1 comments/ 4818 views/ 3 favorites The Book of Division Ch. 01 By: cauchemar80 When Molly stepped out of the shower, she'd barely gotten the towel around herself before Fran stepped into the bathroom. "It came! I can't believe it actually came!" "What?" Molly said, grabbing the hair dryer. "The Book of Division!" Molly rolled her eyes. Fran just wouldn't stop talking about her books. She swore they were incantations that really let her do impossible things, but Molly just didn't buy it. The Tome of Spontaneous Light and the Grimoire of Telekinesis were just those – books. For one thing, the so-called impossible things were only told to her after the fact, having happened entirely behind Fran's door. After she got the Grimoire of Telekinesis, Fran had indeed rearranged her room, though Molly found it unlikely through supernatural means. She'd spent about four hours behind the locked door, bookshelves squeaking the whole time. If she had moved everything with her mind, Molly might as well have helped her get it done; it might've been quicker. For another thing, Molly didn't believe in supernatural bullshit, as she called it. Extinguishing candles was just a clever way of blowing on them, and reading minds was playing the crowd. Everything had an answer. In the land of skeptics, Molly told herself, she would reign supreme. So as Fran shoved a leather tome in her face, Molly just pushed it away and grabbed the hair dryer. "Don't you want to hit the bars later? I need to do my hair." "I do," Fran said, thumbing through the yellowed pages. "And I've got just the thing to help us." "You do? Let's have it, then." "You know how you say it would be easier to do your hair if you could take your head off?" "Yeah. And your point is?" Fran switched to her very best first-level French accent and said in a loud voice as she dragged her finger across the line of text: Venez-vous, bete, Et detachez sa tete! She lifted her finger from the page and pointed it at Molly's face. Nothing happened. Molly stopped drying her hair and looked around. She looked at her neck in the mirror. She looked over at Fran. And then she laughed. "Looks like I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way." Fran looked somewhat disappointed. "I would've sworn that would work. They guaranteed the spells would work when I bought it." Molly turned back to the mirror, but she stopped at what she saw. There was a thin line on her neck. A rogue hair, perhaps, from the shower? She pinched at it, but found no purchase. She turned a little, confirming that it did, in fact, go all the way around. She put the dryer down and laughed just a little. She was seeing things. She leaned in to wipe some steam from the mirror. Two things happened at once. Molly's field of vision rapidly changed. Her hand was still on the mirror, wiping condensation – she could feel that. But all she could see now was the interior of the sink. She felt a million butterflies in her stomach. At the same time, Fran screamed and jumped, dropping the book on the carpet. "Holy fuck!" she cried. "It worked! It really worked! Wait, are you alright?" "No, I just slipped. Really, it's okay," "No, no it's not okay. Reach down into the sink." "Yes, Fran, I fell and my head hit the..." But as Molly looked up, she saw pair of olive skinned hands coming at her face from straight ahead. She followed them up to a pair of shoulders capped by a bloodless stump. Below them, a sizable pair of breasts wrapped tight in a white towel. Molly was looking up at her own headless body. "I can't believe this," she breathed. "Is that my body?" "Yeah," said Fran, leaning on one of Molly's shoulders. She felt could feel her roommate's warm hand. "This is the old Mark I Molly. Are you still controlling it? Wait, are you the body or the head?" "Both," Molly said. She still had control over both; she'd now lifted her head out of the sink and had turned it to look at her body. "I can't believe this. Did you drug me or something?" "No, Mols, I didn't drug anything." "How am I even talking? I'm not connected to my lungs." Molly took a deep breath. Her chest rose and fell. The towel felt looser around her. Instinctively she took a step towards her room. Only it was backward, and she bumped into Fran. "Might want to turn yourself around there." "Yes, I'd say." Molly clumsily turned her head around and pulled her hair out of her eyes. Holding it out in front of her like a cross to a demon, she marched to her door, still somewhat shocked that her head had detached itself from her body. "Can you, um, can you find a reversal spell or something, Fran?" She said it mechanically, automatically, like a doughboy stepping out of a bombed-out trench. "Yeah, miles ahead of you Mols!" came Fran's voice from the living room. "I'll get you right as rain in a minute. Just get ready! Those bars aren't going to hit themselves!" Molly nodded, but nothing happened. "Right, it's not attached," she said to herself, stepping into her room. She kicked the door shut behind her and set her head down on her desk. "What the fuck?" she said aloud. She sat down in her chair and leaned forward to give herself a good view of her neck. It was just a stump, about two inches tall, capped with flesh the same tone as the rest of her body. She touched it gingerly, but it felt no different than touching her back or forearm. She reached out and tilted her head back to touch the skin she imagined capped her head beneath her jaw. It offered the same sensations. "Weird," she said as she stood and disrobed. For just a brief second, as she watched the towel fall around her headless body, she felt primal lust rising up within her. She'd never had such a good view of her tits; they were always foreshortened. Often Molly felt as though she were more a stout troll than anything, looking down. Now, standing naked beside the desk chair, she saw the body of a cover girl; maybe even, as she turned to side to look at her ass, a girl on the cover of Maxim, if her head were obscured by the "X." She ran her hands over her chest, watching breathlessly. She cupped her breasts for a moment, tweaking her nipples slightly, and followed them with her eyes as she let them fall. Molly proceeded to her stomach, angling her hands downwards as if they needed to plunge behind the waistband of a pair of tight jeans. Plunge they did, straight between her legs. It surprised her, how wet she was. Maybe it was still the shower water, but Molly thought it was something more as she slipped a finger inside. "Jesus," she said, both at the pleasure and the odd spectacle in front of her. "Never thought I'd finger myself...oh...for an audience." Without preamble she grabbed her head from the desk and brought it over to her bed. She could see her chest getting red and imagined her face was even more so. She planted her head as firmly as she could on the blankets, bunching them up around her jawline, and then climbed on. Molly smirked at her pussy, which was now eye level, as she rubbed her clit. She moaned and would've thrown her head back, but without a neck she stayed put. Inches away she felt her breath on her pubic mound and the back of her hand. "Oh God," she whispered. It was an inevitability now. "I'm going to eat myself out. Fuck!" She scooted closer and watched her body move up, hair tickling her nose. She could smell herself, sweat and smut, on her hand and lips. The sound of her fingers thrusting into herself was so much clearer, so much louder, from here. Molly looked up to see her pendulous tits swinging above her head. Her nipples stuck out, almost painfully, like pebbles. She closed her eyes when she felt her clit on her nose and, overcome, grabbed her head with two eager hands and shoved it between her legs. The feeling of her tongue and mouth on her clit and pussy was completely new. Molly felt stupid horny at this point, felt the sweat on her forehead and shoulders, felt her breasts bouncing on her chest, felt the heat on her inner thighs. She leaned forward in her excitement and tilted her head back so that her full weight rested on it. It felt so good, so unbelievably good, so good she wanted to come. She did. In the brief second before orgasm, Molly's eyes were wide open. Her clit had thrust itself out from her hood and was completely at the mercy of her tongue, which was twisting and lapping at it in ways she'd never felt before. She grabbed at her breasts and saw, past the tuft of hair at the end of her nose – she'd shave it later – two hands, her hands, grabbing two full breasts, her breasts, from below, from an impossible angle. I'm separated, but still in control. I'm in two places at once. I can feel everything. God, I'm eating myself out. Jesus, fuck, I'm coming! Molly screamed as loud as she could into her pussy. She blinked and saw her body on top of her, spasming, leaning over in its uninhibited bliss to show her the stump where her head should be, saw her breasts swinging directionlessly, saw her fingers clenching the air and coming down to grab her head to push it closer to her pussy. And then she fell off of herself, back onto the sheets and blankets to lay there for a moment. Her head fell back to a level position and she watched, tired, as her chest rose and fell. One hand snaked down to her deep red pussy to lightly rub her lips, and she moved the other one to her neck to pinch the skin, to reassure herself that her head really was between her legs. "Oh my God," she whispered. She felt ashamed, somehow. She sat up next to her head and grabbed the towel, drying herself off. For the next few minutes, Molly watched herself get dressed. It was not only odd to watch herself from across the room, but also to attempt to find clothes without being able to see them. After she found panties and a bra, Molly gave up looking for a shirt without her head and brought it over to the dresser to help. She was struggling to pull her pants up with her head under her arm when she heard Fran's voice from the living room. "Got it, Molly, got it!" "That's great, Fran, be out in a second!" She stepped from her room with her head in a towel, still drying it off. Fran came up to her, book open in her hand. "It's not hard at all. Just had to find it in the index. You know that thing's basically a mile long." Fran stepped over beside Molly and put the open book down on the counter. "You need to hand me your head for this to work. If I read it right, I've got to put it back on." Molly shrugged – an odd movement – and passed her head off to her roommate, then leaned on the counter. "Whenever you're ready," she said from Fran's hands. Fran didn't seem to hear her, she was busy lining up Molly's head while looking at the incantation. "You didn't do your hair while you were decapitated," she chided jokingly. "That was the whole point, you know?" "Hey, you try to get dressed from across the room." "I just might," Fran mused as she pushed down on Molly's head. "Alright, here it goes." Allez-vous, bete, Et attachez sa tete! Molly breathed deep as she put her hands to her head. She turned her head left and right. She was back in one piece. "Wow. That was something else, Fran," she said. Fran just nodded and tried to hide her grin. "What's wrong?" said Molly. As she looked down, she saw the problem. "You put my head on backwards." She caught sight of her ass and smiled. "Nice view, though." "It's my first time. Go easy on me, you narcissist." Molly couldn't help but laugh and Fran started flipping through the pages once more. The Book of Division Ch. 02 "That was great," Molly said as she and Fran piled into their apartment. "I know," Fran said, half-mumbling. "You saw how Paul was looking at me. Think he'll call? I gave him your number." Molly stopped halfway through unstrapping her boots. "Dammit, Fran! You know I don't need the drama." Fran was already in her room and shutting the door. "Let it go to voicemail!" she called, and then she closed the door. Molly wasn't quite ready for bed. She hadn't had too much to drink; Fran had chased her vodka diet with her screwdriver and spent the rest of the night somewhat sloshed. Besides, tomorrow was full of classes. Molly doubted she'd have much time to come back to the apartment between the oh-so exciting Introductory Horticulture course, the breathtaking History of Medicine class, and the action-packed Western Civilizations section. And after classes, she had an adviser meeting and the fund-raising meeting in the evening. It was a full day. And there were still things to do. There was something that had to do with her experience just before she left with Fran for the bars. Something about taking her head off, eating herself out. "That's right," she said to herself. "I was going to shave." Molly looked over to the bookshelf. Gold lettering on the leatherbound tome glinted in the streetlights through the window. The Book of Division. Already ideas were forming in her mind. She grabbed it and took it back to her room and shut the door. "I bet they never had trimming pubes in mind when they wrote this thing," she laughed as she sat down on her bed. The pages looked vaguely alchemical, with scrawls all over the pages and odd geometric shapes behind the text. The writing was entirely in French. From what she could understand, the first few chapters described "La Bete," the supernatural force that allowed the separation of body parts. These were followed by a short spell section and a large index, which seemed to reference spells Molly didn't see in the Book of Division. In the spell section the left page showed a basic human figure and a line through the body at the separation the spell would create. On the right page, various incantations were spelled out in illuminated text; some were for men specifically, some for women, and some for the caster herself. Molly flipped through the pages, looking at the illustrations and determining which would be best. "Ah, here we go. 'Le corps au demi.'" On the page, the line went through the figure's waist. Molly looked to the opposite page and found the incantation for casting the spell on oneself. Bete, venez-ici Coupe moi en demi! As before, there was nothing at first. The room remained still. Molly lifted her shirt and looked down at her waist, and saw nothing. "Maybe," she wondered, "it takes longer to separate if there's more to get through." She began to undress, and had just thrown her bra into the hamper when she checked again and saw a line spread around her waistline. Still seated on her bed, she took a deep breath. It hadn't exactly felt fantastic when her head had fallen into the sink. "Alright Mols, nice and easy this time." She planted both hands on either side of her lap and pushed. Her upper body lifted, but she still felt her legs sitting on the bed. Molly turned around and set herself down on her waist stump. Sure enough, as she looked at her lower body, the division was covered in skin as if it had always been. "God," she breathed, uncrossing her legs. "This is almost weirder than detaching my head." Slowly, allowing for the change in weight, she stood up and turned her lower half around. She unbuckled her belt and slid the jeans down her legs. Her legs. Her slender, voluptuous legs. They surprised her when they stepped out of the jeans. She'd spent so much time looking at her pussy, her breasts, her stomach with her head off to notice her legs. From her perspective, they were perfect, tapered just as they should be at her knees and led up into a pair of sultry hips. Molly looked down over the edge of the bed and, at the same time, brought one of her feet up to the edge of the bed, peeled the sock from it. Her feet, too, were something else. She wiggled her toes as she held her right foot in her left hand. Something instinctive moved in her; she bent down and sucked her toes. A pang of pleasure shot through her, through her upper body propped up on her blankets and her almost-naked lower body standing in front of her. "Oh dear," she said sarcastically to her lower half, standing attentively in front of her. She took her toes out of her mouth and began to shuck her panties off. "I may end up doing more than just shaving," she told her legs. A minute later, she'd moved from the bedroom to the bathroom. Her lower half sat naked, legs splayed, on the toilet lid and her upper body "stood" in front of it. She squirted some shaving cream into her hand and rubbed it on the pussy, her pussy, in front of her. It felt cold and Molly, both halves of her, shuddered. She reached down to the shaving kit on her pile of clothes and grabbed for the razor, but her fingers only wrapped around her vibrator. Then she realized; the razor was in her room. "Shit," Molly muttered. She walked on her hands over to the door and peeked out. Did she hear snoring from Fran's room? She hoped so as she moved quick as she could across the hall and dove into her room. The razor wasn't in the drawer she usually kept it in, and it wasn't on her desk. She didn't even remember grabbing it before she went to the bathroom. Frustrated, she hand-walked over to the desk and plopped her torso up on her chair. In the bathroom, she sat her legs up and tapped her foot absentmindedly. Where had she left it? "Ugh," came a sound from the hallway. There was the creak of a door and the shuffling of feet. "Molly, you in there?" Fran asked, tapping on the bathroom door. Molly froze, knuckles white around the arms of her chair. Not only was Fran trying to get into the bathroom where her horny lower body sat expectant, but now, she realized, her key to the bathroom door was beside her tapping foot, and the door had locked behind her when she came back to the bedroom. "I gotta ralph, Molly. Open...open up, dammit." Fran sounded defeated, halfhearted, tired and drunk. Molly heard her shuffle down the hallway to the kitchen, then the rustling of a trash liner, and then a heave, and then a splat. Then, she heard snoring. Molly sighed, relieved. But what to do about her lower half? It still sat on the toilet. She crossed her legs, felt the shaving cream ooze between her thighs. The cream was starting to itch. She also had to pee. "It never rains," she whispered, swinging herself down from the chair, "but it pours." She peered around the door frame and confirmed that Fran had gone down on the kitchen floor. Her roommate's feet poked out from behind the kitchen counter; she was out cold. Molly hand-walked over to the bathroom door and wiggled the knob. It was locked. For a second, she wanted to give up. She'd either have to get Fran to open the door, or call university maintenance, or break the door. How would she explain being naked and split in half, with shaving cream on her pussy, on opposite sides of a locked door? Without thinking, she stood and began pacing, or at least her lower body did in the bathroom. She felt her foot collide with her pile of clothes and heard keys skittering across the linoleum. Just like that, an idea hit her. What if she pushed the key under the door with her foot? It was worth a shot. Tentatively she stuck out her foot and began feeling around for the key. "Shirt, pants, book, bra, shaving kit," she said under her breath. "Vibrator, shaving cream, key!" In the bathroom, she pinched the keyring between her toes and shuffled over to the door. With a clumsy kick, she slid it through the gap under the door to her waiting hand. "You and I make a pretty good team," she said to her lower body as she opened the door. She immediately scratched her pussy where the shaving cream had begun to burn and continued to hand-walk past it to the shower. In the absence of her own razor, Molly figured, she'd just use the one from the shower. Snatching it up she turned and guided her lower half to the shower, where she helped herself sit down. The view of her own groin was incredible, even better than when her head came off. This time, her hands were also separated from her genitals, along with her head. She had the full range of motion that a lover might have with all the sensitivity that the owner of the equipment before her would exercise. Actually trimming her hair took just a few moments. Her lower half squirmed under her own hand as the cold metal scraped over her most sensitive areas, but after just two or three deft strokes, she was done and admiring her handiwork. "There we go," she said, wiping herself with a wet hand towel. "So hot even I want to fuck it." She withdrew a bottle of lube from her shaving kit and poured some on her pussy. "In fact," she added, grabbing her vibrator, "I think I will." She rolled her lower half onto its front, as if she were laying on her stomach, and plunged the vibrator into her pussy, turning on the hot water as she did so. The sensation was amazing. Her angle of attack was perfect and caught her G-spot on the first thrust. For a moment, she lay bisected on the shower floor, panting as new colors burst through her field of vision, pumping the vibrator in and out of herself from behind. She moved over to her waist stump and leaned over, her plump breasts brushing her ass cheeks as she crammed the vibrator into her pussy. After a few minutes, she pulled it out and rolled over. Hands on her ass, she pushed herself to a standing position. "This is great," she told herself, "but it could be so much better." She widened her stance a little and, with her hands guiding her lower body, lowered her pussy onto the out-thrust vibrator she held at eye level. For a fraction of a second she wondered how weird she looked, cut in half, humping the vibrator she held up with her own hand. But then the fraction of a second was gone, and all that Molly cared about was how great it felt. She could see clearly her lips folding inside herself as she lowered her legs onto the vibrator, and how they pulled at it when she stood again, as if they didn't want it to leave. Molly leaned in and began to lick her clit. That sent her over the edge. She screamed louder than she'd planned and completely lost control of her bladder. Her tongue still snaking around her clit, vibrator still plunging in and out of her, Molly pissed all over her breasts with sheer excitement. The white-hot explosion in her crotch, in front of her face, spread throughout her entire body, from her toes to her fingers to the top of her head. And then, too quickly, the utter bliss evaporated. Legs weak, she collapsed onto her upper body. She wrapped her arms around her lower half and laid it on the shower floor, then threw herself over it and turned the water off. Exhausted, Molly shut the vibrator off and fought briefly to stave off sleep before she gave in. The next morning, she woke up cold and bleary-eyed, using her ass as a pillow. She felt her nipples poking the backs of her thighs as she stretched. Halfheartedly, Molly rolled off her legs to rest on her stump on the shower floor. "Much as I'd love to explore you even more," she said to her ass, "I'm afraid I should be in one piece this morning." She reached for the Book of Division and added, "Don't want Fran to think I'm abusing the book or anything." She laid the book open on her ass and gave it a longing squeeze. Then she began flipping through the yellow pages before resting on the one she'd found last night. Retournez-vous, bete Et me faites complete. Molly stood, making sure she was the right way round on her waist, making sure she wouldn't fall apart if she tripped and, satisfied she'd stay in one piece, stepped out of the shower and threw a robe around herself. Still a little drowsy, she ambled over to the mirror and brushed her teeth. As she started on her upper row, she threw a look at the book on the counter. A lot of questions bounced around in her head as she thumbed through the pages with her free hand. Who wrote it? Why? How did Fran find it? Who sold it to her? Did Fran have plans for it? "I bet you made a lot of French girls happy," she said to the leather tome as she spit into the sink. Molly rinsed her brush and put it back in the medicine cabinet, then turned the sink off and headed for her room. She stopped at the door. There was still a pouring sound, like the sink was still going. Confused, she looked around. She'd just shut the sink off, and the shower wasn't running. Was something wrong with the toilet? She whipped the heavy lid from the back of the toilet, but everything was in working order. As she listened, Molly realized that the sound was coming from inside the bowl. She laughed to herself; she knew exactly what it was. Slowly, she lifted the lid. Stuck to the bottom of the lid was a neatly trimmed pussy, pissing into the bowl. Somehow Fran had detached hers and put it there. "God, I was looking all over for that," Fran said, clearly hung over, stepping into the bathroom and rubbing her eyes. "Put it there before we left; figured it would be a good idea if I was gonna drink all night." She grabbed a handful of toilet paper and wiped it, then peeled it off the lid. Molly stood by, staring. Fran glanced over at her, then back to her detached pussy in her hand. "This is a little awkward." "No, I was just thinking how that's actually a really good idea," Molly said. "How did you get it to stick? I mean, my head didn't stick to anything when I took it off." Fran turned her pussy over in her hand, admiring it. "I just pushed it up against there, and it stuck. Maybe it's different for different people?" She folded it in half and stuck it into her pocket, moaning softly. "You're not going to put it back on?" "No time," she said, stepping out into the hallway and throwing a jacket on. "I'm late for breakfast with Paul. I'll let you know how it goes!" "Don't give him anything a gentleman wouldn't take from you," Molly called after her. Then she turned back grinning to the Book of Division to find the spell for detaching her pussy. The Book of Division Ch. 03 It seemed like Molly's alarm went off louder than usual. She opened her eyes and looked at the wall clock. 8:30. Half an hour until class. But she also felt incredibly tired as she rolled over. What had happened? She'd dreamed about something... She remembered her head coming off. She remembered eating herself out. She remembered splitting herself in half. There was something else too. But it was all a dream. "An interesting dream," she thought to herself. "Wouldn't mind having it again. It felt so real when I came, when I ate myself out. Don't really get that kind of service anymore." She flopped over onto her stomach and waved her arm blindly at the nightstand, trying to hit the snooze button. She missed it once and hit the surface, but when she brought her hand down again, she hit something soft. At the same time, she felt like someone had kicked her in the groin. Molly sat bolt upright, fully awake. There, on the nightstand, lay her detached pussy. It was clearly hers; neatly trimmed, and evidently she could still feel it, but it was unattached and about three feet from its normal spot. Not as it should be. She pulled out the waist of her pajama pants and tried to see her pussy. Worried, she glanced over at the fleshy oval on her nightstand. She couldn't see it looking down, so she felt around where she expected her pussy to be. Blank skin. Nothing. "Stay calm, Molly," she told herself. "At least it's here. At least you've still got it." She stood up and started pacing, running her hands through her hair. What the fuck had she gotten into last night? Just then, she heard the front door opening and her roommate's upbeat voice. "Come on in, Paul! Don't worry about your shoes, just leave 'em at the door! Here, lemme help!" "I got 'em, Fran! Been getting them since I was five!" "If you were smart," came the reply, "you'd have worn heels like me." There was a clatter, a shoe bouncing off the tile. "They just pop..." Another clatter. "...right off. Hey, you haven't met Molly yet, have you?" Molly froze and looked, first at her pussy on her nightstand, and secondly at the door, which would burst open any second to spill an overeager Fran and a reluctant Paul into her room. Quickly, more roughly than she would've liked, she brushed her pussy into the drawer with her vibrator and felt it collapse on itself between the edge of the drawer and a box of batteries. Fran nearly tore the door off its hinges. She stopped, surprised that Molly was still in her pajamas. "Good morning, sleepyhead! Alarm didn't go off?" "Nope," Molly said shortly. She waved weakly at Paul. "Hi. Listen, Fran, can I talk to you for just a second? Alone." Paul didn't need to be told twice. He smiled awkwardly and booked it to the living room as Fran shut the door behind him. "Do you remember last night?" "Do I? I'm surprised you don't; you're the one who lost your head." Molly stopped at that remark, then dismissed it. "When I woke up this morning, my uh, my...pussy...was on the nightstand." Fran laughed, a delighted squeaking laugh, and brought both of her hands in front of her mouth. "You did it too? Makes everything easier, doesn't it?" Molly hadn't expected that. "What the hell are you talking about? Yours comes off? Am I in fucking Legoland?" "No, no – it's the book! The Book of Division. You probably just read a spell from it, the same one I did, about 'les genitaux.' You seriously don't remember catching me peeing this morning? I stuck mine to the bottom of the toilet so I wouldn't have to use those gnarley bar bathrooms. In fact," she reached into her pocket and moved her hand around. "That's better. Mine spent the whole morning folded in half. It was weird." "Wait, that stuff wasn't a dream?" Molly sat on the bed for a second. "There's a book? Where? Can it reverse this?" "Yeah, every spell's got a reversal. It goes back on, no problem. Where'd you put the book?" Molly's blood ran cold. She hadn't even remembered that the book existed until Fran told her, much less where it was. "You don't know?" "Nope," Fran said. "You had it last. Go to class; I'll look for it." "Shit," Molly said. "Class is in 20 minutes. I can't miss the test in Intro to Hort. Fuck me." "Can't," Fran laughed as Molly opened the drawer, took her pussy out and stomped past her to the bathroom to get ready. Fifteen minutes later Molly waved goodbye to Fran and Paul and hopped onto her bike. The ride to campus was short and odd without her pussy in its proper place. She found that she could rest on the saddle much more comfortably without it between her legs, but she'd put it into her right pocket and found that every time she brought her foot up, it twisted slightly, pleasantly. By the time she locked her bike in the rack at the horticulture building, she was shuddering with every step. The test came out of nowhere. Molly was pretty sure she'd bombed it. Not only had she not prepared at all, but having her genitals in her pocket proved far too distracting for her to concentrate. Whenever she put her hand on her thigh, whenever she bounced her leg out of nervousness, whenever she crossed or uncrossed her legs, she felt it on her pussy. By the time she was on the last few answers, she'd made up her mind to go back to the apartment and find the book. Ten minutes later, she was coming in through the front door. For the return trip, she put her pussy into its own pocket; only when she hit a rough patch or went over a curb did she get any serious sensations. "Paul, listen. You need to go find Molly." It was Fran. She sounded scared. "Don't come in. Just go get her. She's at Horticulture taking a test. Go! Can you not hear me?" "Fran, it's me," Molly said. "Where's Paul?" "Jesus!" said Fran's voice. "He's getting a pizza for lunch. Get in here, quick." Molly took a step into Fran's room and stopped dead. Half on, half off her bed, and on the floor around her desk, was Fran. It looked like she'd come apart at the seams. "I need to pull myself together, I know," said Fran's head. It was on the floor beside her left foot and her left arm. Molly picked it up and brushed the hair out of Fran's eyes. "Is the desk okay?" she asked, pushing Fran's laptop out of the way and setting her head down there. "Yeah, it's fine." "How the fuck did this happen?" Molly asked. "Well," Fran began, clearing her throat. Several of her parts across the room, including her chest on the floor – still clad in a t-shirt – and the upper sections of her arms on the bed, shuddered with the effort. "I opened to the page for putting every limb back on at once. It's page 140," she added, as Molly bent over to pick the book off the ground. "I wanted to be quick, so I figured I could just use that one, instead of flipping to the page about genitals. Apparently, La Bete has to separate everything first, before he can reattach it. Anyway, would you be my best friend in the whole world and stick all my bits back on? Except the obvious, of course," Fran said, grinning. "I can take care of that one." Molly nodded and surveyed the room. "How many pieces are you in?" Fran drew a deep breath, again causing several parts to move. "Well, let's see. Hands, forearms, upper arms, chest, stomach, hips, thighs, lower legs and feet. And head. And the other bit." "That's not so bad," Molly said, reaching under the bed to grab Fran's left hand. It wiggled in her grasp. "Hi," Fran said from the desk. "Let's see. Which of these is your left forearm?" Molly held up two identical flesh-colored tubes. Fran closed her eyes, trying to conjure a mental map of her body. "The one on my right," she said. Molly laid her hand on the bed along with her forearm and put the other one on the opposite side, along with her right hand. "Alright, which of your upper arms is which here?" she asked Fran, turning around with another pair of slightly thicker cylinders, again flesh-colored. Fran laughed. "Those are my thighs. And the one in your left hand is my left one." Molly found her roommate's hips on the ground just beside the bed. Her chest, however, had rolled over to the desk chair. She grabbed it by the t-shirt, but Fran stopped her. "Be careful with that," she said. "Don't bump it around too much; I'm pretty sure my uh...my girls detached themselves too." Molly cradled Fran's chest section on its back and laid it gently on the bed between her arms and hips. "You're still missing your stomach. Where the fuck did you put it?" Suddenly they heard the sound of the front door opening. Molly shut the door softly and looked back to Fran's head on the desk, her face white. "Fran?" Paul called. "I got the pizza." "Fuck!" Fran hissed. "He got the pizza." Then she yelled to Paul, "Is it pepperoni?" "Yeah, Fran, just like you wanted." Molly flicked her roommate's detached head. "Focus, Fran, what do we do?" "Paul!" Fran screeched abruptly. "Go get Molly!" His footsteps headed down the hallway towards toward her room. "For God's sake," Molly whispered. Thinking quickly, she slid the chain into the door and rushed back to grab Fran's head and left arm. She hurried back over to the door, ready for it to open. The knob turned slowly, and Paul peeked in through the crack. Molly poked Fran's head out from the other side of the door to peer at him. "Are you ok, Frannie? Did you hurt yourself?" Molly stuck Fran's arm through the crack in the door and slapped Paul with it. "Nobody calls me Frannie," Fran said. "At least, not until the third date. Just go get Molly, will you? It's a girl problem." Paul sighed heavily. "Alright. Where's she at?" "Taking a test in Horticulture. She's going to the Bio building after that, if she's not in Hort when you get there. Now GO!" Molly slammed the door shut and listened as Paul's footsteps receded and the front door shut. Then she turned Fran's head to face her. "That was close," Molly said. "But you got him out of here for a while. Where were we? Oh, right. I literally cannot find your right foot. Can you feel where it's at?" Fran scrunched up her face, thinking. Suddenly the lamp on her desk fell to the floor. "Sorry," she said, "I was wiggling my toes. I thought we might see them. But they caught the cord." "It's ok," Molly said, leaning over the desk and picking up the foot, which wiggled its toes happily. "It's your lamp, anyway." "Oh, wait," said Fran's head. "Can you bring that over here? I want to lick it." "Come on, Fran, you can have all the fun with yourself you want when you're alone." "No, just one lick. I bet Paul five bucks I could do it. Over breakfast he told me I was as flexible as an ash tree." Molly sighed and brought Fran's detached foot over to her face. She stuck her tongue out and traced it along her sole. Her foot arched with either pleasure or ticklishness, and Fran gave a laugh. "You're my witness. You saw it happen." "Yup." Molly placed her foot and its sister on the bed, then turned back to Fran. "So I've got four limbs and have no clue which one is which," she said, laying four almost identical fleshy tubes on the seat of the computer chair. "The fleshier ones are my upper arms," Fran said. "Touch them." She poked one. "That's my left one, so the other's my right." Molly put them in their respective places on the bed. "That makes these your shins, right?" Fran's head toppled over and rolled onto its side. "Sorry," she said as Molly righted her. "I was trying to nod. Yes, those are my lower legs. The one on the left is my right." "Alright, that's it," Molly said. "Except your stomach. Where's that?" "I have no idea. Wait, listen." Molly stopped and listened with Fran. There was a growling from under the bed. It was Fran's stomach. "God, I'm so fat," she said as her roommate brought it past her view. "And hungry. Luckily hungry, or we might've been looking for that for a while." "You think you're fat?" Molly said, stopping. She turned the stomach over in her hands. There was a slight pudge that stuck out over the edge of the cut, where flesh capped Fran's division. She looked down at her own stomach. "It's no more than mine." "Yeah, well, you can't see yourself as good as I can. Just put me back together, will you?" "Sure, sure," Molly said, gathering Fran's head up in her hands along with her stomach. "Don't think putting me closer to my gut will make me accept it," came Fran's voice, muffled against her stomach. A few minutes later, Fran lay divided on her bed and Molly sat next to her with the book in hand. "It's just this one, here, right? The one on page 140?" "Yeah," Fran replied. "It should say 'Toutes des parties de mon corps' or something like that." "Yup, this is it. All your 'parties de corps' are touching, correct?" "Yep. You ready to get this ball rolling, captain Molly?" Vous, bete, allez-y Et apportez mes parties. Fran sat up. Immediately her hands snapped to her chest. "We forgot those, didn't we?" said Molly. "Don't worry," Fran said, grabbing her pillowcase and lifting her shirt, letting her detached breasts roll into it. "I saw a spell for breasts specifically. I'll put them back on myself." She leaned forward and threw her arms around Molly. "Thank you. I would've been up Shit Creek without a paddle if you weren't here." "You're welcome," Molly said. She paused, then, "This is really weird when you've got no tits." "I've still got them, they're right here," Fran said, lifting the pillowcase to eye level. Two tiny nubs stuck out from the lumps at the bottom. She stood and headed to the bathroom, tucking the Book of Division under her arm. "I'll be right back and you can use it." Molly nodded and headed to her own room. She collapsed on her bed and threw her backpack onto the floor. A ringing pain shot through her crotch and she rolled onto the floor, crawling to the backpack and the pouch containing her pussy. She pulled it out and turned it over in her hand. It was just an oval of flesh, with her vulva on one side and skin on the other. She plunged a finger inside experimentally and flipped herself over. Not even a bump appeared on the other side. Molly put her other hand to her stomach and felt, faintly, a pushing from inside herself – her other finger pushing from inside her pussy. She looked out her door to the bathroom. The whole apartment was silent. She wondered if Fran was having a moment to herself in there. Probably. Now that she knew for sure that division was possible and reversible, now that she'd just helped her roommate reassemble her body, now that she was alone and holding her own detached pussy in her hand, she was a little more open to the whole thing. Molly started playing absently with her pussy. She spread her lips and looked inside, much like she imagined a doctor would do. She pulled her lips back and touched them together behind her pussy – an impossible maneuver, but unfortunately one that didn't give her any intense feelings. She pulled on it and was surprised to watch it stretch about one-and-a-half times its size. She twisted it, so that her clit faced one direction and her vagina the other. And then, she had an idea. She rummaged through her nightstand drawer for a second and withdrew her bottle of lube. She put a single drop on her lips and then folded her pussy in half, bringing her clit to her entrance and rubbing the lube between them. The feeling was incredible. Molly would've joked about her pussy being a taco if she weren't biting her lip in pleasure. She ground herself from side to side, so that her clit swiped each of her lips and then reversed direction, hitting them again. Then, she got an idea. An idea that made her open her eyes and looked down at the pussy in her hands. Was it even possible? It had stretched. She bet it was. Holding her pussy in one hand, Molly folded it in half and pushed the end with her clit into her vagina. It raked against her wall until it hit her G-spot, and she nearly screamed. Her clit was by now completely erect, stuck out proudly from her hood, and her walls were ready and swollen. She scraped it slowly, back and forth against the rough patch that was her G-spot. Her legs buckled even though she wasn't standing up. Sweat beads formed on her forehead. Her nipples grew hard. Her toes curled and her fingers twitched. Jesus, my pussy came off. I'm rubbing my clit against my spot and holding my cunt in my hand. I'm holding my fucking cunt in my hand. Sweet God, I'm coming. Her eyes rolled back, and Molly launched across the cosmos in the most intense orgasm she'd ever felt. She shook, seizure-like, and dropped her pussy, which promptly unfolded itself and lay, lips up, contracting on the carpet. As she spasmed in ultimate pleasure, she heard the squelching sound of her entire pussy squeezing around itself, milking its own orgasm. Around it, her juices grew on the carpet. She twitched a final time, and then lay still, breathing heavily, basking in the afterglow, her mind not yet caught up with her body. "Holy fuck," she whispered, pulling herself onto her desk chair. She felt the pang of a much-needed post-orgasm piss and looked out the door to the bathroom. The apartment was as still as it had been before. Still feeling aftershocks, she rummaged in a desk drawer and pulled out a plastic bowl and a lid. "I really didn't want to do this," she said to herself, dropping her pussy into it. It landed, lips down, against the side of the bowl. She closed the lid and let loose. As she went, she looked down. She was still fully dressed, and hadn't even taken off her shoes. Molly looked back to the bowl. It was odd, hearing the unmistakable sound of someone using the bathroom coming from a container that couldn't possibly house a whole person. She shrugged as she finished and headed for the kitchen with the bowl in tow. Maybe, she thought, as she rinsed off her detached pussy, maybe the Book of Division wasn't so bad after all. The Book of Division Ch. 04 Classes, meetings, fundraisers – Molly was spent when she came home at 5 that evening. She was also, evidently, alone. She hadn't noticed Fran's car in its usual spot outside, and the apartment was dark and still when she came home. "Fran?" she called. No reply. Molly noticed the note on her bedroom door as she headed to the bathroom, though. "At Paul's, took book, will return." Then, under that, "Suck it, Hemingway." Molly's blood ran cold. She wasn't in one piece. Her pussy was still in the bowl on her desk, and her breasts were still warm under the covers in her bed. She was completely at Fran's whims. When, or rather if, Fran got home, Molly would be whole again, and no sooner. "Looks like it's another night with myself," she said, going over to the bed and lifting the covers. Two perky breasts sat pushed together, protruding from the sheets, nipples attentive. Molly had a drawer full of C-cup bras, but lately they'd become uncomfortable and tight. She picked up one of her breasts – her right one, she felt – and rolled it around in her hands. It was probably time to upgrade to D-cups. To avoid the awkward stares elicited by a complete absence of breasts when yesterday she'd worn a low tank-top with cleavage to spare, Molly had thrown on her frumpiest sweatshirt when she went back to campus. No one was the wiser, but as she pulled it over her head, she realized she could hardly wait to throw the itchy thing back into her closet. She paused for a moment and looked down at her blank chest. Two faint circles of skin remained where her breasts had detached, but only if she looked hard enough, and knew where they were. Molly flipped over the breast in her hand. On the back of it, where it once attached to her chest, there was a faint circle. If she set it down, however, it collapsed into a perfect orb under its own weight. Molly went over to her desk and grabbed the bowl, then headed to the bathroom. The bowl was heavy, probably with all the coffee she'd had earlier. "You need to cut back on the caffeine, Mols" she reminded herself as she poured the bowl out in the toilet. "Doesn't do you any good except – JESUS!" She jumped about two feet into the air as her pussy slid into the toilet bowl. The water was freezing. She grabbed her vulva quick as she could and collapsed back against the wall. "If I had flushed you..." she said, shaking it, which felt strange and looked more so, "I don't even want to think about it." She douched herself in the sink; a very odd sensation, given that she was standing up and that the water going into her didn't go down, but staying inside, like a cup. "This is just getting too fucking weird," she muttered, heading back to her bedroom and drying her lips off. It felt good, and as she plopped down on her bed, she realized that for all her efforts, it had only gotten wetter. She laid it down on her sheets below her breasts, right where it would go if she were laying under them. For a moment, she leaned back and took in the scene. It almost looked like her bed had tits and a pussy. Molly couldn't help but laugh, yet the giggle had barely escaped her when she sat up, a thunderclap of inspiration rumbling in her mind. "Oh, that's good. Fuck. That's the best idea yet," she told herself, grabbing her jacket and standing up. She leaned over to her breasts. "Don't go anywhere, you two." She kissed and lightly sucked her nipples, first the left one, then the right. Next, she moved down to her pussy, laying lips up on the covers. "Or you. Don't tell the girls, but you're my favorite." And she kissed her own clit. A tingle shot through her legs and she backed away, and shut her bedroom door. Thirty minutes later, Molly was barreling back down the street as fast as her bike would move, and under her arm a discrete black plastic bag – a bundle from Sonny's Adult Comics and More. As she chained her bike to the building, she couldn't wipe the grin off her face. "This is going to be good," she told herself as she shut her bedroom door. Throwing her clothes off, she picked up her left breast and her pillow and sat down on the bed. She sat the pillow on its end and pressed her breast against it. When she let go, to her surprise, it stuck. She tried her right breast, and found that it worked perfectly. Molly lifted the pillow to her face and looked at it for a moment, smiling. "Let's see why everybody wants to do this," she said, putting her face between her tits. As she shook her head from side to side, motor-boating them, she moaned softly. "That's not bad," she whispered, reaching for her pussy. She pushed it against the bottom of the pillow, on the end opposite her breasts, and let go. It, too, stuck to the fabric. She lay the pillow back on the bed and stood to admire it. Effectively, it was a fucktoy; a torso with breasts and a pussy – her detached breasts, and her detached pussy. She let her gaze drift to the bag from Sonny's. "You're about to make somebody very happy," Molly said, lifting the strap-on from the sack. She hefted it in her hand – it was a nice, thick replica – and stepped into the harness. It fit snug around her hips, a pair of panties composed of straps, and in the front, a socket for the dildo. She attached it and climbed onto her bed, hovering on arms and legs above the pillow. "Where do I start, dear?" she said to herself, kissing her nipples, first one, then the other. She licked the outsides of her breasts, sighing as the tip of the strap-on brushed her clit on the pillow. "Everything in its time," she breathed as it twitched in excitement. She brought a hand down to her pussy and began to rub herself, continuing to suck her nipples, to roll them around with her tongue as they stiffened. Molly braced the pillow with one arm and slid a finger inside herself, never moving far from her breasts. "This is what it's like to be...ugh...with a woman, huh?" She grunted as she raked her G-spot and then withdrew her fingers, satisfied with how wet she was. "Except this is better." She grabbed the pillow at its approximate hips and guided her pussy over the strap-on. She gave a strong thrust; it punched through her effortlessly, but she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. It was a lot bigger than she'd expected. If her pussy had still been on her body, she would probably have been gentler, but something in the back of her mind justified the increased force. Molly wasn't fucking herself. She was fucking the pillow. It had a pussy. It had breasts. And she had a dick. It was completely at her mercy. But she was fucking herself. It was just a pillow. On it was her own pussy, her own breasts. She was just wearing a strap-on. She was completely at her own mercy. She rolled the pillow over, as if she were taking it from behind. Humping it as if she really had a cock wasn't natural to her. Coupled with the fact that she still felt the strap-on sliding in and out of her, just inches behind the harness, it was difficult to get into the rhythm with herself. Leaning over, she pushed the pillow against her chest and grabbed her breasts on the other side, tweaking her sensitive nipples. She leaned back to a sitting position and continued, pulling the dildo out slowly and jamming it in quickly. Each breath became higher in pitch, shorter in length, warmer on her skin, nearer in frequency. "Fuck it," she muttered, pulling one of her breasts off the pillow and jamming it against her mouth. "This is way better." Her lips pursed around her nipple and drew it in, dragging it past her teeth to be twiddled by her waiting tongue. She fell back on the bed, still humping the pillow, still fucking herself, but jamming her breast into her mouth. It hurt, somewhat, but she wanted it. She liked it. She caught a glimpse of her other breast, still attached to the pillow, jiggling with every thrust. "You need some attention, don't you?" she said to it, detaching it and brushing its nipple against her cheek. It was stiff as the strap-on. She pressed both breasts together, nipple-to-nipple, and gave them a twist. She gasped with excitement, moaning in exstacy. It felt dirty, but so good. "God, Molly," she breathed, throwing herself forward and talking, muffled, into the back of the pillow. "You're a great lover." Her breasts rolled onto the carpet in opposite directions. Normally it might've hurt, but she was past the point of no return. She could hear the sound of her own juices lubricating the dildo, the slight sucking sound as she withdrew it and an almost-splat as she reinserted it. Oh God. I took them off. I took off my tits. I took off my pussy. Fuck, they just come off. And I can feel them. I'm fucking myself. Yes. Fuck me. Yes. YES. I'm coming. Molly shuddered and screamed, pulled the dildo out and fell onto her side, twitching, as she came. The second the dildo left her, she squirted. Registering the scene on a primal level, she turned the pillow toward her, and the stream of fluid went up her body, from her groin to breastless chest, to neck to face. With one hand she reached out and detached her pussy from the pillow, and with the other, she wiped her eyes. For a second she sat there, panting, taking it in. She lay her pussy on her chest and closed her eyes, warm in the afterglow. Juices and sweat dripped from all over her body. Her sheets were soaked. Only her breasts, discarded on the floor, were still dry. It felt like an eternity but was likely just a few minutes before Molly opened her eyes and sat up. She felt a sharp pain in her chest. "Ow," she said, bending over to pick up her breasts. She'd just kicked one square in the nipple. Gently, she kissed it, then looked around for her pussy. She had it just a minute ago. Had it fallen on the floor? She got down on her hands and knees, still wearing the strap-on, and peered under the bed. It was nowhere to be found. She stood up and threw the sheets off. Nothing. Then she looked down. Her pussy was stuck to her chest, just between the blank spots made by the absence of her breasts. She sighed with relief. "This," she said, grabbing a towel and heading for the bathroom, a breast in each hand, "is going to be a fun shower."