Good things and bad

The rest of the drive is uneventful; I park in a guest spot at Charles’ apartment complex, grab my bag, get out, lock the car, walk over to his building, try to ignore all the jiggling, the building pressure in my chest, and the empty ache between my legs.

I curse as I climb the stairs to the fourth floor, “I had to want a girl who was constantly horny…” I shake my head, “...at least the stairs aren't an issue anymore.”

I take a breath to steel my nerves when I reach his door, and knock. I listen and wait, and hear the conversation on the other side… two voices, one completely unfamiliar, the other I know to be Charles’ from the recent phone call.

“Nobody there,” that one is Charles, an octave higher than he used to be, but still recognizable, “Stupid neighborhood kids pranking me again.”

“If Dan showed up as his character,” the sound of an earthquake speaking rumbles through the door, I can as much feel it in my bones as hear it, “you wouldn't see him through the peephole, would you?” Given the picture earlier, I assume that's Brian.

There's a pause, and the door swings open, and there's Charles in a too-loose shirt that's hanging off of him, a pair of too-loose jeans held up by a power cord used as a belt. His reddish skin is quite apparent, and… okay, those chest bumps in the picture earlier weren't a trick of the light. “Come on in, I guess?” He speaks up, looking around.

“Thanks,” I pause, “So… do you want me to squeeze past, or…?”

“Ah, right…” he steps back a bit, and I walk in… misjudging the distance slightly and brushing his chest with my own briefly, “Sorry,” I murmur as I go sit down on his couch, watching a wet spot fade into view on my host's shirt.

“So now we're just waiting for Adam,” the Mr. Universe winner who matches Brian's texted photo from earlier rumbles out. I didn't quite get the scale of him before; he's got to be at least six foot six, and is a mountain of muscle. Kind of amusing, as strength is his dump stat… although he does have that Eidolon that fuses with him, and that is far from weak. Is he currently merged, I wonder? His shirt is far too small for him, stretched to the point where I expect it will snap if he takes a deep breath, the sweatpants he's wearing in a similar state, only going down to his knees. And… oh… wow, he's got a veritable baseball bat going down his left leg, the head poking out at his knee and the size of a golf ball; he's keeping his legs spread, and that makes sense, as it looks like he's got a pair of baseballs stuffed between his legs. My mouth starts to water for some reason, so I look away.

Looking around the apartment for something else, I take in the space: It's a bachelor pad, much like mine. Clothes strewn about the tiny little living room, just big enough for the old couch and the wall-mounted TV. The TV is on, showing some anime or another… a bunch of scantily clad chesty women using swords to fight tentacle monsters… and losing, and then… ah, it's Hentai, not anime. My face burns as I try to tune out the moaning, and bury the voice in the back of my head that whispers about how good it will feel.

Charles sits down on a chair sitting halfway into his dinning room, such as it is, and I have time to examine him closely. Two orange-sized… yeah, those are definitely breasts, and the wet spot on the shirt makes it clear he's got proper milk spouts on them… flop around under his shirt as he moves, but when he sits it's clear he still has the block and tackle in his pants… larger than he used to have, if anything.

“Umm… do you mind turning off the…” I gesture vaguely at the TV, then remember I'm invisible, “...the show? It's… umm…”

“Yeah, sure…” Charles grabs the remote and flips it off.

“Thanks,” I take a breath.

“Ah,” the meat mountain rumbles, “Dan, why do you sound so…” he trails off.

“I'm not ready to talk about it,” I cringe.

He pauses a moment, pursing his lips, and rumbles back, “Okay.”

Not long after, there's another knock on the door, and Charles gets up, looking through the peephole briefly. He smiles, and opens the door, “Hey Adam, come on in…”

Adam looks just as I remember: Short brown hair, glasses, and a little too much weight. He's in a Hawaiian t-shirt after he shucks his winter coat, hanging it in Charles' closet. He blinks a bit as he looks around the room, “Okay… Brian, Charles…” he looks at the two, identifying them from what's left of their faces, “that's going ridiculously far for a…”

He trails off because Brian simply walks over and picks him up with one hand, “Between my Eidolon's strength and the Ant Haul spell, you're a light load. I figure this will shortcut the whole ‘clever costume’ discussion.” He then gently sets Adam back down.

“Yes, yes it does,” Adam's eyes are trying very hard to leave his skull. Failing, fortunately. “Umm… what? How?”

“Still figuring that out,” I shrug as Adam jumps, “the laws of physics have clearly decided to go on vacation. I had a weird dream and woke up like this. We do have a few questions for you.” I bite my lip and look away when I realize I'm staring at Adam's crotch. At least nobody can see my reddening face.

“Sure…” he blinks several times, “...you can ask first. I still need to process.”

“I hear your voice in my head when I'm using some of the game mechanics,” I start with what's been bugging me the most, “Have you been rolling damage dice for me?”

“No,” our DM responds rather flatly, and adds, “umm… talking to thin air is really weird, and your voice is… well, is there any way you could…” he considers, “Hey, Charles, you have Faerie Fire prepared, right? Mind casting it on… Dan, I'm guessing… so I can see him?”

“Yeah, sure, I don't see that one being very useful in real life…” the guy paying for the apartment shrugs, and gestures with his left hand while speaking something reminiscent of a bubbling brook.

I hear dice in my head, and Adam speaking ‘Spellcraft check failed, you don't know what he's casting,’ just before there's a small explosion of dust next to me, and I'm covered in a faint blue light, finally letting me see myself, kind of. I'm glowing blue, kind of like in that old Hanna Barbera cartoon, and… yes, other than the color, I look exactly like the model I made in the dream as far as I can see. Tall, long nails, dainty hands, long hair, and… oh, right. I'm hugely naked, which is why I can't see my laptop.

Everyone is dead silent, and I've been naked in public for a while now so it's… mostly easy to pretend I'm still invisible. “Hey, Charles, mind if I use your bathroom? This is the first time I've been able to see myself, and I want to take advantage of your mirror.”

“Sh-sh-sure…” he stutters out, and I go over there, and close the door, standing on his toilet and getting my first good look at myself. Four milk tanks, a tiny waistline, legs that just won't quit, no body hair… I don't get very far in my examination before the spell runs out, it only lasts a minute at this level. Still… it confirms the dream as far as it goes. Once I get See Invisibility, I expect I'll have extra dark skin, too. Ugh.

I climb down, wash my hands, and go back to the living room, where everyone is silent… and at ‘full mast’. Meat mountain has his meatrod shoved under his shirt, which does nothing to hide it, considering the gap between the top of his pants and the bottom of his shirt, plus the stretched fabric… he has to have a good eighteen inches there… but I don't imagine a hard-on of that size would be bearable down a tight pant leg, so his choice is understandable. The in-between member of the party is rocking eight inches or so, and it's contained in his pants… but the obvious boner is still obvious… as are the points on his shirt, his baby feeders at full attention as well. Adam is last in line in the size department, I'm estimating him at four or five inches right now. Of course, all three of them are sitting, and looking embarrassed.

Stupid ‘always ready’ body: My mouth is watering.

I swallow, and take a breath, “relax, guys… I GET IT. We're all adults, we're all friends… I know - FIRST HAND - what a body like this will do to a guy. We're going through something flatly impossible, and it's weird all around: I don't take offense. And…” I find myself audibly licking my lips, unable to stop myself from adding, “...I'm afraid this body comes with some… urges… who wants to….” I trail off, realizing what I'm saying, but finding it really hard to find a reason why I shouldn't indulge.

“Wait…” the vision of manliness I can't look away from pauses, “...you too? I've been struggling to keep myself from bending Charles over his own table and… well….”

“That sounds superb…” the in-between pet master breathes heavily, “...my kitty has just been begging for attention since I woke up, and I don't mean the three armor-plated ones I have locked in the bedroom.”

Adam just swallows, hard.

I manage to keep my head enough to ask, “...got any rubbers?”

Charles rushes to the bathroom, and comes back with a box of them, smiling, “Yes, yes I do. I don't want to be a mommy, but I absolutely need this. Who else is up for some adult entertainment?”

Adam and Brian both reach for the box, pulling out the little foil-wrapped squares, and start stripping down. Charles sets the box down, and follows suit. Very soon we're all nude, faces flushed, and the three baby basters in the room are covered in latex.

I walk over to the meat mountain, and whisper in his ear, “lay down… I want to climb that pole of yours.”

He obliges, and I straddle him, finding my tunnel is up to his girth, and hearing Dan say eerily calmly, 'One point of damage from a broken hymen,' as I feel something tear deep within me as I manage to hilt the monster between my legs, and begin to slide up and down.

“Oh, Shelyn, that feels good!” I scream out, finding I'm naming one of the Pathfinder deities, I breath, “Charles, get over here… I want to taste you…” he does, and I grab his male member, ripping the rubber off, and take it in my mouth, sucking the meat lollipop deep into my throat, getting all the way to his groin… right, no gag reflex or need to breathe… I moan, and that only serves to stimulate the sword I'm swallowing.

“Ah, where can I…” Adam begins, and trails off when I slap Charles’ well-padded and feminine rear, find his lower lips with my fingers, and gently spread that wet tunnel.

The DM wastes no more time with words, guiding himself into the offered orifice, and bending over to roughly grab the host's baby feeders as he starts thrusting.

My feeders need attention too… I grab Brian's hands and guide them up to my orbs, placing them right on my taps, and he gets the idea and starts squeezing, my milk ruining Charles’ carpet and coating the massive man beneath me.

The heat quickly builds to a crescendo in my middle, and I feel the earth shake as I try to scream around the meat in my mouth… which then rewards me with a savory snack… and goes soft. I hear the meat mountain beneath me rumble, his hips buck, pushing me up roughly, and he holds me there, grunting… before laying back down, panting. Ironically, Adam is the last to go off, filling his rubber before he pulls out of our halfway host, falling on his padded behind and panting, his obviously full rubber slowly slipping as he softens.

I find I still want more… but everyone else is panting on the ground. Hmm… I don't want to hurt their feelings, but despite going off… I want to feel more. Ah, I got it, “That felt amazing…” I begin, and DON'T hear dice, “...anyone up for helping me relieve the pressure in my chest? A couple of my ‘girls’ are still uncomfortably full.”

“Yeah…” Adam walks over, “...ah, where do I…” I stand up, Brian's massive meat messily slipping out with a pop, and shove one of my taps into Adam's mouth… and he starts sucking cheerfully, which gets my motor running again as I feel the pressure drain and the ‘sensitive’ chest I designed giving me the pleasure I intended for someone else… but it's still enjoyable, and before he's done draining that tank, the heat builds up in my middle and I scream out in joy.

“Oh, I'm full…” he objects as I start to put another in his mouth.

“I could go for some milk…” Charles grins, and I switch to feeding him from the other milker that wasn't partially emptied by Brian's big paws.

Just as I'm getting off for the third time in an hour, and the second time purely from someone sucking on my chest, Brian says something that cuts through the massive afterglow I'm feeling:

“It broke….”