Seleroan
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Episode 15 - Internal Warfare
🕑 Added 2024-02-06 00:14:52 +0000 UTC
…and cut.
< sigh >
That’s one down. I can’t believe how behind I’m getting on the commentary backlog. But these kinds of things have a way sneaking up on a person, don’t they? I feel like I’ve been spending all my time lately putting out fires instead of actually doing my job! Ugh… at this rate, it’ll be months before we ever get an episode to production.
…?
Oh, I don’t know. After watching them take down that aquatic monstrosity, I was feeling inspired, so I wanted to strike while the iron was hot. Let some of the emotions I was feeling bleed out into the recording.
What did you think, Timothy? Did I capture the essence of the battle? I’m concerned that… well, perhaps the swearing was a step too far. But it was their first high-stakes hunt! It represented a turning point in their development from the kinds of drudges human society has made of their populace to beings capable of mastering their own destiny, and I just… really wanted the audience to feel that tension. You know?
…!
…no one likes a suck-up, Timothy.
…
Don’t apologize, either. I was only looking for a bit of honest—oh, never mind. We’ll do it over, minus the swearing. Take it from the point just before Number 2 charges in.
< rewinding tape noises >
Incidentally, what’s the news on the Oscar situation? Have we found the transport yet?
…
We did? As of when?
…
Twenty minu—why didn’t you say so?!
…
Bugger the reshoot! Come on!
*
Naomi was just floating there. Treading water. Innocently inspecting her claws for chips like there was nothing at all to worry about.
Mark was not buying it for a second.
She probably would not have pissed on him had he been on fire not five days ago. Now, every chance she got, it seemed like she could not wait to… to flaunt those… those perfect… tits…
He shook his head quickly. It was best not to dwell on it. They were lovely, and he could enjoy the view from afar. To dream of anything more was foolhardy.
Naomi thought he was an idiot. He knew that. But he had her pegged pretty well, too. She was only toying with him. The second he actually responded to her provocations, she would snap the trap closed.
He could just see the feigned look of surprise and disgust on her face. Then would come the laughter. ‘You actually thought I was flirting with you?!’ she would say. ‘As if.’ Then the other kids would join in to savor his misfortune. Someone would probably push him into a mud puddle after, just for good measure.
Crippling mental demons aside, ignoring her was not all that easy. And the more he did, the more she turned up the heat!
Which was… still pretty nice. In a way. Even if her motives were not the most well-intentioned. And as long as he did not actually fall for her games, he could bask in the attention she was showering him with.
Not to mention the free peep show. He had always wondered what boobs might look like under thermal vision. It was neat how the cleavage area was always a little warmer than the rest. He could just imagine what it might feel like to slide between those puppies…
He took a steadying breath, for once glad the two of them were having so much difficulty seeing underwater, and sent a hand down south to clandestinely adjust himself. His old basketball shorts were still hanging in there, but it was a near thing. If she had known the kind of effect she was having on him…
“Well?” she prompted. “Are we doing it or not?”
‘Doing it.’ In his dreams, maybe. When he got out of here, he was going to have to find somewhere private in a hurry, or he was going to explode!
He let the air out of his lungs in a puff. “Uh… do you want option number one or option number two?”
She spared a glance for him, just as aloof as could be. “What’s the difference? Both options are pointing at the ears, right?”
“Pretty much.”
Her looked sharpened fractionally. “Pretty much?”
“Well…” He hesitated.
The anatomical diagrams he had been pouring over were every bit as detailed as they were incomprehensible. Maybe if he had been a pre-med student, he could have had a shot at deciphering some of this stuff, but he had not taken an anatomy class since middle school. And the only thing the alien language had been helping with was keeping his mind off of Naomi’s—
He forcibly dispelled the mental image. “They’re not pointing at exactly the same things. And the text that goes along with them is clearly different. But more than that…? The best I can tell you is that this one,” he pointed with a blunted claw then flipped to the next page, “is pointing at something just a little bit deeper than this one.”
“Deeper how?” Naomi pressed. “Are we talking… like brain deep?”
“No…” he said, turning back to the previous page. It was clear enough from the diagram, but it was hard to describe without actually knowing the names of things. “The brain is like… up a little from the ear? This is pointing toward something else. Like… some nerves or something. Closer to this bulby part by the spine.”
“The brain stem?”
“I guess.”
She frowned. “Isn’t that pretty important?”
“Yeah, but… as opposed to what? Pretty much everything we’ve done so far would have affected our brains in some way just so our bodies could continue to function,” he countered. “And anyway, it’s not pointing at the brain stem. Just… this stringy bit coming from the ear canal.”
She assumed a pensive expression. “I guess that’s true. Still, I don’t much like the idea of directly toying with the brain—or near the brain—if we don’t have to.”
He could not see what the few millimeters of difference would make in this instance. But it was not worth arguing about. He needed that sonar upgrade if they were to have any hope of escaping. But which option might grant it was very much a coin toss—assuming it was even on the coin.
“Alright, then.” He quickly thumbed to the one farthest from any sort of brain matter. The little text box was already trembling with anticipation, as though it knew its time had come. But he hesitated in pressing it. “Naomi…”
She quirked an eyebrow. “What?”
He licked his lips apprehensively. The last time they had done this, he had lost control of himself by spattering some nearby rocks with his shame. Neither of them had talked about it, but it was clear as day that had been the incident to inspire her recent teasing. Whatever her end goal ultimately was, she thought messing with the innocent virgin was a fun little diversion, just a cat batting around her ball of yarn…
…unaware of the hot stove she was playing on.
He knew what was coming. The second he touched that button, she would use the excuse of their transformation and the pleasures it wrought to pounce—likely just to see whether she could get him to embarrass himself again. If she were to try something like that now, even in jest… Especially if it were in jest… Well, given the state she had driven him to, there was a good chance he would do more than just embarrass himself.
And after? The teasing and games he could tolerate. But if she were to start actively hating him?
“What is it, Mike?” she asked again.
He shook his head. No matter what, he had to resist. He was not an animal! He could never let himself do that. “It’s Mark.”
“It’s Mike,” she returned immediately.
He almost smiled.
Steeling himself as best he could, he took a deep breath. Naomi responded in kind, anticipating the oncoming rush and the necessity of undergoing such a trial in their current locale. He was not looking forward to attempting this without the luxury of breathing… but the added layer of concentration it required might just help him weather the storm.
With a silent nod, he pressed the button.
The reaction was instantaneous. No sooner had the flicker of his display acknowledged his choice than his world was turned upside down—or so his stomach was telling him. He did not know whether he was still floating in that cave, or if he had been fired from a cannon. He was spinning. Flying. End over end. His intestines had wrapped about his throat, then squelched to his toes, then slammed somewhere into his upper ribcage.
His eyes could not focus. Oranges and reds traded places with the sunless black of their cavern as his false lids went out of control. Everything seemed to be pulsing back and forth in a continuous, dizzying tango. So he forced himself underwater to at least be free of that source of nausea.
It seemed to help. There was a kind of comfort to just floating there, trembling in the black. Like returning to the womb. But as he slowly regained a measure of control over his unruly stomach, a strange sort of sensation began to steal over him. It was… bizarre. Foreign. Like nothing he had ever encountered before. Or even imagined.
It was not at all like hearing. Or seeing. There were no colors nor sounds to it. There were no sensations like flavor or aroma. If he were forced to describe it at all, it would be more akin to gently running his lips over the fine hairs of his arms… in a completely, not-that-at-all sort of way.
But as he began to connect with the feeling, to make sense of it, he realized there was an over-there-ness to the vague… fuzziness. An awareness that what he was feeling was not coming from inside himself. But out.
Then the pleasure began to creep in. This… whatever it was… was a good thing. Something to be embraced. Celebrated. Trusted. It felt wonderful. Soothing. Enticing.
With a delirious sort of fervor, his awareness began to expand and sharpen. There was… a thing out there. An object. He could feel it slowly taking shape somewhere in his mind’s eye, like a vaguely oblong gemstone birthing into the void. What was it? Why was it so… beautiful?
He began to inch closer. Perhaps if he were to touch it…?
Bit by bit, his focus became clearer. The object began to resolve in his mind’s eye. The amorphous blob gained dimension. Substance. Depth. Blurred edges became soft planes. Vague blobs became angles and bends.
He drifted closer still, his skin throbbing with the need to connect with this thing. To answer the question with known flesh what had been asked by this strange and wondrous sixth sense he had suddenly developed. The thing out there started changing shape, almost mirroring his movements, seeking out contact just the same as he was.
Slowly, the nearest point resolved even more. What was once a single spoke of the larger mass became five smaller, more delicate appendages. It almost seemed… like a hand? No… not like a hand. It was a hand!
And then their fingers touched.
In that instant, the rest of Naomi snapped into perfect focus. All of Naomi. Every square inch. Top to bottom. Back to front. And all at the same time.
Every sweeping plane. Every delicious curve. From the luxurious hair drifting in the still waters to the dainty bottoms of her feet to the straining elastic of her overtaxed boy shorts… and even underneath. If anything, that smooth cleft was even more clear than the clothing meant to cover it. She had been revealed as completely as if scanned by an electron microscope.
He was left stunned and agape.
She was… glorious. Angelic, even. Whatever the mechanism of this second sight he had developed, Naomi appeared as an otherworldly existence within it. She glowed and pulsed with life. Every beat of her heart and twitch of her fingers sent new waves dancing through her body. It was fascinating to watch. And the desire to take this divine existence into his arms, to explore every inch of her body, to feel the heat of her lips… built. And built.
Eventually, he realized he was not the only one entranced. As raptly as he was gaping at her, so too was she at him. And before he could decide what to do with this newfound awareness, her hands began to gently trace along his fingers, wondering. Seeking. Exploring.
His heart ached to finally feel the touch of a woman, even in so innocent a way. And so he began to respond in kind. The need to draw her into his embrace was becoming near overwhelming. He needed to caress her. To feel her. All of her. But he remained gentle for fear of scaring her away.
Then she must have awakened to the understanding of just how much of one another they were actually seeing. How exposed they truly were to one another.
A distorted cry came from her lips, and she shot backward through the water, her arms crossing over her chest. He reached out to her quickly, hoping to catch her. He needed to assure her of the pureness of his intentions. To sooth and comfort her. But when she got just a few yards away… it was like she simply winked out of existence.
She was gone!
Horrific waves of anguish crashed through him. He felt as if he had suddenly been abandoned by God. Cast into hell, worthless and damned. He curled into himself and screamed. For a very brief moment, he wanted to die. To put an end to his suffering!
Then, scarcely a second later, his conscious mind reasserted itself with a snap, and he realized the insanity of his reaction. Maybe Naomi was right. Maybe altering things near the brain was not such a great idea, after all. He never got so emotional as that. Abandoned and cast into hell? Why? Because a girl had a perfectly reasonable desire not to be scanned to within a micrometer? That was crazy!
Resurfacing, he took several minutes to calm himself down. He just needed to breathe. He needed to ride out whatever crazy-ass bullshit panic-attack had just grabbed hold of him and coolly take stock of the situation.
Naomi would come back. He knew that. Now if he could just get his heart to quit hammering away in his chest. His skin felt like it was being washed in pins and needles, and his muscles kept twitching from the sudden spike in adrenaline. But they slowed with his every exhale.
As his head began to clear, he gradually became aware of the other things his new senses were telling him. None of them were quite so distinct as Naomi had been, but they were easy enough to see now that he was paying attention—though ‘see’ was not at all the right word. The sensation was more like constantly experiencing a low-voltage electrical current… in three dimensions… everywhere, all at once.
Most of that sense was telling him about the stone ceiling a few inches above his head. He did not have to turn to look or actively try to obtain this information, either. It was just an awareness that the available space he could move into was being interrupted in a curved and more-or-less rock-shaped plane directly overhead. He could tell every contour of it, too. But not infinitely. As detailed and precise as this awareness was, it was interrupted completely by the rock and only extended into the water for some three to four paces. Beyond that was void.
“Weird,” he muttered. He had wanted an improvement to his sonar. And he had gotten it. But he had not been expecting this.
“Yeah… that’s a good word for it,” Naomi agreed.
Startled, he whirled around, but he quickly caught sight of her treading water on the other side of the cavern—well outside the range of his newfound senses. She had neither fled nor at all abandoned him like his temporarily deranged mind had imagined… to his extreme relief. No matter how much he reasoned with himself, it was good to know she had only meant to regain her dignity.
Still, as complete as this new thing he could do was, it was kind of disorienting to observe objects that existed outside of his purview. Which itself was odd. His entire existence up to that point had been completely without the ability. Now? It was like… staring out into space or something.
He shook his head to clear it. It didn’t help. “Are you alright?” he called. “I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to… look? Or… or not look, but… well, I don’t know what to call it.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Well, at least you’re calling it something.”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“Huh?” she echoed mockingly, then swam just close enough to brush against the edge of his senses. But no farther. “I’m talking about you admitting you saw something. That’s a first.”
“W-well… how could I not have?” he stammered in embarrassment. “This thing we can do… it’s all-encompassing! I—I don’t even know if I can turn it off. I mean… surely, you must have… have seen…”
His eyes widened in sudden realization.
“Go on, Mike,” she challenged. “What must I have seen?”
His mouth worked for a moment, but he had been caught out. There was no use in denying it. “Uhm…” Hesitantly, he pulled a hand out of the water and made a twirling gesture downward. “My, uh… you know.”
Her eyes followed the motion down. “Your erection?”
He flinched as though she had snatched the word from the air and slapped him in the face with it. “Not how I would have phrased it. But yes…” he admitted with a reluctant hiss. “I’m… sorry you had to see that.”
She let out a delicate sniff. “The way you act, you’d think it was the first time.”
He stiffened indignantly. Here it came. The accusations. The name calling. The contempt. He was a dirty pervert lusting after a woman with no other choice than to stay by his side just to survive… never mind how obvious her sexual taunting had been.
Yet before he could think of a retort—or an excuse—she said something he was not at all expecting, “Besides, didn’t I say? Penises are at their best when they’re good and hard.”
“It’s not like I can help—” he began in immediate protest. But then her words registered. “Wait… are you saying… you liked it?”
On cue, she turned away, suddenly coy, and he began to swear inwardly. Why was he so stupid? All it took was the slightest hint of interest, and he would leap like an eager little puppy. He should have known better than to fall for that!
But the expected laughter and mockery did not come. Instead, she appeared to take the question at least somewhat seriously. “That depends.”
“Depends?” What did that mean? When she was in the right mood? During certain times of the day? When the planets were in alignment? He could not fathom finding another person conditionally attractive. She had to be setting him up for something.
“It depends,” she confirmed. Then seeing how obviously flabbergasted he was, she rolled her eyes. “On why you were hard?”
“I—what?” Was that not obvious? She had been floating there like a melon farmer with a fresh crop on display, and she wanted to know why he was hard? Ha! She just wanted him to admit it so she could make fun of him. Well, she could suck eggs! “Because of that thing they put in our heads, of course! They’re training us to enjoy the changes so we’ll keep doing it.”
She narrowed her eyes, clearly irritated.
Well, that was just fine. She could be irritated. He was not about to open himself up to more abuse.
For several long moments, they just stared at one another, neither speaking. And as the silence stretched… and stretched some more… Mark began to have the strange idea that he was an unwilling participant in a Mexican standoff.
“Fine,” she growled eventually. “If that’s the way you want to play it. Let’s enjoy some changes, shall we?”
Before he could think to react, she flicked her wrist and slapped her palm against something.
“Whoa, wait—!”
The euphoria slammed into him pretty much instantly. It came in waves, pulsing and hammering away at him as it always did, seeking to mask the discomfort of his metamorphosis. This time, most of it was centered around his hands and forearms.
However, once he regained a measure of control over himself, he became aware of Naomi’s glowing presence twitching and thrashing away along the edges of his senses. Some combination of their involuntary muscle spasms must have caused them to drift close enough to one another to again be in range.
His reaction was immediate. She looked so impossibly erotic, shivering and clutching at herself like that. Combined with the bliss he was already experiencing, it was more than enough to reignite the fires of his flagging manhood, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered what it might be like were he to be the cause of all that twitching.
But then he realized how intently he was observing her… and how aware she would have to be of his gaze. In an instant, he understood just how justified she would have been in her accusations. He did not want to admit it… but he was absolutely lusting after her.
Naomi could not help how she looked. If she wanted to flaunt her body… so be it. She should not have to hide herself for fear of how it might affect him.
Instinctively, he jerked his eyes away, realizing too late how futile the gesture was. Whatever the source of this sense he had unlocked, it did not care where he was looking. He could still ‘see’ her clear as day.
As though some hidden switch had been flipped, her shivers and twitches abruptly re-intensified, and it soon became clear that a second wave of changes had come over her. Visible changes.
With every shudder of her shoulders, her already lovely bust began to encroach upon the levels of gifted. With every jerk of her hip, the hourglass of her waistline became more pronounced. Her legs smoothed and toned. The smooth sweep of her back became all the more eye-catching. By this point, even seeing her without his actual eyes, he could tell she was fast approaching the kind of hot people would pay money for—even to see her with clothes on.
Gasping for air, he stared fixedly down at his hands, trying to concentrate on his own changes long enough take his mind off what he had just witnessed. Tremors were still racing up and down his arms, but they seemed… relatively normal. There were some striations along the inside of his elbows now that kind of reminded him of stretch marks. And his hands looked a bit… odd. Out of proportion, somehow. But if there were any other new details, such as color, they were lost to him in their current environment.
What had she just done that could have caused all of that? What option had she picked?
His eyes flickered back to her apprehensively. She was right there, sensuously running her hands along her adjusted hip-line. She had to know he could see that.
“Naomi…” he began, still panting. “What—?”
“Well?” she challenged, interrupting. “Gonna admit it yet?”
His jaw firmed immediately. It seemed she had not yet given up her game. And here he was just about to make peace with the situation.
She wanted him to admit it? Admit what? That she was gorgeous?! That he wanted her? That was patently evident. If her senses were as acute as his within this range, she would be well aware of the state of his anatomy. It was all he could do not to thrust his hips into the confinement of his far-too-tight shorts. It would only take moments for him to shame himself all over again. He would never give her the satisfaction!
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She snarled with frustration. “Then maybe, I should open your eyes!”
Again, her palm slapped against something unseen.
“No, wai—ah!”
Suddenly, his head was swimming. His eyes would not focus. Again. But this time, he felt as if he had been struck by a mallet, and now his brain was reverberating somewhere between agony and orgasm.
Meanwhile, right beside him, Naomi’s own throes of passion were all too apparent. But nothing obvious was happening to her body this time. Fortunately.
Good god… her body. With the enraptured way she was clutching at herself, he wanted to take her into his arms… to carry her to the ground… to taste her lips! He burned with it!
Abruptly, his fears of being overcome by his own male instincts slammed into him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to cut himself off from her. But it was a futile gesture. His senses would not allow themselves to be cut off.
Instantly, her figure began jerking and twitching once more, as though waiting for that very moment. Her breasts again swelled, going from gifted to generous, while the tender nubs at their center twisted and extended, high and proud, as though begging for attention. Again, the smooth contours of her form began to shift. She was encroaching upon the kind of figure most women only dreamed of… and men killed for.
All too soon, it was over, and they again resurfaced for air. He was not altogether certain what option she had picked to change them. Nor was he in any kind of mood to find out. It was all he could do not to gape at his fellow abductee.
“Yeah… that’s right,” she panted. “I can see it in your eyes. You want me so bad, you can barely see straight. Admit it, Mike!”
It was all he could do not to let out a snort of contemptuous laughter. Of course, she could see it! How could she not? With the way she looked now, she should have been more surprised to find out his eyes were still in their sockets! This current version of Naomi was an easy contender for entry within his ‘J. Rabbit’ folder—one of many buried within the depths of the strangely-too-large-for-its-name ‘misc’ folder on his personal desktop.
Though… her arms did seem a tad too long. And were her hands bigger than they had been? When had that happened? Perhaps he had missed it. With so many changes going on at once, that would not be surprising.
Regardless, he was on to her now. Somewhere along the way, she had figured out that her options transformed her body to be more appealing, and she was using it as a weapon against him.
Well, two could play that game!
“You first!” he shouted and quickly slapped one of his remaining options—the one meant to alter their bones, he was pretty sure. Not that it mattered. They were all equally ambiguous.
“Oh, you bast—uht!”The rest of her retort was forced from her lungs as the change folded her in half. But other than a brief glimpse of her burgeoning glory arching pendulously backward into the water, he saw little else of her struggle.
He realized in an instant that his counterattack was way too much, way too fast. This was not some inconsequential change to his inner ear. He had just chambered an alteration to his entire skeletal structure and fired it without a second thought. He felt like he had just been hit by a vibrating fleshlight the size of a truck!
Sure, it was soft, moist, and felt really nice. But it was also kind of a lot.
So it was quite a while before he regained his senses sufficiently enough to take stock of himself. Yet again, he could not say what, if anything, had changed—other than a vague feeling of all-over-soreness, a developing tightness to his once-full belly, and a raging case of blue balls. Having now sustained four transformations in a row with no release in sight, he was close to the point of no return. He had to relieve himself, or he would explode!
Before he even realized he had moved, his hand had grasped firmly to the bulge straining the limits of his abused shorts. Intense waves of fulfillment raced down his spine that he was finally… finally attending to his body’s needs. There was no fear in him that he might foul his undergarments. It did not matter who might be watching. Not even—!
Abruptly, reality reasserted itself. Naomi was watching, he realized. Intently. So focused on his pistoning hand as to be entranced. For several long, heartstopping seconds, she drifted forward, reaching out, seeking to connect with the mighty rod he had teased but not yet freed.
His eyes widened with anticipation, envisioning the moment her fingers met his hand. She would coax it free so that she might work at him herself. Reveal her desire to the open waters. Take him into her mouth. Taste his manhood. He could almost see how she would relish its flavor. The look of deep satisfaction that would overcome her features.
He could scarcely imagine what it might be like for someone as attractive as that to actually touch him. For anyone to touch him. But before his fantasy could become reality, she too snapped back to herself and jerked her hand away as though from a live adder.
The rejection… hurt. Physically. Again, he was punished with pins and needles lancing through the entirety of his frame. His face hurt. His teeth. His eyes. He could almost feel it even to the roots of his hair. For a very brief moment, he almost felt as if he might black out. But then it was over.
With a single flick of his webbed fingers, he again propelled himself to the surface, panting. He felt dizzy, lost and confused, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut in an effort to reorient himself.
He had been… arguing with Naomi. About something. She had… she had rejected him?
He frowned slightly. Why would she do that? She wanted him. He knew she did. He had seen that look of entrancement. The need to touch. The hunger. But she was still playing games.
That’s right… he remembered now. They were playing a game. The first to crack—the first to admit how much they wanted the other—would lose. Or win. It did not really matter. The only thing at stake was bragging rights.
He almost laughed. What an absurd thing to fight over. Still, against his better judgment, he had decided to participate in this little charade of hers, so he might as well try and win it. The question now was, who would fire the next shot? They both of them only had the one bullet left. So he needed to make his count.
Slowly, he lifted his head again. He felt beaten and exhausted. But she did not look much better. He could tell from the slump of her shoulders how much this latest round had taken out of her. More importantly, even without paying attention to her constantly shifting hips, he could tell from the pulsing going on beneath her boy shorts just how much she wanted to stuff his meat inside her. How impossibly aroused she was. Why hadn’t he noticed that before?
His lungs expanded as the last of the cobwebs fell away. Of course! He had fired the last shot. That should mean he was more attractive now. It was just a shame that his sensory abilities were not reporting on his physical condition. For all the detail it was providing about the rest of the world, his actual place within it was just a blank spot. It would have been nice to know what was causing Naomi to get so wound up.
Then he remembered what he had been doing during their latest salvo… and he knew exactly what had gotten her so wound up.
“What… was that… just now?” he puffed out, still out of breath. Reaching down, he made as if to grab himself again, but at the last moment, he changed tack and merely adjusted his waistband. “Was there… something of mine… you wanted?”
She twisted slightly at the waist at the sound of his voice, as though having to repress a shiver of delight… which was about as erotic a thing as he could imagine. Damn it.
“Oh… I’ll live,” she panted, doggedly refusing to submit to the obvious desire coursing through her veins—and somehow making even that seem impossibly hot.
He was massively out-gunned here, he realized. She was just a little winded, and here he was, nearly becoming lost within the mesmerizing valleys of her heaving breasts. The wench was even arching her back! As if he would not notice.
A slow grin began to spread across her face. “But I think… there’s something of mine… you want.” The backs of her claws began to trace up her form, across her belly, and… just dared to jostle the underside of one her floating weapons-of-chastity-destruction. “I might even… let you have it… if you beg.”
Might? She might let him? Ha! He was pretty sure she would start to cum the second he touched her. He probably would, too, for that matter. But that was the game. Victory was in getting the other to admit it!
Without a word, his fist slammed into his final option.
This one would be another alteration to their ears, so he was at least somewhat ready for it this time. And he got to enjoy a brief glimpse of exasperated betrayal overcoming her features before he was forced to close his eyes. The cossack dancing the prisiadki in his stomach was making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. It was such an unusual—and frankly terrifying—experience to feel so impossibly turned on and nauseated at the same time.
Fortunately, the latter ebbed much sooner than the former, and he was able to bask in the waves of his refinement to his body. He had been expecting to receive some sort of boost to his hearing, perhaps to perceive the beating of Naomi’s heart. Or the blood rushing through her veins. Instead, his recently gained spatial awareness surged abruptly outward, doubling… then tripling in radius. And beyond that—perhaps even ten times as wide again—he could still detect some things… though without the same sort of resolution. They existed as mere blips on his radar.
Which… was pretty cool actually—if not at all what he had anticipated. Why had the two options enhanced one another? There had been no hints that something like this might happen. Not that he would have been able to tell. And even if the descriptions had been written in plain English, he doubted he would have been in the frame of mind to check. This little war of theirs had gotten a tad out of hand.
Speaking of, Naomi was just starting to calm down from her own change, and for a moment, he experienced a modicum of regret. This really was a silly thing to be doing to one another. He should just swim over there, take her into his arms, and kiss her. James Bond-style. He was about ninety-nine percent certain she would be into it… but even if she was not, what was she going to do? Scratch his eyes out?
Probably… knowing her. But they would at least know each other’s intentions, and that would be the end of it.
He stiffened his upper lip quickly. That would not do at all. She had been the one to start this game. Instead of coming on to him like a big girl and saying what it was she wanted, she had decided to use her feminine wiles. Well, if she wanted live by wiles, she could die by them, too.
Resolutely, he crossed his arms and turned away.
Once again, she began to jerk and tremble as her body was cast into a fresh maelstrom of change. Her breasts seemed to almost pulse outward, going from generous to positively obscene, but without a trace of the ravages of gravity that so often cursed those so blessed. Her hips flared outward yet again, making her backside into a thing to be treasured and worshiped. The upside-down heart of it seemed to lag by the faintest amount with her every movement—then snap the other direction as though spring-loaded. The lovely diamond between her thighs was now wide enough that she would never be able to truly close her legs. Ever again.
That alone would have been plenty. But then her face began to resculpt itself, making her cheeks high, her brow proud and challenging, and her lips plush and inviting. Every inch of her was swiftly refined to such a degree that no man would ever be able to look upon her again without becoming instantly and helplessly entranced. They would be putty in her hands.
Which was not fair at all! He had fired this shot! It should be his turn to get more attractive, not hers. What was going on? However, before he could utter a word of protest, her eyes snapped open, and whatever wind was left to his lungs was forcibly expelled as though by a fist to his gut.
She was breathtaking. In the most literal sense imaginable.
“D-damn you… Mike…” she said, trembling with repressed desire. For a moment, he almost thought he saw a tear streak down one of her cheeks… but it could have just been the water. “L-look at what you’ve… d-do—hnne… to me. Are y-you… s-satisfied?” A shiver seemed to overcome her for a moment, and her shoulders pressed together. The movement—and what it did to the rest of her body—almost broke him.
Mutely, his head bobbed once in the affirmative. He was not even aware of it happening. It was not until he noticed her lips widening into a grin of intense relief that he realized he had just conceded the battle, but he was not certain he could have done otherwise. He felt as if her every breath was battering against the walls of his psyche with sheer eroticism. Everything from here would depend on how magnanimous the terms of his surrender would be.
“Goo-ho-ood…” she panted. Her mouth gaped open for a second to allow some fraction of the steam building within her to escape. Then her teeth snapped closed, forcing her to grit out the rest between them. “N-now get over here… ah-ah-and f-fuck me.”
He blinked once, as though her words had just awakened him from a spell. For a moment, his mind reeled and a distant part of him wondered: How was this possible? She could not be serious. She was just toying with him… right? But the voice was a faint, dying thing, letting out its final gasps of cowardice and hesitation.
Slowly, a lopsided grin quirked at the edges of his lips, and he shook his head. “Stripes, stripes, stripes… if that was all you wanted, all you had to do was—”
He did not get out the rest. The second he had opened his mouth, she dove forward and carried them into the water. The next instant, her lips were crushed to his, and he became embattled in a war of an entirely different sort. One filled with tongues and teeth. Softness and delicious curves.
His hands roved about her body with abandon, not at all concerned with what he was trying to achieve or even whether this was a battle he could win. He was simply enmeshed within the moment. A bit of flotsam on the sea of passion that had just overwhelmed him.
Naomi was everywhere. Licking. Caressing. Fondling. Her fingers roved into every corner she could reach. Her moans vibrated upon his lips, crying out in ecstasy every time his clumsy efforts sought to return the favor. But she seemed in no mood for such niceties.
Scarcely had they even begun before her hand had snaked its way down his shorts and found her prize. Her eyes lit up with anticipation… even as he struggled not to immediately lose it to the sensation of having something… someone… other than himself touch him down there.
But then alarm bells began to blare in his head.
Instinctively, he jerked back and shoved her away. The shock and betrayal had scarcely begun to form in her eyes before a sizzling bar of heat bifurcated the air in front of them, and superheated rock burst over their heads with a sharp crack!
For a moment, Naomi sat stunned.
“What the fuck was that?!”
*
What the fuck was that?!
=====
Whew! Almost didn't make it this week. This chapter was pretty touch to get through. Lots of stuff to keep track of. Hopefully, it was satisfying to read and everything made sense. Let me know if anything was confusing, if you wished anything else had happened, or what have you.
See you all next time!
Comments
Tabitha Mularkey
Absolutely love it. The tension is killing me almost as much as it is them. "Get over here and fuck me!"
