The Color of Sea

Feel those muscles — long and tight. Well trained, not bulky, maybe special ops. Tight abs, very tense. She's nervous about something. Combat-reinforced joints and ribcage. I'll bet her solar plexus and windpipe are crush-resistant too. Silky smooth skin and a nice rack. What a package.

Color Of Air was amused. And you probably find everything you listed a turn-on.

Of course, don't you?

I chose you, didn't I?

Erissa was kissing an intricate pattern across our jawline and down our neck. Lower, she paused to drag her tongue slowly across each nipple. Each pass of her tongue produced warm honey-cinnamon-electric jolts that traveled straight to our pelvis.

She slowly kissed down our belly, parting the robe as she did so. We prepared a nice erection for her, forming a tent under the soft cotton. It felt odd to me to have so much control over a process that had been nearly involuntary for all of my life. Still, it gave one more artistic control.

She parted the robe entirely, then kept on going, kissing our inner thighs, leaving our masterpiece pointing achingly skyward.

Is that all? You could make it a little bigger, couldn't you?

You're going to put it in her, not flog her with it. That's a good size to start with, and we can adjust it for a perfect fit in a moment.

Erissa had made a full circle, leaving us still quivering for her touch. Instead, she took our balls into her mouth, one at a time, and caressed them with her clever tongue. It was delightful torture; vanilla torment counterpointing stiff lemon oil anticipation. When a shapeshifter body becomes aroused, the synesthesia is intense. I could no longer tell whether I was feeling her or tasting her.

When I thought we could stand no more, Erissa looked up into our eyes. "Now come for me, Captain! Give me everything you've got."

She swallowed our cock in one motion, all the way to the base. She milked our balls gently in one hand, while taking our cock in a three finger grip with the other. She pulled the skin taut, giving maximum exposure to the head, while applying exquisite suction with her mouth.

How long would you have lasted, when you were human?

Ah! About . . . twenty . . . seconds!

That's what I thought. Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . .

Our balls contracted, I felt the pressure hit critical, and we erupted into her mouth. Four, five, six times we shuddered, while she swallowed each one. She held our legs as we thrashed so she could catch every drop, and we could feel the boosted strength in her slender arms.

As we lay gasping and recovering (a not entirely simulated process) she slithered back up our body. She looked into our eyes and locked us in a kiss. Lemongrass passion mixed with flecks of chanterelle and cream.

That tastes authentic. Did you make real semen?

No, not that would pass a genetic assay. It's child's play to create tastes and smells that would fool the senses of one of your kind.

So that tastes exactly like me?

Well, not exactly. There is room for artistic expression.

I see. You "improved" it.

Well, she seems to have liked it.

I'll say! She's not tense any more. She's stopped worrying about whatever it was.

We sat up and gathered Erissa into our lap. She wrapped her legs around us and rubbed her wet heat against our stiffness. "Ready so soon?" she whispered in our ear.

"You have a lot to do with that," I replied. In truth, for us an erection had nothing to do with hydraulics. Hardness and softness were as much a matter of will as what shape we took. On the other hand, a lapful of Erissa, arms around our neck, rubbing stiff-tipped nipples across our chest, put us in the right frame of mind for continuing.

She rose up, centered herself over our cock, and eased herself down, savoring every inch of her descent, eyes closed. I could feel Color Of Air surreptitiously make us a little bit wider, a little bit more ridged. Erissa touched bottom and sighed, "Oh, that's perfect."

I told you.

Oh, hush.

We rocked back and forth, feeling the ebb and flow of hidden tides. We took our time, pausing to kiss a nipple, caress an arm, nibble an ear. Warm sea breezes sighed saffron lust across the sand. Cinder burned redly above, a bloated infrared lamp in the heavens. Offshore, a school of bioluminescent fish leaped like aquatic fireflies. We moved gently within and her gently without, and the night was peaceful.

Color Of Air knew how to embellish. A little extra ridge to press on her G spot. A little extra in another spot to make sure her clitoris felt every plunge. A little extra spice to our scent to heighten her senses. Erissa started to breathe raggedly. She plunged more forcefully, but always controlled. I suspected it would take a lot for her to totally lose herself.

Erissa arched her back, presenting her lovely breasts to our attention. She curled in, burying her head in our shoulder. We felt teeth, hard enough to leave marks. She thrust down for the last time, uttering "Oh, Yes!", her only vocalization of our entire coupling.

She ground herself around our cock, trembling with the force of her orgasm. That brought our release as well, and we pumped sticky fluids deep within her. With each ejaculation, we contrived to pump our cock larger and thicker, filling her completely, drawing out and intensifying her climax.

After the planet-quake had passed, we toppled over on our side and watched the piscine fireflies dance on the wave crests. We were spooned together, with her in front, my arm protectively over her side, cupping one breast.

The waves had delivered a few score of moments to the beach before she spoke. "Thank you, Captain. That was some of the best love-making I have had in a long time, man or woman. I can't remember the last time I came that hard or that long."

"So you like women, too, do you?"

"Oh yes, I'll pick the girl eight times out of ten, unless I have a special feeling about a guy. I thought you might be one of the lucky ones. That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"Not at all, in fact . . ." I could feel our shape changing, becoming one that Color Of Air often favored for liaisons. We had eight hands for caressing and stimulating and plucking a lover, three breasts pressed against Erissa's back, and a sultry female voice. "I did mention that you never knew who might drop in."

Erissa froze for an entire second. With my assumptions about her training that meant we must have caught her totally off guard. The next second she had driven her elbow into our solar plexus, rolled away and come up with her needle gun in her hand, and pulled the trigger.

A desolate click was the only response.

We held the needle gun's clip in our hand. "Sorry for the precaution. We didn't want . . ."

She didn't wait for any explanations. She whipped a strand out of her hair and leaped on us. I identified it as a molecular monofilament just before it cleanly separated our head from our neck.

I didn't see that one coming.

That was number six.

You could have warned me.

From our position on the sand a few feet away, we could see our headless body holding Erissa down, still struggling. A shapeshifter is much stronger than even a boosted body, so after the advantage of surprise was lost, it was no contest. We rolled across the sand to them. One arm reached down and picked up the head and plopped it back in approximately the right place. A moment of queasy adjustment later we were whole again.

"Someone who is frightened might pull a gun as a threat. You pulled the trigger immediately. Then you sliced off my head, something that's fatal to most lifeforms. What's the deal? I thought we were having a helluva nice time out here until then."

Her face was stony. "I didn't want to get eaten."

"I'm not in the habit of dining on my lovers. What makes you think otherwise?"

"You're a shapeshifter. I've been tracking you from Gamma Lyris. You've left a trail of missing persons behind you at your last four stops. I was sent to stop you before any more people became your dinner."

"I've never been to Gamma Lyris, so you must be mistaken. I can tell you that you know more about shapeshifters than you should, and you know less than you need to stay alive."

"How many of you are there?"

"I'm the only one that I know. My homeworld was closed off and expunged from the charts years ago. I don't even know where it is."

"Yes, the Lost World. A survey officer named Olaf Gunnar was consumed by a shapeshifter on the initial survey. That shapeshifter took his place and escaped offplanet, and vanished. We sealed off the world as extremely dangerous, and have been tracking him ever since."

We rocked back a bit. "Olaf?. I thought I was the only one to encounter the creature in the lake."

Erissa thought our momentary distraction might be an opportunity to break free. No such luck. After a scuffle that ended with her pinned, and her two breasts nestled between our three, she lay back and sighed.

"We don't really know his story, and we don't know yours at all. It looks like on the next run of the Rapier Whit, he consumed the Captain and took his place. We never recovered the ship or the crew again. Tell me about this creature in the lake. We don't know this part of the story."

How much to tell her? "It's a crystalline amorph, non-sentient, but a fantastic mimic. It probably reproduces by merging with small wildlife who then carry it to another body of water. If it merges with a sentient being, however, you get one like me. The shapeshifter who arises is based on those who it merges with. Tam Martin was full of life and love and kindness, and that became my base personality. Olaf was dark, brooding . . . primal. I could believe that as a shapeshifter, he would be capable of taking people unwilling, by force, to feed his hunger."

"There have been over a hundred missing persons in his wake. He is hard to trace, because he becomes that new person for a time, and so the disappearance is usually reported much later. We're always one step behind."

We looked at each other for a time, measuring. "Not all shapeshifters are like him," Color Of Air said eventually. "I'll help you stop him. First you need to learn more about shapeshifters, if you want to survive. What put you off your guard with me?"

She colored slightly. We could feel the heat flush her face and breasts. "Your semen. It was too authentic tasting. I didn't know you could do that. I figured I had the wrong target and could just enjoy myself."

We lowered our lips to hers. "Let me teach you about shapeshifters. We're very adaptable." She gasped she felt us enter her again, despite our female form. "And we have a great deal of endurance."

The lesson went very late into the night.

It was near Pinwheel-dawn when we returned to the bungalow. There was a faint scent in the air inside.

Someone has been here.

The luggage is undisturbed. It's not holding any detached body parts.

There's something on the table.

A bottle. And a card. "We wish the honor of your attendance at a private party offshore tomorrow evening. Regards, Remus."

It's some kind of liqueur.

There's something not right about this.

Seems authentic. It smells like a fresh sea breeze.

Samuel! Don't drink it!

Too late. I thought you told me nothing could poison us.

Quickly, in the bathroom. Lock the door.

"Luggage! Guard this door." The squat shape walked over to block the door.

I'm feeling woozy.

You're feeling very drunk.

On one sip?

Don't argue. Close the tub drain.

Fingers won't close. They're dripping.

Lean on the lever!

It's like putty.

No, we're putty. Push!

Got it!

Get in the tub! Now!

What's the puddle in the bottom?

That's us.

Oh. . .

Pinwheel was low in the sky. It cast long double shadows across the room that slowly merged then separated again, with a five minute half-life.

A hand emerged from the bathtub.

It had two fingers. A third emerged after a struggle, destabilized the other two. The hand subsided back into the tub.

Four times the shadows did their dance before the hand tried again. This time it leveraged something resembling a body to a sitting position. An amateur clay face failed to cohere, and slid like a mudslide in a downpour. It leaned forward to grope for the lost face. The entire head dropped into the tub. The torso belched an exhalation that might have said "Shit!"

A half hour later a vaguely human golem successfully arose from the tub, staggered to a chair and sat with its head in its hands. The playback ended. The holo monitor above the luggage switched off.

And I still have the worst hangover of my life.

Just remember, no alcohol. It messes up the neural impulses that keep our shape.

I got that already. At least we know no one came in while we were incapacitated.

It wasn't for that reason, then. But something's still wobbly about this. If Remus sent a message and a present to Amaya, why did the resort staff deliver it to our room?

That is pretty dodgy. Who could connect us?

Erissa. Maybe. With a lot of guesswork.

We kept her occupied all night. She didn't have time.

I don't know, then. Should we attend the party?

I think we should. We need to learn if our cover is blown.

Right. That gives us an hour or two to find a shapeshifter hangover cure.

By the time we finished firming up, Pinwheel was touching the horizon. We would be fashionably late and reasonably sober. We took the liqueur bottle, with the vague notion of finding out how it had come to us.

Tonight the twin suns were bisected precisely by the horizon at the same instant as they set. That must be the Virgin's Breasts Erissa mentioned.

I don't know. It's been too long since I've seen any.

Breasts?

Virgins.

You're terrible, Captain.

We waded into the Cinder-lit sea. As the warm water lapped our flanks, we flowed beneath the waves. Male melted into female, legs into flukes, Samuel Drake into Amaya. We began to swim, found the bottle troublesome.

Tuck it here. A pouch in the flank.

Don't let it leak out.

That lesson is still fresh.

This sea was alive with noctilucent life. The firefly fish we had seen the previous night broke sparkly through the surface on reentry from their flights. Glowworms swayed as backup dancers to showy fish. Much more of the sealife on this planet sported light-emitting organs, whether through natural selection or design of the terraformers, we didn't know. Even the octopus whirled galaxies of blue and green lights as it jetted toward us in the shadowed sea. We slowed to watch it come close and undulate in the water before us.

That octopus looks mighty curious.

I've heard they're highly intelligent creatures. Probably just checking over someone unfamiliar.

A tentacle extended in our direction. It seemed tentative, exploring. We waited to see what it would do.

Closer, closer, it touched. Its skin was rubbery and slightly cool. It slid from shoulder, where it landed, down outside of arm, and coiled around wrist. We could feel suckers explore our skin.

This fellow has a career in massage therapy if he wants it.

Another tentacle coiled around our body, pulling us closer. Other arms drifted around us with lazy strength. They explored our dimensions, measured our curves. The dolphinesque tail seemed familiar to it. Arms were due a thorough understanding. Breasts were a revelation: it explored their spherical geometry with the gentle tips of its arms. Supple and clever, they ran repeatedly over our curves, persistently surprised by the interruptions of the nipples in the center. It fastened a sucker over a nipple and flexed. We gasped as a shudder ran all the way to our tail. The octopus seemed amused by that reaction. It fastened a sucker over the other breast and began pulsing each one alternately.

This is becoming rather surreal.

Don't knock it; he's better than a lot of men I've had. Present company excepted, of course. I'm torn between calling him a pervert and finding a bedroom with him.

Red cayenne flashes arced between breasts and discharged through our core. Our vaginal lips swelled pinkly open, and clenched spasmodically, seeking to quell their awakened hunger.

The octopus sensed the movement, and sent a questing tentacle to investigate. Before we could collect ourselves, it slid inside and began exploring. Cool and rubbery within our heat, it flexed and writhed. Suckers plucked tangerine chords deep inside. A larger sucker planted a hot cinnamon mouth on our clitoris and lit a fuse.

This is getting out of hand! We should become something less attractive to him.

I can't concentrate enough to hold a new form!

We tried to reach the invading tentacle to pull it loose. The tentacles encircling our arms became steel bands binding them tight. The taste of our tormentor became infused with an inky curl of charcoal and iron filings, conveying sinister intent.

This is no octopus! Color Of Air's mental voice was tinged with alarm for the first time since I had known her. This is the rogue shapeshifter that Erissa is hunting!

What's he doing?

This is how one shapeshifter consumes another. They stimulate each other until one reaches a state of neural overload that's the equivalent of orgasm. That makes it lose cohesion enough to allow the other to absorb it. The one that absorbs the other becomes the dominant personality.

What happens to the one absorbed?

Forever trapped. Aware but helpless. In one like this, it would be an eternal waking nightmare.

Well, that sounds like a mood killer right there.

We threw a now-panicked strength into a struggle to escape. The octopus-shifter threw loops of suctioned arms around us, pinning our arms to our side and bending our tail painfully back. He rammed his sexual arm home in our channel while hundreds of suckers plucked at our skin. Despite ourselves, we soared higher on a breaking wave of lust, curling dangerously over into the zone of no return.

We have one chance! Samuel, he doesn't know we have two minds. I'm going to cut you loose from the stimulation. You won't have much control, but you may be able to do something.

An eerie calm settle around me, the quiet in the eye of the hurricane. I couldn't hear Color Of Air any longer, and was no longer buffeted by the tastes and textures of her senses. I was adrift in her body. I moved my consciousness downward, looking for a way to break this embrace.

I stopped under her breast where I could feel the body of the octopus pressing against us. What could I use against him? I could feel him squeezing her ribs with crushing strength. I wished for a needle gun; ten thousand volt sliver of steel would put a dent in his ardor. In sudden inspiration, I broke one of her ribs free and stabbed out through her skin, deep into the body of the Other.

With a roar, he jumped away. Color Of Air reacted immediately, yanking his arm out of our vagina and sealing it off. The red wave receded into deeper waters.

That was close! Contact was reestablished. Color Of Air sounded ragged.

We watched the shapeshifter back off, frustrated. He pulled in his arms, then flowed outward again, lengthening. A dolphin faced us in the water, with an enormous erection and murderous intent.