The Week of the Comet Ch. 04

THE WEEK OF THE COMET

or How I Became Teratosexual

*

Chapter IV

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Bravely I ran out of sight and the bravado dissolved into the pitch blackness I found there.

A few strides behind me, the square of light of the doorframe. Before me, some hundred yards below, a vague oval of hazier darkness. It was a pretty damn long shaft, dug into the rock, and the slop was unforgiving. No handrails, no lights. Couldn't see my feet.

I know this descent had some kind of symbolic value, like a leap of faith into the unknown, but I took my phone and turned the torch on. Sorry but I ain't spraining an ankle just cause you've read Joseph Campbell.

There were no surprises, though. No collapsing floor, no booby traps, no rolling boulders, nothing to slip on but my own sweat. It was just exhausting. But less than when I'll climb it back up.

For a moment I thought I was gonna regret not wearing clothes but the temperature actually rose as I went down. A dry heat, the kind not even the movements of your limbs can ruffle, and which made itself very clear once down the stairs when I passed under a carved arch and found myself in a cave where breathed air was a warm touch in your lungs.

But what I saw took my breath away.

A dome two hundred yards in diameter, easy, and so high my torch couldn't reach the top. But I didn't need my torch, that's the thing. This barren cave was teeming with life. The slime creatures were all there, hanging out, groups, loners, busy bees, some were sticking to the walls like flies, and they were glowing like neon lights. The whole place was illuminated.

Some of them noticed my presence, and excited to see me among them, they gathered into a welcoming crowd as I stepped in and my nude body suddenly was black and red. A few paces further and it was black and lime green. Countless slimes, countless colors creating these orbs of saturated hue as bathing as the heat.

"Hey guys, I... um..."

Didn't really know what to say. Didn't really know what I was doing here. What I was supposed to do.

I looked around at the weirdness of the place and situation.

As far as my sense of space went, the place, which I would eventually call the hub, was a perfect circle. Yet the shape didn't seem to have been made by hand. Couldn't see any decorations either. It was a natural cave into igneous rock; but interspersed along the circumference were openings. A dozen. Some were natural galleries, some man-made doorways, all leading into pure darkness.

It was exciting, uh? Just from there my mind was already racing. Did all the Basalt temples have secret underground tunnels? They were supposed to be simple, humble people; that stairway was a pharaonic job. It didn't add up. Or did they build a temple over it only to pretend they were Basalt cultists to protect their find?

Whatever this find was. The creatures? Did they worship them?

Are they guarding a treasure?

Or are they the treasure to be guarded?

I didn't know the first thing about the Basalt religion. Didn't even know whether they called themselves that, or archeologists had coined the name.

Anyway, the important word here was treasure. And semen. And super cool super secret lair with cyberpunk lights, and doors aligned there to be explored. Everything was so convenient. Some kind of mindless euphoria took me suddenly, having crossed the curtain of reality into mystery. And since I didn't know where to begin, I did some shit.

The part of the hub I couldn't see was the ceiling, as none of the creatures would crawl higher than a few feet, and my brilliant idea was to shout and wait for the echo, like I was a fucking bat or something.

Normally I would have balked, because of that legend that it could make stalactites fall down and kill you. Is that even a legend? Well, I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted.

"DALLAS SUUUCKS!"

And it was thus confirmed. Echoey. Huge. So high it probably reached the surface layer. But I didn't make the dome collapse, no one got impaled by a stalactite, instead I got struck down, caught in the middle of my shit-eating grin, struck down by a response. A shout back. Like a tidal wave of some giant Hindu 'om', deep, sustained and extremely loud, which swept me to my knees, arms covering my head.

You ever heard the pipe organ in a cathedral? You ever heard blue whales? You notice how I'm comparing it to sounds so powerful and so beautiful we have a tendency to associate them with the sacred?

And you've probably noticed how I try to maintain some suspense around what I knew then and what I know now. Well, to this day I still don't know where this sound came from.

It was too monumental to be an æsyrja. Maybe fifty of them? I don't know. Honestly I don't wanna think about it.

As suddenly as I had been tackled by sound waves and cold sweat, I found myself back in the atmosphere of silence and heat, and red, green, blue light. The little gals were still coming to me, joyful, curious and disorderly, unbothered that Big Daddy Slime had done a soundcheck from the depths.

Me, I was not so cheeky anymore. I received their fanfare without uttering a word. Heck, I would never as much as fart inside this freaking cave.

As I eventually decided to stumble forward through the quiet fuss there was eventually a discernible sound. A movement actually, a clear, organized line, separating from the crowd that was gathering around me. It was a group of baby slimes and their respective "moms" heading to a doorway on my left. From behind the rocks blocking the threshold I could hear the cute, lively sounds of a nursery. I could have gone and have a peek, say hi to Gary, but I knew that if I'd only just tried to go near this room they'd rip my head off and go about their day.

So I went on with my tour, feeling like a float at a Thanksgiving parade. I set out for the center of the dome, afraid that the openings were off-limits. And also because I had spotted something there. You see, there was nothing in the hub, no draft, no water dripping, no ores in the walls, and definitely no signs of past human activity besides the carved doorframes. But. At the center I found four perfect rectangular slots in the ground. Two-by-six, twenty-inch-deep, forming like a truncated X.

Now these were definitely man-made. And a totally different technique than the one they had used for tunneling the stairway. Much more advanced. We knew they had rock-cutting lasers around the time before Butler but how could these people have afforded one?

And fuckin' why do they look like empty graves?

I stood inside the X and looked around me. Just a flat expanse with a clean bedrock floor, I mean no mold, no algae, no sharp edges. In other circumstances I would have taken my shoes off because I was sweating in my socks.

But I had no idea what I could and couldn't do. Or rather, I didn't know the protocol to get to the moment where I would have my dick sucked. Was I even here to get my dick sucked? Or loot their treasure? Or have a drink with four mummies.

I looked at the concentric circles of blobs, of which I was the awkward centerpoint. I tried to gesture something like 'Am I supposed to go somewhere specifically?' which looked pretty much like ¯(°_o)/¯

Shieeet, the software can do ASCII?!

Big Pinkie bumped my ankle.

"Ouch, what th--" I bit my lips in fear of another sonic retaliation.

She started biting my shoes like a dog. Without growling, but repeatedly, with a very expectant demeanor. So I got the message.

Again I could only gesture. 'What is it with you guys wanting me butt naked like that?'

Not that I minded. I enjoyed being the nudist adventurer, with my backpack and my shoes, it looked so goofy it was actually hot, but I could never refuse anyone asking me to strip.

There was something ceremonial about my nudity, I got that, just like with the æsyrjur. And whatever the purpose... Well, I didn't need any purpose. Naked is the default character design for me.

I squatted down and before untying my shoes I put my glasses in their case. I was myopic, so in a dark cave it wouldn't hinder me much.

I left my backpack in one of the sarcophagi. They didn't seem to mind. Kinda reassuring, I guess. Don't want a curse on my ass.

Then I stood back up, bare soles on hot ground, and realized I was surrounded by people who had explicitly asked for me to be naked.

My ego made a rough estimate. One hundred and fifty.

I had been in front of more people than that before (last summer, World Naked Bike Ride in London), I had been in a sex orgy before (a story for another time), but this was different. Hundreds of individuals were thinking my nudity right now, my body. Mine and only mine.

And usually, my exhibitionist mind in a fairly hot body was spectator of my spectators. But right now, under those circumstances, I couldn't be. I was down there with them. I was looking at my body, with them. Because the moment was about it, not about me.

And it wasn't about the size of my tits either, or the aesthetic of my dick. It was about what my body represented. And this I had to offer to them.

Yeah, it was different. New.

I got aroused.

Not erect. Just this gut sway, stuck between fear and discomfort and anticipation.

I turned around slowly, so they could all see me. Like an object.

Like a sacrif--

Fuck.

Shit.

They had tested me, lured me here, taken the children to bed, and now I was standing in the middle of tombs.

Like a sacrifice but like, symbolically, right? Not for real. Haha. Because, I mean, sure it's a lot of ceremony for a blowjob, but just ritualistic silliness, like rush week or something. Right?

The slimes in front of me parted to form an alley leading to one of the apertures at the far end of the hub. With their glow it looked like an airport runway at night.

Shit.

Fuck.

I was about to really walk that thin line now. You know, the one where danger turns me on.

I walked. And I tried to make a little sense of all this.

They wanted something from me. Something important. So important they had shaped a ceremonial to receive it as a group. They could become a group around this ceremonial. Around this something made symbolic.

Now what was this thing? What did they worship? My semen as food? Or else it was as... means of reproduction? In what kind of freak timeline could a human impregnate another species?

The door they had chosen for me was a natural hole in the wall, a narrow passageway. I had to climb, and then crawl on my hands and knees to then end up in a small cave. A few slimes were already there waiting for me, that's how I could see. I'd say it was as spacious as a living-room. A rotund chamber no higher than twice my own size. And I noticed two things right away: the soft earth floor, almost like a mattress; and, right at the center, a fountain. Some noise, finally. Clatter. Clear clean water falling from a crevice in the ceiling and down into a small, ankle-deep pond. Pinkie divebombed into it to show me it was safe.

"Yes!" I whispered, and cringed, expecting Mega-Goo to shout back at me.

Without hesitation I put my head under the shower.

"Yes!" This time louder. It felt sooo good in this steamroom.

In the back of my mind I knew I could be loud in this room. Because in the back of my mind I knew they had brought me here to cum.

I rinsed the sweat and the grime from my body. I slicked my hair back, so now instead of looking like Kramer I looked le femme fatale. Just kidding. I sat down to give my feet a good scrub, between the toes and all that. I rubbed my taint just to massage my prostate, still a little heavy from earlier. Then I thought I could wash under my foreskin too so I pulled it back and doing so I couldn't help but take a look at my peehole.

There was this nice burning sensation in my urethral canal, simultaneously harsh and comfortable like it was still gaping. The slit was still puffy, sure, but it had tightened back to normal. It was a very satisfying feeling, with some twisted foreshadowing in it: I had a new hole in my body now, and I couldn't wait to use it. To give it to someone. That someone would be me: I'm buying sounding rods as soon as I'm home.

I raised my gaze back and remembered I had an audience. The slimes, the "bachelors" (as opposed to the "moms") had entered, gathered, piled up into a semicircle in front of me, wall-to-wall and up the walls.

Aaand and and... nothing happened.

There was this long, awkward silence.

The chamber was almost as bright as day.

I had ritually bared myself, cleansed myself, but now... apparently they were waiting for me to do all the work.

So, like, the opposite of the æsyrjur.

I didn't speak. I could but I didn't. I couldn't simply ask them if they wanted some cum. I had to make a ritual up as I went along. And... I didn't know how to do that because... It meant to assume what they wanted from me. And what I wanted. It meant to guide them. To care for them in some very specific way.

I stepped out of the pond and stood there, slouching and fretful.

And I said, "You know, I was raised a Roman Catholic, I have nothing to do with the Basalt religion."

Yeah... Self-guilt and trigger warnings. Two years of college rubs off on you, I guess.

It got no reaction. Like I had spoken a foreign language.

I had to find something more... less...

I straightened my back and said:

"My name is Ester."

The response was a coordinated hop, like a crowd wave, from the front line toward the back. Four in a row, actually. It made this soft swish like the sound of one hundred and fifty people shifting in their seats.

"I come from very far away, on another continent. And..."

Enough words for now. I corrected my posture, arms hanging by my sides.

And then, strong on my legs, solemn in my eyes, I willed myself to a full erection.

It took less than thirty seconds. Very tense, not boring. I remember it as a beautiful moment. Like watching a flower bloom.

I went half-mast solely from flexing my kegels. Then I started flexing my shaft to draw the blood all the way up.

They were watching me. I was watching me too. I was still with them. Separate from my own body. So that I could really, truly give it.

The last clenches were to make the head swell.

I looked over, at them all, proud and apprehensive. I was hard as fuck, immovable, veiny. The kind of hard that's supposed to be only a second-long throb.

I pulled the foreskin back. Saved it for last. I love how this makes you even more naked, in some way.

This formidable erection got another round of four waves.

Now I had to invent another step of the ritual.

All or nothing.

I squatted down.

"I'm a futanari," I began.

I placed one of my heels against my taint. With slow and inconspicuous motions and pressure, I kneaded my prostate through my flesh. It was not unlike squeezing a lemon and just as I said, "And I bring you this," precum trickled down the tip of my penis. Some men ejaculate less semen than the quantity of pre that leaked out of me, down between my knees, onto the ground, before their eyes.

"Big Pinkie," I called.

She came forward, to halt at the spill.

She slurped it up. I whispered to her, "Are they all like you?" but she wouldn't answer. And she retreated back into the mass.

I had to go on. At the risk of going awry.

I wrapped my hand around my shaft and started masturbating. Slowly, to show, to break down the movement.

No sound, no shudders, no facial expression betrayed the heat coursing through me. I was here for them, with them. I focused on my task. If it's cum they wanted I was the best for that. Sure, I hadn't been chosen, I had just happened to be there, so I was going to show them I was the best for that.

Perks of being a futa is (unless I'm overwhelmingly horny) I have control over my stamina. I can choose to last longer than a porn actor (that's why your mom likes me so much), or I can make myself cum in under thirty seconds.

So twenty-eight seconds later I announced:

"I am going to cum."

Voice impassive. Only in appearance.

I pointed my penis downward and ejaculated.

Straight-faced. Not a sound escaped my mouth.

After the monster load the æsyrjur had tickled out of me, I thought I would only squirt a few drops.

Nope.

*spurt* *spurt* *spurt* *spurt* *spurt*...

Boy, did I feel like a submissive little whore.

Like a cum dispenser.

Like a toy.

But I also did not. Because I was watching it with them. And because it was a crucial moment, the last one before the fork to mysterious right or catastrophic wrong.

Once I was done--almost a pint, so you can imagine it took some time--Pinkie appeared and ate my offering under the stares of the others.

And then, one by one, they gazed into her. The semen travelling inside. Cream in a beam of magenta.

"I'm a futanari," I said. "What I bring is infinite. My sperm cell production is so relentless I unload in my sleep if I don't cum at least twice a day. I have no refractory period. If I could, I would stay naked for the rest of my life. I can maintain an erection for thirty-five hours. And if you want it, it is yours."

These were my personal stats. Believe me, they're rookie numbers.

They all turned toward me.

"If you want me, I am yours."

I reached out and took Big Pinkie in my hands, gently, and in one agile glide I penetrated her to the hilt.

This time I couldn't help it, I let out a hum of lewd relief.

And then, without any hurry, like yet another demonstration, I made love to her mouth.

I wasn't going for thirty seconds this time. I went on all fours, and made it last. My tits hanging, my balls swinging, and my holes exposed, cause the creatures were surrounding us now. I did it unconsciously--back then I had no clue whether they'd be interested--but I definitely flaunted what I got. I wanted them to see I wasn't just a cock, I was also a set of holes.

Pulling back, sticking my ass out, my pussylips suddenly parted with a nice squishy sound. Fuck, I love having such a slutty cunt. But I was ignored, their whole attention on my penis. It's alright, I kept a straight face and started cumming into Pinkie's mouth.

And I told myself how lucky I was to be an exhibitionist, cause no one in their right mind could stay impassive busting a nut down a slime's throat. It was so fucking incredibly good. My arms and my legs wobbled. But I knew the solemnity of the moment. And so I had to use my lust for being objectified. Nothing more objectifying than an expressionless orgasm.

I looked around, looked at them. And I said the thing climactic pleasure had just made me understand:

"This is my treasure."

Ok, sounds corny but I was cumming my brains out.

And anyway they did their four little waves in response.

I didn't stop sliding back and forth until I was done. Only then I pulled my cock out, still perfectly hard.

I saw my skin dry despite the lubrication. I saw my load floating inside Pinkie. She pranced about, everyone's attention on her now.

And then I gotta admit I was out of ideas. For all I knew the ritual was over, I had given the thing hidden in me, I had become one with them through my body. Through my semen, to be accurate.

I was starting to stutter something, when, without a sound, without a breath, Pinkie contracted over herself, crumpled, if that makes sense, and a sprinkle sprayed everyone around. I was startled and would have been grossed out if not for recognizing the taste of my own jizz.

A whole load of it, still warm and fresh, now misting across the chamber.

And the slimes reacted. The four waves this time turned into a mosh pit.

And then, standing there like an idiot, licking my lips, a nasty realization punched across, from the top of my head down to my butthole.

They gathered around and made me do one last genuflection. I had my answer, deafening, when two and then three, five, nine mouths sandwiched my cock.

They split into two groups, double-BJ on the head, the other seven kissing the shaft. I whimpered. I shuddered.

Slimes surrounded my crotch, some climbing on my thighs. I looked around, at them, this time a gibbering mess, not yet totally realizing what was happening. Only that they actually all knew how to suck dick.

They knew like they had invented it.

I leaned back, propped myself up on my hands and then lost count of how many mouths pleasured me.

One of them made its way between my thighs and I felt my nuts getting plunged into warm syrup. It startled me, I had to look.

A few slimes fell off my lap as I tilted. The blowjob slowed to a stop.

A purple slime had swallowed my entire ballsack.

Now, I had my testicles sucked on before, but only one at a time. Both would be uncomfortable; your mouth is not a subway entrance and mind the teeth, please.

Here my scrotum was encased in pressurized goo. And it felt amazing. So close to actual pain and just so fucking amazing.

I rose to my knees. All the other slimes fell off. Big Plum stuck to my balls, her weight pulling them down.

"It feels so good!" I panted.

I looked at myself being used. What did I do in a previous life to get a free pass for porn heaven? They were the perfect sextoys for me. I was the perfect sextoy to them. And surely there would be no backlash, right? I wasn't invoking a demon or anything like that by having some kind of silly semi-improvised ritual with them, right?

"Fuck, I can't believe all the weird shit we're going to do together. Use me. Fuck my balls if you want. Use me however you want!"

Big Plum extended her body to envelope my dick.

The entirety of my genitals was inside flesh, stimulated in ways indescribable. She was doing all the work. All I did was throw my head back and let myself be milked from tip to root, from taint to pubic bone.

This is where I was. I wasn't in porn heaven, it was better than that.

And there you have it: it was so intense and weird I couldn't hold on. I moaned like a sissy, came like I was exploding, and yet without moving. My first orgasm for someone other than Pinkie. My fate was sealed.

Big Plum took all that I had to give and then disengaged herself from me, first my penis, and then spat out my balls like cherry pits, with a pop drowned out only by my yelp of oversensitive satisfaction.

I tried to say something, out of breath, to naively comment about the blast I just had.

But that's when I fully understood where I was.

The eight double-BJ slimes remaining were waiting.

They wanted me. This part was settled. For the rest I had only myself to blame.

I had just one thing to say. But for the first time of my life I would have to mean it.

I sat down, legs spread wide on the floor, and said:

"I'm yours."

My shadow dissolved into the neon light, the shape changed around me, twined, all around me like a distant cocoon they raised a tide. They lifted and carried me so they could suck me better. From floor to ceiling they shined over my body. Hypnotic mouths smothered my cock. Warm cushions held me, shared me. I was still too shy to reach out and caress them. I wanted to tell them to suck on my tits, my toes, my skin, to tongue my holes.

"Fuuuuuuck," I said instead.

I could feel a climax building up already. Another thing I was gonna have to let go, and mean it.

I still couldn't believe where I was. How deep I had gone.

My cum started soaring with a surrendering moan. I didn't know where my cock was, where my load would land. A bunch of five slimes, shoulder to shoulder, received it. Five cumsluts eager for their facial, while two mouths around my tip finished me expertly, ruthlessly, and aiming precisely to give everyone an equal share.

They swallowed their strings of cum, I was watching from aside, giving in to the panicked euphoria that I was here to cum, that I was to lose all control and just cum. I was only here for that. And not symbolically, but for a rough estimate of one hundred and fifty. My heartbeat, already high, bolted out of reach. Big Pinkie, although supposed to be sated, climbed onto my stomach and deepthroated me until I came. Meanwhile I did the math:

Let's say they each wanted 2 loads from me. That's 300 orgasms. Mine can last from 45 seconds to a minute and a half. Let's say 1 minute. Plus 1 minute of proper fucking between each climax. Times 300, that's already 10 hours of work.

5 minutes of fucking and we're way past the 24 hours mark.

Without breaks.

Remember the sex orgy I mentioned earlier? It went for about five hours, eighty-three participants, and Olivia and I we had a cum-off. Means we counted how many times we ejaculated.

Neither of us scored higher than twenty.

And now three hundred?

Blowbanged to death?

And even if I survive, what will I get from it?

Oh...

Now, this was the interesting question.

And the AI is having a hard time transcribing my thoughts right now, because back then I knew the answer and I didn't know the answer. I was afraid of it and I was about to embrace it.

Like hungry critters, they were closing in on me, looming. All I could do was taking big gulps of air.

Fuck, I wanted it.

Even if it killed me, I fucking wanted it. I'm a futanari, I was made for sex.

All I said was, "Ok."

A new slime took me down her throat. And there, I, Ester Belisario, I decided I would not take it. I would give it. I was a futanari for fuck's sake. I would show them how devoted I was. Devoted to my cum.

I sat up, got to my knees and started fucking her face (doggystyle, if that makes sense), my hands holding either side of her.

"Yeah, I'm gonna facefuck all of you!" I said without a shred of unkindness.

I pleasured my cock in her delicious mouth, fucked her mouth slow, hard, good, until I came.

Since they couldn't cum, as far as I knew, these orgasms were theirs. And to go even further, I hope they were actually ours.

For an hour--What do I know? Let's count from the number of orgasms instead. For ten orgasms, unless it was twelve, alternated lapses of me fucking and filling mouth after mouth, groaning and swearing, and moments of them pinning me down to the ground to suck me dry with one, two, ten pairs of lips, thirty tongues, a whole throat, till they would hear me whimper something like, "Take my cum, yes! yes! YES!" accompanied by a copious load to get my point across.

After these ten orgasms I noticed even the world around us was going into a trance. The soft floor was turning to mud from the heat and the friction. I saw my feet covered in it. My hands and forearms. Soon it would be my face, my hair, like scales of clay. It didn't seem to stick to their skin, though. I was gonna fuck and roll into mud until only my crotch was left bare and I'd become nothing more than a beast in heat, wearing earth and rage. The savagery would be total. The ritual furthered.

Three more orgasms passed on the clock. My moans became gravelly. I stroked my cock, they sucked on my balls. I came again, without looking, fell back without looking.

Their everchanging embrace was like riding a soft earthquake or an impenetrable sea. They were pressed against me, over me, sometimes underneath me, sometimes a caress, but never they showed any attention to anything else than my genitals. I could feel their skin against my tits, more than a few times inside my buttcrack, but it was only circumstantial. And I wouldn't dare caress them. My hands were holding, grabbing, gripping, supporting. My instinct was begging me to use my mouth. Just a kiss maybe. Just a lick. Maybe suck on them like a huge dick. But I was scared. What if they tasted really bad? And I mean really bad, dry-heaving bad. I didn't wanna hurt their feelings.

Fuck, I wanted to slobber on a cock so bad, though.

This was the last real thought that crossed my mind that day, while I was drinking at the fountain, lapping like a dog. We had passed orgasm #30. I think. I splashed my face, coated with mud, and also cum thanks to some considerate slimes who had granted me a few strings of self-facial. I turned back to the orgy with an idea. A grunt among my panting.

I fell to my knees before them and placed my hearty hard-on between my boobs. I squeezed them around it and jerked myself off with a grin.

The titjob demo lasted until they got the gist of it and got jealous. Two of them nudged my hands and breasts away and took position around my shaft.

They reproduced the motion perfectly.

"Mmmmh fuck yeah!"

Just like the real thing.

When I wasn't throwing my head back, moaning, drooling, I wondered whether they felt physical pleasure from this. But it was undeniable they enjoyed doing it. I didn't even have to suggest one of them stand in front of my tip; three of them did it by themselves, waited for my load like good girls.

Since they didn't have a face, they couldn't do that exactly like good girls, mouths open and tongues sticking out, so I did it for them, being a good girl myself. I did an ahegao, all throughout my orgasm. My eyes rolling to the back of my head, a string of spit dangling from my lolling tongue. And I'm pretty sure the act was not lost in translation. At that point of the story I think I already had my mind set on showing them I wanted to leave all shame behind. At least until orgasm #300. It's the amount I would need before post-nut clarity.

And for the next span of orgasms, I think they tried to thank me for being quite the creative perv, because they enwrapped my cock and balls into a cluster of slimes and stimulated me to insanity. I came like a machinegun, pushing my muscles to their limits to have the least amount of time between each load. I couldn't tell how many slimes I filled because they were crawling and jumbling together. I didn't know if I was inside or between. All I know is that I lost the ability to articulate even expletives during that. I was just grunting and panting, so fucking stoned on pleasure you couldn't tell the difference anymore between climax and... not yet climax.

I stopped thinking about sucking cock, about touching my clit, or anything. It was a celebration of my semen.

I could use a metaphor, like piranhas feasting, but I don't like the violent connotation. There was nothing negative about what we were doing. It was savage, extremely intense, close to dying, and it was beautiful.

I got very emotional cumming on and on and on like that. I was getting sore all over and especially inside my shaft and my balls because I was beginning to break all my personal records, but none of it was leaking into the sounds of raving bliss coming from my mouth. I was like a musical instrument played by a prodigy, now that's a nice comparison.

My description is fragmentary, I realize. Because I lost all sense of time eventually. I only suppose I came three hundred times.

At some point I tried to cum hands-free, just from having my ballsack suctioned, but they didn't let me, coming at me like waves.

At some point I almost choked on water because these harpies kept on sucking me while I was drinking.

I think I wept at some point, I'm not sure.

Oh yes, I did, I remember: the slimes all had a different texture inside, all a different technique of fellatio. All different kinks. And I remember when I cried, why I cried. It's when Big Pinkie vacuumed cum out of me for the third time and then poured some into my mouth until it was full to the brim. That's when I felt for the first time how deep our connection was, Pinkie and I.

I swallowed it down in two or three gulps, letting it spill over my face, and then I showed her my mouth was empty.

Usually I do this so that people around can call me a dirty cumslut, but this was different.

Not better, of course. Just... different. Tears ran down my cheeks as I spluttered the lascivious gasp of someone getting her breath back after guzzling down a mouthful of cum.

And then there was this moment. It was so climactic my ego actually reintegrated my body. I was back being a futanari fucking for pleasure.

There was an intense yellow light over my clay-gray body, one slime milking the fuck out of me, and all the others around us, heavy with my juice.

I felt something wasn't normal--or even less normal than anything that had happened so far--I looked down and when I saw what it was I found back the ability to speak. "Oh my fuck! Oh my... what's happening? OH FUCK HHhhhhg..."

I pulled out. Had to be a little forceful.

My penis was bigger.

Like visibly bigger. Three, maybe four inches. And girthier too. It wasn't swollen, it was bigger. And with that came added pleasure. Because of the added skin surface.

They had sucked me so hard and for so long they had made my cock grow bigger somehow.

I have no picture to prove it but at this moment I had a fourteen-inch cock. Hell yeah. Hell fucking yeah.

And so I fucked her. I fucked this yellow slime for ten minutes straight. I discovered how it felt to fuck with a fourteen-inch cock. It was fucking dirty and amazing and hnnnng!

"Take my big cock! Take my big cock!" I repeated.

I pulled out and jerked off. I wanted to know how it felt to jerk off with a fourteen-inch cock.

I wanted everything. I facefucked them all long and hard.

I aligned five of them and fucked them. With my huge cock. Goddamn.

Then I discovered how it felt to cum with a fourteen-inch cock, groaning like a little bitch, or a big stud, and then, grabbing five others, I spurted another load, like ten seconds later, all over them, stroking my big cock, raving at how big it looked in my hand.

My new friends were full of surprises.

It was hard to top that emotionally, so afterward all was just a blur of jizz and penile pleasure and warm mud, with moans that would have sounded weird even in the weirdest porn.

I fucked mouths till I couldn't, gulped water, dehydrated despite the loads in my stomach, and they sucked me while I was doing that, no respite. They were still sucking me when I passed out.

I woke up... how long after? No idea.

I found myself lying in a warm puddle of cummy mud, surrounded by one hundred and fifty blobs nestled together, sleeping.

I knew they were because their glowing had dulled.

My penis had shrunk back to normal. But it was also flaccid and frankly it felt good after being hard and solicited for such a long time. After this blowjob marathon.

A fellathon.

Haha.

Big Pinkie was sleeping between my boobs and she woke up.

I was in an altered state. Calm, traumatized, hungry beyond belief, exhausted, ready as a berserker, covered in mud, from the helmet of my hair down to my broken toenails. Just by moving it started cracking and coming off my skin. I had some in my mouth. I spat. I swallowed.

I had some in my vagina.

I scratched my clit to remove the itchy scaly coating and... after a few seconds I was masturbating.

Just a gentle circle with the pad of my fingers.

I came quickly. Quickly done. Quiet. Cozy little shudders inside my little clit.

Big Pinkie looked at me quite puzzled.

"I'm a freak," I explained.

I sounded like a crazy person.

Her light was irradiating my face.

I looked at the stars inside her...

They are made of stars. They are made of gold.

I was still alive.

"Goodnight, Big P," I whispered.

I gathered my strength, my eyes puffy with fatigue. "I will come back, you know?"

I leaned closer and kissed her. And when I stood up I was smiling over her taste on my lips.

* * * * * *

I went to the four tombs for my stuff, almost letting out a loud 'FUUUUU' when I saw on my phone it was two in the morning.

I found my way back out of the cave. As expected, the stairs were an ordeal.

Outside the night was cloudless and starry. The moon was a good help to not die. I don't know how I made it to my car, drained figuratively and literally, naked, my balls and my prostate aching like bruises, my mind slipping. I was talking out loud. Can't remember what. Rambling. I looked insane, sounded insane.

And then there was the drive back. A naked girl covered in dried mud and dried cum, driving down the empty speedway way above speed limit, laughing like a maniac on Ambien. I don't know how I did it. But I did. I had to. I had class in the morning.