WARNING: The following story is made for fans of natural body magic/ detachment/ disassembling people non-lethally. If you are not a member of that community, I strongly advise that you turn back now. Things will get freaky.
SECOND WARNING: The following story contains thinly vieled allegories. If you don't like barely disguised soap boxing for things you probably already agree with in your fetish smut, reconsider continuing.
-
"So like, are you gay? Or just unbelievably narcissistic?" Rose asked, pointing her spoonful of strawberry ice cream accusingly at the smaller man who was now both of her best friends.
"I mean, you know I've never been interested in guys before. And I'm still not interested in guys, on the whole. Just this one guy, Klein." He answered, opening wide and receiving a heaping spoonful of butter pecan. It wasn't quite lined up right, and he ended up getting some smeared on his cheek, though it was quickly dabbed away as his boyfriend dipped a napkin in their water and wiped his cheek down.
"Klein?" Rose asked, furrowing her brow. The gears in her head turned, and after a second or two her expression shifted to one most people used when they solved a riddle and were feeling clever. "Oh, Frank & Klein, like Franklin!" She pointed the spoon at the man she now knew to be called Klein, a melty drop of pink dairy flying off and plopping to the table. "Any reason he got stuck with the butt end of the name? Besides being the one with your butt end?"
Frank rolled his eyes, catching a glimpse of Klein silently laughing at that awful joke. He and his body had spent so much time apart, even before deciding to be a couple, that they'd long since developed differences in their senses of humor. "Well, he got the arms, legs, and a few other parts I quite enjoyed, so we both agreed that the least I could get is my old nickname."
"Honestly, I've been meaning to ask about that." Rose said, punctuating her statement by finally eating the spoonful of ice cream she'd been using as a prop for the last minute. "Like, I know Sents are more used to missing pieces than us Conts, but like, now that you're making this a more permanent thing, how are you going to cope with that?"
Frank glanced at Klein, who ruffled his hair playfully before inserting a spoonful of ice cream between his lips. "I think we'll manage!" He said, swallowing. "Unlike you, we're not a pair of Conts!"
Frank, Klein, and Rose all laughed with such uproarious force and longevity that they managed to turn every other head and head-equivillent inside the packed ice cream shop. Those that hadn't been eavesdropping saw a boyfriend and girlfriend, the boyfriend either a Cont or a Sent with his detached head resting on the table in front of his own headless body and the girlfriend of unknown divisibility. Those that had been 'accidentally' overhearing their conversation knew that there were a couple of boyfriends hanging out with their mutual friend, both men originally being a single man by the name of Franklin, who was now a head named Frank and a body named Klein.
To the former group, Franklin and Rose were just rude. To the latter, Frank, Klein, and by association Rose, were obscene.
-
The majority of people in the modern age agreed that human beings were human beings. But for millennia, bigotry, hatred, and even outright warfare and genocide had been perpetrated over peoples' divisibility types; their body's genetically inherited response to the natural process of being taken apart. Anthropologists theorize that there were once as many as 7 divisibility types, though only 5 appear in written records and only 4 survive to the present day. People with the Continuous gene, commonly called Conts, had complete control over all of their original parts while divided, unless those parts were presently attached to someone else. Sents, those with the Sentience Gene, had all detached parts gain an individual conciousness while separated, identical to the original at first but gradually diverging as they had unique experiences. Nulls, who had no nickname for Null was short enough, lost all control and sensation in their detached parts until they were reattached. Last, there were the Indivisibles, or Indies, remarkably durable and hardy humans incapable of being taken apart without injury. Either to them or to you.
While some old bigots still cared about the whole Sent vs Cont vs Null vs Indie rivalry, globalization had made most people mostly get over it, though there were still a lot of growing pains as the world tried to figure out just how far progress should go. One still divisive topic was on Sent dating, more specifically Sent selfcest. While the general public agreed that any Sentient piece can become a person in its own right after prolonged separation, and that as their own person they can make their own romantic choices, there was significantly less consensus on how socially acceptable was a Sentient dating their own body parts. Like, a Sentient screwing their own pieces was one thing, it being seen as little more than masturbation, but being romantically attached to your own pieces? Regardless of the narcissism, wasn't that incest?
Frank would explain that morally, incest required a power dynamic in which familial bonds are abused. This was why step-children romance was wrong despite lacking blood relation. Since Franklin was a single person split, and you couldn't have a 'dynamic' of one, there was no family dynamic to abuse. While some Sents considered their separate pieces brothers and sisters, this was far from universal. Some felt they would always be smaller fragments of a greater whole, some felt they ceased to have any relation whatsoever once independence developed, some felt they were siblings or even twins, and some, like Frank and Klein, had always considered themselves just lifelong friends, who just so happened to have recently become boyfriends.
Klein would explain consenting adults, mind your own business.
As Rose plucked her credit card from the metal tray it had been returned in and Klein tucked his boyfriend into the crook of his arm, a few disapproving eyes lingered on them. Klein wanted to flip them all off, though he was dissuaded when he heard Frank stage whisper "Come on, no incidents yet, let's keep it that way."
Klein straightened his spine and threw back his shoulders, puffing up his chest proudly as he strode to the door, affectionately petting Frank's hair and letting everyone know he wasn't ashamed. Rose held the door for him, and as the warm breeze of a summer night rolled across them, Rose pulled Klein in for a hug. "It's been great seeing you! Sorry if you guys felt like I was interrogating you all night, it's just that, I've only read about this kind of stuff online! I know some Sents who separated permanently and I always sort of suspected you'd be going that route, but I've never met a Sent self-couple before! It's just so... exciting! I'm excited for you!"
Klein gave a thumbs up with his free hand, while Frank warmed his occupied palm with a blush. "Thanks! And thank you for being so understanding. I was pretty nervous, coming out to you about this. You're the first person I've told, officially. Even my parents aren't in the know yet! I'm just glad... I don't know, that you trust my decision?"
"Don't mention it." Rose said, reaching down and tweaking Frank's nose, giggling as Klein defended his man with a firm slap to the back of her hand. "That said, if mommy dearest gives you any shit for your lifestyle choices, let me know. I'll take any excuse I can to break that bitch in half over my knee."
"Right half or left half? Or both? You quartering her or giving me three moms?" Frank asked, his mother most frequently hopping about as two vertical halves of one whole bitch.
Frank, Klein, and Rose had another rudely loud laugh session, before coming in for a group hug with Frank squeezed between their chests, then going their separate ways, Rose to her family's home and the boyfriends to their shared apartment.
-
"Was that technically our first date?" Frank asked, his jaw sinking slightly into the plush pillow in the middle of their coffee table.
Klein rapped his knuckles against the wall in a tight rhythm, pausing once while disentangling his arm from his hoodie. Signal taps were one of many ways that voiceless parts could communicate, though Klein was never a particularly chatty person to begin with. "NoSu 3?" was the literal translation of Klein's taps, though given the context and common short hands used between the pair, the meaning was closer to "I'm not sure, are dates allowed to have third party participants?"
"You tell me, you invited her." Frank pointed out, hearing his boyfriends footsteps move further into the apartment. He saw Klein's reflection in the dark TV, entering their kitchen and disappearing behind the door frame. Then he heard the squeak of drawers opening and the wrinkling of plastic, and when Klein's reflection reappeared, the headless body was carrying a half empty bag of pretzel sticks which he set down in the corner of Frank's peripheral vision. "Ice cream and now carbs? You trying to get fat on me?"
"Grr?" tapped Klein, a message inscrutable to anyone but his boyfriend, who could tell that he meant "Would you like me if I were a bear?"
"You know I'd love you in any shape." Frank said, rolling his eyes and greedily snatching up the first pretzel stick that touched his lips. "But it feels like kind of a waste. Franklin worked hard to make us look good."
Klein grabbed another pretzel stick and strutted between the coffee table and the TV. With one hand on his hip and the other trailing limply down his side, and his legs slightly parted, his whole aura screamed "Really?" without the need of a single tap. Frank rolled his eyes, which Klein took as a challenge. He began posing for his former head, flexing his arms in various formations, squatting and stretching his legs, even turning around and giving his ass a hard slap just so Frank could hear its firmness. A blush and a stupid grin filled Frank's cheeks, as he watched his boyfriend's familiar figure show itself off. With a slight tan, long arms, and thick legs from cycling daily to and from work, the body wasn't shredded by any means but it was visibly fit. That said, looks could deceive; his dress code was distinctly surfer, with cargo shorts with frayed hems, sandal clad sockless feet, a ratty t-shirt with sleeves ripped away, and a tight gold chain slung around his empty neck just to draw the eye to that cute, kissable stump. Despite all that, Klein had never been on a board. He could barely swim!
Frank was snapped out of his narcissistic appreciation of former Franklin when Klein offered him the pretzel stick he'd been holding this whole time, waggling it in front of his lips. "I guess we've earned a few cheats." Frank conceded, sucking up this second stick and munching it happily as Klein pat his scalp. While he still didn't quite understand the mechanics behind how he ate, divisional digestion being a convuluted field of niche science, he knew that the pretzels honestly weren't going to make or break for his hips. Sents and Nulls didn't actually need to eat anything while divided, as they gained energy passively from sleep. Eating reduced how much they strictly needed to sleep, meaning it was still advisable to eat unless they planned on sleeping 12 hours a day or more, which wasn't in Frank's day planner for tomorrow.
Then again, his plans began and ended with "Whatever." Frank and Klein had a long weekend ahead of them, and as they'd just made their partnership official a few days ago, they planned to spend that long weekend lounging about and doing whatever struck their fancy when it struck. For now, that fancy was melting their brain and non-brain based consciousness with video games. Booting up their console and picking the most recently popular fighting game on the market, Klein grabbed the couple's one and only controller, kicked off his sandals, and flopped down on the couch, propping his feet up on Frank's scalp as he allowed the cushions to absorb him.
"Hey, no footstooling!" Frank complained, waggling his jaw in a vain attempt to throw off Klein's feet. In response, Klein leaned over and grabbed two more pretzel sticks, offering them up to Frank's mouth. Frank took the bribe, munching down happily and allowing his boyfriend to keep objectifying him. Not that he really minded. They did this all the time growing up, mostly because his mom freaked out when she caught him doing it so doing it became a thing to do. He'd actually grown to like the slightly sweaty, slightly sweet aroma of his own feet as it faintly wafted down to him, the firm heels and tender Achilles resting on his scalp which pleasantly scratched him whenever they adjusted. The casual contact with the closest person he had in his life was nice in and of itself. Plus, as a head, Frank was naturally more easygoing than Franklin or Klein. Having no agency beyond the goodwill of others made heads generally extremely patient.
"Speaking of your footsies, they suck!" Frank announced, as Klein's character was out spaced and smacked around like an extra in a Kung-Fu movie. Klein pressed his feet down, pushing Frank's head deeper into the soft pillow. "Good idea, move those big feet out of the way so you can see the screen!" Frank teased, as Klein was manhandled through a second short round. He declined a rematch, and attempted to find an opponent more his speed, leaning over and feeding Klein despite his attitude.
And so it went, Klein fighting and Frank providing running commentary, most of it just overblown narrating but every once in a while he'd offer a useful tip or tell Klein about a move's properties to help him out. Frank was fed a pretzel stick between games, two when he provided good commentary or when Klein was feeling particularly good after a win. An hour later, Klein was sitting at a respectable 8 wins to 5 losses, and Frank was swallowing the last mouthful of pretzel. "Whelp, you're officially fat now." Frank said, blowing the emptied bag off the table. "Why don't you stretch those legs and throw that away?"
Klein jabbed the top of Frank's head with a heel, before getting up and grabbing the bag. He could do with some water after all that salt, anyway. Klein heard Frank whistle behind him, and turned his sense back to see Frank eyeing his bent over ass. While he missed having the power to roll his eyes, Klein knew other ways to express himself. He shuffled himself backwards, still bent over, and Frank could do nothing but watch in mock horror as Klein leaned in and touched one of his firm cheek's to Frank's. He waited one second, just to let the tension build, then thrust his butt back, knocking Frank off his pillow and onto his side. "You ass!" Frank complained, laughing.
Klein straightened up and returned to the kitchen, disposing of the bag and filling a sippy cup full of ice water, plus a little splash of whiskey just for fun. While this wasn't the most dignified way he could be giving his head sustenance or booze, it was the least messy. He was about to return when his cellphone, left on the counter for the past hour, buzzed. Klein saw a message from Mei, his second not-really-evil ex-girlfriend.
Mei- (Just found out why things couldn't work out between us. Not even mad, took a lot of bravery to finally come out! Proud of you, Queen!)
Klein- (Ugh, what did Rose tell you?)
Mei- (Nothing! My sis saw you at the ice cream place. As far as I can attest, Rose has spoken to no one about your little secret. ; P )
Klein- (You have a sister?)
Mei- (You met her twice, at least.)
Klein- (She single?)
Mei- (She's not into twinks. Or, I guess you're an otter? No, you have like no body hair. Himbo? You tell me, I'm not really up on the lingo.)
Klein- (I'm not gay, FYI. Apart from my own head, I'm only into chicks. Chicks like your sister.)
Mei- (So you're just incredibly narcissistic? Shocker.)
Klein- (Bitch)
Mei- (Bitch x2)
Klein- (Bitch^2)
Mei- (I know you are but what am I?)
Klein- (A bitch. We've been over this.)
Mei- (Love you!)
Klein- (Love you too!)
"Hey, what's the hold up?" Frank called from the living room, unable to see his boyfriend's reflection from this angle. "Just because you'll never be good at this game doesn't mean you have to go and cry about it! I still love you, even if you do suck dick!"
Klein imagined rolling his eyes, and sent a final text before setting his phone down. (BRB, got gay stuff to do)
He heard a buzzing over his shoulder, but didn't bother to check the phone. He'd only learn tomorrow morning that Mei had requested (Pics pwease!)
"What were you doing in there?" Frank asked, hearing his boyfriend's approaching footfalls. He hadn't heard the soft clicks over the obnoxiously bombastic menu music of the game. He also couldn't see his reflection any more, that loud menu being a brilliant mess of colors that obscured all reflection. He felt Klein pick him up, though rather than set him back on the pillow upright, he sat down still holding Frank. "Done playing?" He asked, knowing Klein preferred holding him while they watched tv. Well, watched internet videos on their TV. They hadn't had cable since they lived with their half bitch mom and full bitch dad.
Frank was spun around, and saw Klein had managed to misplace his shorts and boxers in the kitchen, leaving him wearing only his shirt and that tight gold chain on his reddening stump. Trailing out of that shirt, as Mei had alluded to, were two naturally hairless thighs, parted wide and leading into a package that had only a few errant curls and a short scruff of medium brown hair half hidden beneath the tee. To a full bodied person, Franklin and Klein were pretty average in the size department, though to someone as small and helpless as Frank, it was more than plenty. Besides, hung or not, it was quite a cute cock and balls, particularly when it was situated between such strong legs and a handsome torso.
"Is this just because I said you suck dick?" Frank asked, smiling and looking up into Klein's stump. Klein shrugged, and rubbed his thumbs over his short and high cut sideburns and big, sensitive ears, knowing just how much Frank loved it. "Because I'm not gonna apologize, so I guess you'll have to punish me."
Frank was a bit confused when Klein set him on his side, on the couch, still between his legs but out of range. He didn't say anything, for back when they were still just Franklin's head and Franklin's body, Franklin's body had pranked his head a few time with a surprise dick in the mouth as soon as it was opened. Frank still fell for it occasionally, but only in the sense that he played dumb and allowed it to happen. This, however, wasn't that. Instead, Klein grabbed his dick and lifted it up and out of the way, before using his other hand to push Frank up to his balls. He then gently rested his dick across Frank's smooth, blushing right cheek and grabbed the controller. Frank heard Klein queue up for another match, and understood what was going on. Franklin had tried something like this before, both with his own head and a few times with Mei, though is always fell apart quickly when he realized he couldn't concentrate for shit while getting blown. He must've felt cocky tonight, in more ways than one.
Well, Frank would disabuse that hubris. He started slow, gently kissing the sensitive skin only enough for him to drop a combo here or there, perhaps distract him enough to miss a punish. Frank couldn't actually see the screen from this angle, or really see much of anything outside of some peripheral nuts, a spot of dick, and an adorable tummy trying to keep breathing steady, but he knew the game by sound well enough to get a rough sense of how things were going. After all, he'd taught Franklin everything he knew, and Franklin trained Klein. As the match dragged on, clearly a close game judging by how many grunts he'd heard each character make, Frank decided to go from zero to one hundred. He closed his eyes and worked his tongue into a frenzy, moaning with theatrical gusto as he lapped at Klein's delicious salty balls. He stuck his tongue out as far as he could to the side, managing to graze his former shaft a few times between his main pleasure point.
Frank heard the sweet sound of Klein's character hitting the deck with a terribly acted cry of disbelief, an announcer declaring "You Lose!" in case there was any doubt. Frank's smile spread across Klein's skin, feeling he was doing a good job of distraction. Klein either agreed or considered this defeat a fluke, for he reached down and repositioned Frank for game two, sliding his cheek up the underside of his shaft and flipping the head upright just as it cleared the head. Then, he slid Frank forward just an inch, allowing the bigger of the two dickheads between his legs only the smaller one before squeezing his thighs tight to hold him in place and beginning game 2.
Even if, or at this rate when, Frank got the whole thing to play with, being unable to move or maneuver really limited what he could do. Franklin had gotten pretty good with using his head, as most Sents and Conts did in their horny teen years, but that was when he held his head and moved it in synch with his body. Like this, Frank was at a severe handicap, and Klein managed to beat his opponent senseless through round one. But Frank wasn't out of this yet. As the announcer declared a second round, Frank's lips and the surrounding cheeks pulsated, his tongue alternating in clockwise and counterclockwise motions as quickly as he could, trying to be as rhythmically overstimulating as possible. Klein kept composure, but was taking more hits. Frank felt Klein's thighs tense against his ears, saw his body lean forward, but his dick didn't so much as twitch. This wasn't a movement of pleasure, Klein was going in for the kill! Frank's precise movements abruptly switched to random open mouthed licks and slobbering kisses, and through the muffling, muscular thighs Frank heard the telltale sound of a dropped combo. Klein laid the vibrating controller on Frank's scalp, each satisfying vibration signifying another hit his fighter was taking as he struggled to regroup. But, he was spamming now. Frank could hear the same moves coming out again and again, and Klein not only lost the round but the whole set. He smiled evilly, looking up at his boyfriend's blushing stump.
"Dude, you suck harder than me!" Frank said, without taking Klein's dick off his tongue.
Either out of frustration, stubbornness, or horniness, Klein grabbed his boyfriend roughly and hilted him without so much as second for Frank to prepare himself, crossing his legs around Frank and returning to his game while his boyfriend was still recovering. It didn't take Frank long to get his head back in the game, detached heads having universally weak gag reflexes and Klein having very tasty privates. He could feel Frank's hands shaking as they rested against his head, he was so screwed that Frank almost wanted to ease up and give him a pity win. But, with such a nice throbbing knob in his gob, that wasn't going to happen. He closed his eyes, focused, and as soon as he heard the intro music to the fight, he blew for all he was worth.
Klein didn't even make it to the end of the second round. After landing maybe a stray jab and a fireball through the entire first round, the second started with him getting thrown into the corner and he just up and quit to the main menu on the spot. He tossed the controller aside and grabbed Frank, pumping the head into his thrusting hips as his boyfriend gave a muffled chuckle. Klein humped and humped, until his neck stump tilted as it would if he were throwing his head back in ecstasy.
Frank hardly had to swallow, Klein so deep inside him that the entire load and its subsequent lesser spurts just disappeared down his throat. That was a win in his book, as even as an unbelievable narcissist he'd never developed a taste for his seed. As Klein pulled out, leaving a trail across Frank's tongue and the roof of his mouth, he swallowed as fast as he could, not wanting the flavor to linger. Frank was going to say something funny, but Klein buried his face in his chest, squeezing him tightly in a warm snuggle that Frank lost himself in. Surrounded by warmth, the familiar scent of Klein's sweat and the subtle hint of his cologne filling his nostrils, and with a firm hand squeezing the tender underside of Frank's smooth stump, Frank was practically purring. Who cares if Klein went 8 and 8? He could've gone 0 wins and a million losses and he still would've been tonight's winner.
-
"It's not that it's hideous, per se..." Frank said, his lips curling in clear disgust. "It's just... I'm not sure it's you."
Klein pouted, putting a hand on one cocked hip and throwing the other up.
"What! Just because you're beautiful doesn't mean every conceivable outfit you could ever possibly wear is going to be a 10/10 on you! I just think this look you're going for... doesn't match your whole deal." Frank said, trying his best to see the positives in the outfit. Klein seemed to be going for an early 2000's bad-boy look, with pre-distressed jeans, some faux-ratty sneakers, a black and crimson stripy shirt beneath a black leather jacket, and of course he just had to be wearing fingerless gloves and a silver necklace. While the look was... coherent, it just didn't match the trim, thick-thighed figure. Maybe if he either lifted some weights or started smoking meth to even out his upper and lower body's musculature, but as it stood, he looked like a cutie playing a toughie in a teen-dramedy, not an actual tough guy. "Look, if you want that to be your third outfit, that's fine. I'm not the arbiter of all fashion I could be way off base. All I'm saying is, I think you looked way hotter in the cargo pants, blue hoodie, and bandana around the neck combo you were rocking earlier. This is like a 7 out 10, that was a total hottie out of 10."
Klein looked at the clothes piled up in the dressing room, the sum of about 5 different outfits across 5 distinct styles. He and Frank had agreed to get three full outfits, their money a bit on the tight side but with enough excess income to allow for occasional shopping sprees. Right now they were both working the same job, earning the collective wages of 1.5 people as most head/body Sents working a single person job did. Once Frank found a new place to work, they'd be making 2 full salaries, and could afford more frequent extravagance.
In the end, Klein packed into the shopping bag his old shorts and tee into the bag, the urban artist outfit Frank had highly approved of, and a business casual pair of khakis and a pastel green polo shirt. It seemed like he'd be wearing the bad-boy outfit out of the store. "Suit yourself." Frank said. "Well, I guess you already have, but you know what I mean."
Klein left the reject clothes in the booth and strode up to the front counter, where the top half of a cute college aged woman sat on a stool smiling. "Find everything you like?" She asked.
"He did, yes." Frank said, pointedly. Klein simply handed her the bag, set Frank on the counter, then motioned at the multitude of tags all over his current outfit.
"Wearing that out of the store? Great! You look sharp!" She said, grabbing the price scanner. To accommodate her lack of legs, the scanner had a lanyard attached to its base in place of a wrist strap, and the cashier slung it over her neck before hopping down off the stool and hand walking over to Klein's side. "So, you two been parted long?" She asked, making casual conversation while she slowly worked through Klein's tags.
"I guess." Frank answered. "We spent a lot of time separated growing up, but we only decided to make it a permanent thing last week. Around the time-" Frank stopped himself, not sure how much of his relationship to reveal to the cashier. "Uh, when we realized we'd developed into too distinct people to really justify returning to one any more."
"Ugh, I feel that." The cashier said, standing on the tips of her fingers as she scanned the tag hanging from Klein's necklace. "I used to be a one girl girl, but after I sent my legs off on a two week trip with my then boyfriend while I stayed behind to keep up our GPA, she decided she was her own she, not another me, and that school was for suckers. She ran off with my now ex, and that was last semester! I still haven't-" She paused, rethinking everything she just said. "Uh, sorry. I don't mean to get all personal, you guys are just trying to enjoy your day."
As she hobbled back to her stool, cheeks glowing with embarrassment, Frank smiled kindly at her. "Don't sweat, everyone's gotta vent."
"Thanks!" She said, smiling as she scanned through the items in Klein's bag. "So... you guys got anything else planned today?"
"Not really, just going where the flow takes us. Probably going to grab lunch, then maybe see the new Revenant Ralph." Frank said.
"Oooh! I've been dying to see that! I hear it's even better than the second one!" She said. She paused, looking Klein up and down. "You said you're grabbing lunch first? Meeting up with any friends?"
"No, just the two of us." Frank said, picking up some weird vibes but unsure if it was just overthinking some friendly conversation.
"Good for you!" She answered, smiling at Frank briefly before her eyes immediately returned to his body. She seemed to be taking an awfully long time scanning the tags in Klein's bag, though perhaps if she decided to keep her eyes on the bag she'd have more success. But, try as she might, her bespectacled green eyes seemed all but glued to Frank's boyfriend.
Then, it happened. "Hey, sorry if I'm being too forward but... I mean, my shift is ending in an hour. So like, if you don't mind having a long lunch, maybe we can meet up at the theater? See the movie together? Don't worry, I'll pay for my own ticket and stuff, this isn't like a scam date or anything. It's just..." She paused, eyes darting between the unmoving body and stone faced head. As the silence stretched out for the longest three seconds ever recorded, her face managed to turn the color of uncooked steak. "Oh my God I am so terrible at this I'm so sorry you can pay for your stuff and go."
Frank felt a pair of gloved hands spin him around on the counter, and watched as a cute body dressed like a tough body gave him the most smug "I told you so!" flaunt of his new leather jacket that he could muster, tugging at its lapels and posing with a cocky finger gun extended at Frank's forehead, which instead of firing he simply twisted around so that it made a loser "L" on his forehead. Klein hadn't even made it out of the store yet without getting hit on in his new duds. So much for Frank's fashion sense.
"Yeah yeah, you're awesome and I'm a dumb doodie-head." Frank said, rolling his eyes at his boyfriend's attitude-filled posture. Addressing the cashier, Frank said "Sorry, but he's actually taken. For now. Though, if he keeps this shit up, I'll definitely reconsider my options."
"What?" The cashier asked, confused. "Oh." She said, with hesitant realization. "Oh..." She repeated, apprehensively. "Well, uh, good for you! Not many... like you. Around here. Cool to... good for you."
Klein's smug evaporated, sensing the cashier's barely disguised disapproval. Reaching into his new pocket, he pulled out his credit card and handed it to the cashier, who ran his card with surprising speed given how long it had taken to scan his items. She stuffed the receipt in the bag, forced a smile back onto her flushing face, and gave a rehearsed "Enjoy your day!" as she waited for the deviants to leave.
Klein stuffed the card into his pocket and grabbed Frank with both hands. "Hey wh-!" Frank said, as his head was brought up and pressed against his stump. He was not, however, reattached. Instead, his lips were pressed into his stump, Klein performing a headless kiss out of pure spite. Frank froze, then a moment later gave in, closing his eyes and kissing his boyfriend's stump passionately for the cashier and any other shoppers to see. Yes, they were an odd couple, yes, their love wasn't the usual kind, but it was love all the same, and they couldn't allow themselves to feel ashamed of that, no matter what the bigots said or thought. The kiss lasted an uncomfortably long amount of time for the cashier, perhaps for some other patrons, but for Frank and Klein, it was almost over too soon.
When Klein decided he was done, he set his boyfriend down in their shopping bag and strode out of the storein his fabulous new duds, throwing up a middle finger to the store he was never patronizing again.