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Its Always Time Book One

Page history last edited by PBworks 13 years, 12 months ago

It's Always Time

 

by Oblimo

 

Book One: Boy Meets Goo

Book TwoBook ThreeBook FourBook Five


Like what you see? Want something different? Then comment below or email me!

 

I give my eternal gratitude to the esteemed Dr. Albertus Menashe. Without his encouragement and resources, my strange adventure would have never even begun.

-Oblimo

 

 

 

 

Chapter One: There Ain't Nothing in the World...

 

 

Dee reached into the refrigerator, peeled off the cellophane sealing the wide mouth of the metal mixing bowl, and chickened out.

 

"I can't do this," he said.

 

He tipped the bowl and took a long, hard look at the Jell-O inside. The surface shone in the fridge's light but did not shift. The gelatin had already set even though the instructions said Dee still had two more hours to wait.

 

"I'm not going to wait because I'm not going to do this."

 

He slammed the fridge closed and stood there for a while. He stomped around the breakfast table to the kitchenette's bay window and shuttered the blinds. After another pause, he ran around his empty apartment, drawing the curtains on every window and double bolting the front door for good measure.

 

The bowl was back in his hands again. "Okay."

 

The bowl clattered onto the round, glass top of the little breakfast table. He glared down into the bowl's wide mouth. His wobbly reflection frowned back at him. After a final moment of hesitation, he dropped a hand down into the bowl. It made a loud slap when his hand hit the gelatin and he jerked back, embarrassed. The cool sticky stuff seemed to smooch at his hand when he pulled, reluctant to let go.

 

Damn. That felt good.

 

He pressed his open palm back into the gelatin. The surface gave but did not break. The tension of the stuff felt, well, delicious. He waggled his hand. The gelatin tried to keep up and parted with another long, lazy, traveling smooch. He rubbed his thumb over the tips of his fingers. They weren't even wet.

 

"Wow."

 

So that was what it must feel like. He could write about that, he decided. He wanted to write about that. Hell, he had promised to write about that, promised to write some "goo girl" fiction for some Internet friends. Well, he could not really call them friends, but they all shared his bizarre fascination with, okay, let's face it, fucking The Blob's hot younger sister, and that created some sort of strange solidarity. So, after seeing yet another anonymous posting of the same goo girl art for the umpteenth time he flippantly offered to write some goo girl erotica. Now his fellow posters were clamoring for some "fic" and when he first sat down to write he realized he had no idea how to describe what touching a goo girl felt like. Hence, the Insane Jell-O Experiment was born.

 

Dee grabbed a cookie sheet from the cupboard. He pushed it under the bowl and twirled the bowl upside down with his fingers. He gave it a good shake and peeked under: nothing. He clanked the upside down bowl back onto the cookie sheet and whacked it on the top a few times for good measure. He slowly lifted the bowl. Nothing.

 

"God damn non-stick coating my ass!" Dee throttled the bowl in both hands, shaking it like a stubborn ketchup bottle. He had paid fifty bucks for the stupid thing!

 

He felt something in the bowl shift and the whole mass of gelatin, shaped like a giant, rounded gumdrop, plopped down onto the cookie sheet. The sheet juddered and knocked something off the table. Dee sat down on the rickety wicker chair and reached out both hands for the quivering mound. He surprised himself at how easily his imagination turned the rounded gelatin into a tap-worthy ass, or a massive breast.

 

The object knocked off the table rolled to a stop by his foot. Dee looked down, saw the battered tin of thickening powder, and every thought of sex fled as he remembered the results of the Insane Jell-O Experiment, Phase One: Procurement.

 

 

 

 

The only place Dee thought might sell what he was looking for was a medical supply store. He found one, SRU Medical Technology. Getting there and back home added 40 minutes to his commute after some emergency Sunday troubleshooting in the corporate server farm. A square, whitewashed, brick building squat in the center of a paved parking lot far larger than it would ever need, out in the middle of nowhere. The only vehicles in the lot were a busted-up, generic white pickup truck and a rose red Morris Mini Coop. Not one of those trendy new ones, Dee noted, but an import at least 20 years old. Well, at least one person in there has good taste, he thought. He slunk through the front door. The bell hanging from the doorframe was loud and jarring.

 

Petrified, Dee browsed the same aisle for fifteen silent minutes. He wondered, Do people browse in medical supply stores? They know what they want when they come in, don't they? Dee noticed the doughy clerk staring at him from a stool behind the glass counter. Dee looked at the products in the aisle he had been browsing for the first time: ostomy supplies. Oh, God. So this is what going to a porn shop with your mom must feel like

 

Dee shuffled over to the clerk behind counter. A short woman with long, black hair was busy in a supply closet behind him. "Do you sell thickening agent?" Dee asked.

 

"Excuse me?" the clerk said.

 

"Thickening agent," Dee explained. "For liquids. You know, for people who have trouble drinking without aspirating?"

 

"Sure," the clerk grunted. As the clerk led him down the aisle for food supplements, Dee thought he saw the woman's oval face peek out at them.

 

The clerk handed him a large tin of something called Thique-It and turned back to the counter, but Dee stopped him. "Does it, sorry, do you know if it works with Jell-O?"

 

The clerk pivoted on his heels. "What?"

 

"Does this stuff work with Jell-O?"

 

After a long staring contest, the clerk asked, "Why would you need to thicken Jell-O?"

 

"Because…" Dee began, his ears starting to burn. He swallowed. "Well," he tried again, "so the Jell-O stays thick, even after it gets…warm?"

 

The clerk snorted, plucked the Thique-It out of Dee's hands, tossed it back on the shelf, and marched to the counter without even glancing back. Dee realized he was going to puke. Luckily, emesis buckets were in the next aisle. He whirled about, ready to run, only to find the young woman standing right behind him, smiling inscrutably. "I've got what you want," she said, her dark eyes merry. She led him into the crowded supply closet, and pressed a battered, narrow tin into his hand. The yellowed label read, SRU Thickening Agent.

 

"You guys have a generic label?" Dee asked.

 

The woman pursed her lips and gave a one-shouldered shrug that could have meant anything. "First time, start with something easy, like chocolate or vanilla pudding. That way, it's hard to mess the mixture up."

 

Dee didn't really understand, but he nodded anyway.

 

"If you're feeling adventurous," she smiled, "you can try cherry. Or…" Her smile turned wistful, as if her mind were a thousand miles away. "…Strawberry-banana."

 

He asked her the price, but that just brought her out of her reverie. "But not lime," she insisted. "No lime. Too tricky, lime. Oh, how much? You want some? For you, five dollar.

 

"But no lime!"

 

 

 

 

Dee stared at the giant lime green gumdrop settling on his bistro breakfast table. He had been so mortified by the SRU ordeal that he had just grabbed the first Jell-O packet he found at the nearest convenience store and fled the place. Of course, when he got home he discovered it was lime Jell-O. There had been no way in Hell he was going back out there, so he made the lime Jell-O anyway, adding extra SRU thickener in case the crazy lady had a point. In the florescent light of his kitchen, the gelatin looked pearlescent and a bit opaque. Must be the thickener, he thought.

 

Dee looked at the microwave's digital readout: 12:44 AM. Up passed midnight, and on a work night, no less. It was now or never. He grabbed the side of the mound and squeezed.

 

"Holy shit."

 

It was pliant but firm, puckering around his palm and dimpling over his fingers. Cool, sticky and yet somehow smooth. He felt himself growing hard. It's official, he realized. I've got a new fetish.

 

He stood, took off his shoes, and then sat on his knees in the wicker chair, crooking his legs into the chair's back for support. His crotch was now level with the breakfast table, his pants tenting toward the gelatin mound.

 

I can do this. He pulled his pants and underwear down. Maybe it was just the air blowing from the ceiling vents, his imagination, or his nerves making him shaky, but Dee could have sworn the gelatin was trembling.

 

He was not comfortable like this at all. Dee carefully untangled himself from the chair. He grabbed the cookie sheet, one hand on each side, plucked it off the table, and lowered it down. "I can do this," he said, shifting his weight. His erection pointed straight at the gelatin mound. He could feel the cool air sliding of the gelatin around the head of his cock. "I can do this."

 

The memory of the contempt on the clerk's face, how the clerk's eyes narrowed and dimmed as Dee talked ["…So the Jell-O stays thick, even after it gets…warm…"] rose unbidden in Dee's mind, and his cock fell. "I can't do this."

 

He dropped the cookie sheet back onto the kitchen table and marched to his bedroom. The door slammed behind him. In the kitchen, the lime gelatin sat on the tabletop, warming to room temperature.

 

"Motherfucker," it said.

 

 

 

 

"Late for work," Dee said as he came out of the bathroom the next morning, wrestling with his polyester-blend yellow tie. "Where the Hell are my shoes?" He remembered. "Oh, kitchen, right." He crossed the narrow living room. "Late for work, late again—Aw, what the Hell?"

 

The gelatin had melted overnight, melted but not liquefied. The thickener apparently had done its job. Instead of sitting in a puddle of green water, the round table was coated in lime green frosting. A thick sheet of the icing had overflowed the glass top and pooled in rolls on the floor, draping the breakfast table in a cloth made from expensive, green ribbon candy. Dee could see one of his work shoes poking out from under the stuff.

 

He stumbled into the kitchen and over to the table. "My only good pair of shoes," he muttered, reaching for the black leather heel.

 

The ribbon candy tablecloth around the shoe plucked itself upward, like a stage-curtain or the ruffles of a prom-dress, and a stiletto-heeled pump shot out from under the table and pinned his hand to the floor.

 

Shocked by the sudden, sharp pain, Dee did not think to freak out as he took in some quick details. The fuck-me pump bruising his knuckles looked forged from green glass, an accessory for a horny Cinderella trying to spice up her flagging love life with Prince Charming. Before the ribbon candy tablecloth dropped down again, he caught the flash of a long, curvy leg, as green as the pump. Somewhere above his head, a woman spoke, her voice rich and dusky. "You little tease!"

 

Dee craned his neck up. A green shape was rising up out of the top of the table, reminding Dee, still shocked numb, of the liquid-metal, killer T-1000 robot from Terminator 2. Daggers of hair in a long, pixie-styled bob cut framed a heart shaped face with big, glittering eyes, button nose, and a small mouth. The face glared down as it rose higher on a graceful neck. Narrow but square shoulders humped out of the stretching green mass on the tabletop.

 

As the figure rose, the ribbon-candy tablecloth synched up, revealing more leg and taking on the appearance of a short ruffled skirt. From his vantage point, Dee could see that the green goop had coated the flat undersurface of the table, extending down into scissoring legs. As if aware he was looking, the green gel right under the table filled out into a pert derriere. Garters flicked down like cilia but no underwear formed beneath them.

 

That's when the thought, I just might be in trouble, finally crossed Dee's bewildered mind. He lost his train of thought again as soon as the figure's breasts ballooned outward. They bobbled above him, bigger than his head.

 

"I see I've finally started to get your attention," the green girl said, lifting her heel. His hand free, Dee rocked back and fell on his ass. "But I want your full attention," the green girl breathed. She bent down toward him at an impossibly deep angle, draping dainty arms about his shoulders.

 

She flashed a grin down at him. Her teeth were big, slick, and as green as mint mouthwash. Looking back up at her through the valley of her breasts inches away from his face, his whole world narrowed to a fountain of hair, tits, and cupid-bow lips, all straining and swirling out of milky-green gelatin. Dee's engorged dick pressed painfully against his pants zipper.

 

"Now," said that fiery voice, "how would you like it if I just marched into the bedroom to sleep the day away, hmm?"

 

She arched an eyebrow at Dee. He thought for a minute.

 

"Uh," he said.

 

 

She rolled her wide, liquid eyes and hauled him up onto his feet. "Oof!" she said, rubbing a wrist. "You're a skinny fellow." She looked down and flashed that toothy, feline grin again. "Except where it counts, I think. That was harder than it should have been. Why am I so weak? Need energy." She reached back and above her head in a contortion that would kill a yoga master and flicked open the bay window blinds. The light of sunrise flooded the kitchen, and flooded through her. She sparkled like an old fashioned coca-cola bottle. "Oh!" she giggled. "I'm hollow. That explains it. You're not into balloons, are you?"

 

She arched an eyebrow at Dee. He thought for a minute. "What?"

 

"I didn't think so," she sighed. "I need more mass." She turned her face to the left bask in the Sun, her head haloed in a corona of limelight. "Well, I have the energy. Enough for now, anyway."

 

Dee stepped back. Without turning her head, the green girl shot her arms out, grabbing his shoulders in a vice grip. "But I'm just a girl. A fertile girl, a fecund girl, sure, but even a fertile girl…" Her face turned to the left, again, to whip 360 degrees around, and met Dee's shaky gaze. Her canary-eating grin was so wide Dee thought the top of her head might topple off. "…Needs fertilizer," she finished.

 

She arched an eyebrow at Dee. He thought for a minute. "Huh?"

 

She stamped her feet. "Baka!"

 

One green arm coiled around his neck, as sinuous and sure as a python, while the other shot down to his groin. The tentacular arm around his neck felt deliciously cool. It sucked and smooched at his skin as it loop around and around. The hand topping the tentacle swayed in front of his face for a moment before dipping down to rip off his tie and scuttle under his shirt. "Hey, bright boy," she said, "look down."

 

Her right hand waved up at him from his crotch, her arm extended out and down like a hose. Five extra digits shot out of the hand, pseudopodia budding from an amoeba. All ten fingers wriggled up at him in greeting. They were all double jointed—No, they had no joints at all—and in split second they were all in his pants. She did not bother with niceties like unzipping his fly. She oozed around any obstacle.

 

Dee and the green girl gasped in unison. "Ooh, bright boy is a big boy," she said.

 

Dee tried to edge away but the loops around his neck and shoulders held him fast. Her sticky-smooth fingers rubbed the tip of his cock, circled under his glans, rippled over his shaft, pumped at his root, and kneaded his balls. Dee's knees buckled. His eyes rolled back into head and the room went dark. Somehow her warm breath washed over one ear as her gluey tongue went spelunking in the other. "Coup de gras," the green girl giggled as her left hand completed its lazy journey under his shirt to join the other below his belt. The room filled with syrupy sounds. "This is my Demonic Fifteen Point Fleshlight Palm Technique," her voice whispered into his ear as some other set of hungry lips closed over his mouth.

 

His over-stimulated cock exploded and her greedy flesh milked it for all it was worth. White spunk swirled across the inner surface of her candy-glass torso. She purred in alien pleasure and let Dee go. He toppled over, out cold. She flowed off the table and her fuck-me pumps went thup-tup as she sauntered over to gaze down at him. His cum pearled and fell like rain within her.

 

"Fuck all you want," she said, "I'll make more."

 

 

 

 

Dee woke to the sound of sparkling, girlish laughter.

 

He found himself in bed, morning sun warming the sheets, and for a moment he believed the encounter in the kitchen had been a dream. He had dreamt much stranger things before. After all, he had been jerking off to Internet porn for years, so a trip into his unconscious was like a Google Image search with the filter set to "The Goggles, They Do Nothing."

 

He heard that peeling laughter again. Dee propped himself up and saw a dream made flesh. Well, no, not exactly flesh…

 

Dee's bedroom was a sparse affair. His university diploma, a framed map of Middle Earth, and a few X-Men and Justice League pinups decorated the cheery wallpaper left by the prior tenant. His pride and joy, his custom computer gaming rig, lurked catty-corner from his bed. Another computer desk occupied the third corner of the room, where he kept his media server PC (a perpetual work in progress) and the generic WinTel box he used for surfing the Internet and telecommuting.

 

The jellified girl sat in front of the second desk, facing his flat screen monitor. Each helpless giggle shot a burst of concentric ripples through her substance.

 

There was a lot more to her now. She was solid, an erotic sculpture the color and clarity of green toothpaste gel. Hips flared out from a wasp-narrow waist into a single mass of green goop carved into leggy, curvy shapes ending in two wide tendrils wiggling on the floor and threatening to envelop the chair. When she threw her head back to howl in glee, green ooze would spill over the headrest and crawl down the back of the black task chair only to slurp back up again when she bent over in mirth. Doubled over, her upper body would merge into the lower in wide, lazy rolls. Only her spiky hair—no separate strands, of course, just thick, spiky dreadlocks of gelatin—and the outward curves of her impossibly huge, spectacular breasts remained defined. Even in this state, without a mouth or even a face, she could laugh, although the sound was little more than muffled echoes.

 

An eruption of laughter brought her hourglass figuring shooting back out again. "Oh, my God, I love the Internet. This is just too funny!"

 

Dee tried to find his voice. His parched throat closed. "What are you looking at?" he croaked.

 

She waved a wobbly arm at him, not turning around. "Morning, sunshine! What did you say?"

 

He coughed. "What's so funny?"

 

"Something I found in your Anime folder. Ahaha! It's funny because it's true! C'mere, you've got to see this! This schoolgirl stuff is so great!"

 

He had the entire run of the comedy Azumanga Diaoh in there: funny, a little bit naughty, but mostly family friendly stuff. Maybe he wasn't in that much trouble after all. He almost smiled. "Which episode?"

 

She literally collapsed into laughter again. When she gathered herself together, she replied between gulps of air, "Oh, I dunno. Something called 'Legend of the Overfiend.'"

 

Oh, shit.

 

She slowly came down from her giggle fit, her little barks of laughter—"Ah-ho! Ah-he!"—growing fewer and farther between. He shook his head to clear the static in his brain but it just made his temples throb. He had to get to get out of there. "I'm sorry, but I need to go or I'll be late for work."

 

His monitor blazed a brilliant white as the green girl called up a Google search web page. She typed something in and his company's homepage popped up. "Nah, I took care of that." An arm of ooze fountained up and waved his cell phone at him.

 

"What?" Dee said.

 

Two locks of hair extended into thin tendrils and mimed dialing on the cell phone. "Beep! Beep-boo-beep," she sang. The green girl's arm pressed the cell-phone to the side of her head, and then pushed the phone through the giving, jelled flesh until it floated in the translucent, emerald suspension behind her eyes. Something complicated happened inside her neck. "Hello," she droned, and Dee jumped at the sound of his own voice coming from her. "This is Deiter Detwiler. Can you put me in touch with HR? My…" She mocked-sighed. "…My grandmother died, you see, and I need to ask about bereavement leave—"

 

"You killed Nana?" Dee cried, leaping to his feet on the bed. His unbuttoned pajama top fell off, leaving him only in briefs. He lurched forward on the cheap spring mattress, tangled his feet in the thin comforter, slipped on the discarded top and toppled to the floor.

 

"What?" his voice came from her again. She swung around to face him—or, rather, her features did an about-face turn on her body. Even in his panic, he couldn't help but notice how the entire back of the chair disappeared into the deep valley of her cleavage.

 

"Grandma!" he choked, scrabbling to get up, to get away. "You killed—"

 

"What!" she shouted, in her voice this time. "Oh, Deiter: No! What kind of monster do you take more for? I just made up a story, that's all! I even faked a death certificate—thank you Internet!—but they didn't even ask for it. You've got three days of bereavement leave left. Calm down!"

 

Dee sat up on his knees. "Sorry. I thought that—before you seemed so angry and I…"

 

"That's okay," she said. "I did murder your girlfriend, though. It wasn't my fault, she dropped by without even calling and—"

 

"You killed her?" Dee demanded, rising with fists clenched. "Oh my fucking God, how could—Wait a minute. I don't have a girlfriend."

 

"You don't? Must've been the maid then."

 

"I can't afford a maid."

 

"Nosy neighbor, maybe?"

 

"You're just making this up."

 

"Of course," she cooed, and stood up, or at least elongated up to her apparent full height.

 

 

The lower half of her hourglass figure spread less when standing than sitting, but only a deep, v-shaped dimple in the rounded bulk suggested separate legs. She glided close to him, undulating over the rug like a snake or snail. Dee stood nearly six feet tall, yet his nose was level with the base of her throat. She reached out to caress his shoulders.

 

Her breasts got there first.

 

The sensation blew his mind and nearly his load. It started when the nubs of her sticky nipples pressed into his collar bone. There was resistance and pressure but her tits didn't push him back. They just kept coming, a tide of flesh. Two circles of gooey, cool, soft sensation grew and then merged and then surged around his arms and up his neck and down his belly and…"Oops," the green girl said, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Talk about overkill. Better reel these babies in." With a sliding slurp the tide of tits receded. She drew some of her chest's substance into the rest of her body, darkening to a forest green. "There we go," she sighed. "Big enough to shame any porn star, small enough to fit through the door. Where was I?"

 

It took Dee a moment to respond. "You, uh, were making jokes about killing people."

 

"Right," Her facial features rearranged themselves into a vision of sorrowful sincerity. Green, glistening oval teardrops brimmed from her pancake-sized eyes. "I'm sorry, honey," she breathed, caressing his shoulder. "Of course I didn't kill anybody. I've spent the past two days in here, with you."

 

"Two days? That's right. Bereavement leave is five days and you said I had three days left. What happened?"

 

Her face flicked into mischief mode again. "You don't remember the Demonic Fifteen Point Fleshlight Palm Technique, honey," she said, mocking sympathy this time.

 

His nuts tried to draw up into his pelvis. "Oh yes I do."

 

"No, Deiter, you just remember the first few minutes of it. It seems the human male's higher thinking functions shut down at certain levels of biochemical pleasure stimulus. We'll have to get you some beta-blockers, sweetie."

 

"I…I don't understand."

 

"The Demonic Fifteen Point Fleshlight Palm Technique lasts forty-eight hours."

 

Dee plopped back down on the bed. The green girl's arm stretched down with him, her hand still tender on his shoulder. "Well that explains the hangover I guess," he said. "God, what a headache. Listen, just what the Hell is going on?"

 

The green girl cocked her head to one side. "I bet you're thirsty."

 

"Yeah, but what the Hell is—"

 

"Me too!" A sine wave rocketed down the gel of her arm and the force of it pushed Dee prone on the bed. "You sit tight, I'll grab us something."

 

She drew herself up and her outline snapped into focus, going from the suggestion of curves to very real curves in a matter of moments. Her legs were long, strong, and well defined as any runway model's. Those jade, sexy-Cinderella, fuck-me pumps popped out of her feet again, sending a wave rolling down her body as she heaved up few more inches, her breasts bobbing a mesmerizing rhythm above Dee's head. Her nipples stuck out, sculpted in a relief of smoky, opaque green in stark contrast to the milky-crystal translucency of the breasts they crowned. He could see a ghostly, fun-house mirror distortion of his gaming rig through those curved globes.

 

"Ahem! What color are my eyes?"

 

"A darkling green," Dee said before looking up to meet her impatient glare. "Emeralds on black velvet."

 

She faltered a step back, a flush the color of a wine-dark sea painting her neck and cheeks. "That…that was a much unexpected thing for you to say, Deiter."

 

 

Dee smiled for the first time since he walked into that SRU supply shop. "Your games and tricks are very distracting, but I do pay attention, you know. And call me Dee, please."

 

"Games, Dee?" the green girl asked. There was a sound like the fluttering of many wings as a crisp, maid's pinafore unfurled to just above her knees and a frilly tea-green apron crawled itself up to strain against her magnificent chest. "What games?" Pale stringy rivulets zigzagged around and down her legs to form fishnet stockings of liquid glass. To top it all off, a maid's bonnet with an elephantine bow jumped out of the top of her head with a loud, smacking pop.

 

Dee groaned, rubbing his temples with one hand and waving her away with the other. "Okay, okay, you win. Do what you want, but promise me you'll answer some questions."

 

She gave him the thumbs up, a broad wink, and thup-tupped out of the room. Dee heard her bustling about in the kitchen for a minute before her head peeked back into the bedroom's doorframe. The noise of busywork in the kitchen continued unabated. "You aren't hungry, are you?" she asked.

 

"No thank you," he said. Realization dawned. "Hey, if you've been—if we've been doing—if I haven't eaten in the past two days, how come I'm not hungry?"

 

A cruel smirk puckered her lips. "Oh, you've eaten," she said before her head zipped out of sight.

 

She sashayed back in the room so laden with supplies an extra pair of arms sprouted from her shoulders to carry them. Dee had no tables other than computer desks in his bedroom, so she arrayed everything on the floor: a couple cartons of milk, four gallons of bottled water, the discarded instant Jell-O box, a shot glass, the tin of SRU thickener, two brown bottles of expensive ginger beer, and the old bottle of Nyquil from his medicine cabinet. Dee sat up on the bed and she handed him a ginger beer. He drank the bottle down to the dregs. "What's the Nyquil for?" he asked, stifling a belch.

 

"Getting high," she said. She sat down cross legged and smoothed out her skirt. The extra arms drew back into her mass as she poured a thimbleful of the green medicinal into the shot glass. "I don't know what this does for you, but one snort of this shit and I'm flyin'." She slammed the shot glass back. The bow in her hair dissolved and her skirt crinkled up. "Woo, yeah!"

 

Dee shook his head, hopped off the bed and helped himself to the second ginger beer. "Okay," he said, "question time."

 

She nodded. "Shoot."

 

"What’s your name?"

 

She shrugged. "Dunno."

 

"Then how do you know my name?"

 

She crooked her thumb at the WinTel box. "Innernet," she slurred.

 

"How do you know how to use a computer? Or that bit about beta-blockers? Or English? Or fetish maid outfits?"

 

"Dunno. Innernet?"

 

Dee eyed the SRU tin. "Where did you come from?"

 

She took one last hit of Nyquil before screwing down its bottle cap. "Fridge. You. Before that? Dunno."

 

"What is that stuff?" Dee asked, pointing to the tin.

 

"Nanomek."

 

"Nanotech?"

 

"Nanommmek."

 

Dee gulped. "You haven't taken more of it, have you?"

 

She swayed a bit, losing definition, oozing back into her abstract form. "Me? Nah, don' need it. Could use more collagen, though, but not that cheap stuff." She nudged the Jell-O box with a pseudo-foot. "Make me stronger. Let me do more. Have more fun." Her grin was wicked and wet, her teeth scimitars. She tried waggling her eyebrows lewdly, but her forehead just fell into her eyes instead. She smoothed it back with both hands, and for a minute her whole head was bullet-shaped before it bobbled back into the cherubic heart-shape she seemed to prefer.

 

The ginger beer slipped from his fingers and fell fizzing to the hardwood floor. "Why? Why do you want to have fun? That is, fun with me?"

 

"Love you."

 

Dee sat dumbstruck until she socked him on the shoulder and added, "Dumb ass."

 

 

Ain't nothing in the world like a green skin girl

But that don't mean to say you can't look!

 

—XTC, Omnibus

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two: A Lovely Way to Burn

 

 

 

Dee sighed and shook his head. A tip of a green tendril touched the puddle of ginger beer and siphoned it up. The green girl belched, straightened herself out and asked in the super-smooth, steady voice that only a drunk desperately trying to act sober thinks sounds normal, "Any more questions?"

 

"Not right now. I guess I'll get more answers at SRU," Dee said. "The place I bought the 'nanomek'," he added when he saw her quizzical look.

 

"Alright," the green girl said. "But not yet. You need more fluids."

 

"You're right." Dee reached for the milk. "I'm still really thirsty."

 

The green girl slid to block him. "Ah-ah!"

 

"What?"

 

 

"You accused me of playing tricks on you before," she said, tapping the tip of his nose. "That wasn't very nice. Want to see a real trick?"

 

Dee thought it over. After watching the green girl get disarmingly drunk on a few ounces Nyquil, Dee thought she seemed more human now then ever. And then she'd said she loved him. What did that mean? Was it the Nyquil talking? How could she love him? How could she even exist? And how could she be so damned hot?

 

"Well?" she asked.

 

"Sure," he said, and she squealed and clapped her hands.

 

The green girl seemed to sit up on her knees, her lower half forming a rounded wedge beneath the swoops and swells of her upper body. He could see the rounded tops of her legs and shadowy cleft where they met but the rest of the wedge was a solid, flowing mass. One arm stretched and snagged the carton of milk and she began to sing a wordless fanfare: "Dah dee dah-dah dee dah doo dah! Yah dee dee-dah yee dah yah dah!" She sloshed the full carton in front of his face, still singing.

 

"An ordinary gallon of milk, ladies and gentlemen!" Dee crooned in his best radio announcer voice.

 

Delighted, she nodded. Her fanfare built to a crescendo as she popped open the carton top—"Yah ner nah ner nah!"—but was cut short as she wrapped her lips around carton's spout. She held up a hand, four fingers and thumb snapping open and closed in the universal sign language for "yap yap yap." Her fanfare began again, quieter, from her hand. Dee thought he saw a small pair of lips moving on her palm when the hand yapped open wide. She drank the milk down, making ridiculous, cartoonish gulp! noises. The milk carton compressed and imploded until it was nothing more than an inch or so of crushed cardboard around her writhing mouth. He could see the white fluid gathering into a sphere deep in her belly.

 

"She can suck a bowling ball through eight feet of garden hose," her hand confided to Dee on the sly, a sock puppet without the sock. The hand pivoted down. "Wow, this is getting you hard, huh?"

 

Dee, abashed, adjusted himself in his underwear. The green girl plucked the defeated carton out of her mouth, discarded its ruined husk with disdain, and started draining the second. Even through his trauma-induced amnesia, a vague memory of the Demonic Fifteen Point Fleshlight Palm Technique stirred in him and the tiny voice of his conscience cried out an alarm. Did you see that? That's going to be you. Again. Run, run for the love of God! The thought just made him hornier.

 

Tossing away the second empty carton, the green girl undulated with more sensuous fluidity than any belly dancer, her face plastered in a blissed-out trance. Dee watched rills of milk spiral and percolate up through her gluey interior. "You ever jerk off to a lava lamp?" the green hand asked. When Dee just shifted in silence it whined, "C'mon, talk to the hand!"

 

When he saw where the milk was going, he scrabbled back on the bed in panic. "Oh, no. No-nuh-no-no-no-nuh-no."

 

The green girl opened her arms in an inviting gesture, milk roiling in little pearls from fat nipples the color of black glass. Her already massive breasts were so gorged with milk she could not reach around them. "Come to momma," she cooed. Her hand cackled like a crone but she silenced it with a sideways glare.

 

 

"I'm not ready for this!" Dee squeaked, gripping the head board. "It's too much!"

 

The green girl sighed, sitting with arms wide and nipples weeping milk. A fat pseudopod arced out from her lower body and raced across the floor toward the bed. "Come..." she said as Dee watched a green gummy river flood over the bed frame, the bedposts cutting strange eddies in the current. "To..." The viscous assault lapped over and around his feet. He shut his eyes and felt it envelop his legs, cup his ass (he gasped as it goosed him once on each cheek), then crawl up his back and down his arm. "Momma!" she demanded. She tugged, gentle but relentless. The stuff made his grip too slick and he slid up and over the bed frame into her awaiting lap. He had lost his underwear along the way. He peeked with one eye and caught a glimpse of the talkative hand eating his shorts.

 

Dee felt a cool, gentle touch on his forehead. "Not until you’re ready," the green girl’s voice promised.

 

The edges of her lap spread out to accommodate him entirely and then folded up and over to snuggle him into a full-body embrace. She cradled his head in the crook of her shoulder and pressed his cheek gently against the underside swell of her left breast. A cool bulge on her lap tucked in around his feet and firmly massaged his soles and in between his toes. Strong, warm waves coursed over his shoulders and down his back, melting any points of tension they found. As his mind-melting massage continued, he felt a wide, warm, sticky softness settle against his scrotum and gently push his raging erection into his stomach. It pulsed in time with his slowing heartbeat, squeezing and relaxing, over and over, until he felt the sweet sting of precum production from his cock. After a few minutes, the voice of the green girl drifted through the kaleidoscope of sensation she had given him. "Ready?"

 

He opened his eyes but her warm smile was eclipsed by the curve of her bosom. "Oh, fuck, yes," he whispered.

 

The warm force lifted away from his groin, and he looked down only to discover it had been the sassy-mouthed hand. "She’s not a bad girl," the hand scolded, adding as it slid past his ear, "she's just flavored that way."

 

A drop of warm milk splashed onto Dee's check. He reached out to caress and suckle a nipple—and laughed.

 

"What's wrong?" she asked. Was she out of breath?

 

"Nothing. It's just, I'm so snuggled in and your breasts as so, well, awesome that I can’t reach."

 

"I'm not built like normal girls," the green girl said.

 

From the deep shade beneath her breasts Dee said, "I can see that."

 

"No, silly," she said, laughing, "not like that. I mean I'm not built like normal girls. I'm not internally structured. I'm more...flexible."

 

"Hm," Dee said. "What if I… " He reached out one hand down and around the bottom curve of her left breast, his fingers splayed out, sending ripples across the surface tension of the gel.

 

"Oh," said the green girl. "Oh, that's, that's interesting."

 

"That's right," Dee realized aloud, smoothing his other hand up along the upper swell of the breast. "This is the first time I've touched you, isn't it? The first time anybody has ever touched you?"

 

"Y-yes it is," she stammered, "I—ooh!" Dee had discovered her nipple and tweaked it gently. It expressed a little milk that got in Dee's curly, chestnut hair. She started to apologize, but Dee interrupted, "Don't be. I'm nearly there." He stretched his arm as far as it could go and thought he found the top swell of her breast. "Ready?"

 

"I guess so." Dee had never heard her nervous before. "But what…Oh. Oh my."

 

Dee slowly sunk his fingers into the giving surface of her jellied flesh, and pressed gently down with his palm. As he expected, the gel rolled over his hands and wrists and both his hands were inside her breast. "Ready?" he asked again.

 

This time, he was certain she was panting. "Just stop asking and keep going. Whatever it is you're doing it feels incredible and I trust—"

 

Dee pushed the hand reaching under forward while pulling the hand reaching over backward, ever so slowly. And, gradually, her nipple rotated downward into view. He could feel her body heave as she gulped for air. When the dark nipple was just inches away from his face, he said, "It's like the world's biggest trackball."

 

Her whole body stiffened. "Oh, Christ, Dee," she wailed, "what a way to ruin the moo—" But he had kissed her nipple into his mouth, pressed it firmly with his tongue, and began to draw down milk. The liquid was hot, sweet, and tangy (lime?). She was dead silent as he drank. He had not realized how thirsty he really was. He gently withdrew his hand from her material—they came out sticky and wet and beaded with green droplets, to his surprise and alarm. His drought from her breast lasted a good ten minutes. Dee felt her change beneath him, around him. He felt her lose cohesion. Her lap grew more sticky and cloying, and once a runnel of hot green gelatin actually ran down his cheek. When he was finished, he tried to reverse the process of revolving her breast, but it was much harder going. He eventually had to nuzzle and nudge it back into its original shape and position. When he was done, he had to peel himself away from her body, and a coating of green gel came off with him. He looked at her face for the first time since he began, and saw that she was gasping for air, her surface dappled and dewy. "Are you all right?" he asked, although the ropey goop around his mouth, delicious and definitely lime, make it tough to talk. "I'm still thirsty, believe it or not, so if you want me to do the other—"

 

The green girl reached down and hauled him up over her chest to look him square in the eye, although her lap would not peel away from his back, and her tits refused to part with his chest.

 

Speaking was even harder for her because her lips kept running together. "Deiter," she smacked, "shut up and look at me. You've made me so fucking wet I can't fucking stand it. I appreciate your nice, sensitive caring guy routine, I really do, but if you really want to know what I want, well right now I fucking want you to fuck my fucking brains out!"

 

Dee grabbed handfuls of her hair, now a forest of runny ice-cream cones, and sought her lips with his. Muck bubbled over his nose and down his smooth chin, but her mouth was in there, warm and eager. He wiped just enough mess away on his forearm to whisper, "I'm just as soft as you are, here, in just this one spot," before squooshing his fingers into her melting hair and pressing back into her with a deep, French kiss. A mad moan reverberated through the green girl and her mouth collapsed into a thick, tangy, treacle that filled his mouth with a taste so heady and overpowering that he—

 

He broke the kiss and sat back. Eyes wide, he stammered. "I'm sorry I couldn’t help it, it tasted so good and I swallowed—"

 

"I know," the green girl said, propping herself up and wrapping her legs around him.

 

"But I just ate—"

 

"I know and, oh, fuck do it again," she begged, arched her back, and pushed the sloppy mound of her pussy into his face.

 

He had eaten a woman out before, but never like this. At first he worried he couldn't possibly find her slit in all the ooze but it found him instead, unfolding in delicate petals about his mouth and unleashing a torrent of sticky nectar that flooded and poured down his throat. The green girl murmured nonsense words and incoherent phrases, her trashing throwing long swathes of green gunk all over the room. Dee sunk his head in up to his ears and she gave a burbling cry. Freshets of the remaining milk coursed down her breasts and pooled in the curve of her belly.

 

"No more, no more," she whimpered, crawling backward, away from Dee. The naturally kinky curls of his hair were slicked flat back, his head and chest completely coated in thick sheets of green icing. Sitting back with legs splayed, all Dee could think to say was, "Holy shit."

 

The green girl snorted a weary laugh. "Understatement of the fucking year, bright boy." She ripped the caps off two of the plastic water jugs and upended them both into her gaping mouth. When they were depleted she did the same with the last two. She gargled, mouth stretching cavern-wide to prevent spilling a single drop—argle-bargle-gargle—and Dee had to laugh, despite his iron-rod erection.

 

She did an about-face on all fours, locked her eyes on his, and padded silently toward him, the green gobs scattered across the room morphing forward to slurp into her body. Her definition and size sharpened and grew as she crawled closer, her hungry glare roving down his body to zero in on his dick. Her mammoth chest squashed against the floor, pushing out into cleavage that must have been a few feet deep. "Uh," Dee said as she crawled over him, sandwiching his legs between her tits. The green icing coating Dee's skin flowed over and around and into her chest, causing her breasts to bulge out and down even further, trapping his legs tight. Her hot breath burned his crotch as she hovered over him, nearly ten feet of predatory, feline femininity, for several silent moments. Looking down and through the top of her head, Dee tried to break the electric tension in the air: "What—"

 

Not bothering to look up, she pushed him supine with a dismissive shove.

 

"Mine," she growled, and smothered his dick with her mouth.

 

Dee had always wondered what a porn starlet's blowjob might feel like, but he knew he would never fantasize about something so mundane again, not after being deep-throated by a living champagne whirlpool with the vacuuming force of a tornado. The green girl started by swallowing the tip of his prick into delicious, pressing warmth. He sighed. She looked up, raised one eyebrow, swallowed again, and this time he gasped as her lips sank over his entire shaft and the incessant suckling sensation began. Her lips munched on the base of his cock as she closed her eyes in happy concentration and added a rumbling, leonine purr to the concoction. "Oh, man, wow!" Dee said. "Wow! Wo—ohhshit!" he squeaked when without warning she swallowed again and took his entire pelvis into her mouth, balls, hips, ass, and all.

 

"Not having a jaw really helps," she drawled through her chatty hand, her head starting to bob up and down with an ever increasing tempo. Dee managed a whimpering groan. "Ooh, that gives me an idea!" said the hand. "Be right back!" Her arm elongated to snake out of the room but turned to face him when it reached the doorway. Every impulse in his body demanded he buck and thrust but the weighty tits held him fast. "You're not going anywhere for a while, are you?" the hand asked. The slurping, slapping, and rumbling hum doubled in speed and volume.

 

"Didn't think so," the hand said, and the arm stretched out the door.

 

Dee was almost as amazed at his own resilience as with the cosmic blowjob. The slow pressure buildup of his orgasm only coaxed the green girl into increasingly inventive maneuvers. The imperative to thrust become unbearable. "Let me move!" he growled through gritted teeth. She whipped over onto her back, dragging him up and plopping him astride—no, inside—her bosom. Uncontrollable, he fucked her mouth furiously up through the green valley between her breasts. Her eyes lost focus and crossed as she nodded her encouragement, sometimes grunting in between thrusts when his cock popped out of her mouth and slithered back into her cleavage: "Urgh. God. More. Yes. Fuck! More."

 

Finally, Dee felt the throbbing inevitability of a crashing release. He could barely speak. "Gunna—"

 

The green girl's form had grown soft and gooey again, but that didn't stop her grabbing his ass, lifting him up in the palm of one hand, and rocking forward with lightning speed, spattering a spray of gel emeralds in every direction. She dropped him on the bed and dropped into his lap. "Cum for me, Dee," she said, running a gooey tongue up and down his dick. "Cum for—"

 

"Holy shit!" said the hand as it raced in, carrying a half-dozen small boxes. "I almost missed the best part."

 

Dee and the green girl turned and shouted, "Shut up!" in perfect unison.

 

"Sorry," the green girl panted. She rubbed her oozing cheek over his member, slopping and pumping with her more agreeable hand. "Cum for me, Dee. Please. I—I want—I need…"

 

Dee trembled and went rigid. "Yes!" the green girl hissed, taking his entire dick in a single swallow just as it erupted. Dee shuddered as he spurted into her. He grabbed for her head and lurched upright and then over, thrusting down her throat as he spurted again, and again. He toppled back on the bed and she sucked down one final gush of spunk. She pulled her head away, wearing that blissful expression again, a steady stream of green gel running from her parted lips and coating his rock hard erection in slime.

 

He propped his head up, staring at his still hard dick in disbelief. "What the fuck?"

 

"That's my boy," she sighed, her ecstatic gaze never leaving Dee's crotch as she tore open the little boxes her hand had brought in. Somewhere, some part of her started up that wordless fanfare again. "Yah dah-dee dah yah-dah yah-dah…"

 

She tipped a jumble of extra strength Alka-Seltzer out of the boxes and onto the bed. "I had to break into the five apartments to find all these," she said over the tuneless singing.

 

"Why?" he asked, and watched in sinking realization as she popped a dozen of the effervescent tabs into her mouth. "Oh, no."

 

"Oh yes," she replied. The fizz started in her mouth but soon filled her every crevice with bubbling, snapping, coruscating foam, making her hair stand on end and writhe in the air. "Woo! Does this tickle! So…you ready?"

 

He shook his head but said, "You better fucking believe it."

 

 

 

 

The guitar intro of the next song jangled from the media server's vibrant speakers. The green girl lying on her back on the floor bopped to the beat, stirring up some last few funnels of fizz in her jellified head and feet. Recognizing the song—it was her playlist queued up on the server, after all—she sang with the first verse, her pitch going sharp on every stressed word: "This bed is on fire with passionate love…the neighbors complain above the noises above…but she only cums when she's on top…"

 

Staccato drums rattled. She swizzled a pair of fingers around the pool of semen cooling in the hollow between her breasts and popped them into her mouth, making a happy, smacking "Mm!" noise as she sucked down a little more of Dee's cum before belting out the next verse, badly out of tune: "My therapist said not to see yah no more…She said yer like a dizz-ease! without any cure…She said I'm so ob-sessed that I'm becomin' a bore oh no…"

 

She smeared more spunk up and around her breasts, slathering and squeezing the saucers of green-black areola, puffed out thanks to all the fizzing, until his cum ran warm and clear around her neck. She tried to suck and shovel it into her mouth but didn't get far before her favorite verse started. She gave up trying to sing altogether and shouted like a demented William Shatner declaiming Beatles' songs: "Moved out of the house—so you moved next door! I locked you out—you cut a hole in the wall! I caught you sleeping next to me—I thought I was alone! You're driving me crazy when are you coming home?"

 

She arched her back, clenched her fists, and the remains of Dee's cum simply slurped straight into her skin. She collapsed into a fit of giggles. Dee wandered back into the bedroom soon after, a flannel bathrobe plastered to his sticky skin, drinking ice water out of a big blue plastic cup. He asked, "What's up?"

 

She tilted her head back so she could look upside down at him. The next song started ("Hey boy take a look a me let me dirty up your mind") but she kept silent, spreading her legs and pointing down at the cleft of her gelatinous crotch, where she had shoved the subwoofer. When the snazzy chorus kicked in, the bass pulsing from the subwoofer shook her body into a stereoscope. Thousands of little triangular waves spiked and frazzled.

 

"You drank more Nyquil?" Dee asked.

 

She raised a hand to salute him with the empty shot glass, her arm rendered fuzzy from the fractals shooting through her. "A little," she admitted.

 

Dee drank in thoughtful silence for a while. A third song wound up. The green girl, her head still upside down, watched him as a voice with a piping brogue sang, "A rubber band hold me trousers up! A rubber band ponytails! If I could learn to twang like a rubber band, I'd be a Rubber Band Girl!"

 

"I found some stuff in the living room," Dee said. ("A rubber band girl, me! ")

 

"Yeah?" said the green girl. ("A Rubber Band Girr-rl, me!" )

 

"You’ve been shopping. On eBay, I presume? With my account." ("Oh I wanna be a Rubber Band Girl…")

 

"Only when you were unconscious." ("A Rubber Band Girl is she!")

 

"Autographed posters; autographed commemorative plates; autographed figurines; autographed life-sized cardboard cutouts?" Dee said.

 

The green girl shrugged, a Hell of a trick to do with your neck craned upside down on the floor. "He's number one on the list," she said.

 

"What list?"

 

"You know, The List. Where we each get to pick five different celebrities that we can sleep with, and the other one can't get mad. He's number one on mine," the green girl explained.

 

"René Auberjonois?" Dee demanded.

 

"So?" She shrugged again. "I bet the number one celebrity on your list isn't even real."

 

"Jessica Rabbit," Dee said without hesitation. "Actually, none of the celebrities on my list are real. That's why it's perfectly okay for me to have a list, because I'm never ever going to meet…"

 

The green girl rocketed up in showering fountain and a monochromatic Jessica Rabbit stood before him in a shimmering sequined dress. Dee probably would have ejaculated right on the spot except for cables running from a subwoofer stuffed up and pounding away at her box, ruining the effect. "You were saying?" she asked. She had to raise the timber of her voice just a bit for a perfect impersonation.

 

With exaggerated care, Dee put down the cup, walked over to the media server and stopped the music. "Oh, you want summa this?" came Kathleen Turner's voice again.

 

With a few clicks of the mouse, Dee called up the media server's graphic equalizer, cranked its bass and volume to the maximum, and swapped out the song. A finger hovered over the "play" button on the keyboard. "Let's go home and I'll bake you a carrot cake," the jade Jessica baby-talk mocked, shimmying.

 

Dee's finger drifted down. "Wah!" the green girl cried in alarm, pin wheeling around and losing all definition after the very first boom of thundering house music. In between shuddering thuds, the green girl barked pleas. "Gah! Help! Sorry! Dee! Help! Please! Sorry!"

 

"… My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard…"

 

"Ngh! Can't! Think! Help!"

 

Leaving the house music to pound away, Dee stepped into the narrow hallway connecting the bedroom to the apartment's one bathroom and modest living room / dining room / you-can't-afford-a-real-kitchen room. He glared at the row of rattling Star Trek: Deep Space Nine commemorative plates now decorating the former tenant's cheerful wallpaper. The green girl's pleas turned into wordless, monosyllabic cries: "Yah! Eee! Whoa! Oof!" Something thumped in rapid succession up from beneath his feet; Dee's downstairs' neighbor banging with a broom, he had no doubt.

 

Cardboard cut-outs of René Auberjonois in full Odo makeup (Dee christened them "The Auberjon-eoises") dominated the living room. Dee lost a staring contest to the silent, mournful gaze of the one in the middle, the one with the fluorescent green lipstick imprint smeared on its cheek. "Oh, shut up," he told it before stomping into the kitchenette.

 

Dee was refilling the blue plastic cup from the tap in the kitchen sink when the green girl gave one single, piercing shriek followed by a tremendous splattering noise. He spun on his heels. The blue cup flung away, end over end. He raced through the living room, mowing down the lip-printed Auberjonois, and skidded through the bedroom door. He dove for the media server like it was home plate. The speakers hummed and popped before falling silent. The server toppled over.

 

Dee came to a painful, sliding halt, the media server's power cord in his hand. Dee stared.

 

 

The green girl sat on the subwoofer in the middle of the room. Her teeny feet, wrapped in tight ballet slippers, dangled over the subwoofer but her stubby legs didn't reach the floor. A pale green, silk taffeta tutu flowered around her bottom, an opaque leotard hiding her boyish figure. With hair done up in spiky pigtails, her head was the same size as ever, almost dwarfing the rest of her. She pouted, wide saucer eyes thunderous, on the verge of a terrible tantrum. But instead she lowered her gaze, scuffed her feet and muttered a squeaky protestation. "That wasn't very nice."

 

Dee stared.

 

A thick coating of green goop painted the ceiling. It gathered into a central mass high above her and distended downward. A pear-shaped dollop of the stuff snapped off the bulge and plopped onto her head. She grew a bit taller and her feet touched the floor. She skooched around so Dee couldn't see her face. "You were mad."

 

"Yes," Dee said, although he knew it had not been a question.

 

Another gobbet fell, and she grew another inch. She turned back, pigtails whipping about eyes twinkling liquidly with tears or rage, Dee couldn't tell which. "Why?" she demanded, her voice a bit deeper now. "Was it because I spent your money? You got mad at me about your money?" She stood up and kicked the subwoofer away.

 

He opened his mouth to say, "But I have so little of it!" but instead he shouted, "No!"

 

A few more big drops fell. She glared at him, morphing into puberty. The bands holding her pigtails in place snapped back and her hair stabbed out into its familiar frizz. The silent treatment she gave him reminded Dee so painfully of his boyhood experiences with girls he started to panic. "I thought you'd like it," he said, scrambling to his feet, bathrobe falling open. "Really! You know, because of the vibrations, and how you'd stuck—I, I—there's this Howard Stern movie, see, and I—"

 

The remaining stuff on the ceiling crashed onto, then into, the green girl in a series of wobbling spheres. As each one splashed down, she would make a quantum leap in size and age and take another step toward him, her voice double-pitched for a split second then dopplering down into a more adult tone, until with a final splash stood almost as Dee first met her, cherubic yet mature, proud, and only inches away. "You -splash- dumb ass! Don't you -splash- get it? Things don't turn me on, just -splash- you! Your -splash- touch, your -splash- smell, your taste! You, -splash- you, you! Just stupid -splash- fucking -splash- you!"

 

 

-splash-

 

She glowered up at him for another long moment, but then cocked her head to one side. "Well," she sighed, "you and maybe René—"

 

He heard a voice scream in rage. It was his. "God damn it! God damn Auber Jon Woo—Abujer—Abu—God damn fucking Odo!"

 

She took a step back. Her hair stood straight up. Her hand fluttered around her throat.

 

He pressed his fists to his temples. "I can't believe I'm so fucking jealous of Odo! Stupid Deep Space Ni—"

 

She launched like a tsunami up into him, slamming his mouth with hers, her arms shooting up into the air behind his head before clamping down around his neck. Her lips worked feverishly and both legs kicked up high behind her. He teetered backward into the wall but her forward momentum refused to stop. She sloshed over him and for an incredible moment his body was entirely engulfed in an electric kiss before she bounced back and broke away with a gasp. She panted, her bare, small, pert breasts heaving. He looked down and cracked up with mirth. Her mouth opened into an angry O to shout at him again but confusion clouded her face and, crinkling her forehead, she looked down.

 

She was stark naked. Except, of course, for the tutu.

 

The green girl stamped her feet and the tutu flipped into her like a pull-shade. "You fucking asshole," she said, laughing.

 

His laughter wound down. "You're shorter."

 

"There's less of me now," she explained.

 

Dee looked panicked. "Was it me? Was it the music? Are you alright?"

 

"I'm fine," she said. "It wasn't the music. It was the Alka-Selter. A bunch of me evaporated, that's all."

 

"It can grow back?"

 

"Oh?' She arched an eyebrow. "You like me big, eh?"

 

Dee said, "I like you big and small."

 

The green girl flicked open his robe and ran a finger up and down his bare chest, leaving a light trail of slime. "I can be anything you want …"

 

Dee heard the pregnant pause. "If?"

 

She looked up, grinning daggers at him. "If you do everything I say."

 

 

Dee nodded as he if knew what to expect. "Okay," he said. "How does this work? What are the rules?"

 

She stepped into the middle of the room and twirled about, her body whipping itself into its usual, voluptuous figure, although it forced her to stand a few inches shorter. "Simple." Her feet squeaked to a sudden standstill. She watched him watch her breasts collide and rebound off each other for a minute. Then two. Then she sighed and squished her tits together with her elbows, snuffing out their gyrations. "Eyes?" she scolded, but lolled her hands lazily over her breasts, cupping and squeezing, until those globes melted a bit to appear smothered in baby-oil. She watched Dee's thick dick begin to engorge.

 

"Emeralds," said Dee, not taking his eyes of her self-ministrations. "Black velvet. Deep enough to drown in. Yadda yadda."

 

"Simple," she started again, arcing an arm under a heavy tit and heaving it to her mouth. She wriggled her lips and tongue around the dark nipple. The lower half of her face was soon coated in rolling oil, like a baby eating a gooey chocolate chip cookie. "Lithening?" she lisped, erect nipple in her mouth.

 

"Uh. Yeah." His dick peeked out of his robe.

 

Her breast fell away from her mouth with a loud wet slap. She ran her hands around the upper curves of her breasts, gathering big waves of green oil between her fingers. Her hands met and pushed the roll of goo down her tight cleavage. She rocked her hips out a bit so she could slide the stuff across her tummy, working it into the taut plain just above the delta of her sex. "I just need the three Ds."

 

"Three Ds," Dee repeated, entranced. His manhood jutted out to its full length, and the green girl's mouth watered so much her lips brimmed over in a steady stream of green that flowed down her chin only to be absorbed by her slowly swelling chest. Dee didn't seem to notice.

 

"Vitamin D," she said, waving to the open window. The light of the afternoon glistened off her in a buttery sheen.

 

"Sunlight," Dee said.

 

She tilted her head, listening to the still-running kitchen sink. "Dioxy hydrogenate."

 

Dee blinked. "Water," he said, "that's a long way to go for a pun but okay."

 

She rocked her hips out even farther to run the oil over her mound and down her inner thighs. "Mm," she said, the fountain from her mouth forming a viridian puddle on the floor, "and vitamin D."

 

"You said 'Sun' already," Dee reminded.

 

"No, smartass," she said. She squirmed down a bit more then quickly stood up—and kept surfing up, her abdomen stretching high into the air and then downward in a graceful, fluid curve that brought the upper half of her body right onto Dee's cock.

 

"Vitamin Dee," she cooed, and gobbled him down.

 

The green girl growled, mashing her swollen tits around Dee's thighs, burying her head so deep between his legs that her button nose ground into his pubic hair. An inhuman, hydraulic pressure thrummed deep in her chest and his dick was vacuum-locked tight within her rapacious flesh. Even in the throes of knee-buckling blowjob, Dee realized that "rapacious" was the perfect word. This was like being sexually assaulted by an angry key-lime pie in a pneumatic press. He tried to backpedal but only succeeded in wallowing deeper in her cloying cleavage, an insect drawn further down the throat of a pitcher plant by its own futile struggles. "Wait a minute," he said, laughing.

 

She rolled back a bit to give him the teeniest margin of breathing room. When she spoke her lips would brush the tip of his cock with syrup on every other word. "It's been over ten minutes since my last titfuck already!" She groused, brow furrowing. "I want more."

 

Her mouth opened wide to utter a guttural "Now!" and countless rows of green, serrated, shark-teeth unfurled behind her sloppy lips. He winced as she brought them down on his defenseless glans only to fall to his knees in helpless delight as hundreds of those rubbery points wriggled and gnawed over the head of his cock. That little prudish, frightened voice from the back of his mind returned, trying to be heard over the green girl's demanding, meowing cries of "Nowwwnyum! Nowwwnrrrum!": You've been doing this non-stop for two and a half days, remember? And she can't even wait fifteen minutes! Hold on, I'm just turning you on more, aren't I? You’re a lost cause! I hope she makes you orgasm so much your penis turns inside out. That turns you on too? What kind of sick fuck are you? That Blue Fairy can kiss my chitinous, cricketty ass. I'm outta here.

 

"Wait a minute," he said again. "Wait-a-minute!"

 

She sloshed up and away, rolling her eyes. Her tummy still stretched long through the air, her bellybutton somewhere in the middle of its lazy arch. Her feet tapped an impatient rhythm on the other side of the room. "Jesus, you are such a girl! What, you want dinner and a movie first?"

 

"Well, no, but—"

 

"Okay," the green girl said, "some wooing, maybe?"

 

Her face glided back down close to his crotch. She crossed her eyes in a vapid gaze. "Hello, darling," she said to his dick in a dreamy singsong. She clasped her hands to her bosom. "Oh, I missed you ever so much!"

 

Dee tried his best to frown but found himself smiling instead. She met his smile with an impish grin. "Formality, then," she said, and turned back to speak to his dick. "Hey there, handsome!" She pumped his cock in a quick, hearty, gushy handshake. Dee yipped and bucked against her ambush hand-job but she just grabbed his shaft with both hands, pumping away like a crooked politician desperate to make a good impression. "Nice to meetcha! What's yer name young fella?"

 

Dee lurched, rigid and awkward. His erection flagged. "It doesn't have a name," he said.

 

The green girl stopped the attack but did not let go. She looked up at him in that crinkle of confusion Dee suddenly realized he found adorable. "I thought every guy named his dick."

 

"I don't. I'm just me. It's a part of me. I know that sounds stupid, but it's important to me."

 

She looked back down at his dick, treating it to long languid strokes, slowly bringing it back to throbbing life. "I think it should have a name," said the green girl, "because it's important to me."

 

Dee shook his head, distracted by the luscious, languorous sensation of her working him over. "Well, you don't have a name, and you’re a part of—I mean you're important to…me," he trailed off, realizing what he'd said.

 

Her face and neck flushed so dark they turned black. The lower half of her body tiptoed over and her top rocked back onto it, standing beside him. "You got your minute," she whispered. Then, louder, "You have a suggestion, I take it?"

 

"Uh-huh," he said, turning to face her. "First, no tricks or Techniques, please."

 

She nodded. "All-righty."

 

"Promise?"

 

She furrowed a curved X-shape in the swell of her left breast. "Cross my heart."

 

"Okay, here's my proposal: You can name my penis, if I get to name you. But before that…"

 

Dee cupped the green girl's chin in his right hand and gently turned her head to her left before wrapping his other arm around a her cool, rubbery back. His lips pushed into her ear. The ear immediately began to burn and melt. He dropped the palm of his right hand onto the gel-flesh below her sternum (or where her sternum would be if she had one). His hand ran down her, the pressure of his caress gradually increasing so that by the time he reached her now-sopping sex his curling fingers were raking deep inside her yielding substance. Her whole body wracked in shivering spasms, the green girl wrapped both hands around his wrist to push his hand in even deeper. She mewled and sobbed in desperate pleasure. The spikes of her hair collapsed into green velvet ribbons of icing coursing down Dee's neck.

 

"…We fuck," he finished.

 

 

 

 

The green girl's pussy was unwrought but ravenous like no other, her womb craving to devour not conceive. It drank up Dee's hand, then his wrist, then his forearm in three lurching whorls of her innermost gel. Dee reeled under the pressure and heat but his G-rated, Jimminy Cricket of a conscience that had kept him ashamed of his own deviant desires for so long, was now long gone. He felt no fear, only a humbling joy of being the subject of a desire so strong it wanted to swallow him whole. Well, all right, only a humbling joy and the urgent need to screw the living fuck out of the most glorious cunt in the world, which just so happened to belong to the sexiest girl in the universe, whose one desire just so happened to be his cock.

 

I guess it isn't so humbling after all, he decided.

 

The green girl, however, had cried out in lust salted with fear and alarm after each reversed contraction, as if betrayed by her own flesh laying her deepest secrets bare. She pressed her fists into her mouth, trying to muffle her whimpering babble. Dee thought most of her mutterings sounded like the whispery glossolalia that had overcome some of his past lovers when approaching orgasm, but then she shakily reached out to him, batting at his chest one instant and pawing at it the next, and he heard her clearly. It worried him.

 

"It's time? It's time? Is it time? It's time?"

 

He held her close, but she wouldn't stop trembling. "Is it time? It's time? It's time? It's time? Is it time?"

 

He kissed her on a forehead as pliant as most women's lips. "Only if you want it to be," he said, and tenderly withdrew his arm. She moaned in despair but did not move to stop him and his arm slid free, gloved in molten green gunk so hot it steamed when touched by the cooling air. The stuff radiated up his arm then splayed across his shoulder and chest in ever-thinning tendrils, until nothing but blots like tiny green beads of mercury rolled over every curve and crevice of his body before vanishing to nothing. It wanted to surround me, Dee thought, to embrace me, but there wasn't enough of it. He stepped back.

 

The geek and the green girl regarded each other. Dee stood tall and lanky, an unruly tangle of tightly curled, chestnut hair tufting his head, his relaxed, ready stance belying a hidden grace and strength. The green girl was as curvaceous as ever, but to keep her figure with her reduced mass, some lost to the champagne blowjob and the rest sluicing away now from her passion, she barely stood over five feet tall. Her arms thrust down and out, fists shaking. She couldn't seem to dare meet his gaze, or even look down at his erect manhood. Her stormy eyes roved over him, unseeing. She spoke in a stage whisper, hoarse yet high-pitched, sad yet anxious. "I'm ready. I'm ready. I'm ready. I'm ready. I'm ready."

 

The curved X still furrowed her left breast like a raw wound that refused to heal. A recollection of something she had said ["…Fridge. You. Before that? Dunno…"] and a realization of what he had done, or rather, what he had failed to do, hit Dee hard. "This is just like before, isn't it?" he asked. "This is exactly your first memory: of me like this, and you, like that." He stepped forward. "But it's not. Not really, because I'm different now. I'm not afraid, or ashamed, anymore, and I was never ashamed of you."

 

The green girl fell onto her hands and knees which soon lost their form to the growing green lake, now lapping at Dee's feet on the floor. She turned about, pressed her head to the floor, and presented her gushing sex to him. "Please," she whispered. "Please. Is it time?"

 

Dee waded to her. "It's time," he said, kneeling behind her. "It's always time." He reached out and hugged her deliquescing body close. She arched up into his chest, throwing her head back to spatter him in searing green honey. A bubbling cry of wordless delight tore from her throat.

 

"It always will be time." Dee slid his arms under her stomach and cupped her breasts, his hands drowning in their curtaining flood. The green girl groaned, swung her head from side to side, her hair nothing but waves of warm sugary froth. Dee kissed the ambrosia off the nape of her neck.

 

"You are Galatea, and it's always time," Dee said, rocked forward on his haunches, and entered into her.

 

Galatea went nova with his first thrust. She reared, arms thrown wide, screaming in raw abandon. Dee locked his arms betwixt her breasts, cheek turned against the flat of her back, and rode the foaming wave. He tried to call her name, but her liquid interior clutched and blazed around his cock, reducing him to snarling need. The cresting of her thrash forced Dee to his feet and threatened to engulf him completely but did nothing to satisfy the primal demand to drive himself even deeper. His hands clawed, breaking the surface tension of Galatea's gel-flesh chest to get a strong grip, and he spun about, whipping her around and splattering her face-down onto the bed, never withdrawing from her consuming sex. He pulled his arms through and out so he could stand astride her ass only to push his palms down and in to find purchase for each lunge.

 

Galatea found her voice, dreamy and feverish. "Oh, my God, it's so solid."

 

She propped herself up, trapping his arms within her, to slosh and grind her body against his, reaching back to run a sticky hand over Dee's neck and through his hair. "He's. So. Fucking. Solid!" Dee never imagined that a word like "solid" could sound so pornographic, but it burst from her lips like it was the bluest dirty-talk in the world.

 

He tried to call her name again—"Gala—" but she drew his head down into a blistering, citrus kiss that obliterated any rational thought. He wrenched an arm free from the honey-trap of her viscid flesh, twined the frothing sickles of her hair in his fingers, and rammed her back down onto the bed. "Yes!" Galatea barked as her head hit the bed with a resounding splat. "So good. So deep. So solid!"

 

The green lake around the rutting lovers turned tidal. White-capped waves churned in a miniature maelstrom then leapt into the air in long, jetting ribbons that corkscrewed around Dee at break-neck speed before stabbing down into Galatea, refueling her fluidity. Dee felt pressure build within him.

 

"What's my name?" moaned Galatea.

 

Dee tried to speak but only growled, ploughing his fingers through her back. Galatea yelped in ecstasy but pushed herself up off the bed, leering at him over her shoulder. The green streamers hurtled around Dee, cracking like whips, funneling down to feed Galatea's coalescing form. Dee felt the pressure begin to brim.

 

"What's my name?" called Galatea.

 

Dee could only hiss through gritted teeth. He gathered her up in his arms to hug her close, feeling her flesh press tight against him as she grew. He bit down on her neck so hard his teeth met in her throat. She lurched away just enough to cry, "God! Yes!" before rutting hard against him. A great crescent of green flashed into her and suddenly his hips joined his dick inside her scorching cunt.

 

"What's my fucking name?" demanded Galatea.

 

A final thrust and Dee's legs locked. "Galatea!" he bellowed, and flooded her with his cum.

 

Fever, when you kiss them,

Fever if you live and learn

Fever! 'Til you sizzle

What a lovely way to burn.

—Peggy Lee, Fever

 

 

 

Chapter Three: That Wave

 

 

 

The green girl startled with Dee's first spurt, giving him a searching glance over her shoulder. Her eyes soon glazed, lips parting in a lazy, helpless smile, watching as Dee's orgasm ebbed and Dee pressed a fist into the sopping mattress to hold himself up. She rolled gently on her side, her gaze heavy-lidded and unfocused, and slipped away from Dee's cock, making him shudder and gasp. Galatea curled up to hug her knees and nestle them under her neck. Three throaty, breathless giggles bubbled through her, "Ah-hah, ah-hum, hm-mm."

 

Dee splashed down into the bed next to her. Galatea rolled over to face him, watching his chest heave as he gulped for air. "We are definitely going to do that again," she told him, "a lot."

 

He smiled. "It was good, then? You liked it?" He lifted a hand off the bed. It was slick with her fluid. He dropped his hand back down and the soaked coverlet squelched. "Kinda hard to tell."

 

She just arched an eyebrow and hummed. She sat up, spread her legs, and rubbed a hand over her raw sex. "I was wondering what this was for," she joked.

 

Dee rolled his eyes to the ceiling, reached for a pillow, and plopped it over his head. "Lord all-mighty," he sighed.

 

Galatea's fingers came away sticky with Dee's sperm. She stared at them for a while. With a quick check to make sure Dee wasn't looking, she pressed them deep into the folds of her pussy, her face a mask of sublime longing. She shook the expression off and bounced out of bed. Dee pulled the pillow away from his eyes. "Goodbye?" he said.

 

"I'm thirsty," she said. Dee watched the spectacular orbit of her ass as she padded away from him. "I'm always thirsty after sex. Probably."

 

"What about…?" Dee said, and squeezed the coverlet with both hands. It burbled.

 

"I'm using it already," she said, and indeed the citrine stuff was flowing to follow her to the door. "I'm going to go get a drink," she said, adding in perfect deadpan, "and when I come back, I am going to fuck the ever living shit out of you."

 

Dee blinked. "Uh," he chuckled uncertainly, "I really don't think I can go another round right now."

 

She dismissed him with a wave of her arm, and walked out into the hallway, green rivulets chasing after her. "Pfft. Yeah, right. Tell that to mine."

 

"Mine?" Dee asked.

 

"Not yours, 'Mine,'" came Galatea's voice. The sound of the kitchen sink, a constant background noise for some time, stopped.

 

"I don't understand," Dee called out over the loud splashing and gurgling sounds coming from the kitchen. "What's 'mine'?"

 

"The name of your dick."

 

He glanced down at Mine, still pointing straight at the ceiling. "Oh, fuck me."

 

"You got that right, bright boy."

 

Dee gingerly inspected the head of his dick. It was as sensitive and primed as ever. "Seriously," he said, "I think something's wrong with me. A guy can't keep going like this, no matter what you've read on the Internet. I think I need to see a urologist or something."

 

"Nah," said Galatea, her voice drifting down the hallway. "Just stop thinking with the wrong head. Your dick knows what's coming, even if you don't."

 

"What's coming?" Dee asked. "Remember, you promised—"

 

"Man," Galatea said, ignoring him, "you really did a number on your kitchen. There's a lot of water in here."

 

Glad for the change of subject, Dee said, "There goes my security deposit."

 

Dee heard something creak and groan like metal stressing under pressure.

 

"Oh, don't worry," Galatea called, her voice oddly amplified, amused but sinister. A rushing roar started up, the bedroom floor atremble. "I took care of it."

 

A green deluge decanted into the bedroom, an endless hollow curling of a cresting wave that was every surfer's tubular wet-dream. It broke into a creamy, sleeting spray against the opposing bedroom wall until the floor seethed with spume. Dee sat agog on the bed, possessed by the giddy illusion that he had been cast adrift at sea.

 

 

A pair of supple hands reached out of the sea-foam teeming at the foot of the bed. The hands entwined, back-to-back, palms facing out. Sinuous arms arose. A face of Hellenic beauty soon followed, turned away from Dee in blushing, virginal modesty. When her mouth broke the surface of the foam, however, she gasped, orgasmic, scrapping her sensuous lips over an upraised forearm. Wild locks of the woman's mane billowed in an unfelt breeze. Only a mark branded upon her left breast, a curving X, disrupted her perfect, symmetrical beauty. Emerging from the foam, she untwined her arms, gathered up overflowing handfuls hair, and slowly drew them down and around her breasts and hips, fingertips kissing her skin. Swaying in post-coital lethargy, an apple-green Venus from the fever-dreams of Botticelli was born at Dee's feet.

 

Dee blushed, blood singing in his ears. "I'm not worth this," he said, a bitter smile breaking through smarting tears. "I've done nothing to earn anything like this."

 

The jade Venus stepped up onto the bed and kneeled beside him to his right, taking his hands in hers. Dee could not bear to meet her gaze and shut his eyes tight, spilling the tears that brimmed in his eyes. "Kiss me," she said in Galatea's steamy voice, planting a series of quick, open-mouthed kisses on Dee's face, drinking up the teardrops. "Just kiss me," she whispered, raining those same succulent little kisses on his lips.

 

Venus was holding his trembling hands in her lap when someone cupped his chin and gently turned his face away from her in mid-kiss. Dee blinked open his stinging eyes.

 

 

A lithe feminine form the pale green color of absinthe sat cross-legged to his left. Her ears tapered to high points above a mop of thick, loose curls. Her dragonfly wings, green but translucent, stretched out from her back, buzzing the air when he gaped at her. The green fairy's face was as exotic and inscrutable as the Moon, her left breast branded with the curving X. She wound her other hand through his hair. "Drink me," she said in Galatea's voice, and pulled him down onto an upturned nipple that filled his mouth with a burning liqueur.

 

Head spinning, Dee swallowed once, then twice. Venus tugged his hands, pulling him back, and tongued the remaining liqueur from his mouth, only to lose him to the strong embrace of the green fairy again. The green fairy cradled his head in one hand and guided a cordial-seeping nipple to his lips with the other, while Venus tugged impatiently at his arms—and a third pair of hands grabbed his by the shoulders, wrenched him down onto the bed, and wedged his head tight between fleshy green thighs.

 

The newcomer's wicked, fanged grin flashed down at him. She smoothed over the hair on his forehead with a sharp, talon-tipped finger. "Eat me," she said in Galatea's voice, and wriggled her heady, sultry mound onto his face.

 

Delirious, Dee did his best to appease the succubus straddling him, probing, nibbling, and nuzzling. He felt her laughter ripple through her, and she just pressed down harder. His ears plugged and vision distorted by the hot gel-flesh swaddling him, he caught a wavering, milky-green glimpse of Venus leaning out to soul-kiss the creature straddling him. They broke the kiss and the succubus bit down on Venus' neck, Venus' moan vibrating through the mattress. Dee closed his eyes, sure he would faint from the liquid fire burning in his belly and the overpowering aroma, pressure and heat of the sex smothering him, but he felt the buzz of the green fairy's wings as she crawled over his legs, and when she cried "Feed me!" loud enough to be heard through all the gel oozing around him and slurped his cock into her greedy throat, he thought: No, I'm not going to faint. I'm going to die.

 

After a few wonderful, terrible moments, the assault on his senses and sanity came to an abrupt stop. The green fairy groaned in disappointment and released his dick in a mournful, reluctant huff. The creature riding his face just made a clucking noise, lips parting from Venus' neck with a final, gurgling "mmwah!" She slid back, knelt behind him, grabbed him under the armpits, and propped him up on her wide lap. He peeked up at her and she smirked, pointing to her left breast. He startled, seeing it bore the brand. She winked lewdly, hugged her strong arms over his shoulders, and held him down. The green fairy sat next to her, and clasped one of his hands to her bosom, holding it fast. Venus sat on the other side, plucked up his other hand, kissed the palm, and rubbed it over her cheek—but when he tried to pull back, she grabbed his wrist with both hands.

 

 

Below the foot of the bed, something said, "Kiss me."

 

Galatea welled up from the illusory depths surrounding Dee, as slow and unstoppable as the lunar tides. Dee could only make out the vaguest hints of the familiar features – heart-shaped face, daggers of hair, darkling emerald eyes, heart-stopping figure – in the green torrent that surged around her, off her, through her, a Möbius strip of a waterfall folding back into itself. He knew well enough by now that this quickening signaled her excitement, and probably imminent orgasm.

 

"Kiss me," Galatea said again. "Kiss me, drink me."

 

Dee just couldn't wrap his mind around how large she had become. Dee and the three green women holding him down followed Galatea with their eyes as she rose up, and up, and up. "Kiss me, drink me, eat me, feed me," she said, planted a hand on the floor on either side of the bed, rocked back to sit on her knees, and smashed her head into the ceiling.

 

"Kiss me," Galatea said, swinging her head down until a sumptuous mouth large enough to swallow Dee whole was just inches away from his face, the swirling of her passion whipping up gale force winds around him. "Drink me, eat me, feed me, fill me, fuck me!"

 

Dee glanced down. The waterfall she wore like a cape and cowl rushed too thick and fast to see the curving X on her left breast, if one was there at all. He craned his neck up to meet her gaze, and realized that he couldn't care less.

 

"Is it time?" Galatea asked.

 

The two green women on either side released his arms. He reached up and ran a caressing hand over the luscious bow of Galatea's bottom lip. Her eyes slid closed, her mouth curled into a rapturous smile, and those three, little, helpless giggles escaped her: "Ah-hah, ah-hum, hm-mm."

 

Dee said, "It's always time."

 

And it was.

 

 

 

 

Dee's brain buzzed with absinthe. His bedroom engorged with foam-capped waves of melted green gel that raced up the walls and smeared over the ceiling, submerging every surface in the room except Dee's bed itself. Galatea's titanic body stretched and distended down from the green cyclone above him. Dee lay eclipsed below Galatea's mouth. The succubus clutching Dee to her lap unwound from him, and he was free. But free to go where? "Let's start with 'kiss me,'" Dee said, swaying to his feet to stand on the bed until Galatea’s lips were inches away and filled his drug-addled universe, "and move up from there."

 

Dee immersed his head in the satin of the titaness Galatea's lips. He felt baptized in liquid sex. A flick of her fingertip knocked him flat onto the bed. Her face swung down, mouth poised above his cock. When she spoke, a sound more akin to distant thunder than a human voice, a torrid downrush lathered him from nipples to knees. "Let's skip straight to 'Feed me,'" she rumbled.

 

"Hold it!" someone cried.

 

The succubus stood up behind him. Galatea pulled back to give her a little room. "There is no way I'm waiting a single second to experience this," the succubus insisted. "I'm coming home, now."

 

The sea of green gel started to shift and reform, its central mass sliding backward from the ceiling and redistributing itself over far wall and across the floor. Galatea's giant shape regrew from green chaos. Her titanic tits breached the surface of the roiling green syrup coating the far wall, diamond-hard, fist-sized nipples pointing straight at Dee, followed by Galatea's face, her mouth agape and gasping with lust. Waterfalls of melted gel poured off her emergent form, rushing around in a maelstrom before being reabsorbed to feed further growth. The floor groaned as it took on the weight. The downstairs neighbor must be banging away like mad now, Dee decided, his thoughts slow as molasses.

 

Legs extended spread-eagle across the floor. Feet that Dee might otherwise call “dainty” if not for their fifty inch insoles pushed into the wall on either side of the bed's head board. Dee had a front row seat before Galatea's towering sex, and with the erotic view came a sudden vision of the near future with startling clarity. Galatea would lock her legs together around the bed, draw them close, ram Dee into her ravenous pussy, bed and all, and that would be that.

 

Venus and the green fairy scooted aside a bit, allowing the succubus to stride over him, making the soggy mattress quaver and squish. "What are you doing?" he asked them, scraping the green goop off his stomach and legs.

 

The succubus turned to flash him an angry smile. "Stalling, dumb ass," the succubus said, sounding more like Galatea than the titaness Galatea now did herself, "until somebody can think of a way outta this. If you try and fuck that cunt — and I know you wanna, you should see the look on your face," she added, shaking her head. "Anyway, you fuck that, there's no coming back."

 

The succubus cast off from the bed, fighting the currents of the green storm surge surrounding the titaness Galatea's body. "What's happening?" Dee said, watching the succubus make slow headway.

 

The green fairy scooted closer. "I'm going to share memories with myself," she said.

 

"I don't understand," said Dee.

 

"Once I divide, I mean fully divide, not just like this…" the green fairy said, and Dee nearly leapt out of his skin when another green fairy partially peeled herself away from the original, a pair of identical twins conjoined at the hip, streamers and strings of beading, liquid gel running between them. The new green fairy, still runny and quasi-molded out of the first fairy's inner nectar, pecked Dee's cheek with a sloppy kiss before the twins oozed back together into a single creature.

 

The succubus had reached the half way point between the bed and the awaiting titaness.

 

"…but like this," the green fairy continued, puckering up her absinthe-stained lips and blowing out dozens of little green bubbles. Each bubble popped in the gusty breeze to reveal a thimble-sized sparkling green fairy. They took flight and soon Dee, speechless with wonderment, was haloed with them. "When I fully separate," said the big green fairy, "I start acquiring separate memories."

 

One of the haloing little fairies went itinerant and zipped close to Dee's dick. "Holy shit!" it said, in a high-pitched, super-squeaky version of Galatea's voice. "Look at the size of that thing!"

 

"And when I re-assimilate," the original green fairy began, hands outstretched. The little fairies orbiting Dee flit back and alighted onto her open palms—except for the wayward fairy, who just hugged her body close to his shaft, humping it feverishly but only managing to give Dee the slightest of tickles. "No! No! No! Mine! Mine! Mine!" she squeaked.

 

The succubus had closed in on Galatea's thighs.

 

"And when I re-assimilate," the green fairy repeated, annoyed. The little wayward fairy sighed and flew up to join her sisters in their creator’s palm. The green fairy pressed her hands together, as gentle as a kiss. When she pulled them apart, all her tiny duplicates were gone. "I re-remember," she said. "I think I should be able to share memories just by touch, but I haven't figured out how to do it yet."

 

Her face wrinkled in concentration for a moment before her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She stammered, "Big, it was so fucking big," and then dissolved into giggles.

 

Dee did not know whether to laugh of freak the fuck out.

 

The succubus had reached the tall delta of Galatea's mound. She turned to shoot Dee a parting glare, but her cruel and angry smile melted into a melancholy grin. "See you real soon, solid boy," she said, and dove between the folds of Galatea's sex. She had wriggled in only up to her shoulders when she liquefied under the heat and was siphoned in.

 

Dee chose to freak out. "I think," Dee squawked, "I think I'm having a bad trip."

 

Venus laid a cool palm on his brow. "I'm here," she said.

 

A moment after the succubus disappeared, Galatea's chest heaved. She mashed her pussy with both hands. "Dee," she groaned, "I was just putting you on. You give awesome head."

 

He turned to the green fairy. "Share memories? Reassimilate? What are you, the Borg or something?"

 

The green fairy shook her head. "At a time like this, you still think about Star Trek?"

 

 

With a sudden downwash of air, Galatea loomed close. "Did he polish you off?" she asked the green fairy.

 

The green fairy glanced down, cupped her breasts and the healthy curve of her pot belly. "No," she said, "he drank a lot, but I—Whoop!" Galatea plucked the green fairy up by the legs, reared back, and dangled the fairy upside down over her mouth. "O-okay," the green fairy stuttered, "okay, just—" The green fairy burst into giggles when Galatea sloped her wide tongue across her breasts. "Wait a minute," the green fairy stammered, "that really tickles."

 

"I'm not a group mind," Venus said, moving to block his view of Galatea lapping and ladling at the green fairy's breast. "I'm an individual," she continued, raising her voice over the green fairy's shrieks of laughter, "with an individual consciousness spread over a group, not a group consciousness spread over many individuals."

 

"You're the Trekker, not me, if you can come up with some bullshit like that," he told her, but it made sense, especially after almost a pint of refined absinthe on an empty stomach. "So you're her," Dee said, looking at the giant Galatea.

 

"Yes."

 

He returned Venus' soft gaze. "And she's you."

 

"Yes."

 

Dee grinned. "Then I trust you both."

 

The green fairy's laughter died down, and Venus, long hair whipping in wind, turned to glare up at the titaness. "I don't," she said.

 

Galatea's fist plummeted down, suspending the green fairy in the air an arm's length away. The green fairy's wings poked out between two of Galatea's fingers. "Dee," the green fairy gulped, "make me wet. Please. Just once, before I'm gone. I want you to touch me when I'm just me, when I'm on the outside."

 

Dee began "How should I…" but stopped, reached out, and then hesitated. As gently as he could, he grazed four fingers around the edge of a fragile wing and brushed across its gossamer face. This time, the green fairy's laughter was deep, throaty, and exultant. Green honey streamed out around Galatea's fingers. "So…solid," the green fairy sighed as Galatea wrenched her away.

 

Dee frowned, turning to Venus. "You don't trust yourself?"

 

Above him, the green fairy shouted, "Drink me now, you bitch! I got what I wanted."

 

Venus watched Galatea suckle on the green fairy's runny legs. "The three of us split off back in the kitchen," Venus said. "Lilith, la Fée Verte and me, I mean." Seeing Dee's confusion, Venus added, "The chick with the fangs and the tramp with the wings? I’ll show you them on the Internet later if you want—if there is a later for either of us. Anyway, I split off back in the kitchen, so I can't tell what the rest of me is thinking, but I can guess. And I don't want it to happen."

 

"Why?"

 

Galatea drew the green fairy back out of her mouth. There was very little of her left, a lozenge down to its last lick. "Is that the best you can do, bitch?" the green fairy said, her voice weak but unafraid.

 

"Because that part of me doesn't know something that this part of me knows," Venus said, glaring up again.

 

"Doesn't know what?" Dee said.

 

Galatea popped the green fairy in and swallowed her down. She reached out wide to run her hands along imaginary wings. "Oh, that did feel good," she said, "definitely worth the wait."

 

"Doesn't know what?" Dee said again, but Galatea dropped close, and boomed, "Come little sister."

 

Venus stood on the mattress to face the titaness. "'If human beings are not drowned,'" asked Venus to Galatea, as if reciting from a book, "'can they live forever? Do they never die as we do here in the sea?'"

 

Galatea's face crinkled in confusion. "'Yes,'" she replied, also speaking as if conducting a ritual recitation. "'They must also die, and their term of life is even shorter than ours, but when we cease to exist here we only become the foam on the surface of the water, and we have not even a grave down here of those we love.'"

 

"'So I shall die,'" recited the jade Venus, turning back to face Dee, her eyes bright and sad, "'and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun…'"

 

Venus raised her supple arms high above her head and entwined her hands, back-to-back, palms outward, in one single, fluid motion.

 

"Wait," Dee said, his heart in his mouth, his vision blurring. He scrambled to reach out to her, the absinthe in his system and the glop all over the bed making every movement unsure and flailing.

 

"…Nor know the taste of your tears," Venus said, her fingers dissolving into foam, floating up and lost among the crashing surf surrounding them. "I love you, Dee."

 

"Wait!" He finally found his balance and rose to his feet.

 

Venus evaporated into foam that unfurled out into the wind and was gone.

 

"I can be such a drama queen," Galatea said, her booming laughter carrying over the surf. "Let's see if little Miss Venus had anything worth remembering. And then it'll be your turn, Dee."

 

Dee stood on the ruined, saturated bed, and watched her grow. Eyes shut tight in concentration, she drew more and more of the storm surge into the outline of her own body. Had she torn the roof open to stand thirty feet tall, or had she stretched out long across the ceiling and walls? Surrounded by a chaos of inrushing waves and foam, his mind on fire with the hallucinatory liqueur, Dee could not tell the difference.

 

The hint of a smirk puckered one corner of her mouth. "Hm." She reached above her head, entwined her hands, back-to-back, palms out…

 

The fall of silence was so sudden it felt like a crack in the air. The gathering waves locked into rigid sea-glass. Galatea's eyes flew wide, her burning stare searching some far, imaginary distance. A hand dropped to her mouth, its fore and middle fingers traced a timid circle over her lips and tongue before pulling away, quaking wildly. Her startled eyes fell to her trembling hand, and then to Dee's upturned face. "Dee?"

 

It sounded more like a choking sob than a name. Galatea swooned. The noise of the storm returned. The standing tsunami crested and broke. The force of the downpour threw Dee to the floor and in an instant he was submerged. The fluid was too airy to float in, too viscid to swim in, too dense to breathe, too hot and silken for his overloaded senses to tolerate.

 

That wave

Pulled me right overboard

Into permanent morgasm

Emotional action painting

—XTC, That Wave

 

 

Chapter Four: Your Ocean

 

 

 

Dee woke on his waterbed. His cottony mouth tasted of rotgut tequila, his eyes gummy with sleep. He felt coated in a rind of sweat. Or was it sweat? "Damn waterbed leaking again," he groaned, rolling onto his stomach, the mattress rocking in mushy waves.

 

"You don't have a waterbed, Dee," someone said.

 

He smeared the sleep away from his eyes. It was green.

 

His chin pressed into the mouth of a long valley between two green, translucent, perfectly proportionate but utterly titanic breasts. He pushed down with his palms to lift his head to speak—"Wha—" but rather than support his hands, the supple green material beneath him gave inward and the tits rolled forward, the valley of cleavage becoming a warming, hugging cave, so instead he just went, "Mmf!"

 

The earth shook; a marshmallow-quake. The towering breasts rolled back he heard a few peals of loud, girlish laughter before the green swells rushed back in to nuzzle his head again. Thinking fast—fast for him, at any rate—Dee laid stock still until the laughter and seismic cleavage activity died down. He opened his arms and legs wide to spread his weight over as much of the pliant surface as possible, and gently scooted and spider-walked away from the snuggle-trap. His dick slid down the cool, smooching surface and was iron-stiff in moments, dimpling but not breaching the surface tension of the slick stuff.

 

"Oh, that's good," said the voice. "I love to feel your cock get hard." His searching foot found another, smaller, gentler swell, and suddenly sunk into steamy, slurry folds. The voice cried out in alarmed delight. "O-oh, yeah! And all this time I thought you were obsessed with foreplay."

 

"Galatea?" Dee said.

 

"No, the Queen of England," said Galatea, "who the fuck else would it be? Are you fooling around with another giant Jell-O girl behind my back? I can see through my back, you know, so I wouldn't recommend it. I plan on being one possessive, jealous bitch. That dick is Mine."

 

Dee pulled his foot out of Galatea's sex. Her pussy was very reluctant to let it go, so he had to work it back and forth a bit to slide it free, prompting a few squeals of "Ooh!" followed by a forlorn "Aw!" like a naughty schoolgirl having her candy taken away by a headmistress.

 

Dee swung his legs around and padded his palms up to sit astraddle a proportionately wasp-narrow waist that was nevertheless over three feet wide. "What the Hell happened to you?"

 

They were still in his bedroom. His poor mattress, a few bedsprings poking out and looking tie-dyed with green paint, stood on its side against the door. A couple of electric, oscillating fans had been set up in a futile attempt to blow-dry it. A few large, lumpy garbage bags were littered about. A cloudy night sky darkened the window. Galatea sprawled on her back on the floor, nearly thrice as tall as Dee himself, her head reclining up against the wall beneath a destroyed X-Men poster. A large, arcing X crossed the wide curve above her left breast. "I think I went a little crazy for a while there," she said, her smile sad. "Oh, Dee, I'm so sorry."

 

Dee sat silent for a minute. "Don't be," he finally decided. "You went crazy for me."

 

Her head bobbed in agreement, teary-eyed but enthused. Dee rode the aftershocks of her vigorous nodding for a moment. He said, "Do you know why? Will it happen again?"

 

"No," she sniffled, "I don't think it will happen again. I'm different now. But why did it happen?" The darkling blush flashed up her throat. "Well, you know. You know how much I like you, well…" The gel-flesh of Galatea's broad belly reached up, wrapped and wriggled tight around Dee's erect dick, and released, making him buck and yelp. "…Solid."

 

"Yeah," Dee panted.

 

"And when you were fucking me," Galatea said, her blush burning and her words coming out in a heated rush, "really fucking me, and you were so strong and so solid and, oh, God, really riding me and I thought I would just melt away into nothing and then you came inside me and then you were suddenly so wet and so soft but still so strong and it felt so good that I just couldn't stand it and I, well, I went mad."

 

Galatea goggled at him, her mouth quivering and her hands fluttering about her throat until Dee whispered, "That's the hottest thing I've ever heard in my entire fucking life," and she burst into relieved laughter.

 

Dee hugged his legs to her waist to keep from being bounced off. Galatea purred her appreciation. "Dee, you're so…" Her blush deepened, and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "God," she said, mortified, "I have such a bad solid-boy fetish." She clapped her hands over her mouth, her gaze swiveled back to Dee in terror. "Oh-my-God-I-can't-believe-I-said-it," she squeaked through her fingers, her blush so fierce she was black as night from the chest up.

 

Dee stared. "You have a solid-boy fetish?" he asked, his voice monotone.

 

Galatea buried her face in her hands, as only she could, surfaces blurring and melding until only a few spikes of hair stuck out distinct. "Yes," emerged a muffled cry, although Dee could see nothing that could produce the sound. "Yes! Dee, I love you, and I know you love me, but I've also got this, this thing for you. Do you know what I mean?"

 

Dee's face was almost as blank as hers. "I think I do."

 

She pulled her hands out of her face. "Dee," she pled, "don't look at me like that, like I'm some sort of pervert or something … Dee? Dee? What are you laughing at? What's so fucking funny?"

 

Dee couldn't draw enough breath to answer. He had gone beet-red, braying and honking with laughter, slipping sideways like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

 

Galatea looked furious, her neck tilting and stretching at impossible angles to follow his decline. "You jackass. I checked your web browser history and I've seen the things in your 'My Pictures' folder on your computer. I know you know what I mean."

 

Dee's face blanked over for a second belong spluttering back into hysterics, and this time Galatea could not help but join him, until his slow fall reached its apogee and he cracked his head on one of the garbage bags on the floor.

 

"Dee! You okay?"

 

"Yeah," Dee said, standing up beside her teacup-sized outie bellybutton, head spinning. "Ow, wow. What's in those?"

 

"Ice," Galatea said pointing at her abdomen, "from the ice machine in the common room. Well, a couple of common rooms from around the complex. I wanted a lot."

 

Dee followed her finger and saw that she was lying atop of several more garbage bags of ice. "How did you get it without being seen?" he asked.

 

"You'd be surprised how easily elastic, divisible, translucent green girls can sneak around at night," she answered. "That's how I got the absinthe, in case you were wondering. The goth chick three doors down brews it in her bathtub. Sorry about the alcohol poisoning, by the way."

 

Dee nodded. "I gotcha. Yeah, I know she does. And that's okay. But why ice?"

 

Galatea said, "Well, we're going to fuck in a few minutes…"

 

"We are?"

 

"…Count on it." She sneered, knife-toothed. "We only fucked once, remember? And that was hours ago, bright boy. I am so ripe for plucking I am going to pluck you until your plucking eyes plop out, you got that?"

 

"Did you hear me say no, or even complain?" Dee protested.

 

"Sorry." She softened into herself again.

 

No, Dee thought. She is both of them, Venus and the succubus. And the green fairy, too, and who knows who else. Good thing I want them all. "So, why the ice?"

 

"Well, there's so much of me right now, and all of me wants a go at you at once — it's not like I can divide a few times and convince a couple of me that they're not super-horny right now. I'm not built like normal girls. I don't just have one G-spot that I can put in a box. When it comes to you, I'm all G-spot. Hey, a pun! You follow?"

 

"A little," Dee said, although he thought that her Internet fetish porn-based sex education had given her a pretty skewed view of "normal girls." And guys, for that matter. Holy shit, I'm still hard. What's up with that?

 

"Whatever," Galatea shrugged, "as long as we fuck. Soon. Like, now. Anyway, I couldn't find any SCUBA gear or re-breathers in this damn place—don't laugh, I looked everywhere—so the next best thing is to chill me down so all of me can fuck you at once without, like, drowning you to death and stuff."

 

"Very considerate," said Dee, turning at a thumping noise.

 

Someone was trying to open the bedroom door and it bumped against the mattress. "Let me in -thump-," said Galatea's voice from the hallway, "I've got more ice -thump-. Hey, -thump- did you do this on purpose?" -Thump!- He turned back to Galatea, or the Galatea in the room at least. Her grin was wide and nervous, head kinked to one side, a single large drop of green sweat running down her hair. "Eh-heh," she said.

 

-Thump- "Dee's awake in there, isn't he!? -Thump!- You let me in right now, you bitch!" -Thump!-

 

"Let her in," Dee sighed, stepping aside, "and then let her in, if you know what I mean. You can fuck me all you want; I'll just keep coming back for more." He glared at his physiologically-defiant, Internet porn-complaint dick. "Apparently. But, as usual, a few questions first."

 

"Yes!" Galatea hissed, drumming her feet and fists on the floor, the naughty schoolgirl gleeful again. She sat up, and dragged the mattress down on its side, clearing the door. The door flew open. "He says we can fuck him all we wah—ant," she sang into the hallway.

 

A shorter Galatea — nine feet tall at the most — came skipping into the suddenly very crowded bedroom. Four of her arms carried smallish bags of ice, the remaining two arms clapping empty hands. "It's not as if he has a choy—oice," the short Galatea replied in identical sing-song.

 

"It's more fun when he says 'Yes,'" the taller Galatea scolded.

 

"But it's the very bestest if he looks scared when he says it," the shorter Galatea pointed out. "Did he look scared?"

 

The two jade goddesses fixed their burning gazes on Dee, who was slowly backing away. "As scared as he looks now," said the taller Galatea. She arched her back, her tits slamming back and forth.

 

"Awesome!" said the shorter, six-armed Galatea, tipping the bags of ice, one by one, onto the taller Galatea's chest. The ice cubes bounced about a bit on those huge breasts before being sucked down straight through the skin. "I can't wait to remember it!"

 

"Wow," Dee boggled.

 

"So eloquent too," the taller Galatea added.

 

"Shut up and kiss me," the shorter Galatea said, kneeling by the taller Galatea's neck. Four of her hands mauled the taller Galatea's tits, the remaining pair wrenching the two green girls' heads together into a sloppy, French lip-lock.

 

"Wow," Dee said again, as the kiss got sloppier. "Oh, fuck, wow." The two green girls, orgiastic, mashed and ground and smooshed themselves together, curves bulging and merging, until one combinant Galatea luxuriated on the floor, smoothing herself out into her preferred, Dee-fucking form. "I'm canceling my broadband account," said Dee. "I don't need the Internet any more."

 

"Oh, I dunno," Galatea murmured. A single, strong wave rolled through her as she performed a liquid about-face, rocking up from reclining on her back with her head against the far wall to resting on her tummy and facing the near wall, feet kicked up in the air, forearms pressed up under plumping breasts. Her color deepened with the luster of green gold. A stab of hair extended into a tendril to tap on the media server's keyboard. A lush, droning bass and sensuous beat started up. "I think it's a blast."

 

"That thing still works?" Dee asked, incredulous.

 

"Mm?" Galatea cupped a cherubic cheek with her palm and tipped her head toward Dee, bumping her ankles together, her dreamy gaze roaming up and down his wiry, naked frame. From the speakers, someone crooned about the blood of Eden, but Dee felt transfixed by her gem-fire eyes and could not pay much attention.

 

"I," Dee started. "I'd've thought all my computer stuff would've fried in all the, you know, excitement."

 

Galatea ran a chilled finger serpentine down Dee's chest, making him shiver. "Dee, I just wanted to claim you, devour you whole, to make you feel the way you'd made me feel. To lock you away deep inside me and keep you cumming and cumming until there was nothing left of you." Her frozen fingertip snaked down his abdomen, traced up the shaft of his cock and batted gently on its head. "But I didn't want to piss you off. I kept your boy-toys safe." The tendril of hair drifted down onto the surge protector, her ice-cold finger pressed into the slit of his dick. "Besides, I'm not conductive."

 

A brief, weak electric current shot through her finger and Dee yawped. "Unless I want to be," Galatea added, her eyes following his heaving chest, stroking his cock again. "Any more questions?"

 

"Yes," Dee gulped, stepping back, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

 

Galatea sighed, pattered on her forearms to face him square. Resting on her stomach, arms propped under her breasts, she lightly pressed her head against him, nose-to-nose, her tits squeezing around his elbows. Icy, citrus-perfumed breath washed over him. "You want to question this?" she clucked.

 

Dee stood on tip-toe to kiss her forehead, lips sticking in the cold. "No, but I want to understand how such an incredible thing is happening to me, even if only just a little."

 

"Guys never accept that some things just happen, do they?" Galatea's chilly lips bussed Dee's belly as she spoke. "Go on, then, but make it quick. I'm warming up fast."

 

"How come there's so much of you right now? What happened to the three Ds?"

 

"The three Ds are what happened. The nanomek needs the three Ds to replicate, and I burn the nanomek to do stuff like, well, this." Galatea's hand shot out behind him. "God," she groaned, "I love this ass."

 

Her palm easily trapped both cheeks. Her neck arched up and her hand pushed in, and Galatea drove Dee's cock deep between her tits. Dee grabbed her about the shoulders as his knees buckled. Her cleavage was tight, frosty, and sleek against him. With agonizing deliberation, the firm icy grip on his ass began to pump his dick in and up then down and out. All Dee could do was wrap his trembling arms around her tree-trunk neck, bury his head in her hair, and endure the most outrageous tit-fuck in history.

 

She turned her head into his and squashed her gelid lips around his ear. "And when you came inside me," she murmured, never stopping her slow pumping, "so deep inside me, it didn't just drive me crazy, it drove them crazy and they just drove me more crazy. Think of it, Dee," she breathed, pumping him in with every pause. "Millions of me. Billions of me. Crying out for you. Wanting you more. And more. And more."

 

Dee felt the first lightening-strike of an impending, monstrous orgasm, but Galatea just pulled him out and plunked him down on his butt. Spasms of denied release shocked over him. "Well," Galatea puffed, scraping her hands together as if rubbing away chalk dust. "I'm glad we took this time to chat. Do you have any more questions, or shall we fuck now?"

 

Dee snarled and punched the polished hardwood floor. It splintered into fissures around his fist. He blinked, inspecting his knuckles. They weren't even bruised.

 

"That's my boy," said Galatea.

 

Dee grimaced and said nothing. The song on the media server looped. The breathy crooning accompanied by a penetrating backbeat started up again.

 

Galatea marveled at him, eyes dancing. "I know a secret."

 

She rocked forward, chin resting on the floor a few inches away. Frigid air prickled his bare legs. "Dee, when you get turned on," she breathed, biting the pad of her thumb, "it's like witnessing the wrath of a god. Don't look at me like that, I'm totally serious. Nothing compares to the feel of you cumming inside me but just seeing you like this, watching that power possess you, it just, it just makes me so wet."

 

Dee's senses swam in the freezing perfume pouring off her body and from her colossal, wanton mouth.

 

"But do you know how I can tell when you're really turned on?" She rolled supine, filling his lap with sheaves of icicled hair that writhed, rustled and wrapped around him, soft as velvet, with a hunger of their own. Her upturned gaze feasted on him. "That I've got you so riled and so ready that you're gunna just pound and rip and, God, just fuck me apart into itty bitty pieces…?"

 

Icicles of silk raced up his back, soothing away the knots in his neck, the fever upon his brow, the ache of his grinding jaw and all the tension that had gathered so slowly Dee had not known it had been there until it was gone, and he whispered, "Galatea."

 

"… You get really, really quiet," she finished, and drew him down.

 

Her kisses were honeyed and tart and everywhere at once, muzzling his neck, scraping over his chin, tickling his ears and filling his mouth with a spicy, icy tongue more delectable than sherbet. "I'll kiss you," she said, and kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him.

 

The ice tendrils eased him up and back and down recumbent onto the floor. Galatea pulsed from supine on her back to prone on her tummy, not wasting any time on anything as mundane as actually rolling over. Her face towered above him, her hair lanced down and slithering with a carnal will over his chest and around his arms and down his thighs. "I'll drink you," she said, and nestled her chin into his lap and wrapped a hand around his cock.

 

The span of her hand was wide enough to swallow up his entire manhood. Galatea mushed the gel of her fist deep around Dee's pubis and the swollen head of his dick, weeping precum, pushed its way into the arctic air. Her mouth parted in a lewd O. She lolled her lips over his cock head, smearing precum across and around like lipstick, tugging and pumping his shaft. "I'll drink you," she whimpered, smearing and tugging and pumping. "I'll drink you."

 

Dee's orgasm was almost unbearable. He cried out as his cock painted Galatea's face with his cum. His flailing arms ripped free of Galatea's medusa embrace and rammed her head down onto his dick where she just moaned and suckled and drank. The flow of cum ebbed. Galatea pulled her spunk-plastered face free. "I'll eat you," she said, rolling her fingers full of Dee's essence and pushing them deep into her mouth, purring at the taste.

 

She crawled backward on all fours, cross-eyed with delirious lust. "I'll eat you," she panted, padding down to Dee's feet that still twitched with orgasm-afterglow.

 

"I'll eat you!" she sobbed, tears of madness and pleasure streaming from her eyes.

 

She swallowed his legs.

 

 


 

 

 

It started with Dee's toes. Galatea's gelid lips pressed tight around them and began their languorous, sliding descent. As his feet sank in up to the arches, Galatea's sherbet tongue lashed away at them, making Dee gasp and wriggle. Galatea's body absorbed the shock of his movement with a slight ripple through her jelled flesh and the ingestion continued unabated. Dee's feet grew numb with cold.

 

When her lips crept down and then up and around his heels, his toes plunged into a furnace. Galatea's hungry, clenching throat was ablaze and nectarous with her passion. It felt exquisite, but something compelled Dee to give his feet a timid tug. The glue of her melting inner gel held his feet fast, like a boot stuck in a morass of boiling mud.

 

Her lips slinking up his ankles, the sudden passage from numbing cold to flaring heat became a perpetual full body system-shock as she took him into her deepening warmth. The groundswell of her massive tits beneath her throat ratcheted his descent into an inclining ascent. When his calves disappeared into Galatea's mouth Dee grew dizzy; when she swallowed his knees Dee's cock grew ramrod hard. Galatea reached out for it with both hands, now runny and sticky with heat. "Mmmrrriiiine," she mouthed around Dee's thighs, pumping and squishing at his manhood.

 

Dee fought against the pressure of yet another approaching orgasm, trying to keep his wits about him, as Galatea worked expertly on his dick with her hands while encroaching upon it ever closer with her mouth. Her freezing lips slurped in his balls and her mouth yawned wide to swallow his ass, his dick, his hips, and even her own pumping hands. The searing heat around his legs, the sticky warm pulsing of her hands and the inhuman sucking of her frozen mouth fried every sensuality circuit in his brain and sent cum rocketing down her throat.

 

She laid still, squooshing out the last ropes and dregs of spunk from his deflating cock. The room stopped spinning, and for a moment Dee thought it was over. He rubbed his palms over his eyes and sighed, "Oh, God, that was awesome."

 

But then he looked into Galatea's eyes and did not see Galatea looking back. Three hauntingly familiar giggles tickled his thighs: "Ah-hah, ah-hum, hm-mm."

 

Uh-oh.

 

A few sudden swallows and his bellybutton slipped past her lips, her breasts forcing him up at nearly a forty five degree angle. Somehow, within the rising heat of her viscid body, the remorseless, expert pumping of his dick began again, as if she an internal pair—Gyah! Make that several pairs, Dee thought—of hands, desperate, as if their lives depended on it, to get him off. And they were succeeding. Her lips worried at the low curve of his ribcage when his third orgasm in almost as many minutes began to build. A cloudy memory rose in his pleasure-dimmed mind: "…lock you away deep inside me and keep you cumming and cumming until there was nothing left of you…"

 

He crashed over into another sizzling release of cum as Galatea's stretched lips vacuum-locked around his nipples, and this time the inner hands working at his cock (their number, skill, and ferocity seeming to rise exponentially with each orgasm) never stopped or faltered and somehow his overwhelmed manhood simply stood proud and took it and began to immediately build up to orgasm again.

 

["…keep you cumming and cumming until there was nothing left of you…"]

 

As Galatea's mouth encroached upon his armpits, Dee thought, Hell, we all have to die some day, right? His conscience, having moved on to better prospects, said nothing in reply.

 

["…keep you cumming and cumming until there was nothing left…"]

 

Dee turned his bleary eyes to his left, rolling them just a bit as another shattering orgasm was wrenched from him, to watch Galatea tuck his left arm into her mouth, the curve of her jelled right breast bulging out wide beneath their combined weight. If any man, any sane man, could get to pick the way he would die, this would be it, right?

 

["…keep you cumming and cumming…"]

 

He turned his head to his right, his third consecutive orgasm building, to watch Galatea gently reach out her left hand to bring his remaining arm close to her mouth.

 

["…cumming and cum—"]

 

His train of thought and stampede to ejaculation skipped and scratched like a stereo needle dragged down a vinyl record. Looking to his right, he could see her squashed left breast. It bore a curving X. His mind raged with self-loathing and shame. She didn't want this. He had known she didn't want this. How could he have even considered possibly allowing it to happen?

 

"It's," Dee hissed, wrenching his right arm free. "Not." He brought his arm up in a high arc, hand clenched in a fist. "Time!" He brought his fist hurtling toward the floor while kicking upward with all his might.

 

Dee heard a terrible clatter of splintering wood and something like a water balloon bursting (a sound that drove all rage away and filled him with sorrow and dread) and he flew backward, head over heels, before tumbling face-down onto the floor. A blotchy coating of green gunk incased him. It felt lifeless, cooling to room temperature. "Galatea! Galatea, are you alright?" he said, afraid to look. "Please, God, no. Let her be okay. Galatea, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

 

Silence, then: "Dee?"

 

He rolled onto his back. A plate-sized crater of shattered wood scarred the floor. His fist had punched straight through the hardwood to crack one of the struts below. Galatea tiptoed into his field of vision, wringing her hands. A deep rent ran the length of her chest, mint jelly gouged with a hot spoon. As he watched, the wound began to well and seal. The features of her face were indistinct but slowly reforming. "You…didn't want it?" she asked, sounding befuddled.

 

"I did want it." He sat up, reaching out to still her twisting hands. "That's why I let it happen for too long. It's my fault, Galatea, not yours. If you decide not to forgive me, I'll understand."

 

Her face slowly came into focus, eyes closed. It did not look the same. "You…fought back?"

 

"I had to," Dee said. "I realized I couldn't bear to be so, so selfish. I wanted to be with you."

 

The wound in her chest smoothed over and vanished. There was no X on her breast. No longer wearing the cherubic mask of a girl-child, the elegant lines of her face now traced the visage of a woman grown. Her brow crinkled in confusion, eyes still shut, and Dee's heart ached for the beauty of it. "But you…refused me," she said.

 

"No," Dee said, standing up. She was only a few feet taller than him now. "Not now, not ever. Galatea, look at me, please."

 

She did not open her eyes. "I don't understand."

 

How could he explain it? "It's just. I just. I couldn't." Tears burned his cheeks. "I didn't want to leave you all alone, that's all. I'm sorry."

 

She turned her back to him and stepped away. She squeezed a fist to her chest, as if trying to hold back a sob or a scream. She swept out her other arm, hand curled in a downward claw. Her fingers tapered into points, lancing down at odd angles to puncture the remaining bags of ice. A pulsation within her gel signaled an exchange of heat conducting down her fingers and using the ice like a heat-sink. She pivoted to face him, her burning, dark emerald gaze as incandescent as a full Moon. "That's the hottest thing I've ever heard in my entire fucking life," she said, scooping a curling X so deep into the rise of her left breast it bled inner nectar. "If we don't make love, right now, I'll probably go nuclear and take out the whole damn neighborhood with me. It's time."

 

Steam screamed from the ice.

 

"It's time," Dee agreed, wiping some tears away. "But let's skip the kiss me/drink me/eat me routine for now. It's hot as Hell, but it hasn't worked out so well so far."

 

Galatea leaned close, sure and quick, and tugged his hand away from his face. "One bit did work really well for me, though," she said, pushing his tear-stained fingers to her lips, her mouth cool but not cold. "Mm."

 

Dee reached around her back with his other arm and held her close, pressing his forehead in into the hollow below her arm, the roundness of her breast soothing against his cheek. "I love you," he sighed.

 

Galatea melted into his embrace, kissed away his remaining tears, and moaned her need into his mouth. Dee broke the kiss to glance down. "I think Mine loves you too," he said.

 

"Shut up," she breathed, pushing on his shoulders, "and lie down. Just lie down."

 

Dee bent at the knee, his tight hug sliding to nestle around her waist, planting a row of lightning-quick kisses down her side as he went. "Dee, please," she said, pushing at his shoulders as he orbited her waist with kisses, droplets of green honey pattering down from her hair and lips. "Just lie down."

 

But Dee and his errant mouth had not yet found what it sought. "Dee, please," Galatea begged, "just lie dow–Wow, oh, just don't stop!"

 

He found it, and settled in for a while. Galatea was still so tall Dee had to sit up on his knees and grab handfuls of her ass to tongue her sex. Her mulled honey ran down his throat and rained down from above. Radiant heat blossomed around his tongue and chin. The air grew redolent with the dizzying citrus-and-sex fragrance of Galatea's pussy. She clapped her hands down over his and plunged Dee's fingers deep into the juicy gel of her ass. "Rip me," she growled, "rake me."

 

Dee clawed and cleaved through the rich syrup of her innermost flesh, his oral assault on her sex unrelenting. Fat gobbets of her fluid rolled down his elbows and chest. Dee became so lost in the moment he bit down hard on his own finger when it came through her oozy sex from the other side. Galatea gurgled once—"Oh, God, Dee"—a sound like a siphoning drain. Her knees buckled, puddled, and then her whole body cascaded down over him.

 

For a moment Dee was sliding on his back across the floor, awash with thick, formless green goo, but a six foot tall version of Galatea swirled into solidity above him and slammed her mouth down onto his. More green gel swooped under and around Dee like a living cape, hugging him tight to Galatea's voluptuous curves. "Enough fucking foreplay," Galatea cried. "Take me! Now!"

 

Galatea grabbed Dee's hard cock with an unseen hand and impaled herself upon it. "Yes!" Galatea exulted, grinding atop him. "Yes! Thank you, God! Yes! More! Mo—Wha? Oh, shit!"

 

In a single, sinuous motion, Dee pushed off the floor with his arms and kicked up with his feet, setting a sine wave rollicking through her syrupy substance. He rode the wave like a master bodysurfer, flipped her over, and rolled on top of her. Galatea swiveled her head left and right, eyes wide. "What? How did—what?"

 

The ferocity of Dee's desire closed his throat, but he managed to grunt as he rode her, watching her shock and excitement build and build with each thrust: "I was…never…drowning…learning…how to… swim."

 

Galatea's screams echoed over the entire apartment complex and set car alarms squealing for miles around.

 

 

When I'm swimming in your ocean

Floating aloft on creams

And scented lotions

I can get pretty side-tracked

I hope you'll understand.

 

—Crash Test Dummies, Swimming in Your Ocean

 

 

 

 

Interlude: We Could See What Was Underneath

 

 

 

Grey pre-dawn light filtered through the green batter caked on the bedroom window. "I think," Dee panted, and rolled over, making the green lake around him slosh. Lying on his back on the floor, the green stuff was deep enough to gurgle around his ears. The citrus-and-sex smell was so pervasive it was part of his olfactory background now. "I think," he tried again. "I think I'm finally done. Maybe."

 

"Oh God, oh God," said Galatea, lying next to him.

 

Dee goosed the head of his flagging dick, and got that Don’t-Touch-Me! afterglow sensation he always got after orgasm. Well, used to always get. "Yeah, I'm spent. Sorry."

 

Galatea, glazed eyes lost to the heavens, was apparently still in communion with a higher power. "Oh God, oh God," she said.

 

The waterlogged, empty box of lime Jell-O floated by.

 

"Hey," said Dee, reaching out to caress her shoulder. Overestimating how much resistance her weakened surface tension now provided, his hand slipped right through her shoulder and deep into her breast, making her gyrate and mewl and chew her lip. "Oh, shit, sorry," Dee said, withdrawing. A huge gob of nectar gummed his hand. He scraped it off over her chest, making sure every dribble seeped back into her. "Hey," he tried again, "you okay?"

 

"So much," Galatea gulped, "you came—I came—you made me cum—so much, so much…"

 

"What about the nanomek?" Dee asked, imagining a fifty foot Galatea rampaging through midtown—and promptly filing the image under his mental Things-To-Do list. "What are they going to do with all of my, well, you know…"

 

Her laugh was weary. "Cum, Dee," she said, "all your cum. Why can't you say 'cum'?"

 

Dee felt his face flush.

 

"Dee," she said, exasperated, "you just spent the past four hours fucking me to death, non-fucking-stop. Don't you dare to pretend you're feeling modest…and lose the shit-eating grin, too."

 

"Okay, okay," Dee groused. "Cum. My cum. There. So what's the nanomek going to do with all my cum?"

 

Galatea inhaled, and there was an inrush of fluid around Dee as she siphoned some of the lake around them. She shimmied, trying to hold it in, but she hiccupped and it rushed back out. "Still too weak," she sighed. "Look around you Dee. That's cum. My cum. Don't worry about the nanomek. I was burning nanomek like crazy just to keep up with you. Didn't you notice? You didn't just make me wet, you made me boil."

 

"Alright," said Dee, laughing. "You made your point. No more false modesty."

 

"But—"

 

"So are you going to be okay?" Dee interrupted. "Do you need more gelatin, water, semen, or something?"

 

Galatea rubbed a hand over her pubis mons. The weak surface tension of her gel could not keep the two parts of her body separate, her hand becoming nothing more than a hand-shaped ripple running over her sex. "The nanomek always holds a little energy and some of your cum—maybe a milliliter or two—in reserve, out of instinct or something like that, to keep me…cohesive, I guess is the best word. I can feel them replicating now." The hand-ripple moved faster. "Mm, I love that feeling; all those little nanogasms."

 

"Nano-gasms? You mean nanoscopic orgasm?"

 

"Mmm, thousands of 'em." Galatea purred for a moment, and then gasped, "Now millions. You’re a computer nerd, Dee, work it out: One sperm makes one nanomek replication. One replication gives me one nanogasm and produces two more nanomek—at least two, more if you really get 'em turned on—which combined with three more sperm gives me three more nanogasms and produces six more nanomek, which gives me nine more nanogasms and…well, after a few minutes of that I'll be back in shape, and hot and horny as Hell. Literally. And that's been going on inside me all the time since we started screwing, thanks to you and your insane sperm count, over 110 million per, I'd say. And climbing."

 

Dee stared at the ceiling. It was stained green. "Nanogasms," he repeated.

 

"Yeah," said Galatea, "I just made that up. Isn't it cute? It's probably already on the Internet, though. Everything else is."

 

"Technobabble takes the romance and mystery out of everything," Dee grumbled.

 

Galatea flicked a finger and a ping pong ball sized dollop of tart green honey hit him squarely on the nose. "Honestly, Dee," Galatea sighed as he spluttered and sneezed and sniffled, "don't get jealous of your own sperm."

 

Dee rolled his eyes to the ceiling, reached for a pillow floating nearby, and plopped it over his head. It splattered green Galatean cum all over him. "Lord all-mighty," he sighed.

 

After a few minutes of post-coital silence, Dee felt a steady current of fluid flowing past him and into Galatea. He pushed the soggy pillow off his face. "You were right," he said, smiling. "That was pretty fast."

 

"Told ya I was always thirsty after sex," Galatea said with a wink, her form slowly filling out and focusing. "As long as I keep refueling with the three Ds—especially yours—I'll be fine. I would like more collagen, though, to give the nanomek more to work with; to make me more versatile."

 

Galatea watched Dee smile for a while. "Dee," she said, "what are you thinking?"

 

"I'm trying to imagine you being 'more versatile'."

 

Galatea started watching something else. "Well, whatever you're imagining, keeping doing it," she said, eyes wide. "Mine's getting hard again."

 

"What?" Dee sat up in a lurch. The pillow slid off the top of his head and splashed to the floor. "Oh, Lord, no. Galatea, I'm sorry, but I haven't slept in almost seventy-two hours—being knocked unconscious from sex doesn't count. I don't know what's happening to me, but even if I don't need sleep, I sure as shit want some."

 

He dropped back down to the floor, glaring at his slowly swelling cock. "Traitor," he accused.

 

Galatea rose up like a pillar of green marble to stand astride his chest, the remaining fluid inrushing to feed her growth. A lot of her had burned up or evaporated overnight and she stood a little over

five feet tall, but from Dee's vantage point on the floor, the view of her ribcage was spectacular.

 

"Enjoying the scenery are you?" Galatea said, hands on her hips.

 

"Yes," Dee confessed. Galatea crossed her arms in an impatient gesture and Dee added, "Wow, that's even better."

 

"How observant," Galatea huffed. "Remember, Dee, when you told me that you were paying attention, despite my tricks?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Well, you couldn't've paying that much attention," Galatea said, leaning over to give Dee an even better view, "because you fell for my dumbest trick."

 

"Which was?" Dee asked.

 

The curved X over Galatea's left breast zippered shut. She bent impossibly backward and down until the her back pressed flat against her ass. Her hands finger-walked out between her legs. Her head followed, poking out between her thighs, her Cheshire Cat grin a mouth full of swords. Her legs flipped up and back and suddenly she lay prone on top of him, trapping his legs tight, hands wrapped around his dick, lips poised to strike. "I don't have a heart," she said, her wicked grin stretched wider than her face.

 

She held her triumphant pose for a moment before her face fell. "What are you smiling about?" she said.

 

"It's about time," Dee said. "You were starting to worry me."

 

Galatea's face crinkled in confusion. "You were expecting this?"

 

"Expecting?" laughed Dee. "God damn, woman, I thought you had me all figured out. I wanted this. I love this. We just need to come up with a safe-word or something and—"

 

She goggled at him. "You mean I've been holding back all this time," she cried, the X unzipping, "when we could've been having some real fun?!"

 

That shut him up. "You were holding back?" he squeaked.

 

"Dee?" she hissed. The word echoed—Dee-Dee-Dee-Dee—as four hollow, coke-bottle duplicates peeled away from her, trailing filaments of slime, rolling into predatory crouches.

 

"You have exactly fifteen seconds," the solid Galatea said, her hair writhing into questing tendrils, the filaments connecting her to her twins fattening into a thick gluey net as they moved to encircle him, "to come up with a safe-word, or get out that door. Either way…"

 

"…You're fucked," all five Galateas chorused.

 

"The safe word is 'Pygmalion'," he smirked, eating up three of his fifteen seconds. After another ten seconds he had the solid Gatalea flat on her back and melting with anticipation. "But I'm going for the door anyway!" he said, leaping and running, as the countdown hit zero.

 

He was fast, but they were much faster.

 

 

 

 

The man in the black T-shirt listened to the noises above: a quick series of muffled thumps, followed by yelp, a heavy thud accompanying a shower of plaster dust, and then a slow, rhythmic squeak of something heavy being dragged back across a floor in a series of long, strong jerks. "Christ, now what?" he said, making his way across the floor, careful not to slip in the lumps of wet plaster, tiptoeing around the minefield of half-full bowls, pots, pans, and cups.

 

Blinking and bleary, he yanked up the shade and threw open the window to greet the rosy fingers of dawn. "Does the bastard ever sleep?" he muttered, grabbing the broom propped up against the windowsill.

 

He had broken off the head of the broom hours ago; damn thing was useless against wet plaster anyway. The grey sphere of a web camera about the size of a child's fist surmounted the broom handle, held fast with a complex weaving of silver duct-tape. The camera's black, cyclopean eye made the whole contraption look like a robotic eyestalk from an alien invasion saddled by a shoestring budget. He fed the USB extension computer cable into the back of the web camera and hoisted it out the window, alternating between glaring at the shaky images being sent to the computer screen and reconnoitering with his head out in the open air. It was getting harder and harder to find a good, clear spot in the second-story window directly above his. "There we go," he grunted, manhandling the eyestalk into position and lashing it to the window frame with strips of duct-tape torn from the roll with his teeth.

 

He hustled back to his computer, knocking over a coffee mug on the floor in the process. "Fuck!" said the man in the black T-shirt, watching green water zigzag out of the mug. "No, no!" The citrine stuff dribbled up the wall like a candle melting in reverse. "Don't go back to him!" It ran to the middle of the ceiling and disappeared up the jagged crack of ruined plaster. "Don't go back to him you bitch!"

 

But there was nothing he could do, as usual. He had even tried freezing the stuff, only to be awoken at one o'clock in the morning by the clatter of ice cubes smashing themselves against the front door of the apartment, trying to get out, trying to get back to him.

 

The man in the black T-shirt's bedroom filled with clanks and splashes as the metal and ceramic containers on the floor began, once again, filling up with green raindrops leaking through the crumbling ceiling of his first-floor apartment. There was nothing he could do, except sit at the computer, adjust the web camera's settings to get a good live video feed, open a tube of hand lotion, unzip his fly, and bang away like mad on his dick. He had been reduced to an electronic peeping Tom, watching his upstairs neighbor get screwed six ways to Sunday in the middle of an all-goo-girl orgy.

 

"I fucking hate you, Dee," said Bee.

 

I wanted to see how it would feel

To be that sleek

And instead I find this hunger's

Made me weak

I believe right now if I could

I would swallow you whole

I would leave only bones and teeth

We could see what was underneath

And you would be free then

—Susan Vega, Undertow

 

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