Sigil slides bat wings around you, cosying you up in hir lap, teasing and touching and lounging completely content and probably completely unaware that casually sharing Echoen's body wasn't normal for her before today. ~ Echoen Echoen giggles as it seems the bat corruption has fully sunk in, and shi appreciates the sweet snuggle with your new limbs. Shi tilts hir head up to look at you, look into your eyes, and rewrite your history. It hits like a pulse and then soothes like a wave, memories and past reshaping for your shape that always was. Sigil stretches, eyes fluttering as shi simply shrugs off hir old sense of self, the pleasurable waves rolling through hir and weaving a whole life lived together in, solidifying in the disintigration and rebirth of hir identity as shi must have surely always been. Playful nibbles on your neck, gentle caresses and touches over all the places that make you squirm and coo, the practiced hands and teasing of a lover who has been with you and yours for years as shi settles into a practiced comfort in hir present body, a happy, connecting custom of sharing names and bodies and whole identities at will. How can shi resist just getting lost in those beautiful eyes of yours, as ever. ~ Echoen Those old thoughts and old memories, of the squirrels that came before, are nestled deep within and still able to observe, feel and enjoy, but battySigil is all that outwardly expresses. The massive, matronly battybat unfurls hir full sense of self and size, surging to hir eleven foot frame and taking up a tremendous amount of space. All the more of hir means all the more areas within your reach to touch, taste, caress and coax - for you share those self-same areas, self-same sensations, self-same... self. To be hir lover is to love yourself, ourselves, in something deeper than romance. Sigil lounges, simply simmering in hir happiness, gazing back at hir selfsame as you swell to utterly consume hir lap, hir vision, and all of hir attention. Plush lips peck along your shoulder, your chest, taking you in with all of hir senses - gentle breaths sampling our scent, playful little bites across flesh still expanding, just to feel you stretching out to full size between hir lightly nibbling teeth. Palms wirl along areola, heavy sheath languidly sqiurming along your curves, tucking easily into crevices. It is very freeing, how could shi resist being drawn to us like a moth to flame. Shi wants you, and you want hir too. The smaller Sigilbatty traverses your neck and jawline, and plunges into a warm, deep, proper good-morning kiss, the one she gives every day she can sneak a little time together, as we always have. <3 Echoen Muscular wing-arms flex and roll gently to help pull you up across hir back, so you can reach to touch hir neck. When you slide across hir side towards hir chest, you find hir bat breasts are each as large as your former body had been, and both are still slowly gaining more mass, particularly when you touch them. Everything you learn about hir body, you realize about yours - from your own creaking, nudging increases in height to the rising pressure and warmth of growth in your bosom. Shi seems to enjoy hir purple-eyed persona playing about hir front and midsection, pursing hir lips to give a lightly fanged smile. Those same lips are the ones you have, and when we kiss, it is our own flavors we taste. The flavor of good morning, the flavor of lust, the flavor of wanton love. Shi lifts hir strong hands to each cup and heft your breasts; hir stronger, far larger wing-hands holstering onto your hips to palm your ass, now that you are kneeling upon hir lap. A shorter-than-sigil, five-foot-six Echoen meanders sleepily out from the bedroom to nab a drink, sheath and sac bouncing wobblingly full with each step. Heavy hips swinging, slimy pre-cum slinging across the floor and doorways. Only the faintist hint-tint of Balros squirrelfur is left as a tuft of fur on hir breasts, which bounce along too as shi heads to the kitchen. Sigil gains foot after foot in her rocking, cooing self-pleasure with you, rolling an acreage of new flesh against your own while simple kissing ascends into moan-inducing liplocking. The heavy creaking of our couch beneath as shi suirms, shi jockeys. Shi rolls your heavy breasts against one another, pressing and kneading cleavage up towards our busy chins, helping tease out the massive presence shi knows you hold within. Shi doesn't even need to look to see the new entry. Shi knows -just- how battyBalros will feel when shi raises hir expanding bottom into your hands, spreading hir knees around your monumental thighs so hir bulging mons and glistening lips, hir pouting pucker and heavy nuts peek out in a direct tease towards the other bat. Shi shoves her tackle forward, gushing a little hirself upon your motherly belly, mouth ravaging yours before descending to worshipfully raid and pleasure all the beautiful inches of expansive flesh hir lips missed yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. . . Echoen Each pulse of growth, each surge of size, feels like rocketing bliss. There is so -much- of you, yet so much -more- of hir to be and become. Part the pressure to become more, part the pull to realize, remember, of how much Echoen absolutely is. The couch is crushed and replaced with a sturdier construction of soft cusions that could bear the weight, but perhaps will be crushed soon anyway. Hir breasts, and yours, feel so warm, and keep expanding with inexorable presence. Such impressive bustline bumps the fridge door that Echoen-Balros attempts to open, also expanding at the same scaled rate as yours, as hirs, as our tits. All three sets of batty breasts stiffen full of productive cream, nipples and areolae engorging larger in arousal. All three dark-furred sheaths spill open dark-fleshed erections, bats so -horny- for other bats that are hirself. The biggest bat reaches twelve feet as you reach nine, and the bat that was Balros gives a resigned sigh as shi stretches up towards seven feet, too tall to rummage for hir drink, and now with hir dick sticking into the door. Shi's not thirsty anymore anyway - not with the impassioned kiss of hir other selves, original and origiSigil, drinking in each other's taste just beside hir. Winghands sink wing-fingers into expanding assflesh to display to hir shorter clone those juicy assets, from pucker to pussy to seed-swollen ballsac. Your own cock gives a lurid eruption of cum as you feel the same pulse of lust for yourself as both of hir do for the display. The biggest bat's blast of cum completely soaks your thighs, as shi rolls hir hips, bumping you upwards, then coaxing your ass downwards to feet hir spire into your nethers and bulge-bloat your bat womb billowingly full. The Balros-bat follows up behind, to feed hir cock into your ass. Sigil exults, somewhere in the middle, as our morning playfulness builds into unstoppable need. As it so often does. Shi shares in thirst of a kind, and unfurls hir long and twining tongu around one thick nipple, hoisting the chest of the bat before hir with hr own expanding flesh, rolling forward so shi may take that nub within hir mouth, to tease hir tongue deep within and urge forth thick cream in lurid, sucking pumps - fair payment for the warm welcome of hir roiling, eager cooze, slick and ready nethers gladly consuming the belly-bulging masses of throbbing flesh from ahead and behind. Shi has all that mass to grow into, and its all put to use to share the pleasure, clench-squeezing and drawing hir other selves deep. Slurp-sucking noisily off one tit to the other, shi flashes playful purple gazes upwards, over hir shoulders, winghands clutching at the flanks of breasts as riding the seas of both your ruts helps thread hir own throb-pounding dusky breeder up between us, pounding out its own needy channel between hir breasts and yours, splashing thick gouts of lubricating fluid up from your cleavage in a body-slickening geysers. Spreading hir asscheeks, shi hungrily hilts, the slapping, messy sounds of breeding bats overtaking the trio of same-voiced moans and filling the air for blocks.