Dex Darling Ch. 03

I arrive at my apartment complex all hot and bothered... the woes of being a shifter. There aren't many shifters out there, so it's a little known fact that we need to please both feminine and masculine halves that occupy us. Coming to completion with one half means the other half received all that fun with no outlet. And the more it's denied that release, the more insufferable it gets. Ultimately the body enters a constant state of war until the other half is released from its forced abstinence.

With all my might, I push the desire aside, at least for the time being. I need to confirm that Myra in fact slipped the invitation into my apartment.

When I open the door, I find a black envelope sitting unassuming in my entryway. A huge boulder is lifted off my chest at its mere sight. Atlas is known to rely on archaic methods like paper invites instead of an e-vite that every fucking person uses these days. I pick up the invitation off the floor and I'm filled with instant anger for how Myra toyed with me tonight--I don't think I've punished her enough. And yet there is always next time. My mind gets to work on all the possible ways I can go about it. Should I tie her up again and edge her for days, keep her in the dark as to when that sweet release will be hers? Or should I demand she bump up her sensation to over 60% and humiliate her in public with a remote-control vibrator in her?

While the succubus consumes all my thoughts, my digipad pings with a notification and sure enough she sent a picture of her slick pussy. Our cum has dripped all the way down to her knees. My dick hardens instantly. I can't play favourites though, not when my feminine side is itching for a release too. So I morph that dick of mine to a vagina and get to work, leaving the invitation on the entryway table.

I quickly make my way to my office and send a command from my digipad, bringing all my dozen screens to life. I add the latest picture from Myra to my collection and begin the slideshow. Each screen now displays a blown-up image of our sexcapades. A video of her deep-throating me. A picture of her dripping cunt. Another video of her violently jerking soon after I freed her nipples of metal clamps. Her all tied up and squirming while a thruster sends her to sweet abyss and I press her clit with a vibrator. Soon the room is filled with the sounds of our moans and groans.

Reaching into the shelf underneath my desk, I pick a dildo with protrusions all over. I kick the chair out of the way and frantically strip as my vagina throbs for attention. A searing hot sensation has taken root between my legs. From the looks of it, I don't even need lube tonight. I make quick work of propping up the dildo on the floor using its suction base and kneel over it. I then angle the dildo over my entrance and lower myself slowly, ever so slowly, taking one inch at a time. My body begs for a quick thrust, but I know it likes a little tease. One hand massages and squeezes my breast, whereas the other begins playing with my clit.

Soon I can't take the slow teasing anymore and my ass slaps against the floor, the wet sounds adding a layer of music to the chorus of Myra's moans. I imagine her biting my nipples, digging her nails into my breast, fucking me into oblivion with a strap-on. The protrusions on the dildo drag against my inner walls hitting all the right spots. In rhythmic motions, I go over the dildo, unable to stop. This... this is exactly what I need.

As Myra is finishing in one of the videos, I too find my release. With a shrill cry, I quiver over the dildo, reaching my climax.

However, that isn't enough. Not when both of my dicks found release earlier. Like a needy bitch, my vagina begs for more.

I want to go for round two, please it until it begs me to stop, but I don't have time for its antics. I have less than a day to finish my research on Atlas' guests, especially my target for tomorrow, and finish planning the missing parts of my heist.

I swear if my vagina could share its feelings, it'd be crying over how I'm moving on to other tasks. I want to slap it into submission but that'd only get it riled up so I leave it be. With a promise to take good care of it as soon as my heist is done, I take down the tsunami of Myra on my screens.

---

I give myself a once over in my entryway mirror. The tuxedo droops ever so slightly over my shoulders, so I shift to fill myself perfectly into its fit. I'm attending a billionaire's party for other billionaires. I simply can't afford to not look the part with an ill-fitted suit.

I'm in a male body tonight. An extremely forgettable face with short hair and no beard. I'm sure I'll shift at least once more to get closer to my target. Until then, however, I will need this shape for the first part of my mission.

A cab ride later, I'm at the base of the eighty-floor high building, the top three floors belonging to Atlas Herald. I'm sure he loves the view from there, towering over the city of Nebula.

I adjust my bow tie and go in, invitation safely tucked in my inner pocket.

The first floor of the party is tame. All the guests are dressed in luxurious finery, all silks and diamonds and ten-thousand dollar suits. Filthy. No one bats an eye at me though. And I intend to make sure that's the case throughout the night. I grab a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter and walk around.

My first target for the night is Felicia Gable, an unattainable muse of my main target. Yet, I don't see the brunette anywhere. I finish my third round and confirm that she isn't on this floor. It just seems to be for people doing the actual networking from whatever conversations I was able to eavesdrop on. Vying for board seats, gossip to take down opposition, stock market leveraging, all the same rich-people shit everywhere.

I take the circular set of stairs leading up to the second floor. It's as if I took a portal to an entirely different party... it's a different vibe here all together. Guests are much closer to each other, hands going missing underneath each other's clothes. Gasps and whispered moans fill the air. Unless one is actually on this floor, it's easy for the hushed revelry to go unnoticed amidst the classical music playing in the background.

There, by the bar, I find her. Felicia, seemingly waiting for her drink. The photo I had of hers doesn't do justice to her beauty. Not in the least, what with her cat eyes and tanned skin that looks to be smoother than the finest silk. I don't approach her yet, though. Walking towards her, I discreetly step behind a pillar and accentuate my physical features. Instead of approaching her, though, I walk past her and sure enough, she checks me out. Or more like, checks out the body I shaped myself into according to her liking: lean, tall frame with minimal muscles and more importantly, a perky round ass. She hasn't seen it yet, but my face now looks different too. Chiselled jaw, scruff of a beard, and jet black tussles that one can't help but want to run their fingers into.

Now that I have her attention, I tilt my head to the side. Not entirely looking at her, I gesture to the washroom and beckon her to follow me. I'm more than pleased when she does, a glass of whisky in hand.

I enter the washroom first and a good thing I did. I need those extra seconds before she arrives to get adjusted to what I see. The washroom is no washroom at all. Instead it's a sex paradise of cushions and mirrors everywhere, even on the ceiling. I've underestimated this floor. My feminine side is raging a war against me at this sight, wanting to be unleashed and worshiped.

"What do you have in mind?" Felicia enters the room and locks the door behind her. She takes a small sip of her whisky. Her slinky red silk shift of a dress leaves nothing to the imagination. She then spreads her leg, to display the slit in her dress that ends at her hip bone. If she extended her spread even a little bit, her pussy would be wide open for the taking. And I want to be the one who does the taking.

You can't. Not right now.

I let out a long internal sigh and approach her. If I please her now, that's another treat to my masculine side. By then, my feminine side will have become a raging bitch for ignoring its needs. I grab the drink from Felicia's hand and down it in one go. Her eyes sparkle at my initiative. I then place the glass on the marble counter and dig my hands into her waist, my mouth a breath away from hers, her red lips taunting me as I go closer. As if it's taking too long for her liking, she goes straight for my dick and squeezes the hard length with her hand.

That's it. I don't care what my feminine side has to say about this. I'm in control here.