Xenobiological Morphosis Ch. 03

He felt like a bantam boxer trapped in a ring with two championship heavy-weights and for some reason the twin dynamos still at large between his legs thrummed all the harder for all the aggressive attention.

What the actual fuck...

"Oh, don't pretend like you suddenly care about him." Amy shot back and Terry couldn't help his hopelessly wandering eyes from roaming over the twin raspberry peaks of her mountainous milky bosoms, down the smooth supple plains of her tanned belly and into the fertile delta of her hairless cleft. So sweet and inviting... "The only reason you're so keen on him now is because of that magic wand between his legs and what's in it for you."

"Ha! More like a wizard's staff but if you mean my rocking hot new bod and a belly full of piping-hot delicious-"

*THROOOB!*

"Uuurrgh~!" Terry yowled as his high-octane turbocharged balls slipped into fifth gear and floored the gas pedal.

His back arched like a drawn bow, his hips quaked a seven on the Richter scale and his kicking feet tap-danced a staccato rhythm on the snowy sheets as an impact wave of purest unadulterated desire blew out from his lurching loins like a supernatural force.

"Ooohmagawd~!"

"Hrrnnnfuuuck~!"

Both bodacious beauties in all their luscious largess melted like butter as the scintillating shock-wave blew through them. Their knees knocking and their thick thighs squeezing together even as Terry was blinking stars out of his own eyes.

By Satan's withered ball-sack, not again!

He collapsed back into the pillows, gasping for breath as liquid molten lust pumped through his arteries and his skin prickled painfully with feverish heat. How could he still be this turned on after the last twenty four hours? His heart was hammering against his ribs like it might burst if he didn't find release and soon.

"Amy... Bernie... Somebody... Please, I-I need to cuuuum~!" He babbled incoherently, skating on the very edge of carnal delirium.

The two hulking naked heroines recovered themselves enough to stare down in wonder at the pulsing pillar of manhood between them. Rock-hard and as unyielding as a steel bar, it swelled further with each visible heartbeat in the latticework of bulging veins that ribbed his freakish flesh as it reaching for the clouds like a certain fabled beanstalk.

Their eyes raised only for them to lock determined glares and lick hungry lips.

"Mine!" Bernie cried as she dove for him, trying to claim shotgun position on his straining giga-cock with a feral grin of manic need plastered across her ecstatic face.

"Like hell!" Amy countered, her long chocolate hair billowing out like a cape behind her as she intercepted the ravenous coed in a flying tackle that sent them both crashing back into the bedroom bookshelf.

Wood splintered and paperbacks showered down around the two wrestling knockouts in an Olympian display of big wiggling rumps, wildly careening breasts, glossy handfuls of pulled hair and high-pitched squeals of outrage.

Terry barely had enough presence of mind remaining to scramble off the bed, grab his raging effervescent erection in both hands and get the hell out of dodge.

________________

"I do believe that is a prosthetic the Hootnam female is wearing, Flunky Third Class."

"Are you sure, Grand Scrutineer?" Bhamme leaned in to examine the recording closely. "Then for what purpose does she enter the male Hootnam's shtaaark-hole? If it cannot result in reproduction..."

Despite his earlier reservations Flunky third class Bhamme was learning a lot from Grand Scrutineer Dhuussod. The Craterisal Head Researcher Extraordinarius truly was as much of an acclaimed genius as the Prime Smack--may they remain ever gelatinous--had ever produced. He was a veritable font of knowledge on terrestrial mating practices!

"Examine the complexion of the males facial epidermis." Dhuussod instructed, waving a moist lappet towards the projected image. "See how the increase in heart-rate is observable in the way blood suffuses the dry derma? That would indicate excitement. The male is highly aroused and will likely..."

"Ahem... please excuse me, Grand Scrutineer Dhuussod..." High Phsycophant Qwaizoo coughed politely behind the two of them and the awkward fuchsia blotches dusting his mucus membrane belied his discomfort. "But the Hootnam test subject?"

He twitched his eye-stalks towards the transmission bubble in the slightest gesture of a suggestion. Any more than that and his superior might consider him as acting insubordinate but really... Dhuussod's fascination with alien reproduction was bordering on the perverse. Perhaps there was an ulterior motivation for the Prime Smack--may they remain ever gelatinous--to send him all the way out here to the boondocks of the galaxy along with Bhamme...

"Ah yes, of course, High Phsycophant." Dhuussod replied, giving his gills an invigorated ripple and floating back towards the glowing display. "Flunky, remind me to regale you with the mating rituals of the dancing Crustacea of Proxima Centauri II later."

"Yes, Grand Scrutineer and thank you for the guidance." Bhamme gushed, turning back to the recording with renewed interest when High Phsycophant Qwaizoo stopped him.

"You may return to your station now, Flunky third class." His superior ordered in a no-nonsense tone.

Bhamme sighed internally and floated back towards the environmental controls. They were so boring! He didn't even know what half the flashing indicators or illuminated read-outs even meant so how was he supposed to monitor them? He reached out his pseudopod towards the command interface, perhaps if he adjusted the...

"And don't touch anything!"

________________

"FuckFuckFukkityFuck..." Terry grunted as he bounced off the banister and nearly tripped down the last three steps into his living room.

Where was he even going? He was naked as a jaybird, hornier than a triceratops on Viagra and probably getting close to being hung like one...

He was seriously parched too. Small wonder that, given his award-winning money-shots of late but right now Terry had the mother of all hangovers. He felt as wrung out as a Louisiana barfly after a three day bender, who knew sex hangovers were even a thing?

A loud crashing noise and the shrill feminine battle-cry resounding from upstairs motivated him to keep moving. It sounded like a professional demolition crew had taken violent offense to Terry's choice of bedroom decor.

"Come on, just settle down..." He begged, steadying himself in the doorway to the kitchen. He wrestled with his tempestuous fuck-staff but it wasn't having any of it. "We'll just get something cold to drink and take a little breather, 'kay?"

Terry staggered over to the fridge, his massive member leading the way like an out-thrust steel broadsword seeking any wet womanly hole to sheath itself in. It was stupidly sensitive, even the touch of his own hands as he maneuvered it out of the way to open the fridge door sent delectable shudders through him.

"Oh thank all the gods." Terry breathed spotting a one gallon jug of fresh milk, he grabbed it and tore the plastic screw-top with his teeth.

His mouth and throat were drier than the Sahara. Terry almost sobbed in relief as the cool creamy ambrosia soothed his leathery tongue and he gulped down great mouthfuls of the life-giving liquid.

"Aaah~..." He sighed, once he finally came up for air, the container was now three quarters empty. "Just what I needed."

He felt half human again, raging monster cock aside and even that felt like it was ebbing to a more manageable level of arousal as the chilly air of the refrigerator washed over its twitching enormity. Terry took a moment to bathe in the warm morning sunlight washing across his naked chest from the small windows set above the kitchen sink and just caught his breath.

His insufferable donkey-dick was slowly settling down, the inflamed crown cooling it's jets against a covered plate of cold cuts in the back of the chiller. Even the heavy thumping impacts coming from above that rattled the lights in their fixtures couldn't disturb his brief moment of sweet serenity.

...until Terry caught movement in his peripheral and turned his head instinctively in alarm to track it.

Outside the kitchen window, framed in perfect idyllic view on the front lawn, his stunning barely-legal neighbour Fiona was welcoming the dawn in her usual flexible fashion.

Her fiery flowing hair shone like burnished copper in the sun's early rays, pulled up into a high flowing ponytail. A tiny pair of powder pink yoga shorts failed spectacularly to cover the ivory globes of her magnificent derriere and a scant wool knit sweater in matching periwinkle hues snuggled close to every gym-fit curve of her flexible young torso.

She was just in the process of moving into the infamous downward dog yoga pose. Head down, silky legs straight, sleek taut hips angled high in the air with those skin-tight spandex shorts sliding up the crack of her superbly toned ass as she bent and stretched...

*THROOOB!*

Nononono..." Terry wailed as his turgid masculinity flared back to life under full steam and the fridge rattled on its base from the lurching force of it painfully dislodging a wire shelf of carefully packed away leftovers. "Dammit- Faaaark~!"

He reeled and fell back against the kitchen island, one hand still clutching the sloshing milk bottle like a lifeline. His head swan and Terry felt faint as his peerless pulsing man-pole cried havoc then played merry hell with his blood pressure.

There was nothing else for it but to cede to its screaming demands and engage the manual override.

"Oh shiiiit~..." He gasped as he began to stroke his turgid magnitude. The goddamn thing was the size of several cola cans stacked atop each other and purred like a panther under his tremulous touch. "Jeezus fuck!"

Terry was no one-pump chump but he might as well have been edging himself for a week, feeling as backed up as he did. His churning balls fought like two cats in a sack as he stared out the window, his eager eyes drinking in the mouth-watering form of his fantasy girl-next-door as she rose up on her tip-toes and languidly stretched her slender arms high above her head.

That beautiful crimson hair, the long sinuous lines of her tight yoga-toned young body and the way the golden orb of the rising sun was momentarily captured in that delicious gap between her supple heavenly thighs...

"Oh gawd- Huuurgh~!"

In a flash of unearned inspiration, Terry jerked his furious bucking man-meat down and clamped opening of the milk jug over his dilated slit. There was no way the bulging crown of his erupting enormity would ever fit inside container but he could at least avoid the shameful act of hosing down his own kitchen countertops.

"Nnnnrgh~!"

Terry sagged in sweetest toe-curling release as he splashed great jets of hot sticky cum into the plastic bottle, blessedly emptying himself while concurrently filling it with his overabundant flow of gushing seed. He was locked in that blissful paroxysm for over a minute, quivering and panting before he was well and truly spent.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou..." Terry didn't know what or who he was being thankful for but it didn't matter. He had bought himself a short reprieve, some time to catch his breath and think.

With blood finally making the return trip to his brain, he carefully placed the notably fuller bottle of decidedly creamier milk carefully beside the sink. He sighed, wiped the sweat off his brow then frowned...

The duplex apartment was quiet.

Too quiet...

Outside Fiona had paused in her morning routine and was looking back at the house with a curious expression, her pretty little nose twitching like a bunny. Terry swore softly and ducked low before she spotted him creeping on her from the window like the proven pervert he had just discovered himself to be.

The sounds of rampant violence and destruction upstairs had stilled as well. Instead, insidiously soft footfalls were coming down the stairs towards him as though the two warring warrior women had somehow sensed his ecstatic ejaculation through the goddamn floorboards. Terry slipped to one end of the kitchen before pulling himself up to his full six feet of height and balled up his fists in determination.

It was time to take back some control of his crazy life. It was time to seize the metaphorical reigns and reassert some agency over his own fucking fate. It was time for Terry to take charge, Man Up and make bold decisive moves!

"Oh Teeerry~ Where are you, Tiger?"

Terry boldly decided to hide and locked himself in the downstairs bathroom.

________________

Hello Dearest Reader. Menoetes here again.

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