A Femboy and his Blob

See that, there? That's word repetition that justifies itself.

Grey flushes. He glances down at his own crotch, and then over at mine, and then finally remembers to make eye contact again. I tease him relentlessly with my gaze and my smile. I rub his leg, just above his knee.

"Yeah," he says. "That."

"I have one, you know," I say. "I have a cock, Grey. I have a pale, smooth femboy cock. It's pretty, but it's also very big. It's long, and it's thick. It can't come out to play tonight, but I do enjoy using it. How do you feel about that?"

"Xenu fuckin' Cruise, Elle," he says. He's blinking rapidly; his eyes are all over the place. He's shaking a little. I feel so powerful. I inch my hand up his leg before I start rubbing again.

"I think it's fine," he says. "No, shit, wait, that came out wrong. I think it's great? Shit."

I pat his leg and give him a sympathetic look. I'm not even sure he sees it.

"After the cocks and the cum and the orgasms," I prompt him, "Pops' -- sorry, Dr. Straczynski's output drops off a cliff. He's technically still an employee of the company for a few more years, but, for some strange reason, his star quickly fades. There was the dementia, of course, but that's not the whole story. You want to know."

He looks up. He's still flustered, but also grateful.

"Sorry," he says. "Yeah. This is a broken record for you. Sorry."

I shrug. "It's okay. I'm totally fine with it... tonight. When we're out on our dates, though, all that curiosity and energy is directed towards me -- Elle. You make me feel special. You ask about me, and my life, and gush about how great I am."

"Dates?" he echoes dumbly, just like I knew he would. "You'd go out with me?"

I flash him a smile. "There's no 'would,' Grey. We are going out. The only question is how hard you'll have to work to earn top marks."

His face screws up in confusion. I'm overloading him -- overwhelming him. It's all on purpose. I'm having my fun. He's already mine, and -- no, I'm not even thinking it. He's already mine, period, and no other entities need to be mentioned.

I sigh, feigning impatience -- like he should know all of this already.

"Grey, it's all very simple," I say. "If the goal of the first date is for me to suck your cock, with no reciprocation, then you're going to have to be a first-date champion. You're going to have to take me out to eat, and fill up my stomach and both of my hollow legs. I eat like a starving grizzly bear, and you're going to feed me. While you're doing that, you're also going to be charming, and thoughtful, and ever-so-interested in me as a person."

"That sounds... reasonable?" he replies. "I mean, you're so slender, but..."

I accept the compliment with a cute single-shoulder shrug, and start rubbing his leg again. I move up another half an inch. I do a quick check. His cock is in his other pant leg, and it's straining. That's perfect. I'm such a tease.

"If, on the other hand, there's some... mutuality... well then, things could be a lot easier. They could be more casual. We could split the bill, at the very least. We could do something fun before or after, and you wouldn't have to worry about whether or not I'd love it."

Grey gulps. He glances at my crotch again. He knows that he has no idea what he's getting himself into. Then, to my surprise and delight, he recovers again. He finds his courage. He remembers to look me in the eye.

"How about we start with the first one," he suggests, "but leave the ending... open?"

I move my hand up another inch. It's basically at his crotch, but his straining cock is left neglected. I squeeze his thigh. I reward him with a look of approval. His heart grows three sizes. His cock's already at its limit.

"I was right about you," I say seductively. "You're a good boy, Grey. I have a feeling you'll be a good man, too."

"So uh..." he says, trailing off.

I sigh. He may very well be in the upper echelon of Dr. Straczynski fanboys. I take my hand off his leg. He can't have everything.

"Listen, Grey," I say, "there are a lot of very rich, very powerful people who do not want a family member of Dr. Pops -- sorry, Dr. Straczynski -- running around saying things like 'Dr. Straczynski definitely laid the groundwork for the next ten groundbreaking innovations across multiple fields, but then caught a bad break and had to retire, and the company was happy to have all that credit go to its brand instead, while stiffing Dr. Straczynski and his family.' And so I don't go around saying things like that - or exactly that. Because certain greedy, selfish, credit-stealing people and companies just wouldn't like it."

Grey's eyes widen. "Oh," he says. "Wow. Okay."

I turn my head and take a breath of the cooling nighttime air. I make a show of it.

"Lovely, isn't it?" I ask, with just a hint of bitterness. "Certainly can't claim any family credit for it, though."

"Oh," Grey says again.

"And it wouldn't do to think of Dr. Pops the next time you get a glass of crisp, fresh, perfectly-engineered drinking water straight from the tap, either," I add.

"Oh, shit," he says.

I leave it at that. It's all bullshit, of course. I got older, and got over my childish obsession with fame. Puddles kept parceling out the innovations -- some through my original fraudulent self, then some through my second, equally-fraudulent identity, and yet others through completely fake ones. There's only so much of a genius polymath you can pretend to be before it gets suspicious, even if you do have a telepathic alien feeding you all the answers. At a certain point, passing the tests is just as risky as failing them.

"You know, I'm something of a scientist myself," I mention, almost as an afterthought. What can I say? I'm more than one kind of tease.

"Oh," Grey says again. "Okay, I need to stop saying that. So, uh, you...?"

I pat his leg and smile. "I try, but I'm no Dr. Pops. Science is a team effort. He was a star, but even he didn't do it alone. Some people even say he had a silent partner all those years, who was utterly terrified of the spotlight. It might sound mean to say about family, but I kinda believe it."

"Okay, wow," Grey says. "Now you're blowing my mind. Xenu, Elle, listen, I'm so sorry, but also... I just... thank you. Thank you so much for being cool about this."

"Of course, Grey," I reply. "So now let's talk about our second date."

He freezes up again. He blinks a few times.

"Uh, what?"

I laugh. It's a beautiful, confident, feminine peal. It's the envy of every male who wants to be a woman, or even just girly. Even though Grey's been talking to me -- or listening to me, mostly -- for almost ten minutes now, it still shocks him.

"I just have a good feeling," I say. "I don't think you're going to screw up our first date. I think we're going to have a second one, and, well, I think you should be prepared."

"Well, after the rules you set out for the first one, color me intrigued," he replies. It's not his best recovery of the night, but it's decent. "You are the most interesting wo -- person I've ever met."

"Ooooh, you probably should've saved that one for the first date, Grey," I chide him. "But thank you.

"Anyway," I continue, "for the second date, you come back to my place, but that's actually skipping ahead a bit."

"Huh?" he asks. "Is there... a first-and-a-half date or something?"

I giggle. "Oh, that's clever, Grey, but no. There's prep."

I switch gears on him completely. I crowd into him. I let him really smell me, and feel my heat. Just like with Gabby, I get my mouth close to his ear. I place my hands on his legs; this time, one of them is dangerously close to his cock. I wonder again if he can smell cum. I had a breath mint already, of course, but still... I am so full of jizz right now.

"On the second date, Grey," I whisper, "you get everything. You get my mouth, my hands, my feet, my boi-hole... anything and everything you want. We get straight to it. It's a fuck fest, Grey. You get to use me like a living sex toy, all night."

"Xenu," he exhales. He shivers. He keeps his head turned, so I can keep whispering. He's a good boy.

I give the side of his ear a little kiss, then a little lick, then another kiss paired with a sharp exhalation, helping to dry him off. He shivers again, even though I'm getting him hot. He's putty in my hands, even though he's so, so hard.

"It's entirely up to you if I get your holes, Grey. I really mean that. I'd love them. I'd love your mouth, and your ass. I'd make you feel so good. Everybody loves anal, now, Grey. I know you've experimented. And I promise you that my big, fat, femboy cock tastes so good. My cum does too. And you can use any lube you want. You can cover my femboy cock in any food you want, too, before you suck it. You can do the same with my boi-hole, if you'd kiss me and lick me there. And of course, my nipples. Of course!"

I think I'm going to make Grey cum in his pants. I want to try to do it with the bare minimum of contact. He's shaking a little, and squirming a lot. I'm giving him a nice massage with one hand -- the hand that's not near his cock. The other hand's getting frisky. It's threatening to cross the line between teasing and cajoling.

"But it's up to you," I say. "What I absolutely have to have, though, Grey, is your cum. I need so much cum on our second date. You need to eat like a starving grizzly bear the whole week beforehand. You need to take Se-Pak. If you're a brave boy, you can edge yourself every day, and then wear a special cage so you can't have a wet dream. But I need that cum, Grey. I need it. And we're not going to stop when you're dry, either, unless you can give me cum for the whole night. We're only going to stop when neither of us can take it anymore. There's no tapping out, stud. There's only breaks for drinks, snacks, and cleanup."

Grey's panting. My wicked hand is playing with his kahki-covered cock like it's a giant clit. It can't grasp it and jerk it, but I don't think that's going to be necessary.

"Fuck me, Grey," I whisper. "Make it to the second date, and fuck me. Breed my boi-hole. Flood me with your cum. Make me your slutty little femboy bitch. Replace this choker with a collar. Put me on a leash. Cage me if you want -- if you can -- or learn to love my big, beautiful femboy cock.

"Make me cum from my boi-hole and my B-spot, and I promise you you'll have a night you'll barely even remember, but never, ever forget."

I mean it. The parts he remembers, he'll treasure forever. The part where Puddles feeds on him, well, he's not going to be conscious for that.

I tilt my head down, then lick Grey from the bottom of his neck all the way back up to the tip of his ear. Against all reason, his orgasm surprises him. I feel another surge of power. I'm his femboy princess. I'm above him, and always will be, even while he's plowing into me from behind -- even when he thinks he's making me his bitch.

Xenu's sake, I'm starving. Shit. I knew I was forgetting something. Puddles isn't the only one on a clock. My stomach pouch is still probably above fifty percent integrity, but I can't safely eat again until everything is rearranged.

"Grey," I whisper, "that was so hot. I'm glad we didn't get caught. But we need to set a date, and then I need to get home. I wasn't expecting to meet such a good boy tonight. You need to go somewhere to clean up, too."

"Oh, shit," he says, finally appreciating what just happened - including the fact that we might've gotten caught, and might still. It snaps him out of his orgasmic daze; more's the pity, but I've been a naughty femboy tonight, and I need to make it up to my owner.

"I'm almost afraid to ask about the third date," Grey pants, but he's not being charming anymore -- well, not intentionally. He's just thinking out loud.

I stand up, and he follows suit. He looks down at his pants, then back at me, and blushes. I giggle.

"It's very flattering," I say. "I guess maybe I marked you as mine first. And, well, I only talk about the first two dates. Let's get you through those in one piece."

Grey nods obediently. We quickly exchange information. I put his first date on my calendar, and flash him a big smile once it's set.

"Bye, Grey," I say, doing a cute, finger-waggling wave. "Oh! And, um... bring food."

His face screws up in confusion one last time.

"To my place," I elaborate. "Second date. Food. Drinks. Tons of them. Bring as much as you need so you don't die of dehydration or starvation, and then bring as much for me as you can reasonably afford. No foolin'. Hollow legs. Metabolism like a hummingbird."

Am I an asshole -- a very rich asshole who shouldn't be making my dates buy me crates full of food? Maybe. Counterpoint: food tastes better when somebody else buys it for you. It's a scientific fact.

Grey gets it. I smile again. I'm tempted to do the little hummingbird dance as I walk away, but, well -- the cum. There's so much cum in me. I gingerly walk back to my sedan. Puddles contacts me again. He's not happy. I don't really have an excuse to give him. I apologize, and drive a little too fast on the way home. He's hungry, and so am I.

* * * * * * *

I don't get to fuck a lot of females. It's not a big deal, but Puddles is a good guy... uh... entity. Once he rejiggers my insides, he gives me the two-part special. We partially merge, making me that better version of myself. I can even ignore my growing hunger for a little longer. Then, he forms the rest of himself into a female. He's still translucent, though he can shift the dominant color. He chooses red tonight. I ask the obvious question about the obvious references. He feigns ignorance.

P: If you make haste, I will allow you to define parameters.

"Short, big boobs, dummy thicc," I say quickly. "Long, curly hair. Doggy style. Wanna smack dat ass and fuck that pussy."

He shifts again -- generic to specific. The level of detail is impressive, but not necessarily in absolute terms. I'm clearly going to be fucking gelatin. If I were doing missionary, the facial expressions wouldn't be convincing. It won't talk, either. It'll feel amazing, though.

P: Such efficiency. Such a conveniently abrupt transition to it.

"I said I was sorry!" I whine. "I bagged two dates, and I'm full to the brim with cum for you. Let's help each other out."

I'm not just hungry. I'm horny. I had seven B-spot orgasms while sucking cocks at the glory holes, but I didn't fuck or ejaculate. That's what my body is crying out to do, especially now that my vast reservoir of glory-hole cum is attached directly to my main sexual line. Even though my body's been rearranged into yet another unnatural configuration, somehow, it knows what's coming. That's more literary gold, right there.

Puddles-the-female gyrates for me. My cock is ready to go. He -- it -- she? - yeah, she, let's do that for now -- turns around and bends over. The pussy looks good, setting aside the uniformity of color and the translucence. The latter actually makes it look wet. That's a bonus.

P: I crave your primary sexual appendage. I have acknowledged its impressive dimensions. My anticipation is tinged with trepidation. Multiple proclivities converge. I contemplate extreme stress to my primary sexual organ. I contemplate impregnation. I contemplate -

"I seriously need you to shut the fuck up right now," I say, interrupting Puddles' telepathic screed. I slap her phat ass hard. Then I grab both cheeks near her wide hips; they have just the right amount of give. They feel like congealed alien sex lube. Trust me, that means they feel incredible.

"Take it, bitch," I mutter, and I drive my femboy cock home in a single thrust.

I'm back in heaven. I'm back home.

Puddles jiggles everywhere, and, largely due to my sex frenzy, I think it looks fantastic. I'm doing that to her. I'm making every single part of her phat, thicc body wibble and wobble with the shocks and the aftershocks of my powerful thrusts. I can see my fat, ten-inch cock plundering this red fertility goddess. I ramp up to full speed in only a few seconds, and I squeeze hard enough with my alien-strengthened hands that it would make a merely-mortal pain slut cry out her safe word. Then I start spanking Puddles, alternating hands, always gripping that phat red gelatin with the other. She lets me leave hand imprints -- not prints, imprints - in her ass cheeks. They stay there for several seconds, and only gradually raise back up to reform the original shape. It makes me feel like a fucking god.

I grew up with porn. It's wired into me. It's embarrassing, but when I'm like this, I just don't care. Maybe life imitates art, but that's not where it starts. Art -- especially terrible, porny art -- was born of primal instinct. Humans get stupid when they're horny, and when they're fucking. Male porn stars were just saying what we were all thinking, because we no think so good when we horny, yes?

"That's fucking right!" I growl. It's undeniably and effortlessly feminine, but it's still a growl. "I'm fucking your fat fucking pussy, you plump little bitch. You fucking love it. God, your pussy's incredible. Gotta fuck it. Gotta fuck it."

I take one hand off her ass and grab her hair. I yank it so hard that I threaten to dispel the illusion. Puddles' neck and head snap back. Her back arches inhumanly. I'm in the fuck-frenzy so deep now that the exaggerations work for me. They totally work.

Puddles stays quiet, except for the noises her gelatin's making. I take her unique scent deep into my nostrils. It's one more indescribable thing that I've come to associate with sex and orgasm. I don't really smell it when I'm trapped inside of her -- him -- whatever the fuck. I do when we're like this. It's not intoxicating in and of itself, but it's a trigger.

I lean over Puddles. I put my weight down on her gelatinous back. She lets me sink in just a little. She knows I'm close. I move my hands from her ass and hair to her tits, and I squeeze them as hard as I can. I'd never do this to a human's pair of tits, not even if their owner begged. I actively challenge Puddles to keep my hands out her. She could repel me effortlessly, but she knows what I like. She resists just enough. She fails just enough. I'm mashing into her big boobs like bread dough. They're squeezing in between my fingers. I bite down into her collarbone so hard that I 'break the skin.' I feel so incredibly powerful.

"Nnnnnnggggh!" I growl, my jaw clenched, a chunk of her writhing inside my mouth. She even tastes good. Well, you are what you eat.

Humans are so fragile. Puddles is so superior. I can ruin her without ruining her. I can indulge that awful, horrible taboo: sex and violence, two of the most basic wires in the brain, crossing over, urging each other to new depths, granting a satisfaction that no civilized creature should ever even want, let alone experience. I'm a slave. I'm owned. I'm owned by a superior alien being, and that's who I'm brutally, remorselessly fucking right now. That makes this just okay enough so that I don't need to kill myself as penance afterwards. Fuck Puddles. She wants to get fed? I'll feed her so fucking hard. She'll be begging me to stop.

I'm just about to cum. It's going to be the most dominant orgasm in the history of orgasms. I'm going to shoot fifty-three loads of cum -- eight of them mine, one of those fresh -- directly into this quivering, blobby, beautiful red bitch.

Puddles penetrates my boi-hole. He finds my B-spot, and presses it like a magic button. He presses it hard. Jesus fucking Christ, he flattens the poor thing. My eyes bug out of my head. I can feel my face contorting with surprise.

P: Never forget.

My entire body spasms. I keep rutting, but I lose my mind. I cum, and while I'm cumming, Puddles takes control of me. He's already reclaimed my boi-hole and B-spot. He finds my balls, then my nipples. He flips the script on my mouth and my cock. By the time I finish shooting every last load into his body, I'm surrounded again. He floods into my lungs. I panic for real. He does the 'ear thing.' I have my seizure that's technically not one. I'm his slutty femboy bitch. I'm owned. I exist to serve him, to feed him, to help him prepare my planet to become a cattle world in his species's empire, and to ensure that my entire species accepts its low place within it.