Salamander Stud

"That's for tempting me."

The stinging imprint of CJ's broad palm seared onto Greg's cheek as his tail twitched in annoyance. A low, throbbing ache ensued. "Dude," he moaned, "not cool."

CJ's stern exterior broke for a second as he apologised: "sorry, I...uh...don't know my own strength."

"Like hell you don't! Damn...no wonder nobody's come over and said hi. If they think they're gonna get clipped this hard."

"Makin' friends takes time, and that was just for you," CJ grumbled, "what am I missing?"

"Apart from our after-showers wrestling and getting down with the boys...nothing." Greg wore a smug grin.

"Now you're just making shit up."

"Nah man, it's bro shit. Y'know, guys being guys. No chicks allowed. Slappin' asses and clapping cheeks. And with you're talent for the former you'd fit right in."

Greg let his words linger for a moment, before the cute absurdity of them wore down the pair of showering males.

They broke into stifled laughter.

"If that's..." CJ said, "that's what passes for the bro code among salamanders, I'm not sure how I feel about it."

"Hah! Hehe...you're to easy to wind up, CJ." Greg put undue emphasis on his name. A signal to him. A call to reality, and facing truths. As if to say 'quit hiding'.

As a couple of other males filtered in and out of the showers, the place remained busy. The noisy rush of water and the din of chatter masked a lot of the pair's antics. It afforded them little opportunity to be pensive, but is was privacy. Their next avenue of conversation needed to remain something between just them:

Greg was first to speak after the pause. "When are you gonna tell her?"

"When it's the right time."

"You told me soon enough."

CJ lowered his gaze, and sighed.

"You're not her."

"Ouch," Greg remarked with sarcasm.

"You know what I mean. If you wanna talk about the bro code, do me a solid: give me the time I need."

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"Seriously," CJ said, facing Greg and prodding his chest, "no gossip or pillow talk to your lady. Or the 'boys'. Or anyone else in the Centre. Or outside it! Don't spoil it for me."

"Of course dude. Man, what do you take me for? You know me! What's changed, really?"

CJ frowned. "A lot...more than I expected." He looked away, watching others leave the showers. The nozzles slowly shut off, one-by-one, as their users abandoned them. "A lot," he repeated, "but I can handle it."

Soon, he thought, everything will be whole again. Right again.

* * *

Why did I invite him over?

Trace cradled her head, her mind repeatedly asking that question. It had been so simple -- a handsome newcomer...polite...friendly...why shouldn't she? It's just talk.

Just talk. Yeah right!

She knew she had feelings. She'd experienced a strong attraction to CJ, and attraction that grew fiercer every day she bumped into him. Sometimes it was in line for food, other times it was in a rec room where she found him palling around with other males. They spoke occasionally. Small talk -- the usual kind of stuff you do with acquaintances. She knew it would get worse -- and hiding the truth would be impossible.

I've already fantasised. Already...indulged myself...picturing him, me...

She groaned. "I have to be the stupidest motherfucker on the planet. I couldn't just mention my long-term boyfriend in passing--no! I had to play coy. I had to smile and titter like a little girl. Fuck!"

Well, she surmised, there's no cancelling the invitation. Let's hope he doesn't interpret my offer the wrong way, or things are going to get...interesting, and fast...

Shame ran through her like a river about to burst its banks. A strong current of nervous energy coupled with guilt and dark ideas of where he life was going to lead if she cheated. The knot in her stomach threatened to quench any appetite she had. Perhaps she could call it all off and feign sickness. Delay the consequences of her burgeoning need. But that would merely delay the inevitable.

Sitting by herself, Trace shut her eyes and fidgeted, counting the seconds until the allotted time.

Ding!

The sound of her apartment doorbell ringing cut through the haze. She breathed in sharply and rose from her seat. Her gut tightened. She felt like shit. Gritting her teeth and powering through the pain she reached the door. With a click and a slide she opened it.

"Hey."

CJ stood in his usual swimwear, leaving little hidden from her lustful scrutiny. He smiled and raised a bag in front of him. A gift of food. Tribute to enter her domain. He played the part of the fool expertly, oblivious to Trace's torment. He met her eyes and through them watched her soul burn bright. A fire lay within her -- a severe conflagration that could burn those closest. He better play his cards right, CJ thought, as he offered the plastic bag to her.

She accepted it without a word. The lettering and logo of the ARC crinkled and crumpled as she wrapped her hands around it, along with her dream of holding fast 'gainst the rising pressure.

"It's um...I don't know exactly. Some kind of eel. The guys said it's really good. Have you tried it before?"

"No," Trace replied, "no I haven't. Please, come in."

"Thank you."

CJ stepped inside, clearing enough room for Trace to close the door. Now, if only she could close her heart...

The tall male cast a tremendous shadow into her abode. Trace switched on and off a few lights to balance the illumination, and reveal a set table for their meal. Two plates, two knives, two forks, two glasses waiting to be filled. CJ whistled and followed Trace as she set down the food alongside what she had in the kitchen left to prepare.

"I gotta say: you don't think you'd like eating anything slimy before you change, but now it's like a part of you. Normal to you. No different from eating a steak as a human -- not that I don't like steak anymore," he bumbled forth in his wording, trying to find the necessary segue, "but your taste-buds, they're not the same."

Trace giggled, and regarded him with wary looks.

"I think what I'm trying to say, and failing at, is I hope I haven't brought you something foul."

"I'm sure your eel will be just fine."

Trace tore open the sealed packaging and was met by a strong, striking scent. It filled her nostrils; they flared with each inhale at the foreign sensation. Pungent. No...rich. She was of two minds. Her old humanity wretched at the thought of ingesting the living rope in front of her. Yet her animal side, her new body -- the one designed from creatures that held no qualms about tearing into raw flesh and devouring all kinds of life -- salivated over it.

"Yep," she said, rolling her tongue around the inside of her mouth, "just fine."

CJ had also gotten a whiff of the food, and exclaimed: "whoof! That's strong."

"Let's hope it dies down a little, or we'll be fighting over a god-damn eel instead of getting to know one another."

"Wouldn't want the food to ruin our dinner-date, yeah."

Trace paused. His choice of words had to have been deliberate. She faced away from him as she continued preparing the meal and winced. Oh God, she thought, I really am in trouble!

CJ offered to help her set up, so Trace had him mix fresh berries with ice and other fruits and whip up a couple of blended drinks. With their backs to each other, Trace cut up and lay the meat on a pan with oil, searing it lightly. As much as her stomach grumbled, its hunger having consumed the knot of guilt deep inside and demanding more, she wanted to add a touch of civilisation to the whole affair. With seasoning and condiments -- and not just gobbling it down whole, wriggling, and raw.

Several minutes flew past. By now their preparations were done, and the pair brought over the complete ensemble to the table, each taking a seat. A jingle and clank of cutlery broke the peace as they tasted the food. CJ was first -- taking a slice and chewing it, his face lighting up with pleasant affirmation of the dish's quality. He smiled and gestured to Trace to take a bite.

She did. The rich, tangy sensation danced on her tongue. A sprinkle of salt served to sting her sensitive amphibian tongue, but nevertheless enhanced the taste. She stabbed her fork on another piece and shovelled it into her mouth. Her guest watched the unceremonious devouring with eager eyes.

"See," said CJ, "I didn't need to worry after all."

"True," Trace added before taking a sip of her chilled drink.

CJ followed suit, supping on the slushy blend of fruit and frost.

"Ooh," he exclaimed, his jaws snapping after the drink slid down, "that goes right to the teeth doesn't it?

"It's good."

"Oh yeah."

They ate like this for another minute, slowing their pace to savour the meal. As they did, Trace felt more comfortable in her skin -- more at ease with her handsome guest. The initial jitters had worn off. For better or worse, she had him for the next couple of hours.

"Trace," CJ eventually uttered, catching her off-guard as the silent dining occupying her mind fought for her attention, "there's something I need to tell you..."

Oh no -- here we go! Trace's mind raced. An admission, and one she knew was going to be bad news for her.

I can't stop this, can I?

Her mind said yes but her body said no. She followed her intellect's guidance on this one, and pushed back in her chair, causing it to slide noisily across the floor.

"Can it wait!?" she blurted out, actually startling CJ.

"Um..."

"Until after dinner?" she added, clawing her way back to the table and her delectable dish.

"Sure--we've got time." CJ looked at her intently. "Are...are you doing okay?"

"I'm good," she lied, "just had my mind on other things."

CJ nodded. "Work, huh?"

"Yep. The ol' grindstone."

"I think we'd have a bad time putting our noses to it if the metaphor were actually real!" CJ joked, gesturing to his snout and tapered maw.

Trace laughed, but it was a weak laugh. The same haunting horniness that permeated her anticipation of this evening had gotten stronger now that there were fewer pangs of hunger to distract her. One need was being satisfied. Another grew to take its place.

"Well, you know how it is. It's tough keeping your mind on multiple responsibilities for your job alone, while taking care of my spawn."

That's right, mention the kids. Don't stop mentioning the family I've started with someone else. Someone I very much want to return home.

Talk about the kids. That'll keep him guessing. Does he want to take on a single mom and all those responsibilities?

...

Oh who am I kidding? We're all horny monsters at this place.

This fucking Centre! A real centre for fucking!

My clutch, huh? My spawn? Tellin' him about them. That's just an invitation to make more, isn't it?

Trace swore under her breath but forced herself to keep talking. The conversation continued with work-related topics taking the fore. All the while she noticed CJ getting impatient with her, and her mind extrapolated her worst fears onto the stranger's expression.

The fear grew. It grew and grew. Germinating in the ditzy hollows of her mind, taking root in her brain and sapping all the light and happiness from the world. They talked, and the more they did, the more the conversation was steered clear of romantic entanglement, the stronger the bond between them became apparent.

Soon there was nothing but the darkness.

Trace stammered suddenly and stood upright, shaking the plates and glasses. Her swimsuit clung tightly to her body -- constrictive. Compressing her. Trapping her. Her air-breathing lungs wheezed, and the lingering moisture that tickled her gills and the parts of her skin that respired in aquatic environments felt dry and ashen.

CJ stood, concern written across his face. Trace gulped and nervously pointed to the empty dishes.

"Well, that was lovely! I'm sure you'd love to stick around but I have some work to do tonight. I, uh...I hope it's not too rude of me to bring this little 'date' of ours to a close so early..."

"Trace," the caring male said, his voice starting to waver as hers did. "Are you sure? You never mentioned you were busy."

"Work never stops, y'know!?" She fumbled her words as she shimmied out from between chair and table, her tail smacking into the legs and making an ungodly racket.

Trace rambled about how it was nice meeting CJ, and that he surely has more people to become acquainted with. "Lots of friends to make, ARC residents to get to know -- don't let me stop you, eh?"

"Trace..." CJ noted the panic in her errant politeness, and moved closer.

"Greg, Hugo, Tyson. Good boys. Beth. Missy. I'm sure they would love to be introduced! And the rest of the Centre, from frog to fern-eating caecilian...huh? Plenty of opportunities there."

Ignoring her plight, the large male salamander reached out and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, making small motions to caress and calm her. Trace glanced furtively every which way but his, hoping in desperation she wouldn't submit to her raging instinct to bed this stud.

Concerned, and with soft caution, he spoke once more:

"Trace, I'm--"

That was all he could say, for Trace sprang forward into his arms. Tears formed in her eyes as she closed them and went for a kiss. Her snout bumped against his. CJ tried to step back but momentum kept her going. Their lips met. And just like that, their troubles melted from the world for that instant. Trace's tongue greedily dove into his mouth -- scouring his jaws and battling his own tongue in sensual competition. She fell further into his embrace, pressing her beautiful body against him. Sealing the semi-moist surface of her amphibian flesh with his broad torso. She could find no sense in her actions -- her subconscious need overpowering doubt, reluctance, guilt...until all she had was desire. Burning desire. Sopping and smacking maws fuelling the blaze within. The ache deep in her sex. The void begging to be filled. Her clothes weighed on her -- cruelly denying her body of divine contact. Where she was bare, exposed, delight flowed freely in the form of a pounding heart and waves of yearning thrumming through her nervous system.

Peace at last. If only for a single second of a single lonely day.

NO!!!

All of a sudden, her fears returned. Her anguish. Anxiety. Horror at what she just did.

Her heart stopped. Her eyes flew open. Tears streamed. An pained cry exploded from their broken kiss and wrecked the wonderful moment.

What had she done!?

"I can't...I just...I can't," she sobbed, covering her face.

CJ, in shock, tried to salve her pain.

"Whoa whoa whoa, hey."

"Stop!" she roared through tears and dread thoughts of betrayal. "Just...stay where you are...stay there for a moment. Let me...let me breathe."

Her rasping voice struggled to hide her sadness.

"Trace."

"No-no-no, I can't cheat...I can't cheat on Chris..."

"TRACE!!!"

Startled by the commanding shout, her gaze fixed upon his. He strode forward and grabbed her by the wrists. Looking at her. Through her. Through the tears and sorrow. His own eyes glimmered, almost welling up in response.

Her breathing continued, gasping and sobbing.

It took a moment, but he finally broke through with the truth:

"It's me."

She paused. Staring.

"What?"

He sighed, and looked away. He cradled her cheek with a firm palm.

"It's me," said the empathetic male, his tormented voice cracking with those two syllables.

She stared.

Into his eyes.

His familiar, blue eyes.

"C-Chris...?"

'CJ' solemnly nodded, shame for a trick played for far too long written across his face.

Trace's jaw hung open. In that moment there was relief, hope, joy, anger -- many emotions, many conflicting thoughts. Stunned into silence she looked at him, gawping at the large amphibian standing in her apartment, barely dressed, having dropped what felt like the weight of the universe onto her shoulders.

She needed a moment to lie down.

She had other plans...

"CHRIS!?!?!?"

"I'm sorry," he said, "I tried to tell you earlier, but you kept avoiding me--"

"You...you..."

Trace stumbled over her speech. A new fury emerged in her -- bitter barbs punctuated her words:

"You ASSHOLE!!! Why the fuck did you pull that shit on me!?"

"Hey! You were one of the worst bullies I ever had. Some comeuppance is only fair play."

He reached out his other hand, but she was having none of it. Trace smacked away his arm and tore the other from her cheek. "Y'know you can't keep using that excuse to get away with shit. First you knock me up--"

"You specifically requested that!"

"Doesn't matter, didn't see you refusing out of chivalry did I? Then you make me fall for you. Then you disappear on me and don't call for months! Months, Chris! Were you gonna let it turn into years before you came back?"

"I had to move fast in case you really did move on (I know -- it's an awful thought). Getting involved with the Pacific Institute, settling in and waiting for my opening was the best way of making sure I could be by your side. Think about it, Trace, I'm here now. For good. Our kids can grow up with their daddy."

His explanation sounded honest. But that did nothing to quench the righteous anger she felt. Trace snarled and growled, baring her teeth at him. He kept his distance, not wanting to be on the wrong side of her jaws in an argument. He just watched, and waited.

She let out a bone-chilling hiss.

"Grrr..."

"You done?" Chris, formerly 'CJ', asked.

Trace's expression changed. Her frown faded; no more a storm inside her, the cooling presence of her long-awaited lover sank in, immersing her in a shroud of comfort that dulled her rage.

"Haahh! Ssssss...yeah. I needed to vent before forgiving you..."

Chris smiled apologetically.

"I'm grateful you still want me. And I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd fuck up the reveal so badly."

"That was really dangerous Chris, going through the transformation. You could've been seriously hurt!"

"But I wasn't...wait," he stopped, befuddled, "that's what you're mad about?"

"No! Not just that!" Trace shot back. "You should've talked. We should've talked!" Wiping the tears away, she sniffed, "I never wanted to lose you."

"I'm sorry. For making you worry. And for...this," he gestured to the room. The remains of their meal lay on the table, glasses spilled and cutlery scattered due to the commotion.

"Yeah you better be," Trace quipped, returning the to the table to help clean the mess she'd caused. "You fucking dick. I thought I was cheating on you!"

"I know. I let it go on too long. I thought it would be a fun, romantic way to announce myself -- I didn't think about what you might think..."

He smirked nervously and continued: "I did think, however, that you'd realise sooner than you did. I mean...CJ -- Chris Jameson. I thought I made it easy for you."

"Yeah, so," Trace said, biting her lip as her skin flushed with embarrassment, "so, uh, in the heat of the moment I kinda forgot your last name...uhm..."

"Wait, heh...you forgot your baby daddy's full name? Trace...you are a shameless ho!"

"Enough, hon. Stop teasing. You put me through enough."

"I know. Pretty sure you see my name printed out on all those documents about our kids...putting two-and-two together should not be this hard!"

"I wasn't thinking straight."

He laughed, and jeered. "No, you were thinking about this hunk of meat -- losing braincells faster than you could stop to think about who I was -- I saw you droolin' over me from day one!"