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Fantasy of the Month 5 (Metasex)
25 March 1994 The night was over. Birds outside were beginning to make their morning noises as the last of the clients left by the discreet side door. While the others were getting cleaned up after a long evening's extraction of fluids from male and female organs by various means, Gerar and Rebeka were unwinding, relaxing the forms which they'd held for the customers. They usually began in particular shapes, with standard coloration and textures, but these tended to drift somewhat during the course of the evening, depending on what would elicit the most favourable reaction from their clients. Afterwards, they'd meet in the upstairs spa, sink into the water together and compare shapes, sometimes giggling at what they'd ended up as. After this particular morning's work, Gerar had become young and thin, an almost androgynous gamine, while Rebeka had ended up a lush, mature, top-heavy demimonde apparently in her late thirties. As their bodies were warmed by the steaming water, they changed to their favourite shapes; he, a lithe, muscular young man with a ridiculously large penis; she, an almost-perfect female duplicate of his form, minus the phallic endowment, plus spherical breasts the size of overinflated basketballs, nipples larger than some of the penises she'd worked with that evening. Her breasts bobbed on the churning surface of the water, nipples purple-pink as she massaged them. He slid over to sit between her breasts, lifted her legs over his and sat her down in his lap, resting on his forearm-sized shaft. It was all ridiculously overdone, but some of their clients' subconscious wants inevitably rubbed off on them, and this was as good a way as any of exorcising them. He leaned back slightly, grasping her nipples in each fist, rotating them like small joysticks, causing her to moan softly and shift closer to him, rubbing her engorged lips against his pubis, feeling his cock grow even larger, the swollen head sliding back and forth between her buttocks. Impatiently, she lifted herself up and, reaching down behind with one hand while supporting herself with the other, she guided his cock inside her. Slowly, teasingly, he pushed in with hesitant stops and starts before allowing her to settle down, his entire shaft buried within her tight warmth, her behind pressing his swollen testicles flat against the bottom of the spa. Once settled inside her, he began massaging her breasts in earnest, fingers curled over the tops of her wine-cork-sized nipples, thumbs rubbing along the sensitive undersides. Below, he created a muscular form inside his groin, similar to a thumb- forefinger combination. The thumb moved up along the inside of his penis, pressing up inside her, while the forefinger section extruded from above his shaft like a smaller, secondary penis, moving up between the folds of her vagina, pressing them apart and rubbing along the underside of her enlarged clitoris, approximately the size of her nipples, which were by now almost three inches long and still growing. While he pleasured her with slow movements of his hips, she concentrated on him, doing things with her vaginal canal that weren't humanly possible; rings of constriction ran from the root of his shaft to the head, forcing blood into the already turgid form which altered shape to accommodate the changing conditions it found. Soon, she'd changed as much as she could without requiring major physiological restructuring (even so, there were some unusual bulges showing in her stomach); he slowly expanded until he'd filled her, and they sat together, rocking back and forth slowly, no more metamorphoses except to bring some nerve endings closer to the surface where they could be more easily stimulated. This morning, she decided to let him go first; subtle finger movements along his back, a prearranged signal. He allowed the minor nerve blocks he'd set up to fade, and the full strength of her stimulation surged through him, pushing him over the edge within seconds. He'd restructured his nervous system to experience orgasm as a series of slowly-mounting crescendos rather than one single peak; the climax forced his head back, his throat exposed to her bites, his hips thrusting forward to deliver the stimulation required to bring her over also, shaking, her legs clutching him close. Pressed together, they both felt a vague tug, an impulse towards merging, to becoming one being. It was something all metamorphs felt, particularly when they were as close as Rebeka and Gerar. They resisted the call; instead of a spa-tub filled with a strange, two-backed beast, writhing and shuddering, they separated and sat back, gasping, eyes half-closed, nerves still burning with stimulus. Eventually, they got out, dressed and waved good-bye to the night manager, who shook her head and grinned, thinking about the kind of love that could keep a couple going as long as they had, after a long night's servicing the customers. |
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