
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I originally wrote "That Long Distance
Feeling" as an example of what Penthouse Forum
letters would look like in 2050.  I also started
this one, which was to be the penultimate big dick
story. The premise was that through genetic engineering
doubletalk he would end up with a two-foot penis
and she would end up capable of handling it, and
the two of them would be chemically keyed to each
other (since there was no one else they could boink).

Except frankly, the sex bored me, and I had set
things up to have two sex scenes: one here, where
I stopped writing, and one at the story's climax
(ahem).

Apparently I had a thing for the name Chloe for a
while.  I often use the same name repeatedly until
a story works, and then I retire the name.

JS


FORUM LETTERS IN 2050

Copyright 1998, 1999 Jordan Shelbourne

Dear Forum:

I'm now a junior student an elite orbital college.
I can't name it, obviously, and I appreciate the
use of your anonymizing service.  I'm studying to
be a bodysculptor, someone who redesigns living
organisms.  It's interesting stuff, combining
nanotech, medicine, systems design and some other
fields.  I had no idea how interesting it could be
on a personal level until last term, the end of my
sophomore year.

There's a two-week hiatus between the end of one
term and the start of next.  Most students take the
opportunity to drop down to Earth.  I had decided
not to go -- my girlfriend dirtside had dumped me,
since telesex wasn't good enough for her, and since
my folks were away I didn't really have any reason
to drop.  I mentioned it to Chloe, one of the girls
in my class, since I was single.  Chloe's a reed,
all slender Thai sylph; she just smiled and said,
"Excellent," but she wouldn't say anything more.
I looked twice at her, but Chloe didn't respond.
She was more sphinx than sylph.

On Friday, I was at the dock watching the last
shuttle leave.  One of the guys in my class, Gregor,
came up and asked me what my Hayflick score was.
(The Hayflick's a measure of how much sculpturing
your body can take.  Most people our age score in
the mid-twenties.) I told him my score was forty-four.
He smiled and asked me if I was up for something
"interesting." He wouldn't tell me what it was, just
said it would be "interesting." Well, Gregor's a
natural talent, so I figured it would be elite as
well as interesting.  He told me to meet him in the
gym an hour after the shuttle dropped.

There were a dozen students in the gym, including
Chloe and Gregor.  All were sophomores, all were
staying up for the hiatus.  Gregor came up and
slapped me on the back.  He led me out to the center
of the gym, by some gymnastic mats.  Chloe was there
with Paquita, who was the probably the smartest
student in our class.

Gregor clapped his hands together once for everyone's
attention. He explained (probably for my benefit,
since everyone else seemed to know what was going
on). Every year-end hiatus, the sophomores in orbit
compete, men against women, to see who can do the
most elite sculpturing job to the secondary sexual
characteristics. Both entries had to "function" --
Gregor grinned when he said that -- at the end of
the contest. We had two weeks.

Paquita bowed to Gregor and asked who our contestant
was. Gregor pushed me forward, and all the guys
applauded. Paquita said I had to be checked for
function first, and she knelt before me. One of the
other women came forward with a measure and calipers.

In a business-like way, Paquita pulled down my shorts
(everybody wears shorts on an orbital) and the other
woman quickly and efficiently measured my flaccid
boss. I felt a little embarrassed by the measurements
(six centimeters long and four in diameter, if you
must know).

"Soft," said Gregor, "and in an intimidating
environment."

Paquita grinned.  "Correct. But we can do something
about the first of those." She delicately held the
base of my boss between two fingers and then she
took it into her mouth.  I was, to put it bluntly,
boosted.

She didn't do anything at first, just let the warm
wet comfort of her mouth work its magic.

Behind her, I could see that Chloe had been stripped
naked, too.  She had small perky breasts with tiny
dark nipples and no hips at all. She'd colored her
pubic hair, a white lightning bolt on an orange
background. I wouldn't have expected it of her. Two
of the men were measuring her. I remember her bust
line was 82 centimeters, but I don't remember the
volumes for her breasts; I was paying more attention
to what Paquita was doing.


	 ---And it ended here---

Send comments to: jordan@compu-diva.com

Read Jordan Shelbourne's completed stories at:
http://www.compu-diva.com/IvoryGates/index.htm
