Metamorphoses Ch. 03

Siegmund, sieh auf mich! Ich bin's der bald du folgst. -- "Siegmund... I am the one whom you will soon follow."

It was then that Lucy noticed her. She could swear she hadn't been there two minutes ago -- but now there she was, standing at the back of one of the circle boxes, behind a row of glitteringly befrocked opera-goers, watching the stage intently. Despite the dark, her eyes shone a piercing blue, and a soft azure glow seemed to exude from her long coloured hair.

Wer bist du, sag, die so schön und ernst mir erscheint? sang Siegmund on stage, as he stared in awe at the Valkyrie: "Who are you, who appear so beautiful and yet so grave?"

But Lucy was not watching the stage anymore, as her heart skipped a beat.What the fuck? was her first thought.This must be a joke, a trick. Who? And why? And how dare they? She slipped out of her seat, tripping over the feet of a few tutting glitterati as she apologised her way along the row, then strode back up the aisle, into the foyer, and up the staircase to the circle. Determined to expose the stalker, she counted the doors to the boxes until she had found what she was sure was the right one, and quietly edged it open.

There she was, standing with her back to Lucy, her blue hair draped elegantly across her shoulders, eyes fixed on Daphne on stage who, accompanied by a soft chorus of trumpets proclaiming the summons of Valhalla, was now announcing:

Auf der Walstatt allein erschein ich Edlen! -- "Only those chosen to die on the battlefield can see me!"

In her rage, Lucy was about to grab the blue-haired stalker, drag her out into the lobby, and demand a confession out of her -- until she noticed that the woman's ears were thin and pointy, and slowly twisting.Twisting? thought Lucy.Ears don't twist. What sort of sick joke is this?

It was then that the ears start to speak.Speak? thought Lucy.Ears don't fucking speak!

In point of fact, these ears weren't actually speaking -- out loud, that is. But Lucy somehow knew that, even though the blue-haired woman had her back turned to her, she was addressing her.Her ears are talking to my ears! thought Lucy.What the fuck?

And what the ears were saying now to Lucy was:She has to come with me, you know.

Lucy froze, and dared not speak; yet she thought:Come with you? Where to? Who the fuck are you?

In reply, her ears heard:My name is Melia. I helped give Daphne her cock.

You?! What? How? Where have you come from? thought Lucy.

Same place as you: the Institute for Sexual Medicine -- but in your future.

No. No, no, NOOOO!!! Lucy screamed silently.This cannot be true!

I know it must be a shock, Lucy. But how else do you think she had her transformation? And where else do you think I am from? Melia's ears continued to twist and wave, as if in silent confirmation of her non-humanity.

Lucy stood, trembling.OK, OK, she thought.Whatever. But why are you here now? What do you mean, she has to come with you? Why? Where to?

But now, Lucy noticed, Melia's ears, still twisting and waving, were not just speaking, but singing. That is to say, the only real sound of singing in the theatre was of course from the stage -- but somehow Melia's mind, through her strange twisting ears, was taking that sound and not merely translating it but imbuing it with meaning, a meaning so clear and specific that it filled Lucy's mind with terrifying urgency. On stage Brünnhilde was singing to the tenor -- yet Lucy knew that the alien was speaking to her, and that Daphne was her Siegmund, her target, her victim:

Zu Walvater, der dich gewählt, führ ich dich. -- "I will lead you to the one who chose you: you will follow me to Valhalla."

Lucy, in horror, understood. And yet, without intending to, she found her own mind harnessing Wagner's words and music to scream back Daphne's refusal, as on stage Siegmund cried:

Zu ihnen folg ich dir nicht! -- "I will not follow you! Where Sieglinde lives, Siegmund will stay!"

Though the alien's back was still turned to her, Lucy felt the frustration blazing behind the twisting ears and unseen piercing blue eyes. As muted violas scratched out their anger from the pit, on stage Brünnhilde replied to the recalcitrant Siegmund:

Solang du lebst, zwäng' dich wohl nichts! -- "Whilst you live, I cannot make you come: but death will force you, you fool!"

Lucy's head swam, as she realised the full horror of what the blue-haired interloper meant. Instinctively she wanted to attack her, to destroy her and the accursed message she had come to convey. She reached forward, clasped her hands around Melia's neck, and squeezed hard, as on stage Siegmund raised his sword over his sleeping beloved and, amid bleating of wind and churning of strings, bellowed back at the Valkyrie:

Kein andrer als ich soll die Reine lebend berühren! -- "No one but I will touch her. Take both our lives at a single stroke!"

In an instant the spell was broken. The intoxicating music and meaning disappeared from Lucy's head, retreating, as if down a narrow tunnel, back to the stage and pit. But Melia's slender pale hands, stronger than they looked, reached up and broke Lucy's hold. The alien turned and, with a brief glance of her fiery-cold blue eyes, pushed past Lucy and out of the box and into the circle foyer.

"No you fucking don't!" hissed Lucy -- this time out loud, eliciting much outraged tutting and grumbling from the other occupants of the box as she charged out after Melia.

The alien was fast. She wasn't running as such, but seemed to have the sort of anatomy which allowed her to walk with a swift gliding gait, such that even running down the stairs, through the main foyer, and out into the grounds, Lucy was unable to keep up. "You leave her alone, you hear?!" screamed Lucy across the summer-twilit Glyndebourne gardens at the retreating sapphire-haired shape. "She's been through enough already! You try taking her away again, and it'll be over my fucking dead body!"

But Melia had already reached the other side of the lawn where, lodged below a small copse, Lucy could just make out the sight of a large red telephone box. The alien stepped inside and shut the door behind her. "No you fucking don't!" screamed Lucy -- but blinked, only to find that the phone box was no more to be seen, and she was alone again.

Lucy collapsed in rage, and howled into the mud.

"Ah, Mr and Mrs Bloggs, do come in!" smiled Dr Gaia, as the door to her consulting room creaked open.

Mrs Bloggs, tall and strongly built, with long straight blond hair down to her buttocks, strode confidently in. In her wake followed a slight, slender, beardless young man with short, light brown hair and a nervous, almost sheepish expression on his face.

"Now, as I understand it," began the doctor, after the couple had settled themselves, "you are having second thoughts about your new cock -- is that right, Mrs Bloggs?"

"Oh, please don't get me wrong, Doctor," replied the blonde. "I adore it! It feels so good -- and it's so beautiful. I mean, ten inches of hard throbbing fuck-meat," she giggled, "who wouldn't love that? But..." Mrs Bloggs hesitated, looking sideways at her husband.

Dr Gaia looked quizzically back and forth between the two. "Are you not so sure about it then, Mr Bloggs?" she asked.

Mr Bloggs looked nervously at his feet. "Oh come on, Fred," urged his wife, patting his hand affectionately. "You can tell the doctor: it's all right."

Fred Bloggs, still staring at his feet, spoke in a painfully hesitant undertone. "I like it... It's... it's... it's just that it's...too big..."

"Ah," said the doctor.

"You see?" said Mrs Bloggs.

Fred continued to look at his feet.

"Well," continued the doctor, "there are things we can do about that. Would you mind showing me the, uh... size of the problem...?"

"Of course!" said Mrs Bloggs, peeling off her skirt and panties to reveal an enormous penis which, though currently flaccid, was thick and gnarled, marbled with prominent blue veins. "I just want Fred to be happy, you know, Doctor? He's always wanted a futa wife -- but I think it's just a matter of fine-tuning, if you know what I mean..."

"Oh, that is a beauty!" marvelled the doctor, moving around to the front of her desk so she could take hold of the naked cock and examine it closely. The huge member began to jerk and bob in anticipation. "I had forgotten how well that one turned out!" she grinned. "When did we do it -- was it a fortnight ago? It would seem a shame to... but no, show me what the problem is, and we'll see what we can do."

Mrs Bloggs gestured tenderly to her husband, who pulled his trousers down and bent forward over Dr Gaia's desk, his buttocks bare, smooth, and only slightly pimply. His wife stood behind him, slowly caressing the crack of his bottom with her futa penis whilst leaning forward and whispering in his ear, "You want this, Fred? You want this in your arse?"

Fred nodded shyly, reaching backwards with two hands to spread his buttocks, so that his tight puckered hole, framed with a few wisps of light brown hair, was visible.

"Can't hear you, Mister Bloggs," giggled the blonde, as she continued to stroke her semi-erection up and down her husband's arse-crack. "I said," she breathed hoarsely, "do you want this big fat cock in your arse?"

"Oh, yes please, Mrs Bloggs," whimpered Fred.

Mrs Bloggs raised her voice slightly. "Then tell me what you fucking want, Mister Bloggs. Talk to me!" Mrs Bloggs' cock had by now nearly reached its full ten inches, the foreskin naturally peeling back to reveal a huge gleaming purple cockhead, as thick as a man's wrist.

"I want your cock in my arse, Mrs Bloggs," squeaked Fred, as his own member began to stiffen in excitement.

"You like it in your arse?" pressed Mrs Bloggs yet louder, as she hawked a large gob of spit onto her husband's pucker, slid her middle finger in, and began twisting and twiddling it round to gradually open up the sphincter. "Why is that, Mister Bloggs? Tell me!" she insisted.

"I love your cock in my arse," squeaked Fred, his bottom writhing against his wife's finger. "I love your big futa dick, your beautiful dickgirl cock. You are so wonderful, Mrs Bloggs, and I love you so much, and I want you to fill me up with your big dick..." Fred's voice trailed off into an ecstatic whimper, as Mrs Bloggs spat more saliva onto her glans, leaned inward and pressed at his anus. Fred let out a muffled cry, half of pleasure and half of pain, his own penis stiffening further as he felt his bottom penetrated by the tip of his wife's cock.

"Oh yes, Mister Bloggs!" panted the blonde. "Feel my big fat cockhead in your mancunt. Feel it squeezing in where no man has gone before. Is that nice being fucked up your hot shitter by your dirty fucking futa wife? You want me to go deeper, baby?"

"Yes, Mrs Bloggs, please push it in deeper, let me -- AAARGH!" screamed Fred Bloggs, as his wife attempted to press the shaft of her cock further in. "NO -- TOO BIIIIIG!!"

And so Mrs Bloggs paused, her glans still buried in her husband's anus, but unable to proceed any deeper. "See, Doctor?" she said, rolling her eyes. "That's what he always says."

"I can understand that!" grimaced the doctor, taking a deep breath, and procuring a pair of callipers from her pocket to measure the diameter of Mrs Bloggs' girlcock. "It's not so much the length that's the problem, but the girth. Our ten-inch model was really designed for postpartum pussies, not male recta. Shall we try reducing the circumference a bit? A little injection should do the trick. It'll take ten minutes or so to take effect -- but best if you stay erect throughout the process: that makes for more even results."

Three millilitres and ten minutes later, Mrs Bloggs' cock was indeed still erect, maintained so by the kindly ministrations of Mr Bloggs, who knelt in front of his wife making oral love to her penis, until his saliva coated the full length of the futa shaft, swayed in thin strings off her balls, and dribbled down his beardless chin. Still rugged, and still ten inches long, its girth had nevertheless reduced, making it now look long, slender and suave. Mr Bloggs grinned with meek satisfaction.

"Shall we try it again?" asked Dr Gaia -- and both the Bloggses nodded in anticipation.

This time, Mr Bloggs emitted no screams of pain, but merely moans of approval and pleasure, as his wife's ten inches slipped into his rectum in one stroke. "Oh Mrs Bloggs!" he whimpered. "That's so good. Thank you, my darling! I love you, my darling!"

"Oh yes!" trilled Mrs Bloggs as, for the first time since her procedure two weeks prior, she felt her whole shaft buried balls-deep in her husband's rectum. "You like that, Mister Bloggs?" giggled his wife. "You want me to fuck your arse deep with my long cock?"

"Oh yes, my darling, I love it so much," he tittered.

"You want me to pound your sweet little arse with my great long futa dick, dear Mister Bloggs? Want me to ram it in and out, fill up your pretty little boy-shithole with my stiff girlcock?"

"Oh yes please, Mrs Bloggs. Fuck me hard, now!" whimpered the young man. His own cock, though far smaller than his wife's, was stiff again, its glans throbbing with pleasure and glistening with pre-cum.

Mrs Bloggs began dutifully to pound her long cock energetically in and out of her husband's rectum. Dr Gaia's consulting room was soon filled with scents and sounds of the marital futa-fucking: the squelch of ten-inch cock squeezing itself in and out of a tight man-hole, the slap of heavy girl-testicles against male buttocks, the moans and sighs of Mr Bloggs as he reached downward and began to manually pleasure his own cock, the ongoing scribbling of Dr Gaia on her notepad, and the enthusiastic dirty talk of Mrs Bloggs as she urged her husband on: "Yes, Freddie, this is what you've been wanting for so long, isn't it? Your beautiful woman-wife filling you up with her perfect slutcock -- you like that, don't you, my darling? Want me to give you my sweet futa cum? Want to feel me spray-paint inside your pretty boy-arse with my hot cream? Is that what you want, Mister Bloggs?"

Mr Bloggs could only respond with moans and squeals -- but his wife understood him well enough to time her orgasm perfectly. And so two cocks came simultaneously -- the slender ten-incher deep into Mr Bloggs' rectum, making its recipient screech with pleasure as his own cock also exploded. Mrs Bloggs lodged her spasming shaft balls-deep inside her husband, whilst at the same time reaching one hand around his trim body to pump his smaller specimen, collecting the dregs of his spasming ejaculation in her palm before slurping it off, even as her own cum began to ooze out of her husband's happy anus.

Dr Gaia could not help but applaud. "Wonderful, wonderful, Mr and Mrs Bloggs! How was that for you both?"

Mr Bloggs had a happy grin on his face, as he straightened up and his wife knelt behind him, lips pressed between his buttocks and tongue lapping contentedly at her own sweet semen now dribbling in thick rivulets down his thighs. Collecting a generous mouthful of her own cum from her husband's arse-crack, she stood up, pulled up her blouse, and let the cream dribble down her chin and ooze onto her large tits. "Oooh!" exclaimed Mr Bloggs, as he nestled his head against her breasts, licking creamy futa-cum off his wife's nipples and whimpering over and over: "Mmm... mmm... mummy..."

Dr Gaia, smiling with indulgent satisfaction, opened her mouth to speak, but was suddenly interrupted, as the door to the consulting room was flung open, and there on the threshold appeared a thin young woman with pale skin, pointy ears, and long, light blue hair.

"Melia!" exclaimed Gaia. "You're back!"

"Oh, Doctor, I am so sorry to interrupt!" panted the extra-terrestrial. "Please, may I speak with you now -- it's urgent!"

"You're very quiet, love," said Daphne, taking a sip of wine. She and Lucy were sitting facing each other across their pine kitchen table, illuminated by a single candle.

"Hmm?" muttered Lucy. "Oh, darling -- it's nothing," she lied. "I suppose I was quite moved by the show tonight."

"Well, in which case, you've been ruminating over it all the way home: you've not said a word!" chuckled Daphne. "Not like you not to give me your opinion of all the things that were wrong with the production!"

The truth is that Lucy had spent the evening, ever since her encounter with Melia, fighting back tears, and rage, and fear. She had returned to her seat at the second interval, but found herself ignoring most of Act Three, as she went over and over in her mind what the blue-haired interloper had said. Determined to protect Daphne, both from Melia and from any unwarranted alarm, she had decided not to mention the episode -- but was finding it difficult to feign normality. "Daph, I... I, uh, missed part of the end of Act Two: I wasn't feeling too well. Tell me, did..."

"Ha ha!" laughed Daphne. "Too many cucumber sandwiches, then?"

Lucy attempted a half-hearted chuckle. "I mean, how exactly did Siegmund persuade Brünnhilde not to kill him?"

"She was so moved by his love for Sieglinde, by his determination that they should live or die together, that she disobeyed her orders. Unfortunately, to no avail..."

"Do you think that's possible in real life?"

"What?" said Daphne, frowning.

"That even heartless emissaries of the state can be swayed by love, can disobey their orders out of mercy for others? I mean, history suggests otherwise, doesn't it?"

Daphne's face lit up with broad smile. "I think there are always exceptions. There are always remarkable people who dare to step outside the box, dare to be individuals, dare to not pander to the establishment -- in pursuit of love and truth."

Lucy gazed with awe into her lover's face. "I hope you're right, my love. I hope you're right..." She reached forward to clasp both Daphne's hands. "Look!" she added, placing their engagement rings side by side. "That's us -- always together..." A happy tear dripped down her face, before she continued: "Daph, my love?"

"Yes?" answered Daphne, squeezing Lucy's hands.

"I... I've changed my mind," said Lucy.

"Meaning?"

"You know I've always said there's no hurry to get married, that it doesn't mean anything, that it's just a pointless ceremony?"

"Mmm?" ventured Daphne tentatively.

"Well..." Lucy slipped off her chair and knelt on the floor, her head on Daphne's knees. "Darling, please, let's get married -- soon!" Joyous tears coursed down Lucy's cheeks, as her lover's face broke into a sublime grin.

"Oh, Luce, do you know how happy that makes me?" laughed Daphne, leaning down to kiss her fiancée on the forehead. "Did Wagner bring this about?"

Lucy giggled nervously. "I was just thinking about Siegmund and Sieglinde, and... well, you never you know what's round the corner, do you? We need to make the most of every minute we have, don't we?"

Daphne rose, pulling Lucy up with her, so that they stood face to face, lips close but not quite touching. She was about to speak, when Lucy interjected, "Also, I... I believe you."

"Uh... about what?" Daphne's face announced her puzzlement.

"About everything -- about what happened to you, about the accident, and the time-travel, and the aliens and everything..."

Daphne stood awhile gazing into her lover's face, lower lip trembling in awe and gratitude, before singing, in a voice as soft and happy as spring:

Winterstürme wichen dem Wonnemond, in mildem Lichte leuchtet der Lenz...

"Ach so!" giggled Lucy, deliberately breaking the mood. "Zat means: 'You are zuch a zexy bitch, I vant to fuck you tonight!'"