I wake up and Janet’s not there. The clock says six thirty in the morning and, most importantly, Sunday.



Great. Just great. Now I can't go back to sleep.



Just what the hell’s wrong with her?



I can hear the rain battering off the window, hard, too hard even for a fanatic like Janet to go outside. So it’s either the bathroom or the attic. Seeing as I could use a trip to the bathroom myself, that's where I'm checking first.



Okay, I lied: I knew she wasn't here, I just needed a pee. I can hear it well, now, that tap-tap-tap-tap coming from upstairs. The treadmill, of course. Who needs to run outside when you've got your trusty treadmill. Right? Never mind if it's Sunday and the old fat-ass could finally get some sleep.

Right?



Back into the hallway, I take a left and turn around the corner to find the stairs to the attic pulled down. I climb up and there she is, pitter-pattering with her running shoes - a brand new pair, again - on that damn thing that's whirring like an old movie projector.



"Hi," I say. "Morning."



Nothing. No reply.



Her ass wiggles left and right, wrapped in skin-tight shorts. A remarkable sight, but I can't always let her get away with everything just because of her looks.



"Good morning," I offer again, louder.



Still nothing.



She's definitely ignoring me on purpose.



I'm beginning to go over what I could have said or done since last night, or failed to say or do, when I see she's got earphones on. Hard to notice them at first, being the Bluetooth ones she got for her b'day back in April.

So that's why.

Good thing she isn't mad at me.



I don't see where she could be keeping her phone on herself, so it must be her smartwatch she’s listening to. Alanis Morissette, Kelly Clarkson, some shit like that.

Alright then, maybe she's not flat-out ignoring me, but I think she still deserves some kind of punishment. I sneak up on her and - thwack! - land a good one on her butt.

Janet turns her head, gives me a look like she'd give a dog's turd on the sidewalk, then forgets all about me again. Tap-tap-tap-tap. Not one beat missed. She runs at a steady pace, breathing in through dilated nostrils and out through pursed lips. The band on her head isn't doing much in the way of stopping the sweat, she looks like she's been thrown a bucketful to the face. Her training top is soaked around the collar, and by the impressions of her nipples it doesn't look like she's wearing anything underneath.

My little buddy stirs in my boxers, wanting me to expand on that last one, but when I grab the hem of her top Janet swats my hands away, clicking her tongue. A sound which, in my experience, is a sure sign that she's getting annoyed, like, really annoyed.

Okay.

Now you asked for it, lady.

I look around for my gloves. The attic has been turning into a home gym of sorts - there's fitness equipment all over the place - but it's not too long before I find what I'm looking for. Not where I left them last time, but hanging from some kind of rack that I don't remember ever seeing before. I slip them on and go pick up the yoga mat, which is already on the floor, unrolled, and I reposition it behind the treadmill. Janet ignores me all the time. Even when I wrap my hands around her elbow and twist a little then pull, taking her forearm clean off. She just keeps on running unconcerned, only glancing over her shoulder as I lay the limb down on the mat. It looks like a plastic doll’s, made of something homogeneous inside that’s got the same look and feel as the skin on the outside - no blood or anything. It's moving, too, if ever so slightly. It moves like it was still attached, in unison with Janet's running.

I go round the treadmill and repeat with the other arm. This is the one that has the smartwatch on it, so I check just out of curiosity.

The Cranberries.

Oh well, close enough.



Both arms are on the mat now, and their owner is still lost in her trance, swaying her stumps back and forth as she runs.

Meanwhile, between my legs, I’m growing bigger by the minute. Not that I have any weird kink, but there's just something about the way Janet looks right now, I don’t know, I can’t explain it. It makes my blood rush. I can feel my heart pounding as I catch her head between my hands. It's a tricky one, bobbing nonstop as it is, but I manage nonetheless: twist left, right, then back - and off it comes, together with most of the neck.

I step back watching the headless body carry on like nothing, tap-tap-tap-tap. The neck stump looks just like the arms, ending in the same kind of flat pink surface. I draw back some more without really thinking about it, until I bump my thigh into something padded. It's a workout bench, and I sit down straddling it.

Janet is still breathing fine, and that’s no surprise. I know for a fact that she could just as easily eat or drink, if she wanted to. Anything she gulped down would reach its destination no problem. The way I figure it, those doll-like stumps work like some kind of portals, wormholes or some shit, teleporting stuff between her various body parts.   

I turn her head around in my hands, slow and gentle. She's bulky and quite slippery with sweat, and I sure don't wanna drop her. As we come face to face I find that her eyes are shut. The air she's puffing out of her mouth is a bit stale, but it's okay, I don't think my morning breath smells like violets. I kiss her all over, nose and lips and eyelids, mostly because I don't think it proper to just pull out my dick and stick it in her mouth. Which I eventually do, except it's more like I'm wearing her mouth on my dick. Either way you look at it, what it gets me is a bellowing "Ugh!" as Janet flicks her eyes open and scowls at me, going all "What the fuck are you doing?" in a way that almost makes me burst out laughing. Unable as she is to pull away, she sounds like she's speaking with food in her mouth - something that she never, ever does.

I lay down flat on the bench and, ignoring her protests, begin to slide her head up and down.



"Stop," she says. "Fucking stop it, you shithead."



That's what I think she's saying. It could be something else, but nothing nice for sure. At least I've finally got her attention. So, yeah, that's something.



As for the blowjob, head-wanking or whatever I should call it, it's not working out very well. Not sure if it's more out of Janet's necessity to breathe or her unwillingness to cooperate, but the way she keeps her mouth wide open I can't do much more than just bump against its roof.

I try flipping her upside down and it does get a little better, but still not enough.



Alright, fuck it. I give up.



I can't do this without her help.



I sit up and lift her head off my dick, now gleaming with frothy spittle. "Hey," I say, holding it level with my eyes, "I think that's about enough jogging for now, don't you? How about some, you know, different kind of exercise? Something we can do as a couple, you and I."



"How about you put me the fuck together," she says between her huffs and puffs, "and then you go screw yourself." If her breath was stale before, it's not any better now with overtones of dick in it.  



"I love you too."



To my surprise, that one gets a smile out of her. A snarled grin of sorts.   



"You fat shithead. What the hell are you doing here anyway? I thought you were sleeping."



"I was."



"Did I wake you up?"



"Oh, no. No, you didn't. In fact, tell you what, I think I'm still sleeping and this is all just a dream."



"Well. I'm sorry, okay? I'm using my earphones..."



"Don't be sorry. You're making up for this."



"No, listen. I really can't do anything right now. I'm..."



"I get it, I get it. Morning workout."



"Listen to me. Just give me a few minutes, like five, ten minutes tops. You jump into the shower and I'll join you. Okay? Where's my watch?"



"Nah, you take your time. I'll manage on my own."



She's about to say something else, but I cut her short with a kiss. After that I put her down on the bench, turned so that she's facing her own body, and I stand and walk up to it.



"I said leave me alone," says Janet behind me, "and go take a shower. God knows you need one."



With her body lacking both arms and a head I have no problem removing her top, even though it clings to her skin so tight that I have to peel it inside out. Janet groans out loud in protest, and I toss the sweat-soaked thing her way, not aiming to hit her but just as a clue to shut up. I need some quiet to admire the sight of her boobs bouncing. Back and forward, actually, rather than up and down. And a little bit left and right. Back and forward, left and right. It's hypnotic.

But why settle for just watching?

Standing to one side of Janet's body, I wrap my arms around her chest and lift it off her hips, no further manipulation required. Her legs keep running, and her chest keeps shaking, but I manage to carry it over to the mat and lay it down on its back.

Damn, I need to catch my breath a little.

I look down at my feet. The chest still has its boobs bouncing, and much in the same way as when it was standing upright. Like maybe it’s got a gravity all of its own, and it wears it on itself at all times. It's as weird a sight as it is hot, and my dick, which had gone somewhat limp after the attempted blowjob, is getting back on track.



"Come on, what are you staring at?" says Janet. "You got bigger boobs than me."



That's not true by a mile, but she likes that joke.



"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll have a look at something else, then."



She probably cannot hear me from here - I should have thought of removing her earphones - but whatever. I grab ahold of her ass and pluck it off, shorts and all, from her legs, which even disconnected from each other insist on moving as if part of a person that’s running, on and on and on, tap-tap-tap-tap, instead of just falling over and off the walking belt.

The two half-thighs in my hands are flailing like crazy, and that's why I'm putting the whole thing upside down on the mat, that is, standing on the cross-section of its belly, ass up in the air.

Before anything else I turn back to the treadmill and snatch one leg then the other from it, except that the feet remain behind, spontaneously dropping off the ankles. And of course, they keep on running. It's like watching two huge frogs, or crickets, trying to out-leap each other in an endless race.

Again, whatever.

I kneel down and lay Janet's legs on the mat.



Man, look at that.



That's some sight to see, all those body parts shaking and wriggling next to one another. And all of them naked at that. All but one.

Holding Janet's hips between my knees, I start pulling down - or is it up? - her shorts when she gives a sharp "uh-uh", to which I look up at her head. "You don't wanna do that," she pants out. "I'm having my period."

Damn, she's not lying: I can see her pad through her panties.



Great.



Just great, really. No mouth, no pussy. And the third option, well, that has never really been an option with her.

What's a poor fellow to do, then?



I stand up, meaning to at least fap to Janet's boobs, but my cock pops off in my hand at the first jerk.

Shit.

I've never done anything like that to myself, and I damn near freak out. I suck my belly in to look down between my legs, and I find that my ballsack is still in place, together with maybe a quarter of an inch of cock, barely visible through my hair. My erection holds, both down there and in my hand.



Holy fuck, I need to calm down or I'll have a heart attack.



Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.



Look at that. It looks like a goddamn cigar I'm holding.



Okay, calm down now. Calm down. Breathe.



Janet has been telling the truth about this. It's not painful at all, and I still feel pretty much like I'm in one piece - which sure helps. The feeling in my dick is unaltered: I'm still aware of the grip of my hand, along with the glove and its rough, rubbery texture.



There's a snort behind my back, a sound of derision. "What? You're gonna blow yourself? Now that's great thinking! You should do it more often."



Not gonna lie: the idea was crossing my mind just now. It might be something I'd like to try, alright, but not in front of an audience. Not the first time anyway.

"Shut up," I bark over my shoulder as I press the detached dick through the fly in my boxers. Thank God it snaps back on immediately, almost like a magnet. I check it for scars or anything, but find none. It's still quite hard, and aching, but not from having been pulled off - it's lust, plain and simple.



Ah. Those bouncing boobs.



Just the sight of them makes me forget all about my little mishap. I bend over and grab one in each hand. They fit nicely. As I pull myself up the boobs stretch out like chewing gum, and with two loud snaps they come off, leaving Janet's chest perfectly flat and smooth, with no sign of ever having had them on it. Like a boy's, but without nipples.

I turn around and head back for the workout bench. As I walk I bring the tits to my mouth and start licking and sucking. They're not pear-shaped anymore but round all over, like sex toys made of living flesh. Warm,  squishy, and may I add, sweaty flesh. The way I'm holding them I've got their nipples in the palms of my hands, so it's actually the back side I'm going at, the one that wouldn't normally have skin on it. Not that it tastes any different there, just, how many others can claim to have done that?



Janet yelps.



And curses.



I must've been a bit too rough just now. And she doesn't like it rough.



"Sorry," I say, not meaning it, and I put her tits down on the bench, nipple up, just inches away from her face.



"Sorry my ass," she says. Sweat has been pooling around the base of her neck. "Now what? You're not gonna... aw, fuck."



The first thrust almost has me touching her nose with the tip of my dick. After that, as I pick up speed, I don't ever reach quite as far again.



"Are you serious?" Janet says. "Come on, stop that."



I don't see why I'd stop that. It feels good, at long last. Maybe not as good as when we use actual lube, but it's okay. The mixture of sweat and drool will do.

After a while of this - can't really tell how long, but I guess not very long - I'm beginning to feel like I'm getting there, and I want to change position. So I lean forward on my arms, squashing the tits under my hands, and Janet gapes in pain and lets out a series of broken groans.



"Yeah babe," I grunt, "open up, open up for me."



Alright, I'm coming any second now. I'm coming. I'm...

Ugh!



Yeah...



Fuck. Yeah.



I stop moving, head thrown back, eyes shut. For a few moments I only exist as a cock that's pumping out sperm in quick, fat gushes.

When I open my eyes, at first there's nothing but a swarm of black floaters in my vision. Then, as they dissipate, I see Janet's face. She's looking back at me. Her hair and cheeks and forehead are streaked with sperm - it's all over her. She has her tongue sticking out, waiting for me to acknowledge the cumshots that she's caught on it.



"Good girl," I tell her. I stretch out, at peace with the world, and the tits roll off and plop to the ground at either side of the bench.



Janet closes her mouth and swallows, licks herself all around, curls her lips inward, licks some more, swallows again. "I'm done," she announces.



"Yeah. Me too."



She grins. "I figured as much. I was talking about my workout."



There's kicking at my calves. I turn around and see nothing. Then I look down, and see a brand new pair of running shoes with living feet inside them. The treadmill, deserted, has gone still and quiet. Either Janet is able to turn it off with her feet, or it has turned itself off. When did that happen, though? Only now do I notice the silence around us. There's no sound other than Janet's heavy breathing, and my own.



"Come on, lover boy," she says as her feet turn on their heels and start towards the yoga mat. "Time to put me back together."



I really just wanna hit the kitchen now, fix me some waffles with butter and syrup. But I guess she's right, I can't leave her like this.

I pick up Janet's head by her hair and take one of her boobs in the other hand. The remaining boob, I just dribble it along with my feet like a soccer ball. When I reach the mat I immediately reattach these three pieces to her torso, then her arms. Her smartwatch says it's playing the Corrs. I mount her legs back onto her feet, and her hips on her legs. Lastly, I lift her upper body in my arms and place it on its lower companion. The moment her waist melds back together Janet throws her arms around my neck, reciprocating my embrace, and she stands on tiptoe to kiss me. I can taste my semen in her mouth, and I smell it on her skin too. She's still got plenty on her.

Janet breaks the kiss and puts her hands on my chest. "I've got to go wash up," she says. "Jesus, I smell awful. Wonder whose fault it is."



"Thanks. I needed to hear that."



On her way out she picks up her training top, but doesn't bother putting it back on. "You'd better clean up your mess. There's some on the workout bench and more on the floor, all around. Use some Lysol. And be quick about it, will you? It's your turn to make me feel good. I'll be in the bathroom."



She turns her back to me without waiting for a reply, and disappears down the stairs. Not that I had anything to say.



Well.



Looks like my waffles will have to wait.