by David Backer
"Are we doing it today?"
"I mean really really?"
"Didn't I tell you we would?"
Bob had promised Steve that they would try it. Everyone was doing it. It was the hip thing for the gay living dead.
Bob took his bleeding, leprous hand and wrenched it from his wrist. His veins dangled down like pieces of twine. Then Steve tore his own hand from his arm. Facing each other, Bob took Steve's wrist and gently screwed his own hand into the place where his lover's once was. Steve did the same. The couple stood together in a pool of their mixed blood, gazing into each others eyes.
"This is incredible," Steve said.
They proceeded to take each other apart, piece by piece, until they were a pile of pussing limbs on the floor of their studio loft. Then they put themselves together, mixing and matching their limbs and torsos.
"Yes," Steve moaned.
Bob took his arm and attached to one of Steve's arm sockets.
Then Steve put one of his feet on one of Bob's ankles, fastening it.
"Oh God, yes..."
Bob took his right thigh and inserted it into Steve's hips.
"Yes, fuck, oh..."
Then Bob and Steve rose to their knees, holding each others arms. They shared a final embrace, putting themselves together until they were made of each other.
"Oh do it, oh, do it, yes."
Standing up, they were pieces of each other. They screamed.
David Backer is the editor of fictiondaily.org, which is an aggregator site for online fiction.
SSF: What's one thing you did this week that you are proud of?
David: I watched a documentary about Chile and the founding of Pinochet's regime all in Chilean Spanish. That's a tough accent for me. All the words flow together. It's so smooth. Very different from the Quito accent, which is more like Kichwa. I'm going to see the second part of the documentary tonight.