Poison Ivy

There was a ripping sound. Her muscles tensed and she cowered against him. Air caught in her throat and she froze. A strip of fabric was making it's way towards her. It was wrapped around her face and tied at the back. She shook her head frantically and parted her lips to say something.

He could sense her sudden panic. He stroked her hair.

"Shush, sexy. Settle down now, I'm here."

Her hands found his chest. They were steady, solid. This calm was much better than the previous chaos, but what was making her switch between them?. His next thought could have provoked disaster. Something in him made him say it anyway.

"You know how much you love getting off when you cannot see anything. You love the mystery of it all, don't you, nympho?"

She instantly went for his face, biting and sucking on his lips and tongue. She found and stroked his exposed cock, making him hum and moan into her mouth. She shuffled herself towards his lap, intending to impale herself and soothe her unbearable itch. She was met with a hand around her throat, a strong grip rendering her immobile.

"On your knees."

She dropped to the floor, his hand following her down. Clad only in her bra and torn stockings, she was bent over his knee, one of his legs over her upper back so she would stay where she was. The curve of her cheeks was exposed, appealing, encased beautifully within the two straps of her stockings.

"This is for fooling with me. You displease me when you disobey my actions." She struggled with him, urgent sounds coming through the gag, kicking and wriggling. A protest. She normally accepted her punishments, but today, what a brat she was being! He couldn't tell if this was her trying to get him off, or if she didn't agree with his statement. It didn't matter, as he was in control. He slowly smoothed his hand on her cheek. Round in little circles. She mewled. He was going to enjoy this. He raised his hand and brought it down sharply on her backside. Her yelp started with shock, and ended with a pleasured gasp. He made a mental note to himself - He must hit her harder in future, she was clearly enjoying this too much. He repeated his action and her moan was a little sharper, a little louder.

"I'm going to hit you another thirteen times. You will count them for me. We will not stop until you have received all of them, and thanked me. You will not orgasm or complain. Do you understand?"

She nodded slowly, but didn't speak.

"Good girl. From three then."

He slapped her hard on the left cheek. He watched as the momentum rippled her flesh.

"Three."

He slapped her on the right cheek this time. She moaned.

"Four."

On the left cheek.

"Five."

She broke out panting.

"Six."

On the right again. He was painfully aware that with each hit his cock wobbled with the movement. He was going to shoot his load in an arc across her back sooner or later, without any contact at all. He must have been the hardest he had been in a long time.

"Seven."

Instantly he needed to feel her around him. Something surfaced, a primitive urge unlike the one he was used to. He shut his eyes as his vision overtook him, needing her touch, her body. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The feeling had gone.

She was waiting. Needing another slap. This was pacifying, taming her urges. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? He gave her a harder slap across the back of the thighs. She screamed.

"Eight."

He gave her four in quick succession.

"Nine, oh!" "Ten." "Eleven." "Twelve, please, Sir!"

One of her stocking straps snapped.

"Thirteen."

Her bum burned with the impact of his hands on her. She loved it. It soothed her fire inside. She knew what would happen. She could sense it. He would take her arsehole for himself sooner or later, and she would be complete. He wouldn't be able to resist. Another slap hit her. She moaned.

"Fourteen."

"Fifteen. Thank... you, Sir."

They both smiled.

"It was my pleasure."

He ran his hands over her red skin soothingly, comfortingly. He was aware of something on his hand. He brought it to his face and sniffed. Of course. She always got wet when she was spanked. Wet and wanting. His hand moved lower, seeking. She was hot and swollen for him. What a wet little pussy.

"Oh, please don't stop."

He allowed her this little comment, not knowing if it was his Sam or the monster making the words, and continued molesting her body. His fingers brushed over her arsehole. She jumped at his touch and ground herself into his thighs. He was dangerously close to coming, he could feel it in his balls.

"Please, oh, please touch me there, please... I want you in there... Dan, yes, yes, oh fuck me there! I need you!"

Now that was Sam. The Monster didn't use his name. He wiped some of her wetness upon his finger and paused. Was he really going to do this? He knew that if he put his finger inside her he would want his cock in, too. But that seemed to be what she wanted. She was dripping all over him, after all.

What had she begun? A sadistic creature inside of him was rising. She had started it, but was it appropriate for him to finish it? Surely a nymphomaniac such as her deserved what she got, the way she was behaving? She was asking for it.

She was gently panting against the arm of the chair, her hands swan-like on her back. Her voice muffled against the thick upholstery. Slowly she rotated her shoulder in it's socket - such a delicate movement - and that's when something clicked. She was thrown to the ground. Before she could move he was on her like a lion, pinning her to the floor with his shoulder, his cock meeting her arse just where he needed it. His entrance was met with a high pitched scream, and he could not hold himself back any longer. Large hands scratched her back, pulled her hair as he came, releasing himself into her. Falling onto his back gave him more stimulation on his cock, making him scream and his body quake, immobile under her weight. A hand to her face tore the rag from her, lids open obscenely wide - the whites of her eyes had been replaced with something dark and viscous. She took a huge breath in and her bra finally burst - her mouth open in a silent moan. Her torso was tinged with green, veins marking rivers on her chest, breasts heavy. Ripples under the skin seemed to be the cause of them growing, too big for her frame. Nipples stood out - inappropriately large and dark against her flesh.

He was enjoying this feeling. She looked better with her body like this. He could get used to these, alterations. Delirious, he reached for a nipple, a feeling swelling in his balls already, when he noticed something touching his cock, a tongue, a finger? That was impossible, he was still inside her - but he was growing harder, larger, her warmth griping the base of his cock.

"No, stop it, Sam, STOP THIS!"

He was answered with a wet gurgle. It ended in something that suggested her throat had just been plugged. She could now not say anything or communicate with him. He held her shoulders and tried to pull himself out, but her hold on him was relentless and solid. She fell on her side, his cock in her arse pulling him over with her.

"Sam!"

He hit her hard on the shoulder. She didn't respond - her throat spluttered and the sound cut through him. Her head lolled and her limbs were still, the monster had won. No emotions rose to the surface. In fact, he was blissfully blank. Somewhere in the fog a shadow flitted between two thoughts, and slowly he began to realise what had just occurred. The tongue on his cock began to roll around his head, catching the underside and licking his shaft. He couldn't breathe or think, he was forced into a world of sensations and urges.

A need so important nothing else mattered. It was still growing inside of her, pulsing and throbbing. Her tits were the size of melons, their weight immobilising her body. She was conscious of every wisp of air on her flesh, sensitive skin that it had given her. She needed his touch badly, knowing her own hands were tied and useless. The black in her nipples were too large for their casings, the pain unbearable. Dan's hand reached around for her tits, but he could not touch them yet - she was not ready. She tried to tell him this, and panicked when she couldn't, but something told her to be calm, that it would be taken care of. Shivers started somewhere, she was not conscious of why. The idea that he still found her appealing grew on her, until the emotion was too much to bare. She was nearly at breaking point. He finally had taken her arsehole, just like she wanted. He was now too big to remove himself from her, she was too strong. She knew that the thing inside her was making him moan, she was turning him on.

Her torso was contorted into waves that started in her neck and moved all the way down her body, the action spreading her new inky colouring with it. She was terrible, and beautiful. Her hair was extending out away from her, thick and glistening, snakelike on his sweaty shirt. All he could recognise was the feeling on his cock, she was milking him, but he didn't need to come. He had to open his eyes. Vision becoming clearer, he knew something had changed. There was a tickle of some sort on his back, his shoulders. Comforting and soft, he reached for it, and it rolled in his grasp. A tentacle. Green, with suckers the size of pennies, massaging his hand softly. He decided he liked the feeling of it, it went well with the feeling on his cock. If he could only get it onto his balls! He needed to get his jeans off somehow. She was in the way. Following it with his eyes, a question occurred to him. Where did this come from? He wanted to know. Suddenly, it became very important to him.

He felt his way down the tentacle, trying to get between her, his clothing and the floor, knowing he couldn't pull out of her. That would be a very silly thing to do, he reminded himself. Liquid was oozing down her thighs from something. Something warm, hot, twitching. Her cunt. But what was this? A pole thicker than any he had seen before was inside her - he couldn't fit his hand around it. It was slick with her sex. It's flesh was soft and smooth, slightly moist from the liquid oozing onto it. He tried to remove it, knowing it didn't belong there, his grasp slipping. It seemed to throb under his fingers.

He felt around the other side of it, and there seemed to be things stuck to it. Soft, tickling circles of flesh, that massaged his hand. No. It could not be.

The tension inside of her had finally broken, and she relished in the feeling. Such a relief. She felt larger now, stronger. With ease, she snapped the rope around her hands and did the same with the loop around her feet. Nothing could control her now. With her hands she tore the ruined stockings from her body. Feeling victorious, she made to stand, but she noticed something was different. There were no moans coming from behind her. The vibrations, rippling movements had stopped. He had stopped. He had deflated slightly inside her, she no longer grasped him by his penis. Turning over, he slipped out of her. She moved him onto his back, and slapped his face and massaged his shoulders, just the way she knew he liked. She needed him alive.

She stood, and watched him as he lay motionless at her feet. With her new limb she tugged his shirt and his trousers from his body. She caressed his chest, wrapped herself around his arm and squeezed, her favourite part of him. He didn't stir.

Another feeling grew inside of her. It filled her like a liquid, growing stronger and fuller, taking over her senses. Along with it grew her panic. She knew what was coming. She was not ready for this. Not now, not yet. The pressure in the tip of her was almost too much to bare already. She couldn't do this now. She tried to call for him, but the muscles in her throat were too tight for her to speak.

Almost of its own accord, her hand started caressing the end of her tentacle. Ooh. How good that felt. Her body tensed with it, creating ripples of pleasure as it did so. How soothing that was. She needed to moan, to express her emotion. She was becoming stiffer and stronger, and slowly, she grew. Her new limb was increasing, curling at her feet as she slowly got herself off. She needed more, craved more.

A thought occurred to her. What would happen if she repeated his actions towards her, to him? He wouldn't be able to stop her, she was too strong. He was also unconscious, so he wouldn't notice. Her panic softened, and she came to the conclusion that it must be the correct thing to do. She carefully turned him over, getting cushions from the sofa to lay his head on. Reaching down, she slowly felt his cheeks with her hands, her fingers long and bony in comparison to what they were before. For a moment, she was captivated by them, they were so, shiny. She examined her chest, and it matched too, her fingernails the same colour as her nipples. Did that mean they were meant to go together? Her nipples grew the nearer her fingers approached. When they were an inch away, she was breathing fast through her nose and the feeling was much stronger. She could almost feel electric charges jumping from her fingers to her chest. She knew that she could either touch it, and risk pain or pleasure, or move her hand away. If she did, she knew that they would shrink, and she could focus her attention on other things. Tentatively, she stroked her nipple with her finger.

Fuck, that felt good. Her tentacle throbbed. She brought her other hand to her other breast, and pinched them both at the same time. She throbbed again, needing more stimulation around her. Overcome with how she felt, she didn't notice that she was slowly itching towards him, laid down and helpless, on the floor.

Her body sung. Her fingers were vices around her tits, the flesh too large to be contained in their prison, bursting out between the bars, swelling and twitching erratically. Something inside her rectum was growing. She needed more. Her tentacle slowly eased inside of him, tight and constricting. She didn't realise until she could go no further what she was inside of. So tight, so warm. Fuck. She opened her eyes to see herself, like a piston, moving quickly in and out of his lifeless body, and soon the feeling became overbearing. She came, her tentacle thickening and releasing inside of her boyfriend, who was unaware and unable to object. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, grinding her clit onto the small of his back, and arched against him.

A little after, she rolled off of him and was still, all of her except her tentacle. It seemed to like the insides of him, and she let herself keep thrusting in and out, knowing there would be a time where she would want that overwhelming feeling again. The motion in her rectum was getting faster, fuller, and the something was getting larger. She felt it itch along her passage, slowly emerging. She shuddered and shut her eyes against the feeling. At once it was present next to her, a sixth limb to help her in her plight. She could not wait.

Sensing him waking up, she felt for the hemp under the sofa, and she looped it around his ankles, tied in a knot so tight, she wouldn't be surprised if it cut into his skin. She wrapped her new appendage around his wrists. See how he liked it.

Slowly, he came around. There was a movement of some sort. He stirred, feeling fabric under him. Was he in bed? Was that all just a dream he had created? Breathe, he told himself. And he did. Slowly in and out. And again, in and out. He was so sleepy, and full. Full of what? He was heavy. Heavy and warm, just like after eating a meal and falling into bed. That's where he was, wasn't it? In bed after that lovely meal.

Something was moving in and out of him. Out of his, what exactly? His arsehole? What? Fucking hell! She must've gotten him really drunk, and they must have picked up another guy and took him home. And now he was raping him while he was asleep.

"Hey, get out of me, fucker!"

When there was no reply, he attempted to roll over, and get him out of there himself. He struggled with the movement, his senses were fuzzy, distorting the world around him. He managed to get onto his back, fumbling with the cushions slipping out from underneath his body. There was no man. There was no-one, just fuzz. He blinked again and lent his head down against the floor, trying to clear his vision. There was still something inside of him. Warm and slippery, he spotted a tentacle ('Okay, fine, I don't remember what the fuck I took, but I must, must be high right now.') wrapped around his hands like ivy, holding them up above his head.

The thing inside him tensed, and something else was hitting his insides. Something warmer, a gas, he guessed. That wasn't normal. Not normal at all. Where was Sam when he needed her? Where was she now?

"Sam!"

No answer.

"Sam! Where are you?"

Still no answer. He scuffled with his bindings, shouting incoherently as he did so. They did not give in. A pair of large, glassy eyes materialised in front of him, and a hard finger appeared on his lips. Her iridescent torso came into view, sparkling in the light.

"Shut your mouth, honey, or you'll wake the neighbours. And I really don't want you to do that, you see. You really don't want to do that. I don't want us being... disturbed."

He blinked again, this could not be real. Scared, he fell silent under her. The Monster. Of course.

"Good boy."

Something stroked his thigh. Her soft mouth met his, but he couldn't kiss her back. She persisted, the animated lover that she was. The stroking matched the something that was moving in and out of him. She was kissing him passionately. Her hand met his cock, halfway between soft and hard. Her rhythm was impeccable. It always had been. He smiled at this, the memories, how good a fuck was she? This she took as a confirmation of his feelings. She forced his head between her breasts and growled at him, long and low, to tell him who was boss. He struggled, she was suffocating him in her chest. He could no longer breathe. He tried to move his head back, and hit it hard on the wooden floor. Dazed, he moved forward, entrapped by her, and bit down hard on her flesh.

She laughed. No moan of anguish, no retaliation of force. A low, sexy chuckle. She lowered her face to his ear and whispered something.

"Now look what you have done, lover. You've been a bad boy. You will soon be exactly like me. Look into my eyes."

With that, the thing inside him tensed and released again, he now knew exactly what it was. It was her, she was in his arsehole. How could she be? Both her hands were right in front of him. No matter, it was her, he could tell from the slick grin that consumed her face.

"What's happened sweet cheeks? Not into as much into anal as we first thought, hmm?" With that she withdrew herself from his body, a huge space inside of him suddenly became cold and unfeeling.

"I was impressed that you could take me, for my girth far outstrips your own. As you can see by comparison, I am the victor in that department."

He looked her directly in the eyes, and spat at her. Bitch. She snarled. His constraints around his hands constricted and he began to realise that they must be connected. She held her hand out as if expecting something.

"Don't agree?" She whispered, her sudden full lips splitting impeccably into two, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

With that a thick, green tentacle placed itself in her hands. She began to slowly move her hand around it and ran her thumb over its head. Moving down his body, she took him in her other hand and began to synchronise her movements. When she was rewarded with a small gasp, she grinned up at him.

"You cannot do anything to stop it now. Relax, and enjoy your new body with me."