If Ryuko wasn’t surprised when Mako climbed into bed beside her, she was when the girl kissed her, full on the lips, and full of passionate affection.
“To thank you for saving me from the Tennis Club,” Mako said, and to prove she meant it, she shoved her hand down the front of Ryuko’s pajama bottoms.
Ryuko squawked and almost pulled away, but Mako shushed her, and something told her that she might enjoy staying still. She settled back and let Mako’s slim fingers worm their way through her pubes, onto her mound, where they traced gentle circles until her nether lips plumped and parted and her clitoris stiffened under its hood.
And then they went to work. Ryuko had to stuff her knuckles into her mouth to avoid waking the rest of the house. Mako’s technique was simple and flawless, just a good, solid fingerfuck: digits hooked to tantalise the hidden seat of Ryuko’s pleasure, while her thumb flicked, rubbed and ground against Ryuko’s clit.
Within minutes Ryuko had flung her forearm across her eyes, biting down almost painfully on her knuckles as she shook in what she fervently hoped was silent ecstasy. Her inner walls spasmed around Mako’s fingers, ejecting a hot spurt of her juices that soaked her friend’s hand, her pajamas, and presently, the sheets.
“Oh wow, Ryuko, I didn’t know you were a squirter! That’s so cool!” Mako kissed Ryuko again and went off to find some towels. Ryuko lay there, panting slowly, very glad that the darkness hid her bright red face. Up until now, she hadn’t realised she was one.
She moaned her moans, cried her cries; Mrs. Lalonde was a noisy lover, at least until John tangled his fingers in her hair and yanked on it. She yelped at the pain, his sudden roughness. Dave slid his cock into her mouth, straight to the back of her throat. She gagged, rallied magnificently, then there was nothing but the bliss of being shuttled between two hard pricks until her whole being convulsed in climax, blanking her while the boys shot their loads deep into her cunt and over her face. She flopped into the sheets, dripping sperm. Round five concluded.
How did it come to this? Jane wondered, and found no answer. It just sort of…happened. One of the raven-haired individuals nuzzling at her breasts looked up and smiled at her.
"Mama’s milk is the best,"
"Shoosh, Jade, " Jane replied, "don’t call me that. This is weird enough without bringing all that paradox hooey into it. I might as well call you my mother, or my sister even." But Jade wasn’t listening, she’d returned to Jane’s teat, suckling a stream of sweet, rich cream into her mouth.
John raised his head. “She’s right, though. It is the best! Time we paid Jane back, isn’t it Jade?”
"Mmhmm!"
Their lips never once stopped working at Jane’s nipples, while their hands wandered down her body, past her hips, where they slipped between her thighs into her bush, onto her mound, rubbing and probing, spreading sticky-slick dew into her pubes and over her mound until she gave out with a moan and spread her legs wide open.
"Ohhh, I should never even have let you start touching me." Jane shuddered as John pushed three thick digits deep into her, baptising them in the wet heat of her pussy, while Jade’s nimbler fingertips took care of her clit. Between John’s forceful thrusting and Jade’s gentle ministrations, plus the greedy mouths sucking her dry, Jane was soon hooing and ha-ing, louder, shriller, ‘til they and she reached their peak. Jade shrieked, slumped in orgasmic stupor, and Jade guided her down to the mattress while her walls rippled around John’s fingers. He yanked them away and was rewarded with a spurt of juices that soaked the sheets, coupled with renewed screams from Jane.
While she recovered, John and Jade slurped up the last of her milk. “It tastes better when she’s coming, doesn’t it?” Jade said.
John nodded his enthusiasm. “Way better!”
Jane merely groaned. Their stomachs full and warm, Jade and John kissed her and cuddled up to her for a post-prandial nap. She hardly wanted to encourage them, but soon her eyes drooped too and the three of them fell into a peaceful slumber.
Vriska awoke, and wished she hadn’t. Her brain, she decided, must look like a shrivelled walnut, but her skull pounded as though it’d been shrunk three sizes. She peeled open gummed up eyes, tried to moisten her lips with a tongue that had somehow been coated with sandpaper in the night and groaned weakly.
Water, her body demanded. Water now. She rolled over and bumped into something warm and solid. “What the hell?”
The something stirred. “Yeah, what the hell?”
Pulling back the covers, Vriska revealed the face of Jade, who flung an arm over her eyes.
“Argh, light, light!”
“What are you doing in my bed?”
“Your bed?” Jade peered closer, noting the web-print sheets, the arachnid pin-ups on the walls, the spider plushie squatting at the end of the bed. “Oh yeah,” she said, then shuddered. “So creepy.”
“Ugh. What happened last night.”
“Well…”
The both of them and a bunch of friends had started off at the bar, according to Jade, where they’d sunk a few pints, then off to a club, where cocktail pitchers were the order of the night. Back at the dorm, they’d stumbled into the shared living room, put on some music and passed out cans of various booze.
Somehow a game of strip poker had started, and with the penalties owing more to random chance than any kind of skill, they all ended up in various states of undress. Ardours rose, couples paired off, Karkat and Nepeta went off to his room. Sollux and Feferi disappeared into the bathroom, and giggles and the sound of the shower running filtered out. Kanaya just straddled Rose’s lap on an armchair, where in nothing but their panties they kissed and felt each other up like they were the only two people in the room. Vriska opined that it looked pretty hot, and Jade agreed. She’d asked Vriska whether she’d wanted to try it.
Seconds later Jade, shrieking with laughter, charged down the hallway stripping off as she went, while Vriska chased after her and spurred her on with slaps to the arse. They burst into Vriska’s room and tumbled onto the bed…
“Oh god, we didn’t,” Vriska said. “With you?”
Jade rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because the bony spider freak was really my first choice.”
Vriska squeezed her thighs together. Things below decks felt unusually damp and puffy. “Nononononononono, we really did!”
A few rusty recollections dribbled out of the spigot of memory. They’d tussled, struggling for dominance, until Vriska ended up on top, panting, her hair dangling down into Jade’s face. Jade reared up and sucked on her nipple until Vriska had pushed her back down, pinned her and kissed her. Jade wriggled out from under her, flipped her over and pulled down her panties, exposing a pussy in the full flush of arousal. Diving in, she licked, slurped, sucked, nibbled, used lips, teeth, tongue and even her nose to drive Vriska into a sensuous, writhing fit. Her hands scrunched the sheets, her hips rose off the bed, her wetness turned Jade’s chin and neck into an attractive modern water feature. Her scream as she came was so loud that someone knocked on the door to see if she was okay.
While she was still twitching, Jade crawled atop her and kissed her again. Vriska responded automatically, not caring that Jade’s lips were impregnated with her own juices. She moaned, her pleasure building again. Jade had pressed their mounds together and ground away until they were a pair of squealing, sweaty messes. They fucked each other in a dozen ways and a dozen combinations, over and over for hour upon…
“Oh, fuuuuuuuuck, we did it all night.” Vriska covered her eyes and shook her head in deep embarrassment.
“Wanna try for some morning glory?” Jade said.
“Get out of my room.” Vriska chased Jade out into the hallway and chucked her clothes out after her. She went back to bed, poured herself a glass of water from the jug on her night stand and glugged it down. Vowing to wear a chastity belt and hide the key somewhere her drunken self wouldn’t be able to find it the next time she went out on a bender, she shoved her head under the pillows and waited for her hangover to go away. Though privately, she admitted to herself that if she got the chance she’d probably do the night (and Jade) all over again.
The crash resounded through the halls of Dualscar Manor. Feferi’s feather duster fell from her nerveless fingers, and she stared at the shards of the no doubt priceless amphora she’d just wrecked with her hands over her mouth. She backed away, intending to run and grab a dustpan and brush before anyone noticed, and walked straight into someone. She turned, saw the pierced face of Head Maid Maryam, and gulped.
"Ah, Ms. Maryam…I…as you can sea I was…"
"I’m afraid I have no choice to report this to the master, Miss Feferi. Clean it up, then I suggest you take the rest of the day off. You’ll need it."
Porrim turned on her heel and stalked away down the corridor.
“Oh, glub,” Feferi said once she was safely out of earshot.
By the time Feferi returned to her chambers there was a card waiting for her on her nightstand. ‘See me in my study at moonset,’ it read. It was headed with the gold-embossed monogram of Orphaner Dualscar. She groaned, and flung herself into a chair, intending to distract herself with a book. It didn’t work. For the rest of the day she wished she was back at work; at least then she’d have had something to take her mind off her impending punishment. She went over and over it in her head, each time imagining worse tortures: a whipping, the rack, branding with hot irons. Even keelhauling. Not that they were on a boat, but she was sure the Orphaner would find a way.
The moons set, plunging the world into darkness for the few hours until sunrise. All around the manor maids and footmen bustled, lighting candles and lanterns. Feferi trudged past them, the subject of the occasional stare and snicker, until she reached the heavy wooden door that barred the way to the master’s study. With great trepidation, she knocked.
"Enter," came the command. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. It swung shut behind her, the click of the latch sounding terrifyingly final.
It took a moment for even her eyes, adapted for the darkness of the deep sea to adjust to the gloom. She made out the form of Dualscar, reclining on a sofa, glass of wine in his hand, purple eyes glinting.
"Well now, Miss Peixes. Do ye know why yer here?"
She swallowed. “Yes sir. I’m reelly sorry. I was just dusting the vase and it…”
"Amphora, Miss Peixes, Amphora. One that’s been in the Ampora name for near a thousand sweeps. Ten lashes, I reckon, one for each hundred. A fair exchange, don’t ye think?"
"Y-yes sir. It shore is." What did he mean by lashes, she wanted to ask, but he interrupted.
"Panties off, then, minnow, and yer suspenders."
She coloured. “Sir!”
"Ye heard me."
With great reluctance, she reached under her skirt and unhooked her garter belt from her stockings, feeling them crumple around her legs, then took it off and dropped it. She tugged her panties down to her mid thighs, deeply embarrassed even if she wasn’t actually exposing anything.
"Now come here and lay yerself across my lap."
It dawned on Feferi what her punishment was going to be. He was going to spank her like a naughty wiggler. The shame of it made her cheeks burn and her fins droop. Ancestral rage flared in her. Ten thousand sweeps ago she’d have been an empress, able to kill this insolent fool on a whim. Now though…she was young, and a commoner, unproven and ungloried. There was no question of disobeying. She shuffled over to him and awkwardly climbed onto the sofa, prostrating herself across his legs. He pulled her into a suitable position and lifted her skirt. She whimpered.
"Lovely," Dualscar said, then raised his hand and brought it down with a resounding crack.
"Gngh!" Feferi clenched her teeth to hold back the pain. Smack. She whined, wriggled to and fro until Dualscar put his hand in the small of her back and held her down. Smack. She sobbed, a tear trickling from beneath her tightly squeezed eyelids. Smack. The fourth dragged a scream from her, a primal howl that blended the pain from the previous blows into one hideous expression of agony.
"Plea-hea-hease, stoooop," she begged, with her gills fluttering and tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh cod, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!"
"Just six more, little prawn, six more and all is forgiven. Yer doing great."
Delaying him meant that the fifth landed on bruised and stinging skin, setting Feferi kicking and screaming anew. Dualscar hit like a wave breaking on the rocks. His hand was hard and calloused, roughened by decades of handling rope and wood and metal, cured into leathery permanence by salt spray and sea air. The sixth made her bury her face in the sofa, muffling her screams until the seventh landed and forced her head back up, wailing and taking short, ragged gasps of air.
By the time Dualscar struck her again she was too exhausted to scream. She heard the slap, felt the pain, but it seemed abstracted somehow, as though it was happening to someone else. A croaking sob escaped her, followed by a pathetic mewl on the next stroke. Dualscar rubbed the back of his hand across her arse for a moment, perhaps admiring his handiwork, and his scars and the cool metal of his rings dragged over her skin. No wonder his blows hurt so much, if he was wearing those. It seemed vaguely unfair, but his final slap drove the thought from her mind.
She lay there, panting weakly, her bottom ablaze. She wondered what happened next, wondered whether there was more pain and humiliation in store for her. But Dualscar’s voice was gentle, and he stroked her sweaty hair as he said:
"There, cuttlefish. Ye took that like a seadweller should, and I’m proud to call ye one."
She sniffled, reassured despite herself. “Thank you, sir.”
Dualscar didn’t reply, and instead hauled Feferi up and sat her in his lap. He produced a handkerchief and wiped away the spittle on her lips and the tears from her face. Distracted by the kindly gesture, she didn’t notice his other hand creeping up her thigh, under her skirt, until it was nestled in the damp crux of her thighs.
She jumped, startled. “Sir, what-!”
"Shhh. ‘Tis my duty to soothe ye after yer ordeal, and this is the best way I know. " He started to rub her, making her gasp. It did feel good, better than when she did it for herself, and she had no idea whether it was because he was doing it or because it contrasted so sharply with the pain of the spanking.
He ran his fingertip down the crease of her nook, gently prising it open, and she was surprised to learn that she was already wet, her juices trickling out as he spread her. He pushed a finger into her, a thick, long (thankfully ringless) finger, one that was solid and sure, that curved against her soft inner flesh like it was made to please her. He started moving, smoothly exploring her slick walls, while he brought his other hand to her clitoris and squeezed it between thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them as though he was appraising an exquisite, fragile pearl. She arched into him, moaning hoarsely. He thrust another finger into her and flickered them back and forth, hard and fast, filling her with carnal delight until she screamed, shuddered and fell limp in his arms.
Out came a fresh handkerchief, and Dualscar wiped her and then his fingers dry. He picked her up and set her on her feet, holding her steady until her daze had dissipated enough that she was able to control her trembling legs and restore her garterbelt and panties.
Dualscar led her to the door. “Take the morrow off, Miss Peixes. Ye’ll need to recover.” He pulled open the door, pushed her out into the hall with a tender pat on the butt and continued: “Oh, and many of my maids feel the need to have their discipline reinforced. If ye should feel the same, I’d appreciate it if ye came straight to me rather than breaking anything else. Good morning, Miss Peixes.”
The door clicked shut. Feferi stood in the hallway for a moment, not entirely sure whether what had just happened was real. She headed back to the servant’s quarters, swinging by the kitchen for a bag of ice. In her room, she sat on it, sighing in relief. Her bottom still hurt, but somehow it all seemed worth it.
Dave was drinking a glass of water when the first message arrived. JADE, his phone said. He took a sip, opened the message and almost choked when he saw the attachment.
It was Jade alright. She was sitting on a sofa with Rose, who had her arm stretched out in front of her in the standard selfie pose. What made the photo splutter-worthy was the fact that her other hand was holding up Jade’s shirt, exposing pert, tan-lined breasts tipped with light brown nipples. Jade had her index and middle fingers up to her mouth in a V shape, her tongue protruding through them.
'I moved in with her!' the tagline explained.
The next message came a few days later, from Rose. The attached photos were full body shots of Jade in lingerie and a variety of suggestive poses, save for the last one which featured her completely nude, standing straight up with her arms behind her back, chest thrust out and legs slightly parted. Dave stared at it for a moment before he took his phone into the bathroom, where he stayed far longer than he should have.
Careful inquiries revealed John, Tavros and basically anyone who might have been interested in Jade had gotten copies of the photos. Dave had always known she was something of an exhibitionist, but she’d never gone this far before.
The pics came thick and fast over the next few days, and Dave’s visits to the bathroom grew more regular as the lingerie became skimpier and the poses more explicit. One image showed Jade squeezing her breasts together, another with her hand on her panty-clad crotch: not doing anything, just resting there, but then the following day’s picture had her teasing a crease into her underwear, a wet spot clearly visible on the stripy green fabric.
She obviously had no intention of stopping there, and did away with clothes entirely for the shots after that. They took a turn for the lewd, with much emphasis on her lower body: Jade bending over, hands flat against the wall, peering over her shoulder with a cheeky grin. Jade flat on her back, legs in the air, her hands linked beneath her knees while her pussy glistened with the evidence of her arousal. Jade slurping on a saliva-coated dildo shaped like a dog’s cock (‘My favourite toy.’) Rose appeared in the last instance of this loose set, kneeling down next to her new roomie, who was on all fours and facing away from camera, using two fingers to spread her lips wide open.
'I can hardly wait to show you what I've been doing to it,' said Rose's message. Dave was taking his phone into the bathroom many times a day now, sitting on the toilet with his thumb on the screen, flicking through all the pictures until he reached the last one, which he looked at for minutes on end, staring at the pink and the wet between Jade's thighs.
Just as clothed poses became nude poses, nude poses became lewd acts. Rose was true to her word and sent an endless stream of Jade putting or having things put deep into her hungry cunt: fingers, toys, bottle necks, pens, even, very daringly, the handle of a tennis racquet. Anything she got her hands on seemed to be fair game. Rose wasn’t shy about appearing in the pictures either, and they frequently featured her teasing Jade with fingers, tongue and on one occasion the dog prick dildo. They must have invested in a tripod, or possibly even a third person to hold the camera.
The roommates turned even more salacious and daring, and videos of their acts started to crop up. Dave got a link to a video sharing site - a public one no less - that showed him footage of Jade sprawled in an office chair, her legs duct taped to the armrests, her hands free to masturbate herself into a frenzy, which she did for ten minutes of shaky cell phone footage. Hers wasn’t the only voice on the soundtrack; someone who sounded a lot like Rose was gasping and moaning behind the camera.
The second movie saw Jade cuffed hand and foot to the bedframe, face down on the mattress while Rose paddled her arse red raw. She screamed and sobbed, but begged for more the whole while. Rose finished up by strapping on a strap-on and pounding Jade insensible, thighs rippling, sweat pooling in the small of her back, slamming against Jade’s tenderised bottom until they were both a pair of dripping satisfied messes, with Rose slumped over Jade’s back and Jade panting into a pillow.
The third was a bunch of clips edited together, all of them featuring Jade exposing herself in public in some way. She masturbated in an alley, then leaned against the wall with her pants around her ankles, trying to contain her whimpers as Rose pushed her towards climax. She filmed herself inserting a buttplug in a filthy public toilet, covering it with a skirt so short the slightest upward movement threatened to expose it. There was a brief shot of her standing on the mezzanine gallery of a mall, flashing her breasts across the crowded concourse while (presumably) Rose filmed it from below. Another of her in a long coat, walking down the street in seriously cheap-looking heels. Rose took frequent upskirts to reveal that she was wearing nothing but a rope harness. They swung by a clothes shop and ducked into the changing rooms, where in the full-length mirror Rose attached clamps to her nipples, taped a vibrating bullet to her clit and replaced the coat, leading her back out onto the street squirming and squeezing her thighs together.
The pictures and videos arrived on Dave’s phone and at his computer in dribs and drabs over the next few months, some the similar to the ones that came before, others that pushed the boundaries. Jade nose deep in Rose’s crotch, peering up at her with eyes as green as Dave’s jealousy. Jade suspended in leather straps, covered in welts while Rose raised her whip for another blow. Jade in the shower, the tub, her bed, alone or with Rose, masturbating or not, tied or free. There was the one that almost made Dave’s heart stop: Jade sucking a cock, her fingers wrapped around two others (‘She made some new friends’), and the followup, Jade’s grinning face, her glasses, nose, cheeks and lips covered in cum, with yet more of it dribbling down her neck into her cleavage.
They slowed down after that, and Dave and his fellow recipients missed them, for all that they inspired insane amounts of envy. Then the last picture arrived, inside a gift box delivered straight to Dave’s door. Opening it, he found a square something wrapped in a pair of panties. It was a polaroid, one of Jade kneeling by Rose, who rested a proprietorial hand on her head. She was wearing a grotesque parody of bridal wear: lacy white panties with the crotch cut out, a garter belt and white silk stockings, a shelf bra that supported her boobs while leaving them completely exposed. Her nipples were transfixed by silver D-ring piercings, linked together with a slender chain. The traditional bridal veil adorned her hair, and, most importantly of all, she had a black leather collar locked around her neck. A dog tag dangled from the front. The only thing inscribed upon it was a single letter. A curlicued R.
There was a message written in lipstick on the back. ‘Hers forever,’ it said.
Something else nestled in the bottom of the box. Dave pulled it out and read it.
'You are cordially invited to the wedding of Jade Harley and Rose Lalonde.'
Dave laid the invite down with a shaking hand and stared at the wall for a long while. There was no question of not going, of course. Jade and Rose were still his friends, no matter how much they tormented him. Besides, the invite said that the reception was adults only. And that Jade would be providing the entertainment.
The spider strode imperiously across the desert, eight spindly legs skimming over the sand. The sun blazed down, turning the land into a furnace. The air puffed in and out of her spiracle, and she hid in the shadow of rocks whenever she could, but she could feel the heat building up to dangerous levels beneath her furry carapace. Her human torso dripped with sweat, her hair was plastered to her scalp. She knew she shouldn’t have left her last shelter so soon, but the prey in her territory was thinning and she needed new hunting ground. She crested a dune and, in the distance, shimmering in the hazy air, saw a tall escarpment of red rock. A cliff might have caves, or at least crevices where she could hide herself until the evening. She made towards it, and within half an hour, she arrived.
Sure enough, there was a cave, a dark cool hollow carved by a long since vanished waterway. The spider ducked inside, instantly feeling the heat radiate away from her body. There were even puddles of water condensed from the air in the deeper reaches. Perfection. If the spider hadn’t been migrating, she’d have made the cavern her new home.
There was a problem, however. Instinct made the spider scan the cave, sniffing the air and peering into every corner. And at the far end, she saw it: something tall and bipedal. A human? The spider salivated at the thought. But then it stepped into the light, and the spider saw that its limbs were covered in brown chitin, its arms terminated in wicked-looking pincers and a stinging tail curved menacingly over its head. A scorpion, and she spoke, albeit tersely.
"Interloper! Out! Out!"
The spider crouched, readying herself for an attack, but tried diplomacy. “I only want to shelter here. I’ll be gone before nightfall.”
The scorpion wasn’t the diplomatic type. She shrieked and rushed at the spider, pincers clacking. They collided, and the fight was short and swift. The scorpion whipped her tail around and stabbed the spider in her abdomen, just as the spider sank her fangs into the scorpion’s shoulder. They fell apart, panting and reeling from the effects of their respective venoms, and glared balefully at each other. The spider tried to stand, but her legs tangled beneath her and she collapsed to the ground. Groaning, the scorpion stumbled against a rock and leaned against it.
They both passed out while their livers took care of the toxins, cracking the complex and deadly proteins into something simpler and less so. By different routes but the same general processes, both of them ended up with similar chemicals swimming in their hemolymph. They awoke feeling…different.
"Feel hot," was the scorpion’s complaint. She got to her feet, and the spider noticed something trickling down her armoured thighs. She felt the same way, though it wasn’t the heat of the desert. This heat tingled and tantalised, and made her look at the scorpion with different eyes. That milky skin, those bountiful breasts and rose-pink nipples… the spider reached down to where her torso met her abdomen and rubbed at her slit. It was wet and puffy, and touching it sent a shivery thrill through her. She delved deep into herself, spreading her pussy with her fingers, drawing them out coated with her slickness. She licked them off and thoughtfully watched the scorpion.
She was having difficulties. Fearsome weapons though they were, her pincers were far from ideal when it came to inflicting pleasure rather than pain. She held one tightly closed between her legs, and for all her impassioned grinding it was clear she wasn’t getting much out of it. Her vagina smeared it’s juices all over the smooth surface, slipping, sliding and generating no friction to speak of. She groaned in frustration, squeezing her nipples as gently as she could with her other claw.
Something touched her face, something warm and musky. She opened her eyes and saw that the spider had pressed her bulk up against her and her pussy against her mouth. She hissed, turning her head away, but the spider backed her into the wall and raised her foreleg, pushing it between the scorpion’s claw and her quim. The rougher texture of the spider’s leg made the scorpion’s knees weak, and she clutched the spider’s body and frantically humped this new source of pleasure.
The spider thrust her crotch forward again, and this time the scorpion gladly opened her mouth and sucked at those thick, juicy lips. The spider moaned, pushing even further forward, and the scorpion had to hurriedly drop her tail to avoid stinging the back of her own head. She drove her tongue deep into the spider’s snatch, drawing out a torrent of intoxicating nectar, and lapped at her new partner’s swelling bud, peeling back its hood to slurp at the succulent flesh beneath.
The pair of them tumbled into each other, the spider rolling onto her back, cocooning the scorpion in her legs. They screamed together, human ululations mixed with strange arachnid squeaks and chitters. They writhed together, the spider stroking the scorpion’s back, the scorpion burying herself in the spider’s underbelly. And they came together, their wails echoing from the cave mouth, their bodies convulsing in ecstasy, the scorpion’s tail flicking wildly through the air.
They fell apart, and scuttled into opposite corners of the cave to rest. They watched each other warily, their suspicions ebbing even as the aphrodisiacs decayed into random chemicals.
The scorpion grunted. “No food here.”
"I know," the spider said. "I’m moving on. I never wanted to take your cave."
"I come."
"Yes, you did, didn’t you."
"No, I come with."
"Oh? Really?"
The scorpion nodded, her stinger bobbing in time with her head.
"Alright then. A traveling companion would be nice. And I’m sure we could make use of each other."
"Again."
"Quite so."
"Jaaaaaaney, look what I alchemitised last night!"
Jane didn’t turn round, and neither did she query where Roxy had sprung from. There were some questions you didn’t ask Roxy, like ‘Why do you stink of coconut rum?’ and ‘What are you doing in my house?’
She asked another instead. “What is it, Rox?”
"Look, look!"
Jane turned. Jane looked. Jane reeled back, her hand on her chest.
"Jeez Roxy, what the heck is that!?"
"Isn’t it neat?" Roxy said, poking it. "I was punching random cards into the alchemiter last night, and it made this. I just kind of put it, you know, there, and it stuck on and it totally works like the real thing!"
What Roxy had was a cock. A genuine flesh and blood cock, neatly fused to her pussy in place of her clit as though she’d been born with it. She’d seen fit to introduce Jane to this new appendage by lifting her skirt and letting her get a full, unannounced eyeful of it dangling between her legs.
"Put that thing away," Jane said, scowling.
"Aww, don’t you want to try it out first?" Roxy coiled her fingers around her new dick and slowly pumped it. She apparently had some fairly dirty thoughts in mind, because it twitched in her hand and started to harden, straightening and swelling, to Jade’s eyes, a gargantuan size.
Jane’s expression returned to it’s more cheerful norm as curiosity overcame propriety. “It does look kind of neat.” She came over and ran soft fingertips over it, making Roxy murmur like a satisfied cat and shimmy closer. The way Jane touched her fired up her always-overcharged libido even further, and she grabbed her arse, kissed her neck and said:
"Wanna take it for a real ride?"
Jane couldn’t have been more unsure, but holding a hot cock in her hand was stirring certain feelings in her own loins. “It has been a while…”
"That’s the spirit! C’mon, Janey!" Roxy grabbed her by the hand and dragged her through to the bedroom. They stripped off, Roxy with immense and somewhat terrifying glee, Jane with more care, and embraced. Roxy’s hands roved over Jane’s curvy form, while Jane ground on her cock until she was flushed and panting.
"Roxy," she said, gasping. "I want it."
Roxy grinned, turned her around and bent her over the edge of the bed. Jane felt Roxy’s hands kneading her arse, then yelped as something cold and wet trickled down her crack.
"Argh! What is that stuff!?"
"Lube."
"Lube!? Stop that!"
"You won’t want me screwing your ass without it."
"Hey! No, noyeeeeeeeeek!"
The head of Roxy’s cock slipped past Jane’s ring, followed by the rest of it in short order. She whimpered and tried to wriggle away, but a firm, if gentle hand on the back of her head put a stop to that. Roxy pumped her hips a couple more times, testing her position and the tightness of Jane’s hole, then settled in to a smooth rhythm. The pain of the initial penetration faded, replaced by the sensation of warmth and fullness.
"How you doing, Janey?" Roxy asked between thrusts.
"It’s starting to feel good."
"Yeah, you love it you sult."
"Sult?"
"Uh, slut."
Jane frowned. “Hey, that’s hurtful.”
"How about this?" Roxy pushed her fingers into Jane’s dripping slit and used the force of her thighs slapping against Jane’s bottom to drive them ever deeper. She could feel her own digits through the thin wall between pussy and rectum, squeezing her cock tighter, while the muscles of her friend’s innards twitched in time with the pleasure rippling through her. Roxy came, cock spurting ropes of pearly fluid, depositing two loads in Jane’s arse before she pulled out and covered her back in the rest. Without missing a beat, she rolled Jane over, crawled on top of her and flickered her fingers. Jane screamed, clutching at Roxy’s hand, and bucked wildly as ecstasy overthrew her control over her limbs.
Presently, as she lay staring up at the ceiling, cum leaking from her arsehole and Roxy lying at her side, Jane spoke:
"Wow, Rox. You sure cream-filled my donut."
"Mmmhmm."
"Frosted my buns."
"Yup."
"Iced my cake."
"Do you think of anything other than sweets, Janey?"
Jane ran her hand down Roxy’s body, clutched her cock and squeezed. “Fuck me like that again and maybe I will.”
With a whoop from her and a squeal from Jane, Roxy threw herself over her friend and got stuck straight back in.
Antimony didn’t know how much more she could stand. Ever since Kat had moved into her room she hadn’t had a moment to herself. She had urges, and she needed her moments to herself to take care of them. Lying in bed, tossing and turning, her loins aching and her mind full of fevered visions, she was desperate to reach under the covers and rub herself to a sweaty climax. But as her hand crept down her body and hitched up her nightgown, she looked over at the other bed and saw Kat on her side, sleeping peacefully. Like the angel she was, Annie thought, smiling. She sighed, let her hand drop and pulled the duvet up around her shoulders.
The idea of touching herself continued to torment Annie. The sounds of sessions past rang in her ears: the surreptitious shuffling of bedclothes and nightwear, the slishing of wet flesh, Kat’s quiet, breathy moans…
Kat’s moans?
"Kat?" Annie said. Her roommate fell into the awkward silence of someone who had been sure that the other person was asleep.
"Um, yeah Annie?"
"What were you just doing?"
"N-nothing." Kat was glad she was turned away from Annie. Tomatoes weren’t anywhere near as red as her.
"You were touching yourself, weren’t you?"
Kat sighed. “You could tell?”
"Yes. And to be quite honest, I’m glad. I’ve been wanting to for a while now, but you were always here."
"Oh!" Kat brightened and rolled over to face her friend. "Well that’s fine by me. We’re both girls, right? You don’t mind if I…?"
"Thank you, Kat. And no, I don’t mind."
Annie laid back and let her hand rove down to her privates. She made a few cursory movements, the kind that were usually the impetus towards a blissful session of sticky self-gratification. But now she knew that Kat didn’t have a problem hearing it, she just couldn’t seem to get in the mood. Bolder steps were needed.
"Could - could you tell me what you’re doing right now?" she said, a couple beads of sweat running down her neck.
"Huh?"
"Please."
"Umm, okay. Well, I’m just kind of rubbing myself through my knickers right now."
Annie wasn’t wearing any, but her nightdress worked just as well. She moulded its fabric to her mound, outlining her curves and creases in soft cotton, working it into her slit until the first traces of her dew spread a stain across it. She tickled her clit, and her gown and her hood dulled her touch to a slight tingle, a prelude that whet her appetite and wet her pussy for the pleasures to come.
"Now I’ve got my hand down them - I’m putting my finger on my button."
Annie giggled. “You call it a button?”
"Well what do you call it?"
"A clitoris, of course."
Button or clitoris, touching it felt like heaven. With one delicate fingertip, Annie glided its hood up and down, alternately exposing it to the cool air and enfolding it in warm flesh. She was daring enough to rub her bare clit, and the shock it sent through her made her gasp and writhe.
"N-now I’m putting a finger innnn…ahhhh, oh God, Annie, why does telling you all this feel so good?"
"I - Mmm - I don’t know," Annie said, lifting the hem of her gown and slipping her index finger into herself just as Kat suggested, all the way up to her knuckle. Her vagina constricted around it, hungry for more, and she obliged it, thrusting in a second and spreading them apart, stretching out her walls. She turned to look at Kat, who was flat on her back, her t-shirt hiked up and a hand on her breast, mouth open and shoulder rolling over and over.
"Curl your fingers," she said, panting. "It feels incredible."
Annie did, and joined Kat in moaning her lungs out. They kept peering over at each other, matching their speed, their intensity, and so Kat came mere seconds before Annie, screaming, arching, nipple pinched between forefinger. Annie worked to suppress her cries, paradoxically intensifying her pleasure; her hand went over her mouth and she shook as her orgasm raced through her, seeking it’s exit in the motion of her body and the sound of her voice.
Both of them slumped, withdrew dripping fingers and wiped them off. They looked sheepishly at each other, smiling at their glowing cheeks and bestraggled hair.
"Annie," Kat said, "you don’t need to ask the next time you do that. This is your room too."
"Thank you. But can I still ask you for tips?"
"Sure!" Kat grinned a wicked grin. "Maybe if we can get the showers to ourselves, I can show you what I do in there."
She’d counted at first, Rose had, counted John’s strokes, counted the powerful, pistoning thrusts he pressed on her, so eager to tabulate, analyse, appraise, but she’d fallen by the wayside halfway to her first orgasm, and now she didn’t know what she was doing, just moaning, screaming, revelling in her womanhood, legs on his shoulders cock spearing the very core of her over and over and she was howling for more he bent over kissed her on glossy black painted lips then her neck then he whispered:
“Here’s number two.”
and she came, convulsing, falling back, shouting out his name.