from Book 1: "When Molly Met Pyxxy" "Be gay, do crimes!" chirped Pyxxy, grinning and raising her spoon and milkshake in either hand. "I hear people say that all the time, but they are always armchair gay criminals who are unmotivated to put their grand ideas into action." Molly clasped Pyxxy by the hand and looked seriously into her eyes. "Now, miss Pyxxy Styx? Are you the type of girl who says what she means? Cuz I am." Pyxxy leaned in and whispered, "It''s crime time, homo," and she hopped up and ran out the door without paying. Molly looked around twice, then booked it after her. They escaped five blocks away, making only left turns. Both of them instinctually knew that most people chasing people assume people running away from people at random will go right 80% of the time.
Pyxxy scampered to a stop amongst some garbage. After a while, Molly caught up with her. Before she could speak or catch her breath, Pyxxy was wrapped around her like a pink koala climbing a tree. Pyxxy''z tongue pried Molly''s mouth open and hunted down Molly''s tongue and dragged it, kicking and screaming, back into her own mouth. They kissed hard, breathing through their nostrils, writhing from the urgent throb in both their laps. Molly threw Pyxxy up to sit on a recycling trash can and pressed the fly of her extra-tight skinny black jeans into Pyxxy''s little purple mini skirt and lime green cartoon-kitten-patterned panties. Pyx wrapped strong, pink-stripey-sock legs around her. Molly was fascinated by her own hands in the act of cupping Pyxxy''z amazingly perfect round little breasts.
(Molly''s own tits were tiny and conical, Premarin be damned). She handled Pyxxy''z small, strong body like a rare artifact, like an Indiana-Jones-cursed pink gemstone lust idol that would lead her to treasure. "Wow, OMG. We have totally gotta do crime again sometime," Pyxxy''z trembling voice warbled. Before Molly could even think, her mouth had blurted out, "OK, let''s do another crime right now." "A robbery!" screeched Pyxxy. Molly looked in her eyes. "Alright," she said, a scheme forming unstoppably in her head.
"Let''s see how much stuff we can steal in one night." A few minutes later, Pyx was at a corner store, ostentatiously buying a single can of sardines to distract the cashier. Molly, who had come in exactly a minute behind her, was pretending to read labels on a bag of oatmeal as she inched away from the back fridges with 2-liters of beer in her pockets. The cashier was like a boy version of Molly--some poor schmuck who, instead of having a sex change and chasing after kicks and gay sex, had gone and had a lil 3-year-old kid with punk hair. The kid was hanging out in the store like one of those cats some stores have, except this store also had a cat, too. This guy had to work there watching a little black and white TV for 12 hours a day. Molly felt like a shitty liar. "Dollar fifteen cents," the hard-working young man said to Pyx.
"Hey, wait! I also have two 2-liters of beer in my pants pockets." Moll said, pushing in next to Pyx and thunking them on the counter. "But I can''t pay for them . " "What the hell?" said the guy. "I put ''em in my pants by accident. I''m sorry for the confusion. How about we both take one and forget the whole thing?" A flash went off as the 3-year-old stuck a polaroid in her face. The guy vaulted the counter almost fast enough to grab her.
"Get the fuck out of my store! If I see you in here again, I will break your arms with this bat. You don''t fuck with local family businesses, you moron. Go shoplift at Shopperama up the street!" he shouted as they fled. Forty-five seconds later, they were three blocks away, running and not giggling or humping. The guy didn''t even chase them cuz he couldn''t leave the 3-year-old and they didn''t even get anything. "What the fuck was that, Molly?" Pyx screeched. "That actually almost worked, and then you go act mega crazy! That guy almost assaulted us!" "No, it wasn''t good; I got a bad feeling. It was just some poor guy.
" "NO, WHAT THE HELL! You practically turned us in. Would your biker family not beat you and piss on you for such an offense?" "That was lit''rally taking beer from a baby. I don''t wanna prey upon the weak. I don''t gotta do that." "Well, that''s kind of lit''rally what crime is, Moll. There is no cosmic fairness enforced anywhere, y''know." Pyx felt like she was about to make Moll cry. She softened her tone and grabbed her by both arms of her leather jacket, pushing her face in to nuzzle Molly''s neck and pull the collar up around her.
"Stop anthropomorphizing them! You can either take whatever they got that you don''t got, or you can fantasize about being friends with them. You can''t do both." "No no no . Be assured I know with every fiber of my being that the world owes me a living. But Pyxxy, I have a vision of crime. Of me doing righteous, amazing, ingeniously orchestrated, long-overdue crimes that make the world a better place. Crimes that everyone you''ve ever known will cheer for. We are master criminals, not 2-bit thugs!" "We are 8-bit kleptos!" "We''ve already run several blocks; let''s walk a few more and hit the Shopperama.
Your big fluffy jacket looks like a getting-coat to me." "A getting-coat?" "A coat for getting things? ''For-Getting'' is very your brand." "Ok, on brand," Pyx conceded. "What''s our plan?" There wasn''t a plan. They snaked through Shopperama along each aisle, in opposite directions, pretending not to know each other. Then, while Pyxxy went through the cash and made a big deal of looking at every lighter to decide which one of them to buy, Molly cleaned out the whole meat sticks and beef jerky section. But the very second after Pyx paid 99 cents for a lighter really slowly, some store-detective-looking guy with greasy fingers and shabby clothes was up in her face. "What''s that behind your ear? Huh?!" It was a pink eyeliner she''d pretended to absentmindedly put there after trying out every single one in the makeup aisle.
He reached out to grab her by the shoulder. Molly, looking on, immediately toppled a dozen jars of hot dog relish on the floor, breaking a few of them. When the Private Dickless guy looked round, Pyx jumped away from his touch and sprinted out the automatic doors. Molly ran after her, waving a foot-long chorizo sausage in each hand and taking alternate bites. The Private Dickless guy chased them a third of a block before he stopped, bent over in near cardiac arrest, trying to shout something like "I''ll lock you idiots up!" Pyxxy screamed in laughter, and Molly yelled, "Justice has been served, HOT," waving a chorizo at the sky. "We have run like, 20 km today," warbled Pyx. "Did you not say you got a car?" "TO THE MOLLY MOBILE!" Molly proclaimed through a mouthful of meat, pointing her sausage east. They pretty much flew the whole three km to Molly''s place, running and squawking and laughing with the power of youth, lust, winning, and pockets stuffed with uncountable treats.
At the back of an alley, between a store that sells shelves and counters for stores and another that''s either out of business or under renovation between a construction dumpster and a corner store dumpster, in the garden behind some old house with oily dirt that grass won''t grow in and several dozen engines, motorcycles and vehicles that probably wouldn''t start even if they had gas in them, was Molly''s 60-year-old station wagon that she lived in. That''s where she took Pyxxy and the cornucopia of meat sticks and crushed-to-powdered Doritos they''d stolen to engage in a strongly pepperoni-flavoured makeout session that lasted for the length of both sides of some rare glam rock cassette tape. Eventually, Pyxxy came up for air. "I remembered, I remembered!" she cheeped. "What?" Molly breathed for the first time in 45 minutes. The makeout had been so powerful, she had forgotten that she wasn''t a nebula of lights in deep space. "I''m Pyxxy Styx cuz I''m a pixie with a stick!" And she flourished her little prick out of the leg of her tiny, frilly green panties. She had this one piece of expensive-looking lingerie contrasting the rest of her outfit of scores from the thrift store drop-off box.
"I just got a little prick cuz I''m little," she added. "I am in awe of how little you are; you are lit''rally cute as all fuck." Molly finally, if a bit gently, took hold of Pyxxy''s prick. Pyx scrambled in return to wrangle Molly''s impressive truncheon from her super-tight pants, then started cuddling and stroking it like it was a pet kitten. "Wow, y''anno I would never have guessed by looking at you that you were this huge! You''re not that much taller than me." "According to how biology works, if I was the size of a normal man, then by scale, my dink would have to be like a foot-and-a-half long. Can you believe there was a time when I hated my dink? It was three months ago, when I first applied for HRT. Then they gave me a script and a shot the same day, and we''ve been fine ever since.
" Pyxxy rose up on her knees, her tiny prick and tiny tuft of pink pubes pointing at Molly''s face, and maneuvered herself around so she was sitting backwards over Molly''s lap, perching on her utter dong of an erection like a bird on a tree branch. Molly clutched her soft, warm, pink sun-dappled back close, smushing her into her chest. Molly''s dink, between Pyxx''z legs, poked up and out further than Pyx''s own. Pyx delightedly held both their dinks together in her tiny pink fingers, laying their heads together.