Waddle fit Los Angeles no better than a twin sheet fits a queen bed. His twin brother, Daub did. Waddle and Daub were born in Montezuma Iowa, April 20^th 1980, 10 months after their mother, Bess Arabian, let the lard delivery man hike up her apron, slide aside her panties, prop her up on the prep counter in the back of the local Krispy Kreme and fill her with his man-cream. It didn’t last long, that fucking, but his cock had been hard and his aim steady, his eyes unfocused and his will strong. Bess was a beaut in her day, olive-skinned and lanky. Her skin seemed even darker against the crisp white of the Krispy Kreme uniform and the uniform whiteness of the Krispy Kreme clientele. Bess moaned as Lard Man banged her in the back, rocking the squeaking table—not equipped to support so heavy a load—back and forth. The industrial oven spat out a continuous stream of steaming perfectly round donuts and Bess dug her hands into the Lard man’s back, muttered a few words in her native Calabrian, and achieved orgasm. Even now, the smell of freshly baked donuts set Bess’s quim quivering.

Waddle and Daub too, when they came, emitted the sweet scent of fresh frosted donuts. And cum they did continuously. As the world’s only pair of conjoined twin porn stars, their day consisted in the main of fucking, sucking, and cumming. Waddle and Daub are joined at the pelvis. They have two heads, well formed and square jawed. Two torsos, well sculpted and barrel chested. Four arms, the outer ones—Daub’s left and Waddle’s right—are fully formed whilst the arms that are closest together have somewhat atrophied but are by no means malformed. At the groin, things became complicated. Waddle and Daub had four balls and two urethras, set perfectly in the center of two heads, but only one penile shaft. Even more bizarrely, their four balls alternated Waddle and Daub, Waddle and Daub. Additionally, if Waddle had a hard on but Daub didn’t, the penile shaft—flushed with blood—would become tumescent but Daub’s proprietary head would droop sadly like a grandfather falling asleep on an easy chair. When Daub came, naturally, his donut cum spewed with great abandon from the cock on the left but his precum—that clear, colorless, viscous liquid that is semen-like but free from semen markers like gamma-glutamyltransferase —leaked from Waddle’s cock head. The same was true in reverse. Doctors—many of whom, during routine examinations of Waddle and Daub became overwhelmed with the double-headed cock confronting them and had set aside their beside manner, dropped to their knees, and taken the twins’ shaft in hand, tounging the double head. These doctors, many of whom were the gray haired grandees of their specialties confessed not to be queer but nevertheless sucked cock like champs—had yet to figure out how or why this was the case since the function of precum is usually though to be as  a lubricant and acid neutralizer.  From 8 inch two-headed cock down, the twins had the anatomy of a single man. Two legs, ten toes, boring.

“LA,” Waddle said, “where the dogs are too small and the watches are too big.”

 “Shhhh!!!!” said Daub, “you’re ruining my mood.”

Waddle and Daub were on the set of their latest film, Siamese, Twins IV, a Wikkid Films production wherein Waddle and Daub fuck a clutch of Thai ladyboys (“Siamese” referring not to Waddle and Daub’s conjoined nature, since it is a somewhat outdated and offensive term but instead to the ancient name of Thailand, since Siam was the name given to Thailand before June 23, 1939 and then again briefly between 1945 and 1949.) Daub was certainly gay; Waddle would let the tip of his penis be sucked by men and would enter the most flaccid of sphincters—more out of anatomical ease than anything—but generally preferred pussy. Ergo, Thai ladyboys were a perfect anatomical chimera. Daub could top indiscriminately and the delicate features and dove-shaped jaws of the ladyboys gave Waddle enough cover not to feel psychically ill at ease by thrusting his half of his cock deep into their gullets.

“You’re being judgey,” said Daub, unable to maintain an erection or to let Waddle’s constant harping on the West Coast go. “The watches are the same size as in New York.”

 Along with bottoming, the major disagreement between the brothers was the East/West coast divide. Waddle had once carried the dream of becoming a Shakespearean actor. Bess had taken the boys on one of their rare family vacations to Shakespeare in the Park. She left them on the grass while she let a Central Park ranger finger her on Sheep’s Meadow in full view of a shocked shock of tourists on an Autumn morning in the 80s. Daub fell asleep but inside Waddle’s chest King Lear’s sanguine words, full of polysyndeton and anastrophe took root and blossomed. Though he struggled in the thankless trenches of Montezuma Community Theatre for years, and even managed once a lead role as Emile in the summer production of South Pacific, critics could never overlook Daub who they called, “a real drag with as much charisma as wet fart.” So they moved West, where their twin-cocks, chiseled chests and ability to cum twice as much as a single man earned them a decent paycheck.

“They might be the same size,” admitted Waddle, “but I guess in New York the men are just more thick-wristed.”

Waddle looked down, dismayed to see that the slender lady hand with French Tip nails currently wrapped around his and his brother’s dick was attached to an even more slender wrist and on that wrist lay a 42 mm Bell & Ross watch. He rolled his eyes but, as the hand moved back and forth faster, with a hairless lipsticked mouth wide open to receive his seed, Daub was nearing climax. Waddle groaned involuntarily and a drop of Krispy Kreme scented precum dribbled out. 

Submitted by male interior designer, Brooklyn

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