneath the book did not burn. Then, just as quickly as it started, the book stopped. No more glow, no more heat and no more hum. More importantly, no more book. It disappeared before my very eyes!
I stared blankly at the book on the floor of my living room. Just as I was starting to convince myself that it had all been a bizarre figment of my imagination, I started to feel strange. A strong wave of nausea swept across my stomach as blood rushed to my head. I felt dizzy. The feeling of lightheadedness increased until I could no longer fight the unconsciousness. I faded into sleep.
My mind was immediately awash with dreams and visions. They were bizarre and otherworldly, I had thoughts but they were not my own. I felt as though someone was inside my head. Though the strangeness of my dreams paled in comparison to the strangeness of my new reality…
I awoke groggy from a deep sleep, as if I had been in a coma for years and was only barely able to reach back into the conscious world. Consciousness came slowly like I was rising from a murky pond, swimming toward a speck of light in cold and deep darkness, struggling to take my first breath in the conscious world. Something was wrong. Perhaps I had fallen into a coma. I could feel the real world. It was just beyond my reach. I was so close yet so far away. I felt stuck on the edge of sleep. I was aware of the conscious world, but I could not quite reach the surface.
Something was wrong. What? I couldn’t tell. My mind could not focused. I was preoccupied with reviving myself, I couldn’t tell what was wrong? Was I… Was I paralyzed? I was having difficulty moving to be sure. But no, I could raise my hand, ever so slightly, but I could sense it. I could sense my leg too. I could wiggle my toe ever so slightly. At least I could move, that was a relief. But wait… Leg? Arm? I had two of each. I couldn’t move them! Why couldn’t I move them? I still had them. I could feel them. Something was terribly wrong… I must… I must break through the ice. I must come back to the surface… the surface of reality. I could almost see it… Yes, I was conscious again!
The world came back to me, but slowly. I began to make out images. It was all a blur at first. Images slowly started to take form. They, strangely, started to take even better form than I expected. The world started to come into focus, but it was more focused than I had imagined. My vision continued to focus. I realized that I was seeing. I was truly seeing, but without my glasses. The world was focusing as it had when I was a child, before my eyesight had deteriorated. But even as my sight returned, I still knew something was horribly wrong. I felt an emptiness. Yet, I felt a heaviness. I was more… yet, less than I had been. How is that even possible? I heard… breathing! SOMEONE WAS BREATHING DOWN MY NECK! I must escape! Someone was right on top of me. I must get away.
I tried to jerk myself up,, but my body only partially responded. I was weak and my reflexes slowed. But, that wasn’t all. It was my body. Only half of it moved! I took a deep breath trying to force myself fully into consciousness. Yet, that too was strange. Yes, even breathing felt strange. I took another deep breath and used every ounce of strength I could muster to force my eyes wide open. I was finally awake.
I could scarcely believe what I saw, and even less believed what I felt. There was a person breathing down my neck. She was right next to me. My reflexes took control and I jerked myself away. The person next to me awoke from her sleep. I realized that when I pulled myself away that I pulled her with me! Her head was right next to mine, but there was no body! I panicked. I was laying next to a decapitated head! But it was more than that. The head was glued onto me. It was glued onto my shoulder. I was suddenly repulsed. I wearily drew up my one and only functional hand to attempt to push away the head from me. I was so weak that I only managed to lightly slap the face of the head.
I felt it! But how was that possible? I felt the face next to mine be slapped like it was my own face. I told myself that I had inadvertently smacked my own face. But, I didn’t. I felt my own face clearly. Yet, I felt something else… I felt this other face. I mean I truly felt it! I felt a second face, just like my own but separate. I could not control the face, but I felt every single inch of it. I craned make neck to the side of the head next to mine. I could tell the woman was struggling to regain consciousness just as I had. It was true. The head was attached to my shoulder! Yet, It wasn’t just a woman. As I was slowly returning to a fully conscious state, I realized that the grimacing face next to mine was, in fact, the face of Joan.
It didn’t make any sense. Even in my weary and half alert state, I understood that what I was perceiving just couldn’t be. The decapitated head of my best and only real friend was glued to my shoulder?? That didn’t even sound right. Yet, I was nonetheless experiencing it firsthand.
But no, it wasn’t right. My eyes told me as they finally came into focus. It was a perfect focus, more so than even when I had had my eyeglasses on. I had never seen with this much clarity of vision in my life. My naked eyes seemed to see in perfect 20/20 vision for the first time in my life. I was finally able to see my body in focus. But, it wasn’t my body! It was hard to see. I was laying down, flat on my back, but there was something obstructing my view, something on my chest. There was a bed sheet over my body. With a very weary hand I slowly and clumsily removed the sheet. I immediately saw breasts. But, they were not my breasts! They were too big, and… too numerous. Too numerous?? Yes, my newly functional eyes beheld three breasts! An odd number to be sure, but even odder still that they occupied a single chest… My chest! Three breasts sat atop my chest in a single row. They were huge. I felt the tremendous weight of them pressing against my chest. I felt them heave every time I took a breath. Still… There was a strangeness to my breathing something which I couldn’t quite figure.
How could these huge things be on my chest?? Everything about my breasts was wrong. There were three of them. That was the most obvious problem, but more than that. The size was all wrong. They were at least a D-cup in size. No, that wasn’t quite right. The outer two breasts were a D-cup, the center boob was a bit larger, I say a DD-cup in size. The number and size weren’t the only discrepancies though. These boobs were perfect. They were soft yet firm, round and voluptuous. They were milky white and had a flawless skin texture. There was not a single blemish to be seen. Not the slightest hint of a pimple anywhere on my chest.
With great effort I was able to lift my head slightly to look beyond the three huge boobs. The rest of my body was different too. Nothing bizarre like the three huge boobs, but it was not my body. It was far too perfect. My usual flabby belly was not there. Beyond my strange tits was nothing but a flat and toned tummy. Beyond that were shapely hips and long slender legs, again without the slightest blemish on the milky smooth skin.
I tried to move the long slender legs but was only able to move the left one. I was only able to control my left hand. It seems I was paralyzed on the right side of my body. No, my right side moved. No, it couldn’t have. I didn’t move it. It moved again. It was moving on its own, beyond my control!
Joan’s head was starting to stir. I felt her moving. No, I felt her moving from both sides. I felt her chin brush my cheek, but I also felt my cheek brush against her chin. I felt both simultaneously. I craned my neck as far to the right as I could manage. I suddenly realized that her head wasn’t ‘glued’ to my body, it was attached, no, it was part of my body. Her neck attached as seamlessly to my chest as my own neck did. Both of our heads shared a single three-breasted body!
Joan wearily spoke. “Wha… What’s going on?” I felt her lips move! I actually felt the lips on her head move as she spoke.
I timidly responded. “Joan… Is that you?”
Joan slowly pried open her eyes. “Anna?” I felt our body spasm, as Joan had the same involuntary reflex as I did, trying to pull herself away from me. She merely pulled our shared body to the right. “What the hell?!” Joan tiredly moved the right arm on our shared body, bringing it up to my face and a weak attempt to push my face away. “Give me a little space, Anna, I don’t feel well.”
Tears started rolling down my cheeks in self pity. “I… I can’t!”
Joan spoke in a crack and dry whisper, barely having the strength to form words. “Stop playing around. I don’t feel well at all. I think I’m hurt. I… I can’t move.”
Slowly regaining my strength, I tenderly brought our left hand up to gently caress the side of Joan’s cheek. I brought my lips up to Joan’s ear and whispered. “You can move, dear. You can only move your side of our body.”
With that comment, Joan quickly regain much of her consciousness. “What?!” Her eyes started to flutter and she looked down at our three large beasts. “What do you mean ‘our body’?”
Joan was just as much in disbelief as I was. We both started to slowly regain consciousness and our strength eventually returned. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I could not move a muscle on the right side of my body… Our body. I could feel every single movement, every single sensation on the right side, but I had no warning about its movement. Every single time that the right side of our body moved it was a surprise to me. I had absolute feel yet absolute lack of control for everything on the right side.
We lay in bed a long time, weeping. How could we survive? How could we even walk when even the slightest of movement on the right was a shock to me? I had no foresight into Joan’s mind. I could not read her thoughts. I could feel every inch of her face on our shoulders, but I hadn’t the slightest clue of when or where she might move the right side of our body. I could tell the same was true of her and the left side of our shared body.
We lay in bed for countless hours. We hardly spoke a word, but we both cried. We cried and cried some more. We hoped to awake from this nightmare. We could not. We did not. I wanted so much to talk to my very best friend, but found it impossible to speak to a person that was only inches away from me. I could not believe what had happened. I just couldn’t. It just couldn’t be. If we spoke about it, somehow that would make it all the more real. All we could do was cry. I wanted to bury my face in my hands, but I couldn’t. I only had control over the left hand. I wiped the tears away with my one functional hand just as Joan wiped her tears away with the hand she controlled.
We continued to lay there. I recognized the room. It was Joan’s bedroom. Not her collage dorm room, it was her bedroom in her parent’s home. She had come back home last week after her finals. Somehow it seemed worse. Facing a college roommate was one thing, having to face her family in this grotesque form was an awful thought. Yet, as I heard myself say it, I realized I didn’t agree with what I had just said. “Grotesque” was what I was in my old ugly body. This body was… well, it was beautiful. No! I wasn’t really saying that was I? We were some circus freak three-boobed Siamese twin monster. We couldn’t be beautiful… Could we? Yet, as I continued to look down at our shared body, I couldn’t help but admire the beauty of it. Other than the extra boob and the fact that I only controlled half of it, it was exactly the kind of body I had always wanted.
I finally cleared my throat to get the attention of the head crying inches from my own. “Um… We should probably try to get out of bed, Sweetie.”
Joan responded through tears. “What the hell happened to us?” It was a good question. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t know. But, I did know. It was the damn book! That mysterious book about the oracle. It had somehow worked! How was that even possible? Magic didn’t exist, did it? I looked again at our shared three-breasted body and found my answer. I thought about telling Joan of the book, but then thought better of it. Now was not the time.
“I think we should focus on trying to move, Sweetheart.” I spoke as lovingly as I could as I changed the subject.
A fresh wave of tears started to flow from Joan. “How the hell are we supposed to move! I can’t move my left side!” She craned her neck to the left to look me in my eyes. “I can’t predict your movements of my left side. How will I know when you are going to move my left side?”
I noticed that Joan was still referring to it as her body. I couldn’t blame her, It was obvious that our newly shared body was much closer to hers in appearance. I was the invader to her body, not vice versa. Other than my head and the strange three boobs, it looked just like her body had before our bizarre transformation. Actually our breasts looked like hers too, just that there were more of them, and they were bigger. The smooth round firmness of her tits were still evident even though they were larger and more numerous.
“We have to at least try to move, Hon. We can’t sit in bed all day.” I said as calmly and sweetly as I could manage. “I’ll slip us off the left side of the bed while you hold on to the side of the bed so we don’t fall.”
“How can you be so calm about all of this?” Joan said through tears. “We are stuck together! Your goddamn head is stuck to my shoulder!”
“I know, Honey.” I spoke reassuringly. “I think we should focus on the constructive, try to focus on accomplishing one small step at a time.”
I moved our left leg off of the bed and Joan followed with our right leg. We planted both of our feet on the floor. I made a motion as if to sit up but we went nowhere. It was obvious that we would both have to move simultaneously in order to stand up. I looked over at the other head on our shoulders. “On the count of three?” Joan nodded. We managed to get to our feet as I counted the number three out loud. We almost toppled over but managed to steady ourselves. Joan held on for dear life to the side of her bed.
“I… I can’t do it!” Joan spoke in a frightened voice.
“Yes, we can.” I reassured. “We just have to take it slowly.”
Joan started crying again. “This isn’t fair! Why is this happening to me!” I thought about saying something about the fact that it was happening to ‘us’ not just to her, but I allowed Joan to be selfish.
“I know, Sweetie,” I again tried to be reassuring. It was quickly becoming apparent that I was going to have to take the lead. I had spent all of my life being the ugly one. It was all a new experience to Joan, who had always been normal and beautiful. “Just take it nice and slowly. We will get there, I promise. I slid our left foot forward along the cold hardwood floor. Joan managed to follow carefully sliding our right foot forward as she continued to hold on with a death grip to the side of her bed.
“Where are we going, Anna?” Joan said, her face red and tear-streaked. “There is nowhere to go! I can’t be seen like this! What if someone sees me?!”
“Just focus on walking for now, Sweetheart.” I said calmly.
“Stop calling me ‘sweetheart’!” Joan yelled. It was strange. I felt the air she inhaled right before she screamed. It was taken into our shared lungs. “I’m not your ‘honey’ or your ‘sweetheart’! I ought to fucking kill you. You fucking glued your head and a boob onto me!”
Now tears started returning to my eyes. “I… I’m just trying to help. I don’t know what happened, Hon… Er… Joan.” I looked over pleadingly to the head that shared our shoulders. “Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.”
Joan saw the anguish in my face and settled down slightly. She wanted to yell at me more but I could tell she was holding back, not wanting to hurt me. “Fine, whatever.” Joan finally said. “But where are we going?”
I looked around the room and finally caught sight of Joan’s mirror. “Let’s just try to make it over to the mirror. Maybe we can try to make some sense of what really happened to us.” Joan was obviously not happy but she followed along, sliding our right foot after I would slide our left. We almost toppled over a couple more times on the way to the bedroom mirror. Trying to watch our feet was made all the more difficult by the three huge boobs that obstructed our downward view.
When we finally made it to the mirror, I was amazed at what I saw. I could see in our reflection that Joan was horrified. I tried to look the same. But, in all honesty. I was overjoyed. We were so beautiful. When I made that wish, I was talking about three separate wishes. I wanted to have a body as beautiful as Joan’s body. I wanted to have sex with her boyfriend Drake. I wanted to be friends with Joan forever. The book, oracle, entity, whatever power controlled that book, had taken my three wishes and combined them into one single wish. I could see the strange logic of it as I looked at our shared form in the mirror. I not only had a body like Joan’s, I had her very body. In having her body, or rather sharing it, I could also have sex with Drake, because he couldn’t have sex with her without also having sex with me. Joan and I now shared a single vagina! And finally, in sharing one body, Joan and I would obviously be together forever, I could only hope that it would be as friends and not as enemies.
As I continued to look in the mirror, I saw that my face was my own yet it was different. My eyesight was not the only thing that had changed. The skin on my face was just as creamy white and flawless as the rest of the skin on our shared body. My eyes now stood out like a dark pearl behind luscious curly lashes and striking brows. My face was more beautiful than it had ever been. My hair too was now gorgeous. It was thick and shiny. It was luminescent; short but full of bounce and free of split ends. The color was brighter as I was now a pure blond with none of the “dirty” or “dishwater.” My short blond locks stood in great contrast to Joan’s long raven hair. Other than the two heads and three large breasts, we shared one beautiful body. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. I wanted to celebrate, but I could not. Joan was still in horror at our new form.
I decided to keep my excitement over our new form to myself. But that was easier said than done. I quickly grew sexually aroused at the sight of our new body. It wasn’t long before Joan noticed an all too familiar wetness between our legs. “What the hell?” Joan said as she brought our right hand down to our vagina. “Oh my god.” Joan stared intently at the reflection of my face in the mirror. “Are you… Are you turned on or something?? What are you some kind of lesbo or something?”
I couldn’t prevent myself from blushing with embarrassment. “Uh… no, I uh… no, of course not. I was just… thinking…” I struggled for the right words. “…What it might be like to have sex with a guy in a form like this. I mean with only one… you know.” I looked down at our shared vagina.
“Damn, Anna!” Joan shook her head on our shared shoulders. “We are facing a crisis, this is hardly the time to be thinking of sex!”
“You’re right, Joan.” I said in the most serious tone I could muster. “Um… we should probably try to get dressed.” I said, trying to change the topic. “I mean, we are standing here completely naked.”
“Yeah, well…” Joan continued. “I always sleep in the nude. Even at my parents house, which is why the door is, thankfully, locked. And, quite frankly, I don’t care if we ever come out. I can’t possibly let anyone see me like this. I’ve got an extra head and boob attached to me for crying out loud! I only hope I can get them removed as quickly as possible!”
“Uh…” I interjected. “I don’t know about the boob, but that extra head you want removed, happens to be a person!”
“Yeah, well, you can just go back to your own body!” Joan said, starting to become upset again that I had somehow ‘invaded’ her.
“I don’t even know where my body is! My head is just as firmly attached to this three-breasted thing as yours, Sweetheart!” I used the name with sarcasm this time rather than endearment. “What do you plan to do? Put me under the guillotine?” I said, unconsciously putting our left hand on our left hip in a defiant pose.
Joan momentarily put her anger aside. “Well, as you say, baby-steps. Lets focus on trying to get ourselves dressed, and I’ll worry about beheading you later.”
We slowly scooted our way back across the room, sliding our feet one at a time, slowly and in rhythm so as not to fall down. We made our way very slow over to Joan’s dresser. I tried not to think about our shared pussy and how wonderful it would be to have it filled with Drake’s raging cock… No, no, I had to stay focused. I couldn’t think about that. I was sharing a vagina with another woman. If I started thinking that way too long, Joan would know I was having sexual thoughts.
We braced ourselves against the dresser. Joan grabbed hold of the dresser while I slowly and carefully opened the drawer she indicated. I would focus on getting us dressed. No more dirty thoughts. I grabbed the topmost pair of underwear from her drawer. It was a lacy pair of thong underwear. As far as I knew, Joan didn’t own anything conservative as far as underwear, everything was varying degrees of sexy. I forced all dirty thoughts out of my mind. I focused entirely on trying to get the underwear on us. The lacy… sexy… thong… panties, no, underwear, they are just underwear, nothing more, nothing less. I slowly raised my leg and Joan held on tightly to the side of the dresser. I focused on sliding the underwear up the left leg. I focus on holding the dresser as Joan lifted her right leg to slip the underwear onto our right leg. I focus on pulling the underwear up our (long) legs, up over our (sexy) thighs, and finally onto our hot, wet, juicy pussy so in need of a hard cock…. NO! NO! I will not think of such thoughts! What the hell was wrong with me?? I was thinking like a total slut. I couldn’t help it, the thought of sharing such a beautiful body, or sharing one single vagina between two minds. The thought of it was almost overwhelming. No! I had to stay focused.
“Is something wrong?” Joan asked me.
“Other than having only half a body, no, nothing.” I tried to joke, only half succeeding. “Let’s try to make our way over to the closet. Let’s just do something simple, just a pair of jeans should suffice.”
Joan held onto the side of the dresser as long as possible as we continued our rhythmic scoot across the hardwood of Joan’s bedroom floor. I would move our left foot slowly along and Joan would follow with our right foot as we held our respective arms out in front of us to catch ourselves on a nearby wall if we should start to teeter. We made it to Joan’s closet slowly but did, at least, manage to get there without almost falling over this time. I grabbed hold of the closet handle while Joan used our right hand to glide open the other of the closet’s double doors. Joan did her best to try to pull a pair of jeans off a plastic hanger inside her closet, but the jeans, hanger and all just ended up falling to the floor.
“Damn it!” Joan exclaimed. “How about a little help here?!” Joan eyed me angrily.
“Sorry, I was just making sure to hold on to the door handle tightly so that we wouldn’t fall over.” I said apologetically.
Joan sighed and continued to yell at me. “Well, this time try holding onto the damn hanger so I can pull the jeans off of it!” I did as Joan asked and carefully, steadily brought our left hand up the clothes hanger and used it for support as Joan pulled the pair of blue jeans off the hanger. As Joan held the pair of jeans in our right hand, my first thought was that they would never fit, that they were too small. I realized moments later that my… our ass, hips, and waist were a lot smaller now. I suppose it was just habit. I was accustomed to trying to squeeze my fat ass and chubby thighs into my big girl jeans. Now, that I shared a lower body that resemble that of a model, I… We could fit into these tight little jeans.
I had suggested jeans to Joan because I thought they would be easier for us to get into than a dress or skirt. I was wrong. I was again thinking of my own jeans… the loose fitting type. I should have known that all Joan would have is her usual tight-fitting, put-my-firm-ass-on-display jeans that she always wore. It was going to take time for me to get used to Joan’s wardrobe. Unlike me, she actually had clothes designed to show off a body rather than hide it. Ironically, I think Joan would have prefered to be in my closet, in order to have clothes that could hide our new body, as if there was really anyway we could ever hide the fact that we were now a single body with two heads!
After staring at the tight jeans in Joan’s hand for a few moments, as if the jeans were a puzzle box for us to decipher, we eventually decided that we must make our way back to Joan’s bed in order to sit down while we attempted to put her jeans on our shared body. It was rather obvious to both of us that if we tried to put them on while standing up, we would both fall on our faces. We awkwardly managed to back ourselves out of the closet. I amusingly thought that with our slowness and effort backing up that we probably needed one of those beeping backing signals like they use on large work vehicles to provide warning that they are backing. Nonetheless, we eventually managed to slide… to scoot… to inch our way back to Joan’s bed. I started to sit our left half a second before Joan moved to sit our right half and we ended up falling onto the bed. Joan’s face smacked down on the soft surface of the bed as my not-so-soft skull came crashing into Joan’s cheek.
“What the fuck?!” Joan exclaimed. “Are you really this clumsy?”
I used our left arm to push ourselves off the bed and into a seated position. “Sorry,” I replied. “I thought you were ready to sit.”
Joan sighed louder this time. “Just help me put my jeans on already!” I had never imagined that putting on a simple pair of jeans could be so difficult. Firstly, we both brought our respective legs up at the same time and almost ended up rolling face first off the bed. “Just stay still! Let me put the leg in first!” Joan was starting to yell even louder at me. I was beginning to wonder if any of Joan’s family was home. If so, they must be wondering by now who Joan was yelling at on the other side of her locked bedroom door. I sat still and allowed Joan to slowly and gently raise our right leg. I held the left side of Joan’s jeans while she held the right. Joan slowly started to bend forward from our seated position, my left side reacting a bit slower in response to Joan’s initiating a bending motion. She slowly placed the waist of the jeans over her toe and then around our foot and then proceeded to quickly pull the jeans up our right leg, also managing to knock the back of her head into the side of mine. I bit my lip painfully as her head crashed into mine.
“Ouch!” Joan and I both exclaimed. I dropped the left side of Joan’s jeans and watched them fall off our left leg and back onto the floor. I brought our left hand up to my now sore lip and rubbed it. “Want to do that a little slower next time?”
Joan’s head sank. “I can’t even dress myself. Just put me in the fucking nursing home already, I’m obviously an invalid.”
I brought our left hand own from my lip and placed it reassuringly on our right knee. “Look, between the two of us we have a fully functional body. We just need to get the hang of it.”
“I’m not getting the hang of anything!” Joan said as she bent our right half forward, dragging the left side of our torso along with her. She picked up the jeans that had fallen to the floor. “I’m getting you off of me and I’m getting my body back as soon as I can get to a doctor!” I thought of telling Joan that even if she managed to have my head removed from our body, that there was no reason to think that she would have control of the left side any more than she does now. I held my tongue, literally and figuratively as I returned our left hand back to my sore mouth. I knew that Joan was not currently in the mood for logical thought. I remained quiet and helped her take hold of her jeans again as she once again slowly lifted our right leg in a second attempt to get us dressed. She pulled the jeans over our right leg more slowly this time. I waited for her to place our right leg down and then lifted our left leg. I must have raised it too quickly however and we lost balance even in our seated position and rolled over to our left on the bed. This time, it was Joan’s turn have her head slam into mine as I smacked face first into the soft surface of the bed. Gee, I thought to myself, that’s two head-butts for Joan and one for me. I’ll have to remember to keep a score card handy. I envisioned a lot of black eyes and bruised cheekbones. The jeans had once again fallen back to the floor. I again used our left arm to push ourselves back into a seated position. Joan and I simply looked at each other without comment and bent ourselves forward again for our third attempt. This time we used greater communication. Joan told me what she was going to do and told me when to raise our left leg. We managed to get both halves of the jeans over our respective legs and even managed to get the tight jeans pulled up over our knees and halfway up our thighs. That is where our progress came to a stop. We sat there in silence for a moment, my fingers wrapped around the left side of Joan’s jeans and hers around the right side. We stared at each other. Our chins were touching as Joan looked left and I looked right.
“Well, what do we do now?” I finally offered.
“Alright,” Joan thought for a moment. “I’ll hold onto the waistband, you reach down and pull the cuff up and around my heel.” I thought of correcting Joan about whose heel it was, mine or ours, but it was apparent that she considered our entire body, other than my head and possibly our middle boob, as hers and hers alone. I did as Joan instructed, pulling the cuff over our left heel. I then returned my hand to hold the left side of the jean waistband. Joan followed by reaching down to pull her cuff over our right heel before returning her hand to the right side of the waistband.
“Now what?” I asked simply. “Should we stand up to pull them the rest of the way?”
Joan thought for a second. “I think that would be unwise at this juncture.” Joan said looking down toward my sore lip. “Let’s just lay back in bed and pull them up here.” Joan said as she simultaneously lay back in bed, pulling our left half with her as she did. As we lay back in bed, we used our respective hands to pull on the jeans. We had little success. Joan’s jeans were so damn tight that they didn’t want to move, especially with the weight of our body on them. We may have had a much smaller ass than I did when I had my own body, but it was still large enough to cause problem with Joan’s exceptionally tight jeans. “Look,” Joan continued exasperatingly. “You’re going to have to help me lift my ass up.”
“Come again?” I asked mockingly.
Joan was not amused. “Stop messing around and lift up my ass on three… One… Two… Three.” On Joan’s count I lifted in unison with her to lift our ass up off the bed as we lay on our back. With that, we both pulled and managed to get the tight denim of the jeans around our equally tight ass. I unclenched our butt a second before Joan and our ass flopped back down on the bed. I tried to pull ourselves back into a seated position but didn’t get very far as the right half of our body was still in a relaxed position laying on the bed. Joan felt my movement and tried to pull us into a seated position, but again we didn’t move because by the time she moved, I had relaxed my half of our body. Jeez, I thought, we can’t even sit up without being in cooperation. We both tried again, and this time, in unison we managed to get ourselves in a seated position.
After three tries, we had managed to get Joan’s jeans onto our legs. Of course, they were still unbuckled as we sat there on the end of the bed. Moreover, I was already uncomfortable. How the hell did Joan wear these jeans so tight? I looked down at our shared body. I could barely see the zipper of the jeans. Not only did we have huge boobs, the fact that we had a big one in-between made it even hard to see than if we had just had two large boobs.
I cocked my head back to the right to look Joan in the eyes. “Should we stand up to buckle up? On three?”
Joan sighed again and this time added an eye roll in for good measure. “Yes, on three, every fucking thing ‘on three’ now it seems!” I ignored her bad attitude and counted to three and we awkwardly managed to get back in a standing position. “Here, I’ll hold the hole end and you slide the button through.”
Joan surprised me by lightly slapping our middle breast in frustration with our right hand. “I can’t even see the god damn button with this huge extra tit in the way!”
“Just do your best.” I spoke quietly. After a few tries, Joan managed to get us buttoned and then pulled up our zipper which make a loud noise due to the tightness of the jeans. I peered around our three large breasts. Damn, I thought. Our legs look good. We had such round hips yet long slender legs.
“Well,” I spoke. “I guess we should do socks and shoes next, then at least we’ll have our lower half done.” I offered a hint of a smile, but Joan was still in no mood for it.
“Fuck the socks.” Joan responded angrily. “I’m not messing with those and I’m sure as hell not messing with any laces. Just bare feet in some open-toed shoes.” The right half of our body lurched forward as Joan had intended us to walk back to her closet. She had obviously tried to take a step on habit, momentarily forgetting that she needed my cooperation to walk anywhere. “Can we go, already?” Joan asked in the same exasperated tone.
“Certainly,” I responded. We began our slow scoot toward Joan’s closet. Maybe it was my imagination but we seemed to go just slightly faster than we had previously. Maybe we were getting used to this cooperative walking. Though as we started to wobble a bit, I realized we’d have a lot of work to do before we would truly be able to get anywhere fast. If we ever did that is. How the hell would we ever be able to walk quickly when I never knew when or where half of my body was going to move? When we got to the closet, Joan bent down our right half, pulling me along with her. I grabbed desperately onto the door of the closet to prevent of from falling. Joan grabbed a pair of sandals.
We worked our way slowly back to the bed and back again to a seated position. We managed to get the sandals onto our feet without as much difficulty as the jeans. I took charge of the left shoe and Joan was in charge of putting on our right shoe.
“Well, we’ve got the bottom half done.” I said enthusiastically. Joan smirked but made it clear she did not share any of my enthusiasm.
“Yeah, you want to help me with a top, or are you planning to enter us in a topless freak show?” Joan said sarcastically.
I looked down at our three large breasts. “Well… Got any three-cupped bras?” I said jokingly.
Again, Joan was not amused. “Just help me back to the closet so I can get a shirt.” We scooted our way back to the closet and Joan searched for the loosest-fitting shirt she could find, not an easy task for Joan who wore just about everything tightly. She finally found a t-shirt that I suspected once belonged to Drake or one of her many ex-boyfriends. I again held the hanger as Joan used our right hand to obtain the shirt. Joan used her one hand over which she had control to pull the shirt over her head. I used our left hand to pull the left side of the shirt toward my head. The problem was obvious but we both struggled one-handedly with our faces buried inside the shirt. We clunked our heads together and with a tug on both sides of the shirt with our respective hands, we managed to pull the shirt on, both of our heads popping through the single hole at the top of the shirt. Our heads were now resting even closer together than they had had been. We were now touching cheek to cheek with the fabric of the t-shirt’s collar stretched to the limit and somewhat painfully digging into the left side of my neck and the right side of Joan’s neck. The limited collar size wasn’t the only problem. Despite the larger size of the shirt, it hung awkwardly on us. Our large breasts, especially the larger middle breast stuck out proudly and bralessly.
“Hold the hanger again,” I heard Joan say as she reached for a sweatshirt.
“Sweatshirt?” I questioned. “It’s like eighty-some degrees outside.” At least, I assumed it was. I really had know idea how long we’d been asleep or comatose or whatever we were, but I imagined it couldn’t have been very long.
Joan grabbed the sweatshirt as I held the hanger for her. “Your head is bad enough, if you think I’m going to let anyone see these freaky boobs on me, you are crazy.” Joan said as we again struggled to get our heads popped up through the single head hole of the sweatshirt.
The sweatshirt provided a bit more coverage so that our three large breasts weren’t quite as noticeable. I had never before even really seen the need for bras and often didn’t wear them on my tiny chest. Yet, now I felt like we really needed one. I was not accustomed to have breasts anywhere near this size, and certainly not three of them! Despite our slow and shuffling style of walk, I felt our boobs were bouncing all over the place out of control. I suppose they weren’t really bouncing all that much, but any bounce at all was something I was totally unfamiliar with having had, until now, tiny little A-cups. Not that we had any options for a bra at the moment. Joan’s bras would not have fit. Hers were only a C-cup and even the outer cups were at least a D-cup in my approximation. The middle boob appeared to be a DD-cup. Even if Joan did have a larger-sized bra, I’m sure she certainly didn’t have any with three cups.
We stood there in the silence of Joan’s bedroom for a time. Suddenly, Joan turned her head toward the direction of her bed. She was actually looking at the digital alarm clock next to her bed. She said. “Fuck! It’s almost 4:00 pm. My mother is going to be bringing my brother and sister home from school soon.” I suddenly felt the odd sensation of our body shivering. We were not cold in the sweatshirt. I suddenly realized that our body was shaking because Joan, though not I, was now frightened. Such a strange feeling having your body shiver because someone else is scared. I knew what was frightening Joan. She was afraid of facing her family. How was she going to explain the fact that she now had a second head? A second head that was, in fact, her life-long friend. Her life-long friend who was now firmly attached to her. Hell, how he heck was I going to explain the very same condition to my family? Our body began to shake even more prominently.
Sure enough, a few minutes after four, we heard the unmistakable sound of Joan’s parent’s garage door being remotely opened. We stood in Joan’s bedroom in silence. We next heard the sound of multiple footfalls in the kitchen. We then head the voices…
“Just one more week of school. I can’t wait.” I heard the sound of Joan’s baby sister say.
I then heard Joan’s mother reply. “Have you and your brother decided what you are going to do this summer?” I heard no reply. Joan’s mother eventually continued. “Just be sure you are here this weekend. I want you here for your sister’s graduation party. I don’t want you running off with your friends.”
At age 22, Joan was the oldest. She had two younger siblings, a 15 year old brother and a 12 year old sister. Both of them were annoyingly cute, and undoubtedly would grow up to be just as perfect looking as their older sister. Or, at least, as perfect as Joan had looked prior to us merging. I heard the footfalls as someone approached the hallway adjoining the bedrooms. Our body shivered more violently. Joan was terrified.
Our heart jumped a beat as a knock came on Joan’s bedroom door. I heard her mother’s voice. “Wake up sleepy head. I’ve never know anyone that could just sleep the entire day away. Makes me worry what you do all hours of the night.” Joan did not respond. She did not respond the second time her mother came knocking on the door either. It was the third time that her mother came to the bedroom door, knocking even harder and jiggling the locked handle that her mother started to sound nervous. “Darling? Are you feeling alright?”
Joan finally responded with a broken voice. I looked over an noticed new tears were rolling down her cheeks. “No, Mom.” Joan was now audibly sobbing.
“Open the door, Joan.” I heard her mother say. “Do you need to go to the doctor?”
“Yes, Mom.” I heard my other half say through her sobs.
“Open the door, Darling.” Her mother demanded.
“I… I can’t” Joan replied.
“Joan, dear…” Her mother’s voice was getting panicked. ‘Open the door right now, you are scaring me.” Joan did not reply but merely continued to weep. Joan’s mother continued speaking through the door. “Do you need an ambulance?” Joan again did not reply. Her mother continued more frantically. “I’m going to call an ambulance, Joan.”
“No!” I finally interjected. “Don’t call an ambulance!”
“Anna? Is that you?” Joan’s mother asked.
“Yes, don’t call an ambulance, we’ll be right out.”
“NO!!” Joan screamed, rattling my right eardrum due to the proximity of it to Joan’s mouth.
I lurched our left half forward trying to get us to move toward the bedroom door, but Joan steadfastly refused to move her leg. With only half of our shared body under my control, I did not have the power to move us forward. “Come on!” I whispered harshly in Joan’s ear.
“No!” Joan snapped back. “They’ll see me!”
“We can’t stay locked in your bedroom forever. Your mom is about to call an ambulance. They’ll break down the door next.” I pleaded as I continued to try to move our shared body forward as Joan stood her ground.
“Fine!” Joan finally relented. “Let them see what a freak I am!” She released her leg and we almost fell forward. We stumbled toward the door. I slowly unlocked the bedroom door. I reached out our left hand but before I could turn the handle, Joan’s mother already had it turned and the door swung open.
What happened next was pure unadulterated shock on the part of Joan’s mother. She stood frozen in place and in time. She stood in the doorway with a death grip on the bedroom door handle. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open. She was unable to formulae words as she looked at us over again and again. We stood staring at each other, the silence only broken by Joan’s low sobs. I wanted to say something, but was unable to speak as well. The moment frozen in time was finally broken after several minutes by the entrance of Joan’s little sister, Jenny, creeping up behind and around Joan’s mother.
Jenny, upon seeing us, immediately shouted. “Cool! Can I have a second head too, Mommy?” The initial absurdity of the statement came more into focus when I realized that Jenny had assumed that Joan and I were performing some sort of optical illusion. Joan’s mother was all too happy to jump on board Jenny’s assumption as being fact.
“No, Jenny!” Joan’s mom scolded. “And your sister should know better. And Anna, I expected more out of you than these childish pranks! Anna you get out of Joan’s sweatshirt this instant!” Joan’s mother’s temporary reprieve quickly ended as she looked down, not wanting to accept what she was seeing. She knew that her daughter was no master illusionist. She could not deny the fact that there was only one set of legs yet two heads coming out the that sweatshirt. Joan’s mother threw her arms around our necks around our torso. She started patting us down like a police officer searching for weapons.
“No… No trick?” Joan’s mother asked as she looked pleadingly into Joan’s eyes.
“No, Mom,” Joan said through thick sobs. Joan used our right hand to tightly hug her mother, burying her face into her bust and weeping onto her mother’s blouse. I heard Joan’s muffled voice. “I’m… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Mom.” Joan’s mother lightly pulled Joan’s face away from her. A wet spot of tear stains was now on Joan’s mother’s blouse were Joan’s face had been.
Joan’s mother tenderly put her hands under each of our chins and spoke softly. “What happened, girls?”
Before either of us could answer, Joan’s brother, Johnnie, came into the room. “Wicked!” He said with true admiration. “How did you do that? That is totally cool!”
“Shut up, Retard!” Joan yelled, her pity turning into anger at her brother.
“You shut up, Freak show!” Johnnie quickly fired back. “You have two heads now and I bet you still aren’t any smarter!”
Joan reached out with our right hand and tried to grab Johnnie. “I’ll kill you, you little twerp!”
“Oh yeah? Try it, Butt hole! You and your second head will go to prison. What will dear, sweet Drake do without you?” Johnnie then started to make mock kissing sounds. “Too bad for him, now that he’ll finally have the chance to get that threesome he’s always wanted.” Johnnie said with the subtlety of any 15-year-old boy.
“Quiet, Johnnie!” Joan’s mother hissed. “Don’t worry, girls. We’ll figure this out. I’m taking you to the doctor.” This statement seemed to brighten Joan’s mood. I knew it would only be a short-lived respite. I was no doctor, but I didn’t need to be one to know that there was no separation possible for Joan and I. It was simple math. Two heads plus one body equals no separation. Below the shoulders we had one single body.
Joan’s mother took us with due haste to Joan’s life-long family doctor. I actually think they had expected something other than total shock and disbelief by the nursing and medical staff. Like they were actually going to say, “Oh yes, just a little conjoinment virus that’s been going around. Here, take these antibiotics and it should clear up in a week or two.” The doctors set up a battery of tests and a hospital appointment for us. But none of it was for a cure. It was merely to satisfy their own curiosity about us. There was no cure for us, no matter how many times Joan and her mother asked the doctors, they could provide no explanation much less a cure.
We were the sensation of the local clinic. The doctors, nurses, secretaries, cleaning staff, and just about everyone else poked their heads in to take a look at us. The doctors spent long hours that night examining us but could not even formulate any possible scenario for how or why this could have happened.
“But what can we do? Can’t you separate us?” Joan asked the doctor pleadingly.
“Well…” The doctor hesitated, but continued slowly, still in disbelief at what he was witnessing. “The good news is that you… Er… I mean both of you are in excellent health other than your… merged… That is to say… conjoined state.”
“Conjoined state?” Joan did not want to hear the doctor’s reassurances about how healthy we otherwise were. “I’ve got someone else’s head growing out of my shoulders, Doc! What the hell is healthy about that?”
“No… What I mean is…” The doctor was still struggling for words. “For conjoined twins, you are remarkably healthy. You two have no health problems other than your being conjoined. It is very rare that conjoined twins don’t have some health problems related to…”
“Twins!” Joan fired back. “We are not even sisters, much less twins!”
“I know,” The doctor continued. “That is what makes it so perplexing. This sort of merging, or rather lack of separation, is only ever seen in the womb during fetal development. For whatever reason, the embryo does not fully separate as it would for normal healthy twins. It has never, to my knowledge, happened in reverse, where two separate entities merge together, especially when the bodies are not twins, and even more especially outside the womb at this late stage of development. So, you will have to excuse me when I refer to conjoined twin studies. Nonetheless, that condition is the closest I can find to your condition.”
“So, lets get started.” Joan responded. “I’ve watched the news stories. I know how it works. Lets schedule the separation surgery.”
“Well, your condition differs from that of conjoined twins in that regard too.” The doctor explained. “I mean, everything from your upper chest down is that of a single individual. Your spinal column splits off at your upper chest and goes up your necks and to your brains. But other than that “Y” section, you have a single spinal column, a single spinal cord and a single nervous system. You have one heart, two lungs, and a single set of organs. I mean from your upper chest down, you are essentially and truly one person. The only difference that I can see is that the “Y” section results in a nervous system where the head on the left controls the motor function of the left side of your shared body and the head on the right controls the motor function on the right side of your shared body. This configuration is very unusual. Even the closest of conjoined twins have much more duplication of internal organs. You have a similar “Y” section for your esophagus and airways, but again everything from the middle of your chest and below are that of a single person.”
“But how is this possible?” Joan asked, more in disbelief than curiosity.
“It shouldn’t be.” The doctor replied simply. “It has never happened before. Indeed, even though you each only control only one half of your shared body, you each seem to feel full sensation from the entire body. Such full-body sensation is not the case with conjoined twins either.”
“Great,” Joan said sarcastically. “I’m a wonder of nature.”
“The bad news,” The doctor hesitantly continued. “Is that the close connection you two seem to share means that separation is impossible.” Joan broke down into a fresh wave of sobbing. The doctor kindly offered her a box of tissue which Joan angrily grabbed with our right hand. The doctor waited for Joan to calm herself before continuing. “I have arranged more tests for you tomorrow at the hospital. But, as I said, you are in good health otherwise, and in no immediate danger. I think you can go home if you wish.”
The doctor provided us with a walker. It helped us from losing our balance as we continued to have trouble walking in cooperation. With the help of the walker we were able to pick up our feet as we walked instead of shuffling them along the ground. We actually made record time walking ourselves out of the doctor’s office. Joan asked her mother to take her home, but her mom had different ideas.
“I think we need to got to Anna’s parents’ house, Joan.” This statement surprised me and Anna both. I didn’t want to see my parents. I didn’t want to go through the whole shock and disbelief that we went through with Joan’s parents and with the medical staff. I suppose that her mother was right. With our unprecedented condition, it was inevitable that we would be explaining ourselves continually. We would have the pleasure of doing it all over again with Joan’s father who was divorced from Joan’s mother and had yet to see his now two-headed daughter.
“I just want to go home, mother.” Joan pleaded.
“No, Dear.” Joan’s mother persisted. “Anna’s parents have a right to know about her condition.” Joan sighed but offered no further complaint.
“Oh man,” I mused. “Can you imagine what my father is going to say?” I asked the head that occupied the other half of my shoulders.
“He’s going to blame the government isn’t he?” Joan said without hesitation.
“I think you can pretty much count on it.” I replied with a laugh. I detected a slight chuckle coming from Joan as well. It was good to see. It was the first sign of a smile that I had seen on Joan since our ordeal started.
As we walked to the front door of my parents‘ house, my first thought was that my mother might not even recognize me. When she answered the door and stared at us in the same shocked manner that Joan’s mother did, I knew that she still recognized me. I was still her baby after all. A mother could always recognize her child, even if that child had a much prettier face and was attached to a much prettier body along with a second head.
Before my mother could stand in shocked silence for too long, Joan’s mother broke the would-be silent moment. “Look, I know it is shocking. But we just have to face facts. Our girls are stuck together. We can either cry about it or accept it and try to move on.” Joan’s mother said resiliently.
As if being seen by my mother attached to another person wasn’t embarrassing enough, my mom all but stripped us down to our undies and frisked us as if the tactile sensation would somehow better reinforce what her eyes couldn’t believe. My mom even grabbed our middle boob! Gawd! How embarrassing, to be felt up by your own mama, and to have your best friend felt up by her at the same time.
As if mom’s actions weren’t embarrassing enough, my father, in true fashion followed his few short moments of disbelief by immediately crafting an elaborate government conspiracy theory. “We have to retrace your steps, Hon. It was probably not an airborne agent, which means a government operative probably tainted your food or water supply. They might have tapped into your apartment’s water supply. We should go and see if anyone in your apartment complex is showing similar signs of merging.” My dad continued to ponder. “Hmm, then again that would likely defuse the toxic agent too much to be effective. Did you receive any injections recently to your knowledge? You didn’t get a flu shot did you? You know what I’ve always told you about those? They are the quickest path to government control, Dear, the quickest path indeed.”
My other half cocked her head in my direction and whispered in my ear. “Has your father found JFK’s real killers yet?”
“No, not yet,” I whispered in reply. “But he is hot on their trail.” Joan and I shared our first real giggle since being conjoined. It was strange to feel myself giggle and feel an entirely separate face giggle at the same time. I could feel every single movement of Joan’s tongue, every turn of her head, every blink of her eyelids. I had no control over Joan’s head. But, I could use her senses the same way I could use my own. I could see out of her eyes. If I closed my eyes. I could still see the world around us through her eyes. It was bizarre to still see the world even when I knew my eyes were shut. It was even more strange to be able to perceive sights from two separate directions at the same time. I could look one way and Joan could look another direction and I would have a sense of both at the same time. It was strange. I didn’t perceive them as two separate images. My mind somehow would combine the separate stimuli and create one single panoramic view. My depth of perception was greatly increased, but my mind was not even consciously aware of the difference, no more so than if I were to close one eye when I only had one head on my shoulders.
I could perceive with Joan’s other senses as well. I could smell out of her nose. I could hear out of her ears. I could taste using only her mouth. Yet, always my mind complied the information as if it were all coming from one single source. It was so odd. I could feel every single movement of Joan’s mouth, her tongue, but had absolutely no control over it, over what she was saying or when she said it.
My father continued with his wild conspiracy theories. I finally interjected. “Uh dad… Why would the government want to merge us together?” My father contemplated.
“This should be good.” Joan whispered.
“Yes, of course,” My father continued assuredly. “It is obviously a response to the rising costs of health care and depletion of social security funds.”
“Huh?” Joan and I said in unison.
“Yes, of course, one body, less medical problems. Don’t you see? It cuts medical cost almost in half while still keep the same revenue. Two minds, two incomes, one body, one doctor, twice the payment in and half the payment out, you see?”
“That makes absolutely no sense, dad.” I responded with a smile.
While my father continued to conjure new and ever more extravagant conspiracy motives, I was starting to become aware of a weight in our lower tummy. It was with some degree of embarrassment that I realized it was an impending need to relieve myself. Joan and I had not ventured to a bathroom in all these many hours that we had been conjoined. Even though we hadn’t had anything to drink, it only stood to reason that we would eventually need to urinate. Unfortunately… That was not the only thing we needed to do.
I waited as long as I could but cramping was starting to grind our lower tummy. I knew that Joan had to feel it too. She said nothing. Finally, as the cramping as starting to become more extreme, I had to whisper in Joan’s ear. “Um… I think we need to… take care of some business.”
“Don’t even think about it!” Joan hissed back at me. “I’m not going to do… that with another person watching! It’s disgusting!”
“I… don’t think we have a choice. It is starting to hurt!”
‘I can’t believe this.” Joan shook her head but knew that I was right. Eventually, we would have to retire to the bathroom for a good ol’ fashioned shit. We stood up still using the count of three to synchronize our movements. We leaned our respective palms against our walker and rolled it down toward the bathroom in my parents’ house.
“I want you to close your eyes!” Joan sharply whispered in my ear.
“Uh… I can see through your eyes, Genius.” I replied.
“Damn! I can’t do this with you watching!”
I rolled my eyes. “It is the same for me, I’m not wild about it either, but it has to be done or we’re gonna explode.”
We managed to guide our shared body to the toilet. We fell backward with a slight crash, but managed to get ourselves on the pot with little more than a sore butt as our only injury.
“This is sooooo embarrassing!” My other half said as we tried to position our shared butt in the most comfortable position for both of us.
“Look, everyone does it, so lets just get it over with already!” I said matter-of-factly.
I tried to release the pressure as I normally would in order to start the flow of urine. There was no urination. The right side of my body was holding back. “Come on!” I commanded. “We’ve really gotta piss!”
“I… I can’t. It is too embarrassing!” Joan’s cheeks were bright red, just a shade brighter than my own.
“Get over yourself, Princess, and piss already!” I ordered. I finally heard the familiar sound of urine hitting the water of the toilet. “There now that wasn’t so bad was it? Now, help me push…”
“That’s Gross!” Joan all but shouted in the emptiness of the bathroom.
“Just do it!” I again commanded as I started to strain my muscles, after a few moments hesitation I felt my right side do the same. Houston… we have lift off! I told myself amusedly. The cramping feeling was finally, thankfully, gone from our lower tummy, but that left the inevitable question… I went ahead and asked knowing that Joan would probably be content to let us sit on the pot all day. “Well… who wants to wipe?”
“Oh that is so sick!” Joan objected. I started to reach across our shared body to the roll of paper on the right hand side. Joan stopped me. And pulled off a roll of paper. “No, let me do it. It is my body, I’ll be the one to clean it!”
“What do you mean ‘your body’?” I finally inquired, knowing that Joan had considered me the invader since the whole ordeal started.
“Please…” Was the only response Joan gave.
“I think it is quite obvious that this is our body. It needs both of us to function!”
“Well,” Joan stated with attitude in her voice. “I think it is quite obvious whose body this is. Other than this fucking extra boob and your stinkin’ head, it is looks exactly like my body! I don’t recall ever inviting you or your boob.”
“I never asked for this either!” I lied.
“I just want my own body back!” Fresh sobs started again as Joan still held the wadded up paper in her hands. I took the paper from her and finished our business in the bathroom wiping the excess urine off our shared vagina before moving on to the dirtier business of our shared anus.
We decided to stay the night at my parents’ house. Both of us were exhausted from the weirdest day of either of our lives. It didn’t matter how tired we were. We both got precious little sleep that night.
“You’re crushing me!” Joan yelled as we lay in bed. “Would you stop trying to turn us!”
“I’m sorry, I’m used to sleeping on my side. It is just habit for me to turn like that when I get tired.”
“Trying to suffocate me in the pillow so you can have the body all to yourself?”
“That wouldn’t work.” I said with confidence. “I already experimented. I quit breathing for over an hour today. Your breaths kept us both fully oxygenated.”
“Well, I’m glad you are finding all of this so interesting, Mr. Wizard.” Joan said sardonically.
“Well, it is all rather fascinating when you think about it.” I offered.
Joan sighed. “Not half as interesting as how you can manage to start snoring two seconds after you fall asleep!” Joan’s irritation was evident in her tone.
“Hey!” I responded. “You don’t hear me complaining about all the teeth grinding you do! I’m surprised you have any teeth left, surprised they aren’t tiny little nubs!” I gave Joan’s head an angry push as we lay in the bed.
Joan brought our right hand up and slapped my face. I watched as our left hand found Joan’s loving black hair. I gave it a good strong yank! “Ouch! You fucking bitch!” Joan brought our right hand up and scratched my scalp with our long fingernails.
“Stop! Stop!” I commanded. “This fighting is stupid. I can feel everything on your head and you can feel everything on mine. We are only hurting ourselves.”
“Fine,” Joan conceded. “Just try to stay on our back. And please close you eyes when I close mine. It is downright impossible to try to sleep when I see through your open eyes.” I agreed. But neither Joan nor I got much sleep that night. When one of us woke up, it was only seconds before the other was awakened.
We awoke the next morning almost as tired as we went to bed. I felt the weight and presence of Joan’s head on our shoulders. It certainly wasn’t a dream. I was sharing a body with my long time friend. We walked to the bathroom with surprising ability. Our steps were still awkward and unsure due to not knowing precisely when the other would more, but we were starting to gather a natural rhythm for each other’s movements. Joan used our right hand to wipe the sleep away from her eyes and I did the same with my eyes using our left hand. We sat down on the toilet with slightly more grace than yesterday and coordinated our muscles to allow the urine to flow. Joan wiped the excess urine off of our shared pussy without, I think, giving much thought to whether she or I should be the one wiping.
“We are going to need to shower.” I stated as we clumsily managed to get to a standing position after using the toilet. Joan just sighed. “You take the right side and I take the left?” Joan nodded her head in agreement. Joan used our right hand to open the shower door and I used our left to turn the faucet of the my parents’ shower. We both jumped back in an unlikely unified hop as the cold water hit our shared naked body. I held our left hand out and waited for Joan to use our right hand to squeeze the body wash. I did the same for her. It was amazing how much cooperation went into everything we did. We only had control over one hand each, so almost everything was a joint effort.
We followed the same dressing technique as we employed the previous day, and only managed to dress ourselves with slightly less time and effort than we did the day before. It was becoming apparent that we were eventually going to need some custom made attire. We needed a bra to help support these three huge boobs and the collar of any shirts were going to quickly be stretched to the limit with both of our heads poking through. We spent the second day of our conjoined form in the hospital enduring one series of test after another. At the end of the day, the doctors could provide no answers, and for Joan, no hope of recovery.
“Well we can at least get this stupid boob removed.” I heard my other half say to the doctor.
“Yes, we can perform a mastectomy of the supernumerary breast.” I heard the doctor say in response.
“Wait,” I interjected, surprising the doctor and my other half as if I had not even been in the room with them, much less sharing a body with one of them. “Who said anything about mastectomies?”
“Just to remove the additional breast tissue in the middle.” The doctor stated.
“Additional breast tissue?” I questioned. “It is not additional tissue. It is a fully formed breast.”
“That is true.” The doctor replied. “It is fully formed and even fully functional from what we can determine.”
“Why remove it then?” I asked in all seriousness.
“Are you kidding, Anna?” Joan asked in disbelief. “It is not bad enough that we are circus freaks, Siamese twins from the neck down? You want an encore act as the three-breasted lady too?”
“Well…” I struggle to say what I really felt. “I… I think it is kinda sexy.” I finally managed.
“Sexy? Are you kidding me? Tell me you are kidding me?” Joan couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Sorry, Joan, but I think it is. We don’t have to have it removed do we doc?” I asked seriously, ignoring the perturbed look on Joan’s face.
“Well…” The doctor seemed a bit unsure how to respond but finally managed. “Technically you are two separate people. So you would both need to sign written consent forms in order for us to proceed with any surgery.”
“Well lets get that form in here so we can sign it.” Joan demanded.
“I’m not signing any form.” I said steadfastly.
“What?” Joan looked back to the doctor. “She can’t do that can she? She can’t stop me from getting the surgery can she?”
“I’m afraid that you would both need to consent.” The doctor stated plainly.
“But that’s not fair!” Joan whined. “I have rights! She can’t tell me what to do with my body!”
The doctor shifted uneasily. “Well… That’s the problem, it is not just your body. It belongs to both of you.”
“No!” Joan screamed. “This is my body! Ask anyone! They will tell you! Her body didn’t look anything like this!” Joan used our right hand to point at my head. “She doesn’t even belong on my body. She is a tumor, a growth! I want her removed and I want this damn tit removed too!” Joan used our right hand to angrily grab our middle breast as if she could yank it right off our chest herself.
Joan was steaming mad at me and my persistent refusal to have our middle breast removed. Her irritation continued as we went down for breakfast in t he hospital cafeteria. We were traffic-stoppers. Everyone in the cafeteria stopped what they were doing and gawked at us. That’s right, I thought, yes, look at the two-headed girl. Never mind that we may have feelings. Just stand and point and think it funny that we are having so much trouble walking.
We sat at our table and tried to ignore all of our onlookers as best we could while we ate. Joan was not about to forgive me quickly for my refusal to consent to the mastectomy. Her irritation was clear even as I started to eat.
“You are disgusting.” Joan sniped as I tried to eat my cereal using our left hand.
“Excuse me?” I said wondering what I had done worng this time.
“You think you could chomp on that cereal a little louder maybe? I don’t think they heard you over in the next building.” Joan stated with pure venom.
“What?” I asked, perplexed.
“You are truly gross, chomping and slurping on that cereal. I don’t think you could be any louder if you tried.”
“It’s not actually that loud.” I replied.
“My ass it’s not!” Joan chided.
“Don’t you mean ‘our ass it’s not‘?” I grinned.
Joan sighed and shook her head. “You aren’t funny, you are gross. Sucking and slurping down that cereal.”
It really isn’t that loud, it’s just the fact that your ear is about five inches away from my mouth at all times.” I explained.
“Whatever, Pig!” Joan was growing especially nasty.
“Hey,” I replied. “It is no spring dance for me either, Sweetheart!” I used Joan’s new favorite term of affection. “My nose is about five inches away from your mouth. And this morning it smelled like something crawled in there and died.” I ignored the fact that I could just as easily smell out of her nose which was actually even closer to her mouth. It didn’t suit may rebuke as well. We continued our verbal barbs. The real reason Joan was upset was because she didn’t like the fact that I could overrule her on a decision regarding what she still viewed as her body.
Joan continued, without success to try to talk me into removing the third breast. The more she talked about it, the more I decided I liked the unique beauty of it. That wasn’t all of it though. I didn’t just love our extra breast. I loved our whole body. Despite the constant little annoyances and arguments, I loved the fact that I was sharing this beautiful body with my best friend. I had actually never been happier in all my life. I knew that Joan was suffering, but I also knew that in time she would give up her hate and stop focusing so much on what she lost and start focusing more on what she had gained.
It didn’t take long for news of us to hit the media. By the end of the day, we were met but a barrage of reporters and cameramen filming us and snapping pictures. It was hard enough for us to walk even with the aid of the walker without all the flashes being taken in our face. The reporters rifled us with questions as we struggled to walk back with Joan’s mother to her car. “How did you end up this way? Did you elect to be joined together? Are you a random mutation, a genetic accident, or a freak of nature? Do you have a husband? Husbands? Boyfriends? What do they think? Were you really merged or are you actually Siamese twins?” We didn’t answer any of these question and instead focused on trying to make are way back to the car.
We went back to my parents’ house for he night after some dispute over which house in which we would stay. Cooperation was becoming slightly improved. We still relied heavily on the walker to prevent us from falling, be we were starting to anticipate each other’s movements a bit better. We sat down, again more falling into my parents’ kitchen chair than sitting. It was hard to truly bend in unison so as to be as graceful as we once were. We were able to eat at the same time, and did. I used our left hand to bring the spoon or fork to my mouth and Joan used our right hand to bring her respective utensil to her mouth. It was a bit annoying have the smacking and slurping sounds of someone right at your ear chomping and chewing away while you tried to eat, be we both chose to ignore it, or at least not comment on it. We chewed and swallowed simultaneously. I didn’t need to eat as much as I normally would for supper since our one stomach was being filled by both of us. Part of my meal included a bit of leftover roast, somewhat tender, but not enough to fall apart with only the use of a fork. I asked somewhat tentatively if Joan would work the knife while I held the meat in place with my fork. Joan for a second gave me a look more that she’d like to jab the fork into the left side of our body, specifically my head. She blamed me still for our predicament, even though she didn’t even know of my true involvement. Joan’s temporary irritation subsided and she obliged me by sawing the knife back and forth as I held my meat in place with the fork. Joan was never much of a meat eater herself, but didn’t complain as I filled our shared stomach with the leftover roast.
After diner, we were both, individually, tired enough for sleep. However, we were both keenly aware that we would undoubtedly have the same problems sleeping as we did the previous night. Joan took a step toward my parents’ living room. I took a step toward my parents’ den. The net effect of our cross purposes was that our shared body remained in place and we only wobbled in our balance.
“Where are you going?” Joan inquired of the second head on her body. “The television is in here.”
I pointed to a desktop through the open door of my parents’ den. “The computer is in there.”
Joan really didn’t need any more explanation from me. We had had the conversation many times before. She knew I was not fond of television and rarely ever watched it. I preferred to spend my free time on the computer playing games, chatting, or simply browsing the internet. Joan, on the other hand -that being the right hand no doubt, I thought bemusedly- spent a good 6 hours a day watching the boob tube. We had argued many times. I would posit that television was intellectually devoid and filled with inane programs. Joan would tell me that chatting was for people without real friends and video games were for losers. Neither were really superior I suppose, they just reflected a difference in taste. I prefered something a little more interactive whereas Joan was more content to watch entertainment passively. It was nothing but a fun little source of debate between us. Though I now realized that our differences in taste could pose a problem.
“You know I’m not much on television.” I stated plainly.
“But my favorite show is on tonight.” Joan all but whined.
I rolled my eyes. “Not another stupid reality show. They are idiotic.”
“You’re idiotic!” Joan sniped back.
I sighed. “Look, there is a TV in the den, you can watch while I’m on the computer.”
“Fine!” Joan hissed through clinched teeth not masking her disdain.
We sat down at the comfortable desk chair. We managed to sit slightly more gracefully than we had in the kitchen, as we tried to predict each other’s timing for bending to sit. Joan made her displeasure at having to sit at the computer chair clear through a series of grunts and sighs as I used my half of our body to try to position the computer chair at the desk in front of the computer screen with little help from the person controlling my right side.
I reached across our shared body, navigating around our three huge breasts and grasped the mouse and pad which was on the right hand side. I awkwardly opened up my messenger program with our left hand. It felt strange as I had always before used my right hand. Several offline messages popped up immediately ranging from simple ‘hellos’ to ‘where have you beens’ to exclamations of the variety of ‘what the hell? Was that you and Joan on TV?!’ Obviously a few people had already caught glimpse of our new form as the television cameras had recorded us leaving the hospital. It was apparent that our new form was not going to be a secret for long.
I did my best to type responses to the offline, and now online, messages I was getting. I was growing frustrated not only at not having my right hand, but also at my other half who was craning her neck in mock frustration and, in the process pulling our shared body away from the keyboard as I tried to type one-handed. I had heard of one-handed typing during erotic chats, but this was a great deal less satisfying.
Joan and I spent the next two hours ignoring each other as much as two people sharing the same body could. I focused on my computer while Joan focused on her television. Joan kept a firm grasp on her remote while I passed back and forth between mouse and keyboard. I wished that Joan could have taken some interest in chatting with me. It would have been nice to have her controlling the mouse while I typed. I did as best I could with one hand responses to the various messages asking about our condition. I tried to explain that I didn’t know how this merging had occurred, which was at least partly true. I didn’t mention the book or oracle to anyone, not wanting Joan to see and unsure of whether I wanted anyone else to know either.
When it came time for us to try to sleep, Joan grumbled about not being able to sleep next to my snoring head. I fought the urge to mention her late night teeth grinding. We needed to try. Every few minutes I would feel a strain on our shared shoulder muscles and then immediately see and feel the other head on my shoulder bob down in exhaustion.
As we prepared for bed, we worked in cooperation to take off our clothes much in the same team effort we had used to put them on, each grabbing onto the clothes on our respective sides and working the pants off our respective legs. We used the same teamwork to dress ourselves in a pair of my pajamas. The pajama bottom felt looser to me, being that our butt and hips on our shared body were more slender than they had been on my individual body. The pajama tops on the other hand, were a different story. The top that matched the pajama pants was a button down top. We had to abandon it when we were unable to get the top buttons fastened over our three big tits. We managed, without the assistance of our walker, to get over to my dresser and find a top that was at least the same color as the pajama bottoms though otherwise did not match. At that point, our exhaustion didn’t necessitate the need to coordinate.
We pulled the top over our heads. Luckily it was a V-neck and provided a more comfortable amount of space than the stretched crewnecks that we had worn though most of the day. The fabric still pulled tightly over the massive fleshy mound of our three giant breasts. Our middle nipple was visible because of the V-neck of our top, but by that point we didn’t care if our middle nipple was showing. Our breasts bounced wildly as we stumbled our way back to the bed in the dark, almost falling along the way.
As we finally managed through joint effort to position our heads on a shared pillow in a position on our shared back that we both found to be somewhat comfortable, we lay there, both irritated by the breathing sounds that sounded more like a jet engine in such a quiet room so close to our respective ears. I lay my cheek on Joan’s chin, trying to make it appear unintentional when in fact I intended to lovingly lay it there. She gave a slight sigh but did not shake me away.
“Joan?” I asked in the darkness of my bedroom.
“Yes?” Joan replied still in the irritated voice she had had all day.
“Um…” I struggled for words. “When will you tell Drake?” I finally asked.
“I Don’t know!” Joan replied, clearly upset that I had even asked.
“Don’t you think he deserves to know?” I said honestly.
“I doubt that he’ll want anything to do with me once he knows what a freak I’ve become.” Joan said through gritted teeth.
I was well aware, and so too I imagine was Joan, that the left head of our body was blushing as I said: “For what its worth… I still think you are beautiful, Hon.”
“Shut up.” Joan said, more out of exasperation than anger.
“No, I just mean…” I continued. “That, I don’t want this either…” I lied as I looked down at a merged body that I was growing to love more and more all the time. “But, I mean… If it had to happen. I’m just glad it was with you.” I felt the heat of my blood-flushed face caused by my embarrassment at my comments. I knew Joan couldn’t see in the dark room, but I know she could feel it, just as I could feel her comparatively cool face.
Joan did not respond. We lay in silence, both trying to ignore the other head on our shoulders enough to get to sleep. Just was I was about to nod off however, I heard Joan whisper. “I guess if it had to happen… I’m glad it was you too, Sweetie.” I feel asleep happier than I had ever been in my life.
The third day of our conjoinment met with more medical tests, though they did not consume the entire day. Much of the rest of the day was spent by both myself and Joan speaking on the phone. We had tried, initially using two phones simultaneously. I holding a phone to my left ear using our left hand and Joan using our right hand to hold another cell phone to her right ear. Such proved to be untenable however. With our heads so close to each other, we were not able to hear the other ends of our phone conversations well enough. In the end, we took turns using the hand in which we had control over to hold a single phone in-between our heads. We would both listen and one of us would talk. It felt a bit awkward at first, for each of us. It felt like we were listening into the private conversation of the other as she or I spoke to our respective friends and family. It also became clear however, that private conversations were no longer possible. It was another example of how there was no longer any privacy between Joan and I, except the privacy of our own thoughts.
We spent that day on the phone and in person trying to explain the unexplainable. We couldn’t tell people how we became conjoined, only that we did. It never satisfied anyone, but all we could say is that we woke up merged to each other, two heads atop one single body. Most people felt pity for us. It was a pity that Joan needed. It was a pity that I hardly needed, but accepted nonetheless. Indeed, other than the slight annoyances of having a head so close to another, I was really enjoying sharing this body with Joan. Even the constant cooperation was a joy. It was difficult and frustrating sometimes, but I viewed it as a challenge more than an obstacle. I found it fascinating how two minds could work together to control this single body of ours. I was having more fun than I ever had in my whole life. Joan was struggling. Yet, as the realization that we would likely never be separated slowly dawned on her, I saw her take a more active interest in trying to make this single body work, in trying to cooperate.
Still, I held back from telling Joan about the book or the oracle. I knew the book was gone. But, even if more information about it existed, I didn’t want Joan to know of it. If I even so much as mentioned it, I knew she would become obsessed with it. She would search for it. She would seek it in hopes that whatever power merged us together could somehow rip us apart. And who knows, maybe it could. That fact alone was enough for me to fear telling Joan the complete truth. I couldn’t tolerate even the idea of us being ripped apart. Even after such a short time and all the difficulties, the very idea of us no longer sharing this glorious body was terrifying to me. No, Joan could never know the whole truth. We must never be apart again.
It was also during the course of that third day that I felt the familiar cramps of my old body taking hold and increasing over the course of the day. I knew that Joan could feel them too. Finally by that evening, she spoke while holding tenderly onto our shared midsection with our right hand. “What is that?”
“What the hell do you think it is?” I asked with genuine surprise.
“But why is it so bad?” Joan asked also equally in surprise. “It is starting to hurt right down to the bone. I mean, my whole hip and lower back area hurts. It‘s never this bad”
“Really?” I said, a bit envious. “It is always this bad for me.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Joan said with a grimace. “Besides, it isn’t even time for that. I’ve got a couple weeks yet.”
“Well, it is right on time for me.” I said. “Seems we inherited at least some of me in our shared body, if not on the outside at least on the inside.”
“God, how do you stand this? “ Joan said with another grimace. “The pill should help.”
“Pill?” I asked more as a question to myself. I then realized that Joan had been on contraception since she was old enough to spread her legs. Whereas I… Well, I never had the need. “I don’t take the pill. Remember, little miss virgin here?” I pointed to my head using our left hand.
“Well, it has other advantages. Namely, reducing cramping” Joan said with a strained look on her face.
“Wimp.” I said mockingly.
Joan shook her head. “I don’t understand. “I’ve been taking the pill regularly. Well, regularly up until three days ago. You’d think it would help.”
“Well, maybe we really did get more of me on the inside and more of you on the out.” I speculated.
“Well, whosever insides they are, we are going to start on my pills. In the meantime, you got any pads?”
“Pads?” I said with a scowl. “I hate pads. Feels like a diaper. I have tampons though.”
I heard my other head sigh again, an obvious attempt to convey that she was the one making all the sacrifices. “Fine, whatever. When we retrieve one of my tampons, I noticed that Joan was opening it using a combination of our right hand and her teeth to rip open the paper cover. She then raised our right leg slightly and inserted it herself. I could tell that she still considered it her vagina not ours. I was still apparently just along for the ride.
Of the many phone calls that Joan made to describe our condition, one was blatantly omitted. She had never called Drake. She was ignoring him. Her disregard was apparent every time her phone would go unanswered after a check of her caller ID. Being so close to her head I would have seen anyway, if I could not already see with her eyes, that every time Drake’s information appeared on the call screen she refused to answer.
Joan could disregard Drake’s calls, but she could not disregard him when he appeared at my parents’ door. Drake stared at us. He looked shocked but not disgusted. I could feel the muscles on my right side pulling me. I could tell that my right side wanted to flee. I stood my ground. I could feel the heat of embarrassment on Joan’s face. She couldn’t stand the fact that her boyfriend was staring at her in a body that Joan considered ugly and freakish.
“Move!” Joan yelled to the other head on her body. I did not comply. I wanted Joan to face Drake. Joan buried her face in our right hand. “Don’t look at me, Drake. I’m hideous!” Joan’s muffled voice came from under our hand still covering her face.
“I…” Drake struggled to speak. “I had heard, but I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it even seeing you two now. It is…” Drake paused not knowing quite how to proceed. “It is still two of you right?” Drake looked back and forth between our two heads. “You’re still separate people? I mean… mentally?”
Joan kept her head lowered in our hand. I finally spoke in response to Drake. “Yes, Drake, Joan and I still have two separate minds, We are still two distinct people, but as you see…” I looked down at our shared body. “We have just one body now.”
“So…” Drake was trying to create conversation to break the ice but was still struggling with the image he was seeing of his girlfriend now sharing a body with another head. “Can either one of you control it then… the body I mean.” Drake quickly corrected himself, though I was able to catch the fact that he was string right toward our shared vagina when he asked his question.
I looked over to see if my other head would respond. But I saw that Joan was still crying with her hand lowered into our right hand. I spoke for us again. “We can both feel everything on the whole body, even the other head, even sensing out of the others head as well, including hearing, taste and vision, but each of us can only control our side.”
Drake struggled to keep his line of sight to my eyes, but it kept dropping to our three, large, bra-less breasts and our shared sex. We were hardly dressed sexily in our jeans and t-shirt, but the tightness of our jeans and the form fitting way our three breasts stretched the fabric of the shirt, it was hard for anyone, much less a boyfriend, to notice anything else but our sexual parts. “So… Uh…” Drake continued to struggle. “Do you control the left side or the right side then?”
I looked between my other head and Drake. “You talking to me or Joan?” I asked genuinely confused.
“You… I mean you, Anna.” Drake pointed to my head.
“Sorry, you really need to refer to us by name, Drake, ‘you’ gets a little confusing when our heads are so close together.” I said, trying not to sound at all upset or frustrated. “I control the left side and Joan controls the right.”
“Oh ok, so you… Er I mean you Anna, control the left, right under your… Er, I mean, you, Anna’s head.” Drake stuttered.
I held up a reassuring hand. “Take it easy, Drake” I said with a warm smile. “Just when you are asking a question, make it clear whom you are asking. Otherwise, just talk normally.”
“Sorry, all of this two heads stuff is a bit new to me.” Drake apologized.
“New to you…” I mocked.
“Well… uh yeah, I mean I’m sure its harder for you… Er… much much harder, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise…”
I smiled at Drake. I had never been so comfortable around Drake before. I was usually the one stuttering to his cool, calm, collected self. “Take it easy, Drake. I’m only teasing you.”
“Oh,” Drake continued barely noticing my comment. “I just wondered if it was like a left brain, right brain thing where maybe you controlled the opposite side.”
“No, I control my half. Though, as I say, I can feel sensation from the entire body. It is really strange to think…”
“SHUT UP! Shut up! Both of you shut up!” Joan screamed. “Get out of here, Drake! Just get out!” Tears streaked Joan’s face.
“I’m sorry, Drake” I apologized for my other head. “Joan’s not taking this merging too well. You’ll need to give her a little time.” I unlocked our left leg and followed Joan’s lead. We stumbled our way to my bedroom where Joan used our right hand to slam the door shut. We collapsed onto the bed and we lay there for hours while Joan intermittently cried in shame and regret. I stared quietly at the ceiling of the bedroom, content to let my other half cry. Eventually, I brought our left hand up lovingly to Joan’s face and caressed her cheek softly. I whispered to my other half that it would be alright, that Drake was a sweet guy and if anyone could accept us… her for what we… she had become, it was he.
The days turned to weeks and the weeks to days, but eventually I was right. As Joan began to slowly accept her fate, she eventually reestablished ties with Drake. Drake was the true sweetheart I knew him to be. He was as beautiful of mind as he was of body. He waited for Joan, he counseled her and reassured her in her time of hardship.
Joan took her relationship with Drake much more slowly than she had when she was an individual. I knew that part of the reason why was because she had to get comfortable with herself before she could ever be comfortable with another, especially with someone whom she had been intimate. I also knew that it was partially because of me as well. Joan was embarrassed and ashamed to have me there in a moment that should have been private. Every time Joan would spend any time with Drake, Joan resisted intimacy. I was the proverbial “third wheel.” But, I could not leave the room. I could not leave them to get better acquainted, or reacquainted. I was there. I would always be there. Not only would I always be looking over their shoulder, but I was also her shoulder. More importantly, my body was her body, my breasts were her breasts, my vagina was her vagina. Joan couldn’t even claim half of our vagina. We could both feel sensation from both sides. Everything I felt, she felt and vice versa.
I know too, from our late night conversations, were we talked cheek to cheek that Joan had misgivings. She had thoughts of leaving Drake even though she knew that finding someone so handsome in body, giving in spirit, and tender in soul would be hard to ever find again. How could she share such tender moments that they had once shared. Would it not be better to start over? Start with someone new?
I could not bare the thought of it. I was in love with Drake. I was in love with him long before I ever merged with Joan. I was surely even more deeply in love with him now. Now that I have been so close to him, seeing how he treats Joan, and feeling how special he makes her feel, feeling it from the inside. I feel the same sensations of warmth, of love, of acceptance that Joan feels. I so want to reach out with our left hand and caress his face. I wanted so much to press my lips against his. But I dared not. All the intimacy toward Drake had been on my right side. I felt that somehow even the lightest brush of our left hand against Drake’s body would somehow be cheating, a betrayal of Joan’s trust. I would be encroaching on her man by using the left half of our body. I couldn’t deny myself much longer.
The thoughts of my love for Drake were becoming overwhelming. It was one night in our fourth week of conjoinment that the thoughts became obsessive. We lay there on our back, those long nights of trying to get to sleep. Trying to find the perfect opportune moment to sleep, where one or the other of us would not awaken the other. My thoughts raced of thoughts of love toward Drake. My thoughts festered in my mind of how much I wanted to touch him with my side of our body. I wanted to kiss him. I could feel it whenever Joan kissed him. I could feel her lips against his. Yet, it wasn’t the same.
As we lay there alone, I fantasized. I fantasized about being with Drake. About joining my other half, about kissing him with my lips and about holding him with my hand, about loving him as much with our left as with our right. I dreamt of both of us feeling the same sensations, of being totally and completely satisfied in mutual love and sex. My thoughts focused on our shared sex. I tried to push the thoughts away. If I fantasized to the point of arousal, Joan would know. She would feel the wetness. She would feel our heart race. She would experience our heavy breathing. For weeks I had pushed such thoughts away. I couldn’t let my other half know I had sexual thoughts, sexual feelings. But, this night, I couldn’t suppress it any longer. She had to know, She had to accept it. I was a human being and I had needs. I had sexual needs. I had a mind of my own. Did it matter that we shared the same sexual organ? Of course it did. But, I couldn’t change that. My mind still had need of love, of sex, of desire, and of closeness. I couldn’t help that my mind effected the same vagina as her mind did. I succumbed to my passionate thoughts…
“What the fuck?” I heard my other head say. “Why am I getting wet? Stop that, you pervert!”
“Mmmm…” I moaned as I shook my head, my chin lightly rubbed against hers as I did.
“I said stop it!” Joan yelled at the other head sharing her body. I didn’t abide by her wishes.
“Can’t,” I said through another pleasurable moan. “You may have lost your libido after we merged, but I sure haven’t.” I felt our shared pussy getting wetter as I fantasized about Drake’s erect cock penetrating us.
“I said stop it! You’re gross!” Joan pleaded angrily.
“I’m sorry that my mind does this to our pussy, Dear, but you’re just going to have to get used to it.” I slowly slid our left hand over our huge middle breast and then down our tummy. I ran our left fingers gradually under the waistband of our pajama pants and our thong undies. I felt our right hand grab the wrist of our left arm.
Joan forcefully pulled our left hand out of our waistband. “Don’t you dare. You have no right to do anything with my vagina!” Joan warned.
“I have every right!” I exclaimed sternly. “And it is not your vagina. It is our vagina!” I ran our left hand back down our waistband and into our undies. I found the shared clit that had been eluding me for weeks now. I resisted our right hand’s further attempts to pull our left hand away. I ran my fingertips in a circular motion over our shared clitoris. I felt our right hand tug again at our left, but I continued to massage us.
“I said stop… Sto….op…” Joan’s words trailed off as I felt our right hand move slowly and softly away from our left wrist and up our tight and firm tummy. I could feel our right hand now cupping our large middle breast and following its soft curve up to our middle nipple. Joan pressed the fingertip of our right hand against our middle nipple as I rubbed more vigorously on our clit. “Ugh…” I heard Joan grunt blissfully. “Mmmm…. Oh yes… How do you know….?”
“Because I feel the same thing you do.” I said bluntly. No one knows how to get you off better than I do now, My Sister.”
“I’m not your sister.” Joan said through heavy breathing. “We’re not even related.”
“Yet we are closer than any sisters ever could be.” I continued still masturbating our shared sex.
“I… I… never imagined… that sex could be… so fulfilling.” Joan talked through heavy breaths. “Every desire, every touch, the touch, the speed, the everything so perfectly in tune with what I want… what I need.”
“Imagine what we could do with Drake here.” I said continuing to push my fingers deeper into our pussy as Joan used our other hand to pinch and tweak our three nipples.
“Na… No!” My last comment momentarily broke Joan out of her pleasure. “I can’t. I could never do this with Drake here. It’s too… Ugh! Oh yes!” I heard Joan’s voice raise and octave and felt our shared back arching in response to my touch, getting ever closer to orgasm. I felt the wetness running down our thighs as we were getting more and more turned on. I let my finger explore deeper into our wet, warm pussy, while keeping attention on our clit.
I felt our shared body tremble as my attention to our clit was bringing us ever closer. As, the orgasm began I felt waves of rapture flowing through our body. I know that Joan felt every sensation the same way I did. We felt ourselves and reacted with our respective sides of our body. We both drew up our legs and arched our back both moaning in pleasure for the exact same feelings of bliss. I couldn’t speak for Joan, but the orgasm was much more intense than to what I was accustomed. I am sure that part of the reason for the intensity of our orgasm is that it was shared, a before unknown hybrid of masturbation and sex. The novelty was not the only reason for the intense feeling of pleasure I surmised. I felt that something was physically different as well, like our sensation of orgasm were somehow doubled in this form.
After a few moments of rest, I felt Joan using our right hand to take my place inside our shared sex. The sensations had been so enjoyable, that Joan could not resist further masturbation of our body. Being that she replaced me in massaging our clitoris, I took her place in massaging and caressing our three breasts. I reached across our shared body and cupped our large right-most breast and slowly ran my fingers over it and then over the middle and leftmost breasts. I returned to our center breast and paid additional attention to it. It was the most unique, and in this moment of masturbation, it held the most fascination for me. I lightly pinched our middle nipple before returning to caress the large curvaceous breast with our left hand. Joan used our right hand to bring us to a second orgasm. It filled us with almost as much pleasure as the first one. We took turns pleasuring ourselves several more times that night.
I’m not sure, but I suspect that the night of our multiple orgasms in this conjoined form was the reason that Joan had a renewed interest in her relationship with Drake in the days that followed. Her suspicions that Drake might leave her because of her new form seemed to be unfounded. In fact, after the initial shock that he displayed that first time he saw us at my parents’ house, he seemed all the more interested possibly out of mere curiosity, though I suspected out of attraction. Most of their dates were in the privacy of one or the other’s homes. Joan was still apprehensive about appearing in public in our conjoined form. We did manage to visit a local seamstress however. We were fitted. We ordered several pieces of attire to better fit our conjoined form, so that we could at least dress for Joan’s dates with Drake in something more fashionable than a stretched t-shirt.
We decided that due to the large sizes of our three breasts, and my continued unwillingness to remove or even so much as reduce the size of our breasts, that we would need some specially-designed support. The problem of not only having an extra breast in-between the usual two but also having it but a full cup size larger than the outer breasts, presented a bit of an engineering problem for the already flabbergasted seamstress already a bit uncertain of how to create clothing for the two-headed. The location of the shoulder straps for the outer cups of our bra were obvious, simply over the shoulder and connecting in the back like any other bra. The question of support for the middle breast was a bit trickier. Of all three of our breasts, it was the boob in most need of support, so letting it go unsupported was not really an option. Where then, does one put the supporting strap for the middle cup? Our bewildered yet enthusiastic seamstress provided a few options based on her analysis of our peculiar breast situation. One option, as she explained, would be to create a sort of wire framework for the upper part of the central cup, sort of an “over wire” similar to an under wire, except that it would be located on the upper part rather than the lower part of the cup. Sure a over wire would at least provide coverage of the central breast. The problem, as she explained, would be that it would still be without a shoulder strap, that there would be less support than the outer cups supported by the shoulder straps. The result would likely be that the middle tit would hang lower than the outer breasts. This was not a look of which I wanted. Not to mention that the middle boob needed more, not less, support.
Another option would be to have the whole bra be strapless. Such would solve the problem of the middle tit hanging lower, since none of the cups would have shoulder support. It would also mean, however, that whole contraption would be less supportive of our three tits in general. And since support is what we needed for these monster-sized tits, that was really not an acceptable option either. Yet, another option explained to us by our seamstress was a third strap arising from the top of the middle cup. The strap could then be wrapped around the back of the neck in a halter style. This would indeed provide support to all three breasts. The problem then became not with support, but rather with fashion. With a bra that would essentially be both a halter and a shoulder strap at the same time, we would indeed be greatly limited in the type of tops and dresses we could wear, being unable to show either a neckline or a shoulder line. After a bit more brainstorming with the seamstress, we finally came up with a solution. We would have a strap coming off the top of the central cup, but instead of it going around the back of the neck in halter fashion, it would instead “V” off. The tops of the “V” straps coming off the middle cup would then connect to the two outer shoulder straps at the top of the shoulder, thus creating sort of an “M” pattern for the straps when looking at the straps from the front. Such an “M” design as we came to call it would at least allow us some flexibility in tops an dresses with more of a neckline.
Of course, throughout the process of designing our own specialty bra, Joan continually suggested that none of it would even be necessary if we just had the central boob removed. I steadfastly declined her suggestions. I detected that Joan was a bit less resolute in her desire to remove the center tit. I think that our mutual masturbation sessions were involved in that change as well. As we continued to explore our combined form, we discovered that our breasts were especially sensitive, in a pleasing way, and we would take turns, one hand attending to our pussy and the other concentrating on our breasts. All three of our breasts were so full, so firm yet soft to the touch with very sexually sensitive nipples. I think Joan, despite wanting our breasts to look more normal, was beginning to see the advantages of such a sexually stimulating chest.
As the passion between Joan and Drake started to rekindle over the following weeks, I sensed that despite Joan’s embarrassment over intimacy in our new form, that sex with Drake was inevitable. Notwithstanding my suppression of physical expression of interest toward Drake on our left side, my desire continued to increase. Finally, after coming home from a session in which Drake and the right head on my body spent time locking face and kissing, only to have Joan refuse to go any further, I broached the subject of our relationship in regard to Drake with Joan.
“Why didn’t you allow Drake to go further?” I asked my other head as we returned home to Joan’s apartment following the kissing session at Drake’s place.
“I can’t do that sort of thing with this body.” Joan answered with a tone of regret.
“Hmm… I think Drake has been quite accepting of our new form, Sis. Though, I don’t know how long you can deprive him of anything beyond kissing. You wouldn’t even allow him to touch our breasts, not even the one on the right.” I had taken to calling Joan “sis” or “sister.” She had opposed this moniker at first, continually stating the obvious fact that we weren’t really related, much less sisters. Nonetheless, it just seemed to fit. After a few weeks, she not only stopped protesting but began to sometimes call me the same in return. Even though we weren’t related, “sister” seemed to describe our relationship the best. We were no longer just friends and we did not consider ourselves lovers regardless of the fact that that our shared masturbation had become quite prevalent.
“I feel so uncomfortable.” Joan continued.
“Because of me?” I asked.
“Yes,” Joan looked down, a bit embarrassed by her answer.
“Is it because I’m a virgin?” I teased.
Joan allowed herself the smallest bit of a chuckle. “Seriously, I feel bad for him because it is supposed to be our alone-time. I feel bad for you having to sit there while we are being intimate.”
“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that, Sister.” I said, turning my head far to the right to look Joan in the eyes. Eye contact was a bit of a bizarre phenomenon with us, as my mind simultaneously processed not only me looking into her eyes, but her looking into mine. The sort of repetitious sensory input that I can only analogize with speaking the exact same words at the exact same rate and the exact same tone as someone speaking right next to you. Your brain knows that there is a separate source of the auditory output, but a sort of “echo effect” is created. The same was true on a visual level when we looked at each other. Despite the strangeness, I looked deeply into Joan’s steel blue eyes. I sensed her looking into my now much brighter green eyes. The old murkiness of my eyes had disappeared since our transformation.
“Yes, sorry, Sis, feel free to bring a book along next time.” Joan said.
I grinned. “Books aren’t what I had in mind, My Sister.”
“Oh?” Joan asked naively”
“I wanted to know if it was alright with you if I…” I hesitated purposefully. “…Joined in.”
“What?” Joan stated, with a look of surprise that I doubted, given the closeness of our relationship over the past few weeks.
“Look, I don’t want to intrude on what you and your man have, Sis. But, it only makes sense.” I brought our left hand up to Joan’s face and touched it lovingly. “We are together now. There is no sense in our left side laying there like a lump.”
“Wha… What would you be doing, exactly?” Joan seemed concerned.
“I would be loving him.” I responded simply before continuing. “I would hold him, and caress him, and kiss him…”
“Kiss him?” Joan asked with a hint of jealousy in her voice.
“Yes,” I stated simply.
“What else would you be doing?” The jealousy now even more evident in her voice.
“Everything,” I saw a scowl form on Joan’s face. “Look,” I pressed. “You have to stop thinking of everything as you and me. I mean, we are two separate people, but we just can’t deny that from the shoulders down we are one. Some things are just better if we do them in unison.”
Joan clinched her teeth in her characteristic way whenever she was trying to suppress anger. “Maybe you should just find your own man for once.”
“Maybe I will one day,” I responded immediately. “And, when and if that time comes, I expect that you would participate in a similar manner with him as I do.”
Joan seemed genuinely confused by my response. “What are you saying, Anna? That we should share men?”
“Of course,” I replied. ‘We share everything else. Why not our men?” I rubbed our left hand gently across the back of Joan’s neck “In just a few weeks, we’ve learned to share everything and to work together to accomplish everything, men can’t be any more complicated than say, the bras we ordered.”
“Trust me, speaking from experience, I can tell you that guys are much more simple than those three-cupped contraptions we ordered.” Joan and I shared a chuckle. Joan’s expression then grew more serious. “I will try, Anna. I really will, but is it alright if we continue to take things slowly?”
I brought my lips tenderly to Joan’s head and planted a small peck of a kiss on her lips. “For you, Sis? Anything.” I smiled.
As the weeks progressed, my only real concern was that Drake may have grown weary of Joan’s slow progression in our relationship. My fears were unfounded. Drake remained faithfully ours. I suspected that even though he was too much the gentleman to admit it, the thought of sharing a bed with conjoined women was exciting for him. As the dates continued I slowly began to work our left side into the romantic equation. First with a few gentle touches of his cheek with our left hand and later with kisses to his cheek and finally to the same sort of passionate kisses that Joan gave him. The first time I planted a kiss on Drake’s lips with our left head, Drake looked nervously over to the right head, as if Joan might catch him making out with another woman. Joan did her best to give Drake a reassuring look that it was alright for him to kiss me in exactly the same manner as he kissed her. I knew that deep down that it bothered Joan to see another woman kissing her boyfriend, even if that other woman was attached to her. Joan, to her credit, didn’t let her issues show in front of Drake. It was something to which, like everything with this body, she would eventually become accustomed.
Over the weeks, Joan and I became more comfortable in our shared body. Tasks were starting to become easier. After two months, we were finally able to walk consistently without the aid of our walker. We still were not very fast on our feet, but we had learned to coordinate well enough that there was no longer the constant risk of us toppling over. We even felt steady enough on our feet to venture out into public more often. Our growing comfort in ourselves did not exactly translate into a comfort among others however. People would stare at us in shock just about wherever we went. People would look and point and whisper about us. Their reaction, I think, was even greater than what would be the case for conjoined twins. At least with twins, they had some concept of conjoinment. They had heard of Siamese twins if never having actually seen some in person. But with Joan and I, it was different. We could never be mistaken for twins. Not only were our hair and eye colors different, but our faces looked nothing alike. We could probably not even pass as related, much less as twins. The incongruity of such different people being conjoined created a cognitive dissonance which made people stare even more so than if conjoined twins were to walk down the street near them.
The constant staring and pointing and whispering really bothered both Joan and I at first. But, like anything else, it was something to which we eventually became accustomed. It was not like there was anything we could do about it. We were stuck together. It is who we were. Nothing could change it. At least, nothing I was willing to mention could. Along with the constant stares, Joan and I would sometimes receive comments as well. The comments ranged from the merely curious to the downright rude.
We would hear the curious comments of others when we were out in the public: “How did you two get stuck together?” “Are you a two-headed girl, or are you two people stuck together?” “How do you two walk, eat, sleep, etc.?” We would hear the rude comments too. “How about a threesome, baby?” We would hear even more vulgar comments on occasion too regarding our three large breasts or our shared sex. We ignored them as best we could. Like it or not, we had gained notoriety because of our form. We granted some interviews to some magazines and even a few television shows regarding our condition. We hated the interviews especially when interviewers tried to press us about our personal relationships. We refused to answer any questions about our sexuality. The interviews paid well though, and were a great source of income considering that Joan didn’t have employment and that I hadn’t worked since our joining. It was obvious however that the interviews would not sustain us forever. After just a few months, interest in “that two-headed chick” was waning. We did receive offers from pornography magazines and filmmakers, obviously interested in capturing the “conjoined girls first threesome.” We, of course, refused such smut. Hell, we could barely advance our intimacy with Drake, much less with some strangers.
We were going to be faced with the inevitable question of what we were going to do for a career. Joan had a college degree, but I did not. What job was going to hire a two-headed woman, one head with college and one without. I had secretarial experience but words-per-minute took a definite hit now that I lost control of one of my hands. But, that was a decision for another day. The interview money would sustain us for a while. In the meantime, Drake, and I, were growing a bit restless. So, it was with great enthusiasm, and a bit of surprise, that when Joan finally wanted sex.
The date started out like any other. More than three months had passed since our joining and Joan and I now had a full compliment of specially designed attire. We planned to go to Drake’s house for our date, but wanted to dress ourselves formally anyway. We proceeded as we always did, with teamwork. We had become quite adept had using our respective hands both to fulfill our own needs as well as those of the other. We showered together, me mostly scrubbing and shaving our left side and Joan doing the same on the right. We brushed our hair together, me with a brush in our left hand and she with one in our right. My hair was easier being so much shorter in length. I would finish then help Joan with her long raven locks. We would dry ourselves using a single large towel me grasping the left side and her grabbing the right, working our way down our wet body. We would apply our makeup simultaneously for the most part, I with eyeliner in my hand and she with lipstick in hers, or vice versa. We usually tended to wear matching makeup, except on those occasions where we couldn’t quite agree. As long as we matched whatever we were wearing, slight differences in makeup were acceptable. We were always going to look different because of our different hair and eye color anyway.
Compared to that first day when we dressed ourselves in this conjoined form, we were incredibly quick. We had learned over the months how to dress ourselves in cooperation. It helped too, that we now had a wardrobe of clothes designed for us. Indeed, much of our interview money had gone to creating a whole new wardrobe for ourselves. We walked, now without any clumsiness or hesitation to the dresser in Joan’s apartment, which had now become both of our residences. We grasped the thong underwear, me grabbing the left side waistband and Joan the right. Joan lifted her leg first, as she always lifted hers first and I lifted my leg second. We had a regular routine and we slipped our undies on without any of the old difficulties. We had decided to wear our newest specially made dress for our date that night. It was a gorgeous black with red flower print. It was designed with three cups and showed a generous amount of our unique triple cleavage.
Unfortunately, our agreement as to a dress didn’t extend to the rest of our attire. After we put on our thong, we next moved to the drawer containing our stockings. I immediately grabbed a pair of black pantyhose while Joan grabbed a pair of beige ones.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “We need the black hose to match our dress.”
“That is too much black.” Joan countered. “I’m not going there looking like I just got back from a funeral.”
“Funeral? What are you talking about? The dress has a huge floral pattern of red, hardly funeral attire, Sis.”
“I don’t care,” Joan shook her head. “I still say it is too much black.”
“Besides,” I continued, ignoring her last comment. “The black will work better with the shoes I bought us.”
“What, those stripper shoes you bought for lord knows what reason?” Joan said with disdain.
“It’s a simple four inch heel, hardly stripper shoes.” I responded with equal contempt.
Joan shook her head. “I’m not wearing that tall of a heel. You really want us to fall on our faces, Sister?”
“I think we are getting pretty damn good at walking in heels. Besides they are so sexy, Drake is going to love them.”
Joan sighed. “Not if we break our noses after falling flat on our faces.”
“Just trust me, Sis.” I said with a smile.
Joan sighed more audibly but relented. We sat ourselves down on the side of the bed and using our respective hands, gathered up the fabric of the right leg of the black hosiery. Joan lifted our right leg and together we slipped the delicate slick fabric over our left leg and pulled it up and over our right knee before repeating the process again with me lifting our left leg. We always started with our right leg. I’m not sure why, but it was a routine that made it easier on both of us. We stood up together and pulled the pantyhose up and over our hips and butt. We moved back over to the dresser and retrieved one of our many custom three-cupped bras with the “M” straps. We used our respective hands to claps the back closure of the bra. Joan held the eye-closure half while I inserted the hooks. We clasped our bra beforehand and then pulled our bra over our heads in a fashion more similar to putting on a pull-on shirt. We found that process easier than trying to use our hands to clasp it by reaching behind. We had grown much more dexterous in using our hands in unison, but some tasks remained too difficult. We pulled the three-cupped bra over our heads and adjusted the cups into place over our three breasts, Joan cupping our right breast while I simultaneously adjusted the left and middle cups over our other breasts. I positioned the left straps while Joan adjusted the right until our three-cupped bra was on snuggly and comfortably, providing our three huge tits with the support that was very much lacking in the first couple weeks following our joining.
We walked over an retrieved the new dress which was already laying out on the other side of the bed. We grabbed either end of the fabric and slipped the dress on over our heads. The dress had shoulder straps wide enough to cover the “M” straps of our three-cupped bra while still allowing enough room for both of our heads.
Joan was right about the heels. They did prove a bit of a challenge for us. We had worn heels before since being conjoined, but never ones as tall as four inches. I had worn taller heels in my previous individual life without the slightest difficulty, but that was when I had control over both of my legs. Nevertheless, after a few wobbly moments, Joan and I were able to walk gracefully, though a bit slowly, in the high heels. They did look sexy though. They were a peep toe with a jeweled ankle strap.
They made me feel sexy, and I suspect that they made Joan feel the same. Still, I was surprised when after a bit of supper and some banal conversation, that Joan leaned us forward and planted a kiss on Drake’s lips with our right head. I followed Joan’s lead and started planting kisses on Drake’s cheek, though I barely had a chance to start before I heard our other head whispering in Drake’s ear. “Take me… Take me now.” I heard my other half saying. I felt a bit embarrassed as I let out a little squeak of joy at what I had just heard.
I felt a smile come to Joan’s head. She spoke. “You’ll have to excuse Sis. She gets excited easily.” Yet, it was not I that was causing a familiar wetness between our legs. Joan was horny and getting excited. I wasted no time. I used our left hand to pull Drake’s head close to mine and parted my lips as I brought them to his, I kissed him and allowed my tongue to explore his mouth in a passionate kiss. I felt Drake’s strong arms around us helping us maintain our balance as we stumbled our way back into Drake’s bedroom.
We fell atop of Drake on his bed. Drake immediately pulled off the dress in which we had only hours before taken such care to dress ourselves. Upon seeing our three huge mounds of breast flesh clad only in our bra, Drake cupped our two outer breasts lovingly in his two hands and pressed his lips against the flesh at the top of our middle breast. Drake reached his hands behind us and unclasped our bra in the clumsy fashion of most men. Finally freeing our tits, Drake devoured them, suckling them eagerly and flicking his warm tongue across each of our three nipples in turn. We pressed our three breasts against his strong chest and hugged him tightly.
Drake flipped us over onto our back. He kissed our center nipple and then slowly kissed his way down our slender tummy moving ever closer to our waist. He kissed our bellybutton while sliding his fingers into the waistband of our pantyhose. He slowly slid them off of our legs. He cupped his hand around our left leg and slid his tender hand back up. He bent down and gently kissed our labia through the thin fabric of our underwear. Drake ran his hands up our thighs and slipped his hands under the thin waistband of our thong. He pulled our underwear off of our legs, kissing our thighs, knees and legs along the way.
Our pussy was moist and ready. We pulled our knees together in false modesty before Drake pulled them apart again. We did not resist his advances. Joan used our right hand to caress our many breasts while I slid my hand down toward our wet pussy. Drake grasped my hand and locked his fingers in mine, holding my hand as he brought his lips down to our wet pussy. He kissed our labia and then used the tip of his tongue to lightly trace along the outside until finding our clit and licking it then suckling it just as he had done with our nipples moments before.
“I need you inside me.” I heard my other half say. Suddenly, I was very nervous. I was aroused just like Joan was, but she had done this many times before. I was, despite the fact I shared a vagina with Joan, technically still a virgin. I had played with dildos and vibrators before, but I had never actually had a real live penis inside of me before. The left side of our body started to shake. I was scared and excited all at once.
I felt the tip of Drake’s erect cock penetrate our shared vagina. I gasped! I was frightened, afraid that it might hurt, but as Drake slid his cock inside of us, I immediately felt the pleasure. I couldn’t believe how wonderful it felt, the coldness of my fingers and dildos could not compare to the Drake’s warm throbbing cock inside of us. I moaned pleasurably. I couldn’t believe I’d been missing this ecstasy for so many years. I felt the shaft of Drake’s cock along our clit as the head of his member explored deeply into our hole. I knew that Joan felt the exact same feeling from our shared vagina that I did. We receive the same feeling at the same time from the exact same source. I heard Joan’s heavy breathing in my ear, the same breathing from myself that I heard through her ears.
I felt my right side push Drake away and pull herself up. No! I thought. What is my other half doing. I needed his hard cock inside of me. Why was she pushing him away? Was she stupid? Then I saw. She was making the experience last longer and adding variety. It was something that I, as a virgin, had little concept of at the time. We took position atop of Drake, riding him as we used our hands to play with our breasts. Again, just as we were nearly climaxed, I felt my right side pulling us away. I know Joan was trying to heighten the pleasure but I hated her for it. I wanted that cock inside me. I watched as Joan brought her head down toward Drake’s erect cock, it standing bolt upright as he lay on his back, his cock now glistening with the wetness from our shared pussy. Joan brought us down, closer and closer, to the cock. She grasped it with our right hand and started rubbing up and down. Joan brought her lips to Drake’s cock and used her tongue to lick in a circular motion around the rim of his cock head. Joan wrapped her lips around the head of Drake’s cock, suckling its tip. I felt the presence of Drake’s cock inside of our right head. I so much wanted to experience the feel of it inside my own mouth. I inched my head closer to Joan’s head. I felt like a puppy trying to nudge its sisters aside trying to get the treats inside a single food dish. I pressed my cheek against Joan’s and nuzzled my way to Drake’s cock. I kissed the tip of his penis. I licked him before greedily taking his whole shaft deeply into my mouth. I had never had someone’s manhood in my mouth before. I licked and suckled his cock hungrily. Joan kissed Drake’s shaft and balls while I sucked on his cock tip. Our mouths met atop of Drake’s cock and we kissed each other as we both sucked on the tip of his penis.
“So hot…” I heard Drake heavily breathing. “Never had two suck me at the same time… Can’t hold it…” I heard Drake sigh and then felt his cock throb underneath our left hand. Joan and I were still kissing each other while simultaneously suckling the tip of Drake’s cock when his penis erupted with cum, shooting hot semen into our mouths and onto our faces. Joan and I continued to kiss with our lips now dripping in Drake’s cum. Drake’s cock continued to spray. I grasped his cock and aimed the tip of it towards our middle breast and allowed him to squirt cum onto the top of our center breast.
I had experienced my first time. I shared my virgin vagina with my Siamese sister. Though it wasn’t her first time, it was her first time sharing my vagina. So, in a sense it was a first time for both of us. We enjoyed it immensely. We enjoyed it three more times that night.
Almost as surprising as Joan’s suddenly decision to finally have sex with me and Drake, was Drake’s proposal the following week. Drake had obviously enjoyed his time with us and didn’t want to give that up. But it was more than just great sex, Drake and Joan were great together. I could see how well they meshed. Joan was perfect for him. That fact was true when she was a single person and remained true now that she was conjoined to me. It was equally surprising to me when Joan hesitated in her acceptance of his proposal. She eventually accepted, much to Drake’s relief, but I knew the problem. Joan had pictured her wedding many times since we were little girls. She had pictured it in many ways, but she had never pictured it with a second head attached to her.
Matters didn’t get any easier when we visited Joan’s childhood minister. He was, of course, the natural choice to marry them. Who else but her long time preacher and family friend than to join her in wedlock. It was with great disappointment then when he declined to perform her ceremony.
“I see that you have your marriage license, yes, but, to the state, your application is just another piece of paper. They don’t see… Your unique situation in the same way that I do.” Her childhood minister informed Joan after the Sunday services had concluded. Joan had expected him to graciously accept her request to have him officiate and saw asking merely as a formality. Joan was so confused by his refusal that she was left momentarily speechless.
I leaned our shared body closer to him. Minister Buckley sat in a padded wooden chair across a large oak desk inside his office at the back of Joan’s longtime church. Joan had tremendous respect for Minister Buckley. I, on the contrary, did not. I had little use for religion and even less use for people like Mr. Buckley. In the few short months since we had been conjoined, I had already seen more than my fair share of people like him. He was another of the close-minded people who had little tolerance for anything, or anyone, out of the ordinary.
As I leaned our body in closer. I asked. “What do you mean?”
“Well… To put it bluntly, I can’t marry two women to the same man. I mean, we aren’t Mormons.” Mr. Buckley chuckled at his own comment but abruptly turned serious in tone again when he saw that neither Joan nor I found his remark to be anything other than offensive.
“Joan is the one getting married, not I.” I tried to remain calm.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I know just from talking to you that you are two distinct minds.”
“Are you saying,” I spoke in a sharp tone trying my best to suppress my growing anger, knowing that Joan had a lingering respect for this idiot. “That you won’t marry her unless I get married to someone else?”
Buckley chortled. “Well, we can’t very well do that either now can we?”
“And just why is that?”
Mr. Buckley took off his wire rim eyeglasses and leaned in closer to us to look me right in my eyes. “Look, marriage isn’t just some slip of paper you get from the state. I mean, maybe it is to some people. I, on the other hand, take it very seriously. Marriage is not something to be entered into lightly. Marriage is nothing less than the sacred sharing of mind, body, and soul.”
“I’m not sure what you are getting at, Preacher.” I said, losing patience with the man.
“Well, I can’t very well marry one body to two different men. Such a practice would be sinful.” Buckley leaned back satisfied with his own response.
I shook my head again. “So, let me get this straight. You can’t marry Joan to one man because we are two people. And, you can’t marry us to two men because we have one body?”
“Exactly,” Buckley said with a smile as if he’d explained himself satisfactorily.
“So just what do you expect someone in our situation to do then?” I asked with contempt.
Buckley responded without hesitation. “Have you thought about dedicating yourselves to god? I think you’ll find that it can be a much more satisfying union that any marriage.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hissed.
Buckley scowled. “Please refrain from using that kind of language in this venue. And no, I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but whether it is one man or two, any intimate union involving you two would be, by its very nature, a sin. I cannot tell you why god chose this path for you two. Some people he chooses to become married and multiply and others he wishes to spread the word of faith and to express that strong faith through a vow of celibacy. He has chosen that second path for both of you.”
“Yeah, well, if you don’t mind, We’ll chose our own path, thank you.” I said as I tightened the muscles in our left leg to stand. I quickly realized that our right half was not following my lead. I looked to the right to see tears streaming down Joan’s cheeks. I had been so upset with Buckley’s comments I had not felt them on our right head as I normally would. I felt them now and saw through Joan’s blurry tear-filled eyes. “Come on, Sis,” I said as I raised our left hand to wipe away the tears on Joan’s cheeks. “Don’t let this jerk get to you. We’ll find someone I lot better to marry you, Sweetie.”
After some cajoling, I finally managed to get Joan to move our right side to get us standing and out the door of the office of the awful man. I put the incident behind me much faster than Joan however. She was disturbed by the comments, and even for a brief time considered calling off her wedding. It took weeks of convincing that she could live in matrimony without being fundamentally sinful. I had to remind her that if her numerous acts of premarital sex didn’t bother her, then one stupid man’s opinion about the conjoined being married shouldn’t either.
Needless to say, Joan’s wedding dress needed significant alteration. But after several design meetings with various individuals, we came up with a concept that was flattering to her despite, or maybe even because of, the extra head and breast on the bride’s body. Even though it was not in her childhood church, we were able to rent a lovely venue and have a Justice of the Peace officiate the ceremony. I was the only bridesmaid wearing a white dress. I guess that is the benefit of being literally attached to the bride. Actually, other than the maid of honor being physically attached to the bride, the ceremony was relatively normal. The groom kissed the bride following the vows, that is to say, he kissed the head on the right of the person standing next to him at the alter. It was a traditional ceremony in other respects, with the bride and groom sharing vows and me standing close, very close. Drake placed the ring on our right finger. It seemed appropriate being that was “Joan’s hand.” Or, at least the hand over which she had motor control.
Joan and I managed to run down the isle and down the steps and into the waiting limo. Not an easy task when you are not only sharing one body, but also given the fact that we wear wearing a full wedding gown with train, veil, and high heel shoes. Not to mention the fact that people were throwing rice at us at the time. We were getting quite skilled at the moving by teamwork.
The honeymoon was as romantic and sexual as one would expect. Though unlike most honeymoons theirs involved a threesome. I was not about to wait idly and stare at the ceiling, or pillow depending on which position we were in, while the two newlyweds had their lovemaking. In the short time that Joan had been dating Drake since we became conjoined, we had come to the conclusion that both of us needed to be involved. I was always involved anyway. Even if I were to attempt to keep my head, or rather our left head, motionless and uninvolved, I could still feel every sensation from our shared vagina. Not to mention every single sensation from Joan’s head. For even though I could not control it, I felt every kiss, every tongue, every breath, every caress, and every other movement from our right head. So, it wasn’t like Drake could limit himself to the right side of our body and somehow only be having sex with Joan. When you had us, you had all of us. It made little sense to us to keep our left head motionless out of some sense of modesty that did not, that could not, apply to us any longer.
We moved in on a more permanent basis with Drake following the honeymoon. We shared his bed. Now, I had not one, but two people to listen to each night. Not an easy proposition for a light sleeper like myself. Drake’s neighbors slowly started to get used to the sight of us. We would simply hear them talk. “There goes that two-headed girl taking out the garbage again.” At first we would correct people to say that we were, in fact, two women sharing a single body, not a two-headed girl, but we grew weary of saying it all the time and eventually just let them refer to us as the two-headed girl. We’d been called worse. Hell, I was often called worse before I was ever conjoined. It was odd. Those that didn’t have curiosity, and even those that did, had pity for us. They would make strange comments, like: “I’m sorry about what happened to you, but you seem to be doing quite well since the… accident.”
Joan would be grateful for these words. I, on the other hand, was just confused by them. I mean, it wasn’t really an “accident.” Not that I know what it was that conjoined us, but “accident” didn’t seem to be the right term for it. Our merging was too perfect to be accidental. Our shared body was too perfect to be some random occurrence. We were literally two people in control of one body. Even the best of conjoined twins have some abnormalities beyond that of being connected. We were the picture of good health. In fact, I felt stronger and healthier than I ever did in my old individual body. That wasn’t to say we didn’t get sick. And, of course, if one of us was sick the other was too. Two sick people sharing one house can fray some nerves. Two sick people sharing one sick body can almost drive you to the point of homicide… Or is that suicide? Anyway, we are at each other throats when we are sick. Joan couching sneezing and hacking when only inches away from me and I doing the same. A sick person’s grumpy mood doesn’t make for harmony between “sisters” sharing the same sick body.
Luckily, as I stated before, we were healthy and seemed to experience illness much less often in our new conjoined body. We settled into the comforts of married life. That is not to say they we lived “happily ever after” or anything. There were always times when we squabbled or argued either between ourselves or with Drake or when all three of us would fight. Being that we were a trio, at times, we felt as though we had a built in referee. Someone to settle the bickering. Other times I felt sorry for Drake and even joked that most husbands only have to worry about pleasing one female, whereas Drake had to keep two happy.
We would fight about various topics. One large looming issue was over our employment. After media attention over our condition started to dry, we, or at least I, felt like a bit of a freeloader. I broached the topic of seeking employment. This topic would bring the wrath of both Drake and Joan. Drake was of the opinion that he would take care of us and that he did not want his wife to work. Joan seemed somewhat content with the idea of being a stay-at-home wife, but as for me, I was neither a wife nor someone that could be content with merely being the Suzie homemaker. I suppose I was a bit more the feminist than my other half, but I felt that it was a woman’s duty to be a productive member of the workforce, and not simply a caretaker of home and husband. Yet, I had no education beyond high school and had no experience other than the secretarial job I had had before we conjoined. Nonetheless, I was willing to return to that sort of employment. Joan was not supportive of such plans however.
“I’m not going to do some stupid secretarial work just to say that I have a job.” She chided.
I was annoyed. I knew that what Joan was really saying is that she felt that she was too “good” for such work. It was alright for me not to go to school, to work some low-paying and underappreciated job, but the Little Miss Princess that was my right half, was superior to that, at least in her own mind. Despite that and other disagreements, the three of us managed to get along very well for the most part. It wasn’t until over a year and a half into Joan and Drake’s marriage that the true test came.
Our first encounter was nothing too special. I had managed to convince Joan to pull our right butt cheek off the couch long enough to go down to a software firm with an open secretarial position for an interview. The interview did not go well. Joan was clearly bored and annoyed and uninterested in what she considered to be menial labor. Her noticeable annoyance and boredom, were effective in sabotaging my interview despite the fact that the left head on our body was pleasant and professional. I let Joan have a piece of my mind later that evening, saying how incredibly rude I found her behavior to be.
“Hey, don’t forget that I would have to be dragged along each day to that stupid job too.” Joan countered. “And if you think I’m going to work for the pittance they call pay, you are sorely mistaken, Sister!”
“But…”
“And,” Joan interrupted, not wanting to hear me. “I’d like to see you type fast enough for their satisfaction with only one hand, because I can tell you that this hand isn’t typing a single word.” Joan said as she looked down at our right hand. Our argument continued, but it was the rejection phone call, that came the following day that was the truly more interesting result of our interview. I had interviewed on the last day of the job posting. I heard the familiar sound our cell phone ring tone emanating from our purse. We walked to the kitchen counter and Joan used our right hand to answer the phone and raised her hand to the area between our heads in what had become customary fashion so that I could listen with my right ear and she could listen with her left ear.
The sound of an unfamiliar male voice emerged from the earpiece, asking for me. “I regret to inform you that you were not selected for the open administrative assistant position.”
I was surprised, not expecting anything more than a rejection by letter or e-mail at best, not a personal phone call. “That is unfortunate but thank you for the phone call.”
“The call, yeah, well…” The previously professional voice now sounded unsure and uneasy.
“What?” I pressed.
“You see…” The voice struggled to continue. “I’m not exactly in personnel. I hope it’s not too forward, but I thought… I mean I thought when we met yesterday that we had a moment there where… I mean, it was nice to meet you yesterday.”
I was totally confused by the man’s incoherent statements. “I don’t know what you mean.” I said honestly.
Joan rolled our eyes on our right head and whispered while lowering the phone. “He is saying that he likes you, stupid.”
“Likes me? What do you mean?” I said densely. I had never really dated before we conjoined and was completely unfamiliar with the uneasy ways of men that had an interest.
“Likes you.” Joan emphasized.
“No way!” I almost yelled before lowering my tone to a whisper.
“Are you still there?” I heard the voice coming from the phone in our lowered right hand.
Joan raised the phone back into position between our heads. “Uh, yes, I’m here.” I said, not knowing how to continue. After of few moments of silence I asked. “So… We met yesterday then?”
“Yes, I was heading out as you were waiting for your interview. I introduced myself.”
I strained my brain trying to remember but could only recall talking to the female receptionist while we were in the waiting room. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
“Well, I guess I didn’t introduce myself really, but remember I said ‘hi’ as I walked out.” He waited for my recognition, but after not getting any, he added. “I was walking out with the… trash cans.”
Suddenly I remembered the handsome, though awkward janitor from the previous day.
“Oh, the janitor, that’s right.” I said finally remembering.
“Um, yes.” His voice almost cracked in nervousness. “Anyway, I thought when I looked that we had a bit of a moment there, so…”
“Oh Jeez,” I heard my other half say. “You want to hang up on this guy or should I?”
I shook our left head. “So,” I lowered my voice slightly in what was probably a failed attempt at sounding sexy. “Do you guys always have the janitorial staff call with the job rejections?” I laughed.
“Just applicants as pretty as you.” The man responded quietly.
I was genuinely touched by the man’s flattering words. Joan, on the other hand, had a different reaction. “Is it just me, or do you feel the vomit rising in our stomach, Sister?” Joan asked sarcastically.
“What was that?” I heard the man ask.
I scowled at my other half. “Nothing, just my stupid sister, don’t pay attention to her.” As if anyone could ever pay attention to me without noticing the other head attached to our body. “A moment you say?” I continued this new and curious flirtation being a completely novel experience for me. “I think I might have noticed that myself.” I smiled again.
Joan lowered the phone again. “Don’t say that! You’ll have the fool thinking that you actually like him.”
“Maybe I do.” I whispered, hoping that he couldn’t hear me with the phone lowered.
“But… He’s a janitor.” Joan said in the same haughty tone she used to describe my application for secretarial work.
“I don’t care. He’s cute.” I said, using our left hand to cover the mouthpiece on the lowered phone. I grabbed the phone in our left hand and raised it to my left ear, further away from my conceited right head. “Maybe we should think about getting another look at each other.” I said over Joan’s sighing.
And see each other we did. The following day, we arranged for a meeting at the coffee shop across the street from the firm at which I applied. I figuratively, and almost literally, had to drag my right half along to the coffee shop. I found the man, whose name I later learned was Ken, already waiting. I found him even more attractive than that brief moment when I first met him, now that he was in very fashionable casual attire rather than the janitorial jumpsuit that he had been wearing previously. We shared a coffee and the niceties of a flirtatious first encounter. Joan remained mostly quiet throughout, obviously annoyed at even being there with a man she considered beneath us. Joan didn’t say anything but I know she felt the heat coming from our left head at several moments during my coffee date with Ken. My face flush with excitement over my interest in this new man. Our half hour plan for coffee quickly turned into three hours of conversation. I felt so at ease with him. I had never talked so intimately so quickly with anyone before. . Joan finally got us up as she stood up awkwardly using our right half with a left half that just wanted to stay seated. Ken and I exchanged numbers and promised to meet again soon.
“Where have you been?” Drake asked immediately as we walked in from the garage upon returning home. Drake was not used to us being out of the house for so long without him.
“On a most glorious date.” I beamed, still on an emotional high from being with Ken.
“A what?” Drake asked sharply.
“A date,” I smiled. My head felt lighter than air. “I met this wonderfully cute and interesting guy. We had coffee and talked for hours. Isn’t it wonderful?” I asked more of myself than of Drake.
Drake opened his mouth and began making peculiar sighing noises before finally shaking his head and saying. “So… You’re telling me that you are cheating on me, and that you want me to be happy about it? Is that what you are saying?”
“What… No…” I was confused by Drake’s reaction.
“Cause that is sure what it sounds like. I’m off working and you’re off having some date with some strange guy? What the fuck are you trying to tell me here?” Drake’s voice was getting increasingly louder with each syllable.
“No, its not like that.” I said, as I held out a hand toward Drake beckoning him to calm himself down.
Drake stepped up closer to us, peering angrily into my face. “Well what the fuck is it like then?” He was growing more upset by the second.
“No.. No, it wasn’t Joan. Seriously, she barely said anything, really.” I said figuring this fact would calm Drake down.
It didn’t. Drake continued to get more upset. “Are you fucking this guy too?”
I had rarely heard Drake so upset and had never heard him be so crude. I was growing a little irritated by Drake’s attitude and stated firmly. “That is enough, Drake.”
“No,” Drake fumed. “It isn’t enough! I find out my wife is fucking some guy and that is supposed to be enough? I haven’t even started yet!”
Drake and I continued to argue through much of the rest of the night with Joan caught in the middle. We argued until Drake was too upset to continue and he stormed off into another room of our house. I knew what Drake was really upset about was his hope that by having Joan, that he would have me too. I knew that Drake cared for me and even loved me almost as much as he did Joan. I cared for him too, but I was not his wife. I had my own life to lead despite being physically attached to Joan. Drake had hoped I would be content to be his unofficial “second wife.” Although I loved him, I had no such plans. The reality of the situation that I might one day date was striking home to him with news of our time spent with Ken.
Ken continued to rave and grumble over the next few weeks. But, he had to accept the fact that I was dating Ken. He couldn’t stop it. I was not his wife. Joan didn’t much care for accompanying me on our dates either, but she didn’t try to pose and obstacle. She knew it was only fair for me to date as it was for her to date and marry. My time with Ken was magical. We had such fun together. As I grew to enjoy his company more and more, we started to fall in love. Drake sensed it and did not care for it. He threatened to leave on more than one occasion. He never did. He cared for Joan, and for me, too much to walk out on us.
Drake and Ken’s first meeting was awkward to say the least. Joan and I had warned Drake to be on his best behavior, but he had to talk through gritted teeth just to control his displeasure at having another suitor in the house. Ken was polite and pleasurable though obviously nervous. I suspected it was a similar nervousness that a guy might have when meeting his girlfriend’s father for the first time. I imagine it wasn’t easy for Ken meeting the husband of the other half of conjoined girl he was dating. There was an unspoken sexual tension in the air at that first meeting. All four of us were keenly aware that my romance with Ken was heading toward physical relations. All four of us had separate desires: Drake’s desire that Ken would simply go away and he could go back to being the sole man in the conjoined twins life; Joan’s desire that Ken would also just go away so that she could stop being the third wheel on dates like I had been for so long with her and Drake; My desire to have Drake and Joan accept Ken for the wonderful man he was; And Ken’s desire to establish his own position in a relationship that up until now had always been a trio.
The night that I planned to be our first intimate night with Ken started with a night of dinner and dancing. Joan and I had enjoyed testing our skills at dancing in our conjoined form. We were not very accomplished. We could move ourselves in small circles but risked injury on any swing dances. We limited ourselves to the slow songs. I would place my left hand in Ken’s right and he would place his left hand on the small of Joan’s side of our back. I would place my cheek against his as we moved to the soft mellow music. Joan did her best to keep a polite distance but usually ended up with her cheek resting beside the other side of Ken’s head.
Despite her initial aversion to what Joan felt was Ken’s lowly status, Joan was growing to enjoy his company. Ken was a decent man. Maybe not quite as handsome or charming as Drake, but few men were. Ken was wonderful in his own way. In some ways he was more humorous than Drake and certainly more laid back and easygoing. But more importantly, he was open and honest and loving. Even though I had never been in love with any man other than Drake, I knew as I lay my head upon Ken’s shoulder during our dance, that I was falling in love with him. I wanted to make love to him.
The first sexual encounter of any relationship is awkward I imagine. I still felt rather sexually inexperienced. Even though Joan and I had slept with Drake on many occasions. He was the only person with whom I had ever had sex. Sure, I shared a vagina with Joan who had had many lovers, and I could follow her lead with the movements, as I always did when we had sex with Drake, but emotionally, I was still as nervous as a blushing virgin. The usual anxiety of a first sexual encounter with a new person were heightened by the fact that the person controlling the right half of my body was married. A fact not lost on Ken or Joan. We returned to Ken’s place, not wanting to subject Drake to our initial intimacy with Ken at our house. Even though I knew I had as much right to a romantic relationship as Joan or Drake, I still couldn’t help but feel I was doing something wrong. Like I was somehow cheating on Drake. I knew Joan felt similarly. To her credit, she did not say anything at first as my kisses with Ken became deeper and wetter. It was actually Ken that halted the intimacy and first uttered a concern about our unique situation.
As I was seeing just how much of Ken’s mouth I could explore with my tongue, Ken broke away from my kiss placing his hands on our shoulders to lightly push as away.
“What’s wrong?” I asked genuinely afraid that I had done something wrong in the foreplay department.
Drake looked down, struggling to find the right words. “Well, if this is going where I think… Hope it is going…” Drake stalled not wanting to ruin the romantic moment but feeling the need to clear the air. “I mean, how is Drake going to be with this?”
Ken’s question hardly ruined the moment. I was enamored even more with Ken, seeing what a caring person he was. He had a sexy pair of conjoined girls ready to jump his bones and he was worried about what Joan’s husband would think, knowing that I had explained that it was Joan, not I, that was married.
I stared lovingly into Ken’s eyes before answering. “No man likes the thought of another having sex with his wife. But, we only have the one pussy.” Ken shuttered, obviously having dreadful thoughts of an insanely jealous husband bursting in with a loaded shotgun. “I can’t change that, My Love.” I continued. “Deep down, Drake knows this. He knows it now and he knew it when he married Joan. The reality of it is hitting him hard, but he will accept it. He loves us too much not to, Ken.”
“Maybe it would be better if you two just had Drake in your life. It would make things less complicated.” Ken said, not really wanting to hear his own words.
I started to speak but my other half declared. “That wouldn’t be fair to either of you.” I looked to Joan and wondered what she would say next. She looked back at me and placed our right hand lovingly on my cheek before she spoke again. “You two deserve the same happiness that Drake and I share. You are right Ken, it would all be simpler, but love is rarely ever simple. We will make it work. It hasn’t been easy for Anna and I, but we’ve made everything work this far, there is no reason either of you should have to sacrifice the love you have for each other.”
Joan’s words touched me deeply. I saw it not only as a validation of my love for Ken, but also as a validation of our conjoinment. A sign Joan had finally accepted me as being part of her. I didn’t waste anymore time with words. I craned my neck to the right and planted a kiss just a deep and wet as the one I had just given Ken. I let my tongue explore the mouth on the right side of our head. We had kissed each other before, but never so passionately. Joan was surprised by my sudden intimacy toward her, but she didn’t resist. She followed my lead and massaged her tongue against mine. I used our left hand to one-handedly unbutton Ken’s shirt as Joan ran our left hand down toward Ken’s crotch. Ken was confused, not sure if he should focus just on our left side or if he should caress us fully. Joan made it clear through her touches that any love-making with us would involve both of us. She kissed and caressed him on one side while I did the same on the other. It was a process we had performed many times on Drake. After an initial uncertainty, Ken started to kiss and caress us on both sides of our body, though tending to pay more attention to our left side.
Joan and I used our hands to unbuckle and lower Ken’s pants. Joan ran her hand along the base of Ken’s cock. I felt its hardness under my other half’s touch. We pulled off his underwear and revealed his cock in all its erect glory. I stared at it momentarily. It was only the second I’d seen up close and personal. Joan continued to rub it’s base with our right hand. I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I bent our shared back forward and kissed the tip of his rock-hard member. I began to suckle the tip just as Joan kissed me. Both of our tongues worked the end of Ken’s cock. Ken came quickly at our dual blow job. This event was not surprising. It was Ken’s first time with us and undoubtedly his first time with a conjoined pair. We put him at ease. I sucked and swallowed his cum. We rested atop Ken’s bed during his refectory period, caressing his cock slowly until enough time had passed for him to build another erection. When Ken was almost as hard as he had been before his first orgasm. Joan and I positioned ourselves over his erect cock and slid his member into our shared vagina, riding him on top. We worked our shared hip muscles moving them in unison, me working the muscles to the left and Joan the ones to the right, getting in rhythm and rocking our hips back and forth over his cock. We bent down over him, dangling our three huge breasts over his face. He kissed our middle nipple before taking it lovingly into his warm mouth. He suckled on our middle nipple as he brought his hands up to caress our two outer breasts.
We continued to ride Ken as he raised his hips in rhythm with our thrusts. Much like Ken, we orgasmed quickly as well, probably the excitement of have a new and wonderful lover in our lives. We felt the blissful feeling sweeping through our body simultaneously. Joan and I let out similar sounding moans in stereo, feeling the same orgasmic feeling from the same sex organ at the same time. I heard her moans of pleasure in my ear as I know she heard mine at the same moments. We managed to orgasm a second time just as we heard the moans of climax coming from Ken. We felt the streams of hot cum filling our shared pussy as he ejaculated.
Eventually, our love sessions with Ken expanded into our home. Drake did not join us, just as Ken did not join us when we made love to Drake. I would have enjoyed having intimacy with both of them at the same time, but I didn’t press the issue. I could detect feelings of jealousy bubbling under the surface of both Drake and Ken even after Ken and I had been dating for months. Moreover, I think Ken and Drake feared the homosexual overtones of a foursome involving two men. I thought of mentioning the fact that Joan and I were both involved and neither of us were lesbians, but I thought better of it. Men were funny that way. Somehow it is alright for two women to be together but heaven forbid that another man even so much as be in the same room.
Ken eventually moved into our marital home. He kept a separate bedroom from Drake. Joan and I would alternate. Half the time sleeping in Drake’s bed and the other half sleeping in Ken’s bedroom. Both bedrooms had large king size beds. Sometimes I wished that Joan and I could sleep in the middle of our two men, but the guys seemed more comfortable splitting the sleeping arrangements.
These sleeping arrangements continued after my marriage to Ken. After three years of living together, we had finally decided to take the plunge. It was really something that could have been done two years prior. Ken and I knew we were meant for one another. We waited. Partially to see how the four of us living together would work, but more so to allow Drake to get his head around the fact that he would be sharing half of his wife with another man. Not that Drake would have stopped us two years earlier, but we wanted to give him time to grow comfortable with the situation and with Ken. They did grow closer. Drake begrudgingly grew to understand what a enjoyable person Ken was to have around. I think too, that he enjoyed having another guy in the house. It allowed him another male voice in our unusual household.
My wedding to Ken proceeded without too much difficulty. Joan’s childhood preacher, Mr. Buckley, actually went so far as to petition the county clerk to deny Ken and my marriage license, claiming that I was already married. Why he considered it his personal crusade to keep us from what he regarded as sin, I don’t know. The county eventually allowed Ken and I our marriage license, after coming to the conclusion that legally, Joan and I are two separate people with two separate identifications as far as the government was concerned, and only Joan’s identification, not mine, showed as being married.
The rest of the wedding planning proceeded without much difficulty. I used the same dress as we had used for Joan’s wedding. I was tempted to design my own new dress, but it didn’t seem worthwhile since we had had such a lovely dress specially designed for us and our unusual body already. Joan found it amusing that finally a bride could reuse her wedding dress without having to get a divorce first. I was able to use many of the decorations and favors from Joan’s wedding as well. I did manage to make enough changes to make our wedding different from that of Joan’s however. I didn’t want a carbon copy of her ceremony and reception. Drake even agreed to be one of the groomsmen at Ken’s request.
As for an officiant of the ceremony, I knew that many couples these days had a friends ordained online so that they could perform the ceremony. I thought that was a fabulous idea. I asked my closest frend, both figuratively and literally, to perform the ceremony. Joan had the unique opportunity to perform the wedding of one half of her body to another man. Seemed almost like a conflict of interest as Joan stood between us, looking back and forth between myself and Ken, performing the ceremony while dressed with me in a wedding gown. As if that weren’t bad enough, she even gave Ken a kiss on the cheek as he was kissing me for the first time as husband and wife during our ceremony. Ken placed my wedding band on our left hand ring finger. We had rings on the ring fingers of both hands now, Joan’s on our right and mine on our left.
We didn’t have a limo this time. But, as we ran for the car, we found that we were much more adept at dodging the rice, or in this case, birdseed, being thrown at us than we were during Joan’s marriage. We had more experience walking, and running, in our new form. We still, even after all that time weren’t as agile as either one of us were as individuals. We were likely never going to be as nimble as we were when we didn’t have to consider the movement of another person, but for two people sharing one body, we managed to be quite quick on our feet after those years.
After Ken’s help stuffing our huge dress into the driver’s seat, Joan and I drove ourselves and Ken home. Joan and I both had driver’s licenses since becoming conjoined. Joan worked the gear shift, the gas, and the radio, I worked the steering wheel, the turn signal, and the brake. We were actually quite proficient, though Ken and Drake both liked to joke that the only thing worse than a woman driver was two women drivers. I admit with my other half working the gas, I was sometimes a little slow on the brake, something for which Joan would chastise me. But, despite my sometimes slow reaction, I had never failed to brake in time. Well, not until that day right after my wedding. I guess I was so excited and had my mind on the ceremony so much that we ended up blowing right through a stop sign even though Joan tried to yell at me to stop. Luckily, there was no vehicle coming the other way. Not so luckily, a police officer was in the perfect position to see us and, of course, promptly pulled us over.
It was bad enough that we were pulled over right after my wedding. It was even worse that we were still in our huge and cumbersome wedding gown. The officer was fully unprepared for our appearance. Upon approaching the vehicle, he stared at us in silence for a full two minutes. I finally broke the silence by saying. “Did you want to see our license, officer?”
“Who is the driver of this vehicle?” He asked in a stern voice.
“We are. I mean my sister and I are.” After saying it, I thought that it may not have been wise to refer to Joan as my sister when we actually were related, but it was habit. We referred to each other as sisters a lot, more out of convenience. It gave people unfamiliar with us a point of reference. If they were not otherwise familiar with our particular situation from seeing us on television years before, then they were at least, we hoped, familiar with the idea of Siamese twin sisters.
“I said who was the one that is driving the vehicle?!” He demanded.
“We both are. I mean we both have to drive it together.” I was wishing that I was the head on the right so that Joan would be the one having to do all the talking.
“Step out of the vehicle ma’am.”
“Couldn’t we just get the ticket, you see we, er, that is I just got married and this dress is a bitch to get in the car…”
“I said step out of the vehicle ma’am!” The officer yelled. I was hoping the fact that I had just gotten married might help with the sympathy factor, but this guy didn’t seem to care. I used our left hand to open the car door and Joan and I awkwardly stood up on the side of the road in our wedding gown. “Now, which one of you was driving the vehicle?” The officer asked again as he started to pat us down, including our chest in a manner that would have been inappropriate for anyone but especially for a male officer.
‘Look, I’m sorry about the stop sign, but I just got married and I wasn’t paying attention. I promise it won’t happen again.” I said, again hoping that the officer might forgo giving a citation being that I had just gotten married.
“Is there going to be a problem here or are one of you going to tell me who was driving?” The officer said harshly as he finished his pat down, as if we would actually be hiding a weapon underneath our fanciful wedding gown.
Joan finally spoke up. “We BOTH were. We can’t drive alone, we both have to drive because we each only control half of our body. We are conjoined.”
The officer looked us up and down several more times before saying. “Then we have a bit of a problem here. Just who am I supposed to give the ticket to?”
I decided to get more explicit about my wedding. “Couldn’t we just have a warning? I mean, being that I just got married and all?”
“You getting married has nothing to do with the traffic violation ma’am.” The officer said very matter-of-factly. “Now, let me see your license and insurance.”
Joan and I struggled to retrieve our driver’s licenses and proof of insurance from the vehicle as Ken sat quietly in the passenger seat. The officer required us to stay outside our car while he ran our information. We stood at the side of the road, a spectacle to the passing drivers in our large and flowing wedding dress. I held onto the top of my head to try to keep the veil that was still attached to my head from blowing away in the wind. After what seemed like an unreasonable long period of time to check our driver’s licenses, the officer came back and informed us of what we already knew, that our licenses were valid and then we had driven through a stop sign.
“Since you both claim to be driving, I just going to have to give both of you citations for failure to stop and for failure to wear seatbelts.”
“But we always wear seatbelts. We just didn’t this time because of this huge wedding dress. I swear, otherwise we always wear a seatbelt.” I whined.
“I am not aware of any wedding dress exemption to the requirement to wear a safety belt, ma’am.” The officer stated in a monotone voice.
“Why do I get a failure to stop ticket?” Joan complained. “She’s the one in charge of the brake.” She pointed at my head with our right hand.
“You were both driving, you both get the citation, good day, ladies, drive safely.” The officer said as he handed us four tickets and marched back to his squad car.
Joan and I managed to stuff our wedding gown back into the car and about strained a muscle trying to get our seatbelt fastened over the large and cumbersome wedding dress. “I knew I should have let you drive.” I said looking over to Ken in the passenger seat.
Other than the traffic citations, both my wedding and honeymoon went relatively trouble free. We enjoyed our honeymoon, though Drake was conspicuously absent. He was invited but felt that it wouldn’t be appropriate to share a room with us and felt it would be unfair to have us going between rooms when it was Ken’s honeymoon, not his. Joan, Drake and I stayed in a resort on the beautiful beaches of the Rivera Maya in Mexico. Of course, we indicated only two of us would be staying in the room to avoid the extra cost of having a third person staying there. As much as Joan and I valued what little individuality we had, we weren’t above considering ourselves as one person to save a little money on room costs. The beaches of Mexico were beautiful, though Joan and I felt a little self-conscious. We drew enough attention to ourselves just having two heads on one body, but us sporting a three-cupped bikini (or is that trikini) over our three very large breasts, really made us the center of attention. So, we spent the majority of the time fully clothed and in the various bars and clubs.
Our marriage continued to generally be a happy one following our honeymoon. Ken and I, of course, had our occasional arguments. We had more than the usual number of disagreements in our household, no doubt the result of having two wives and two husbands as opposed to the normal one-on-one. But despite our unusual circumstances, the four of us got along well. We even got to the point over time where Drake and Ken would both share a bed with us. It wasn’t until several years of marriage that both agreed to have sex with us simultaneously.
I all but had to grab Ken and rip his pants off and immediately start licking his cock to get him to stay in the bedroom when Drake started to become intimate with us. I could tell that neither Drake nor Ken wanted the other to be there, but if I knew one thing about men, they weren’t going to walk away from a blow job very often. I could tell that Ken and Drake, and to a lesser extent even Joan, were anxious about it that first time. I didn’t care. We had been husbands and wives for too long for it to matter to me. As Drake penetrated us from behind in doggie style position, I grasped Ken’s cock and started to rub it liberally, licking and kissing its tip while doing so. I so much wanted the feel of Ken’s raging cock in my mouth while Drake was penetrating us from behind. I took Ken’s member into my mouth and began to suckle, all the while feeling what Joan was feeling, the blissful sensation of Drake’s cock pounding our shared vagina from behind. Joan was watching me suck on Ken’s cock, not involving herself as she usually would.
“Join me.” I said looking over to Joan as I took a brief pause in my suckling of Ken’s cock in a voice loud enough that Drake could hear me as well. Joan looked nervously back at Drake who was still penetrating us from behind. I saw through Joan’s eyes that Drake gave an ever so slight nod indicating that it was alright for her to suckle Ken’s cock with me. Joan brought her lips close to mine and shared in a kiss with me and began licking the side of Ken’s cock while I licked the other side. Knowing our husbands as well as we did, Joan and I were able to time it so that Ken’s climax coincided with Drake’s orgasm. Ken sprayed our hungry lips with his cum at the same moment that Drake ejaculated into our shared pussy. Joan and I climaxed moments later. The orgasm was stronger than we had ever experienced together. We both gasped and let out a very loud moan of pleasure in response to our powerful orgasm felt by both of us.
Sex between the four of us became more common after that. We still would share intimate times with just Drake or only Ken, but more and more we shared our bed with both of them.
It was on my 30th birthday and some eight years after our conjoinment that I made a demand of my other half. “I want to go off the pill.” I stated abruptly to Joan as we stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing our respective heads with our respective hands.
“What? Now?” Joan said with what she intended to be surprise, though which I doubted really was.
“Yes now,” I answered simply. “Did you know that Ken and I have been talking a lot about starting a family?”
Joan rolled her eyes on our right head. “Of course I know. I’m inches away from your mouth at all times, stupid.”
“Then you know it is time for you to stop taking the pill.” I emphasized the “you.” Until recently, Joan and I had alternated in which mouth we would pop the birth control pill. More recently, it was always Joan that used our right hand to place the pill into our right head. It had been my not-so-subtle hint over the last few months that the time for children was now.
“But I don’t know if Drake and I are ready for children yet.” Joan said, not for the first time.
I shook our left head. “Both of you are ready, and it is time for you both to admit it. You two have been married for 8 years. Now is the time.”
“But if we go off the pill, Drake could just as easily be the father as Ken.”
“Our child is going to have two mothers and two fathers no matter how you look at it, Sis.” I said as I looked at our naked and slender belly in the bathroom mirror, wondering how it would look with child.
“Oh no,” Joan said nervously. “I wouldn’t presume to be the mother of Ken’s child. You are its mother, Dear. I’m just an… aunt.” Joan try to find the right word for her unique situation.
“No, love,” I said as I raised our left hand to tenderly touch her cheek, something we always would do when we had a something loving to tell one another. “It is our womb. You are just as much a mother to Ken’s child as I would be to Drake’s baby.”
‘But, how will we know who the father is? We are having sex with Ken and Drake.”
“It doesn’t matter, Sis.” I answered honestly. ‘They are both the father just as we are both the mother. There is a lot more to being a father than being a sperm donor. Fatherhood is about loving and nurturing and caring. I know that Drake and Ken will both do an excellent job no matter who does the comparatively unimportant task of impregnating us. This child will be so lucky to have not one, but two sets of loving parents to care for it.”
Joan stopped taking the pill and a few months later, the unmistakable indication on the home pregnancy test was clear. We confirmed it later at the doctor’s office. Joan and I were pregnant. We didn’t know if it was Drake or Ken’s genetic child. We didn’t care. As far as we were concerned, both were equally the father of the child.
Over the next couple months, our once very slender belly began to grow. It looked so odd. The rest of our body was so slender yet our tummy was swollen in pregnancy. Our tummy wasn’t the only thing to swell. Our breasts too began to enlarge. As if our boobs weren’t already large enough, each of the three gained a full cup size in what seemed like overnight though was actually over the course of several weeks. All three were a lot more tender to the touch and all three had the uncanny ability to leak at the most inopportune times, especially whenever we heard some child crying. It was almost like and alarm signaling our three breasts to start leaking milk.
The first few months of our shared pregnancy were relatively normal other than the fact that it was the same pregnancy being share by two women. The morning sickness mercifully only lasted a couple weeks. It is bad enough when you feel miserable in the mornings, even worse when you have another miserable person inches from your head. Heads that are fighting for space over a single toilet when nauseous.
The real trouble came with our first sonogram when we learned that it was, in fact, not a child, but children. We were having twins! Not just any twins, but, you guessed it, Siamese twins. The sonogram indicated that we were having girls, and our girls definitely took after their mother, yes, two heads on one body. I was overjoyed, not only at the prospect of having two beautiful girls, but that we could share our conjoined experiences with them to help them in ways that no one could have helped us.
Joan, on the other hand, was not so excited. She had quite a different reaction to the news, as was evident in her first comment to me following our sonogram when we were alone. “I want an abortion.” She said plainly and without hesitation.
“What?!” I exclaimed, shocked at her statement.
“I’m not going to subject these poor girls to the same torment that we’ve had to endure.” She said with a mixture of sadness and anger at the sonogram results.
“I can’t believe you’re saying this, Sis. I thought you were the religious one of us, dragging me to church on all the major holidays. I thought you opposed that sort of thing?”
“Not when its an abomination.” Joan said, tears now streaking her face.
“Abomination?” I asked, confused.
“Like we are!” Joan placed our right head in our right hand and she sobbed.
“We aren’t an abomination.” I said comfortingly to Joan. “After all these years, you don’t know that by now?”
Joan looked up at me sadly. “You really want to subject two more people to what we’ve had to endure?”
“We made it didn’t we?” I said with a warm smile. “And these girls won’t have known any other life. They won’t know anything different. They won’t know anything but the love and tenderness we and their fathers will have for them.”
“You really think they can be happy like this?” Joan said in a tearful voice as she looked down at our conjoined body.
“I know they can. I know they will. With two such wonderful fathers and a mother as caring as you are. They don’t have any other option than to be happy.” I said as I wiped the tears off of our right head.
“Even though they are stuck together?”
“Especially because they are stuck together. They will always have someone there that loves them, just like I have you.” I said as I gently kissed Joan’s forehead.
“Do you think that all of our children will be conjoined like us?” Joan asked.
“I don’t know.” I responded. Yet, that was not true. Somehow I did know. I didn’t claim to be a prophet, but somehow I knew that any child we would ever have, whether they be a boy or girl, would be just like us. They would have two heads and share a single body. I didn’t know how I was so sure of this fact, but somehow I was. Some lingering effect of the book and oracle perhaps. Some arcane knowledge that somehow merged me with Joan and would ensure that any child we may have would be conjoined.
Joan spoke no more of abortions. Not that she would have been able to get one anyway. Just like our breasts, she would have needed my consent to remove a fetus just like she would a breast. She did fear, like any good mother, of how her daughters would be treated and whether they would grow up happy. Our children came to term. Our shared tummy continued to grow over nine months. Our pregnant belly was huge. Our three large milk-filled boobs rested atop our belly. Joan and I kept taking every opportunity to rub our respective hand over our huge belly sometimes so in disbelief that life was growing inside of us. Not one, but two beautiful and conjoined daughters.
Our labor was long and tortuous. Each contraction felt equally by both of us. Our poor husbands having to comfort not one, but two screaming heads. The doctors had told us that it would be long and painful because of the two heads on the baby’s body. They recommended a caesarean section. I refused. I knew that with enough time and pain that they could be delivered naturally. Again, I don’t know how I knew. It seemed that in regard to our children’s development I had some very small sense of clairvoyance granted by whatever strange power had merged Joan and I.
After many hours of labor, Joan and I finally gave birth to two beautiful and healthy conjoined daughters. I looked for the first time into their four beautiful eyes and fell immediately in love with them. I knew immediately as well that they were not identical twins. They may have been conjoined, but like their mothers, they would not have the same faces. That fact was clear just from their eyes. One of our daughters had green eyes like me and the other had blue eyes like Joan. I watched them move their tiny arms and legs. I knew that one head was controlling one side and other head the other side. I knew too that unlike normal conjoined twins, that our daughters sensed everything on their shared body, even the parts they didn’t physically control.
It took some convincing before the hospital agreed to put two names down as father and two names down as mother on our daughters’ birth certificates. The finally agreed that because of our unique situation that they would fit all four of our names into the parents’ section on the certificates of live birth.
We breastfed our lovely daughters. We were able to breastfeed both of them simultaneously, one feeding from our outer breast and one feeding from our middle breast. Simultaneous feeding would not have been possible if we had only had two breasts. The other nipple would have been too far away for the second head to reach.
“I’m glad we didn’t remove the middle breast, Sis.” Joan said as we watched our children feeding hungrily from our left and middle breasts.
“So am I Sis, so am I,” I responded smiling widely.
The nurse came to our bedside and with smile of her own, and watched as we lovingly watched our daughters feed. The nurse asked. “What are their names?”
I looked up and said. “Our green-eyed angel is Joanna, named after her mothers. And our blue-eyed sweetie is Kendra named after her fathers.”
In the warmth of our bed, my conjoined sister part of me, our lovely daughters at our bosom, and our loving husbands at our side, I had never known such love or happiness. Yet, my mind raced. I thought of a hundred different things. I though about how life would be for us as mothers. I thought about how our daughters would grow up and whether they would grow up happy. I thought too of expanding our family even more. But more than anything, my mind thought of that oracle mentioned in the long destroyed book and what mysteries it held.
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