One arm of sinew and fat lifts a stick with an insanely heavy sphere on each side. If you tried to lift them, you’d lose your hand and your ability to do simple arithmetic. But me? I’m a strong man. I do it all the time because it’s my job. I don’t get much money from Argus the Sad Clown (who runs the whole show), but he does give me free food so I can pay for my apartment and live pretty comfortably.
I’m a strong man in a circus sideshow and I fuck the Bearded Lady. Me and the Bearded lady fuck when its least obvious. It’s not that I’m ashamed. It’s that she’s ashamed. See, everybody thinks the bearded lady is a dyke, and she’s been playing that character up for years during the “Pubic Cabaret,” in which she swaps spit with a couple women who work the back stage.
But really the Bearded Lady is obsessed with cock. I have never met a woman in my life that loved the male anatomy this much. (and I’ve met many, many women and fucked about half of all of the women I’ve met). She worships it. Especially mine.
One time, The Bearded Lady invited me over a bit early, which I thought was suspicious. She beckoned me in to her trailer and said, “I’ll be just a minute.” She came out with a goat and a knife, and she cut the goat’s throat and let the blood cover the floor in a sheet of red and then ripped the head off the goat after it was long dead and danced around me with it, sucking me off a little each pass, trying to get me stiff (and succeeding, actually. I’ve never been that hard.)
The sex we had that night was jaw-dropping. I couldn’t keep up with her. The bearded lady even took off her beard half way through (I hadn’t known it was fake the whole time. Nobody did. I wish she would have told me. She’s so beautiful without the beard.)
At one point, I lifted her above my head and, as if through some fateful bout of muscle memory, I dropper her onto my knee. The Bearded Lady was frail. Not like the fat bearded ladies you see in other towns. Her spine snapped right in half and she bent like balsa wood.
She stopped breathing instantly. I checked her pulse. Nothing. I might as well have shot her in the brain with a cannonball. I had to hide her. I loved the bearded lady — never told her that in all the times we’ve ever fucked — but now she was gone and there was nothing I could do but hide her and hope to keep my job and act surprised when everyone wonders where she went.