Makes No Difference Who You Are …
Written by AuGoose :: [Monday, 30 March 2015 20:00] Last updated by :: [Monday, 30 March 2015 21:16]
Makes No Difference Who You Are …
By Au Goose
A work of erotic fiction. Any resemblance to anything or anyone in the real world is far too much to hope for. Do NOT administer to children. Store upright in a cool dry place. A special tip of the hat to Cliff Edwards. Tax, license, and dock fees not included.
She flipped a shining silver coin into the water. It hit with a oddly resonant ‘plunk’ and sank beneath the foam.
“Its a hot tub, not a wishing well.” he chided.
She came around to hug him, still humming. She was always making up little songs, stealing the melodies from Disney movies. Usually with incredibly lewd lyrics. “Yeah, but its spring fed right? That makes the waters sacred.”
“Sacred or not I’ll pick it out later so it doesn’t get stuck in the pump.”
“If you do, give it back. That’s an especially lucky quarter.
“Oh no. It belongs to the spirit of the filter now. Magic has rules you know. No ‘take backs’ on offerings. Its important.”
“You geek” she teased.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it” he smiled
“Well … As long as the great filter spirit knows that my wish is exceptionally selfless and deserving.”
“But is your heart in your dream?” he joked, having recognized the tune she’d been humming from Pinocchio.
“Then your odds are good. the filter spirit is tight with the spirit of the spring …” he babbled on, keeping up the easy banter as they climbed down into the steaming, tingling water.
They had the cabin to themselves for a long weekend and they meant to make the most of it. He’d brought their favorite tropical fruit and all kinds of snacks and she had bought them new suits and a whole mound of especially fluffy towels in anticipation of several beautiful evenings on the deck. Damn she looked good in her new tube-top one-piece, her shoulders bare and gleaming in the last rays of day.
Soon, half the fruit was gone and he was considering slipping out to get another pitcher of ice water. Or he could stay right here. She was stretched out on top of him while he lay in a lounge contoured into the side of the hot-tub. Their bodies touching from shoulders to toes, hidden under the bubbles.
He heard her murmuring, “-star bright, first star I see tonight …” and looked up to see the first twinkling star had appeared in the deepening twilight. It seemed so much brighter away from the city lights.
His left hand was delicately tracing the underswell of her compact breasts while his right, unable to slide up between her and the side of the tub, was caressing her buttock. “Whudja wish for now?”
She finished the rhyme even more quietly than before and paused. “Same thing again. Not telling. Maybe you’ll see.”
“Then I wish for it too. Hook us up, star.” Pulling her closer, neither of them noticed the star shimmer brightly or the answering glimmer from a lost coin in the depths of the tub.
“Lucky me then. Wished for three times. There’s rules, you know.” They snuggled together even more tightly, enjoying the hot water and cool breeze.
“What if I were better looking? A lot better?” she asked, rubbing her head against the crook of his neck, sighing contentedly. ‘Sometimes she was so self-conscious about her appearance,’ he frowned. No one would ever say she was ‘stacked’ but he had always thought she was beautiful. And smart. And fun. But if she were …
He was about to head off this unflattering line of questioning when suddenly she went stiff as a board under his touch. He thought he heard her say, “I can … do … better—!” before she let out a hissing gasp.
Long wet hair whipped across his face when she first jerked and with it caught in his eyes he couldn’t see why she was thrashing about. Concerned for her comfort he lifted both hands away from her, wondering if his wandering fingers had pinched her somehow. Instead of relaxing she let out a tiny cough like the wind had been knocked out of her and abruptly arched her hips so sharply they lifted completely out of the water. Her shoulders weighed heavily against his chest while her heels thumped against the submerged bench between his knees. In the process her rising chest butted against his left palm.
Instead of the soft swell of the elfin breasts he knew so well, he felt an unreasonably large, firm lump grinding into his palm. Had she dropped a strawberry on her chest? The lump found a gap between his fingers and now he could tell from the texture of wet fabric that the rising cone was inside of her suit. The insistent pressure against his cupped hand increased, splaying his fingers apart as the whole pad of her breast grew half again broader and taller and roughly doubled in thickness. A little calculator in the back of his brain ran the square-cube law … that meant her mounds were about five times heavier. His elfin girlfriend was suddenly packing a respectable hunk of sweater meat … a very nice handful indeed.
Thinking he must be imagining this whole (quite enjoyable) scenario – a trick of the water and her thrashing, surely – he slid his other hand around only to confirm the lovely symmetry of her growth. Her breasts, both of them, really were larger.
She must have felt him measuring her other breast because she let out a squeak of pleasure, followed immediately by another burst of pressure under his fingers and her bust swelled up … substantially more than the first time. The second surge didn’t just add the same amount again but multiplied her dimensions … When it passed he was clasping breasts close to three inches thick and so much bigger around they threatened to overflow his hands. It was as if their heft and fullness had finally caught up with what he realized were inch-long nipples proudly tenting her swimsuit. Even her shoulders had widened as her whole torso spread to support the mushrooming pillows of her now quite sizable tits. She may have started small but she was a ‘big girl’ now.
He was just wrapping his mind – and hands – around his girlfriend’s geometric progression to massive D-cups, with something like 25 times her former cubic volume … when he heard another small cry and her heaving bosom doubled in size again, effortlessly outgrowing the capacity of his clutching fingers to fully measure.
Finally shaking her hair from his eyes, he gazed past her ear at the gloriously impossible: two bullet-shaped curves jutted five inches above her broadening chest, reaching for the sky like a strip clubs girl’s sexiest prayer come true. Even an international vixen like Jordan Carver – pretty much his reference point for ‘awe inspiring tits’ – would only barely outclass his girlfriend now. Those three multiplying waves had left her … Day-amn. Had he been thinking no one would ever call her stacked? Well, he was wrong. She was fucking STACKED now! She had maybe a hundred times her starting bulk, arranged in perfect conical sexy mounds. ‘About 125 times, assuming uniform progression …’ the little mental calculator chirped away happily. She was amazing! Now that she had stopped they could measure―
Then as if to mock his lack of ambition, he heard her let out a determined grunt of effort. ‘No. She can’t possibly keep … Another would …’ Actually, he had no idea what another upwelling would do, but one of them clearly wanted to find out. Her back muscles trembled like a weightlifter pushing too hard, struggling to set the bar back on the rack without a spotter. He could hear the dark fabric along the flanks of her already quite inadequate suit creaking as her whole body strained against a load only she could sense.
“Ha!” she cried out in triumph. He could almost feel the air around them snap. The fourth surge blasted through her chest, surpassing all that had come before. Her breasts grew, and Grew, and GREW. They kept on growing until she arrived in a place where standard cup-sizes were meaningless and porn stars wept with envy. She fucking dwarfed Jordan Carver’s 32HH bustline now even if she was still inches shorter than the famous model. Comparisons to fruit failed him, but ‘volleyballs’ seemed appropriate. Even that might be understating the facts. ‘Were soccer balls bigger?’ he wondered not entirely up on sports equipment analogies either. It wasn’t something he had to seriously consider before.
She let out a throaty giggle as her body relaxed and slid back into the tub. Unsurprisingly the tips of her breasts were not submerged. “Mmmm …”
His left thumb was still hooked on her nipple, a forgotten passenger on its incredible journey to greatness. Without consciously meaning to he flicked it. An answering flex of her pectoral set the whole massive dome wobbling in response. Still ‘only’ about an inch long, it had been ridiculously out of place on her chest at first, but now seemed quite modest– as if anything could be called ‘modest’ about her battleship class guns. Three times. Four times he tweaked it feeling it throb and spring back against his playful touch. Five, six … It was mesmerizing.
And apparently quite enjoyable for her. “Mmmm. I like that” she finally spoke, laying her hands across the backs of his. “Now harder.” She pressed his fingers into her unimaginably lush bounty. “Ohh yes. Harder. I can take it. Hard-errr.” She let go, one hand reaching down around her shelf to caress her belly, the other rising to explore her face while he ground his hands into her chest with increasing vigor.
Whoever said ‘more than a handful was a waste’ was just plain wrong he decided, kneading those goddess-mounds. He wasn’t certain he could even clasp his hands together around her fullest girth, but right now, fingering from both sides, she seemed to fit into the sweep of his arms perfectly. Maybe the saying should be ‘more than an armful was a waste’. “This can’t be happening,” he murmured.
“Clearly it can. It’s still me, I’m just … better. Wanna see?” When she sat up and pivoted to face him he could feel something like bowling balls rolling around on his groin and realized she had enjoyed a similar transformation of her hips and ass as had struck her chest. With curves like that she wasn’t nearly as top heavy as he would have guessed after his first ‘inspection’. His eyes rolled up into his head for a moment as she used those new muscles to clamp down on his throbbing penis right through his trunks.
“Somebody is happy.” She released her grip on him. “You have to admire the fundamentals of modern sex appeal: heart shaped face, hour glass waist, and Great. Big. Tits.” She was right, her face had changed too – a narrower chin and more aristocratic cheeks, full pink lips and eyebrows as carefully crafted as a movie star’s make-up. It was still her … but much, much better.
“Well, you were already a blonde,” he offered distractedly, drinking in the gorgeous perfection of her facial features, so flawlessly balanced that he wondered if her beauty had doubled four times while his attention had been elsewhere. “Flawless skin, too. The mole on your shoulder is gone.”
“Wow. You’re actually looking at my shoulders? I think I’ll keep you.” She cupped her left breast, or tried to– her hand was tiny in comparison. “Talk about ‘melons’. I’d have to split a pumpkin to pad a blouse like this. I think they’re both bigger than my head.” She simply couldn’t keep herself from arching her back trying to lift them proudly. They were easily wider than her rib cage even bunched up under her suit.
That made him laugh. He stroked the seams of her suit, the cunning stitching now totally unnecessary to highlight her assets. “Did you wish for a magic swimsuit too? This thing should have burst into confetti.”
“Its new. I didn’t want to rip it. Now its probably the only thing I own that fits.” she laughed, sending delightful ripples through her torso and legs. “Oh man, all the new clothes I’m gonna need … I’m what? About a 50-25-37 now?” She tried and failed to smooth down the suit over a nipple grown to the size of her thumb. “And the padding its gonna take to hide these …”
“You’re not actually complaining, are you?”
“Heck no. This is awesome.” She smirked, ‘Like a wish come true. Exactly like. Thank you star! Thank you filter spirit! It’s just going to take some practice. I’ve never had boobs before. But there may be some advantages.”
“Understatement of the decade.” he snickered. Even her hair was longer, falling all the way down to cover her butt. ‘She’s gonna love that when she notices.’ he though. She could spend an hour happily braiding what she’d had before.
“Let’s see …” She clenched her fists, threw her arms wide and pulled her elbows back, putting on a breath snatching displaying before shimmy-shaking her chest side to side. Her mouth dropped open and head rocked back to one side as the sensations slammed into her. Never in her life had she felt the side of one breast rubbing against the other. Real cleavage. It took a long while for the motion of that ocean to settle even after she broke off laughing. “Ok … Doing that is a lot more fun than it used to be!” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Still with me down there?” She wasn’t surprised he seemed dazed. She was probably the greatest show on Earth now.
“Like a bolt out of the blue, suddenly it comes to you …” He shook his head, “But this is still impossible. Are you sure you’re ok?” This was crazy, but there was no denying his over stimulated senses or her radiant joy. He slid his hands up her thighs, over steely buttocks and broad hips. They rose to map a petite hourglass waist before tracking the delicate spreading of her ribs behind her monstrously buxom breasts. She was sleek and firm and soft. The very ideal of fresh and young and healthy.
“It’s a wish, silly. I’m not just ok. I’m …” She rocked forward and nestled against him, her astounding breasts spreading against his chest with delightful weight. “I think it made me a supermodel.” Then she realized she couldn’t quite reach his lips to kiss him over her own bosom …
“Ha! Or maybe not. I’m not sure I’m tall enough to be a supermodel,” she laughed. Even her laugh was amazing, now. Musical. Angelic.
His choices were a slide into madness or amusement. Amusement seemed to come with better perks. “Well then, good wish.” He lifted his head and leaned in to kiss her. “If you get another wish someday, you should totally go with that taller thing,” he joked, savoring the taste of her. Those big soft lips weren’t just for show. They kissed again and cuddled with building urgency.
He meant well, but what he had said gnawed at her, distracting her from enjoying the moment. “You’re right … What if I were taller? A lot taller?” Her whole body tensed after she unconsciously repeated the formula she’d spoken before. “I can … do taller …”
Before she even said it, he felt it coming: her clenched toes sliding down his calves, over his ankles and even past his feet while her hunched shoulders pushed closer to his face and her breasts dragged up his chest leaving tracks of pleasure across his skin.
“… Right … Now! she finished with a sultry whisper. Her voice had grown a hint deeper, richer, and unquestionably sexier.
Madness beckoned again. “Oh my– what did – you’re – you’re at least my size! Six foot!”
“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t like it.” she ran a finger down his nose, and he could tell even her finger was a bit larger and longer now. “Its still me, I’m just taller now. Five-foot-four was so … ordinary.” She rolled over, floating next to him where he could inspect her bombshell figure. “I never want to be ordinary again.” Long nimble toes stroked his foot under the water while her mouth was next to his ear. She was exactly as tall as him and she owed most of her new height to a long pair of legs that went on and on. She whispered, “This will make it soooo much easier to kiss you.” a claim she immediately set out to test.
And like the perfect fit of her bustline in his arms, her whole body molded to him like she had been born – or reborn – just to thrill him. “Convinced this is real? Ready for more?”
Dazed, he nodded vigorously in reply to the first question. Then he realized what else she had said. “Mm-more??” he choked out.
“Here’s a question for my favorite geek: what’s sexier than a supermodel?”
He started to hunt for a clever answer when she put a finger to his lips.
“Here’s a hint.” She dragged her fingernail down her front, tearing a slit in the white center panel of her one-piece suit from just under the top hem to just beneath the line of her nipples. The already straining fabric sprung apart with relief, displaying a white-framed circle of tightly packed cleavage that probably defined the upper limit of what was humanly possible.
Inspired by the makeshift keyhole in her suit, visions of the most famous rack in all of comics suddenly danced behind his eyes and he knew what was sexier than a supermodel: comic book hardbodies that were humanly impossible. Stories where the art was bigger than life and two or three times as sexy. He licked his lips and leered. “Oh … wait. I know.” he teased her right back, running a finger down her exposed boob and drawing out the moment. “A superhero?”
“Really? You think superheroes are sexy?” she mocked gently, pressing close and rubbing against him in time as she sing-songed to the tune of a holiday carol ~
“Well if super is sexy … and sexy is super …
Then sup’r-sexy heroes … with sexy superpowers …
Making super-powered looooove …
Are what ‘supermodels’ … really …
… Should be.”
Then she looked in his eyes and spoke the magic question. “What if I were a superhero? A super-sexy hero?” she squinted her eyes shut in anticipation. “I can … do super-fucking-sexy … right …”
Instead of the instant change they both had come to half expect, she started to shake. “… I-I can do – Oh. Ohhhh …?”
He smiled. The tune she’d been humming earlier drifted back into his head. ‘No request is too extreme,’ he thought, ‘when you wish as dreamers do.’
She felt a pressure grip her whole body, almost crushing her. “… Oh! I can do … sexy … Ohhh … super-sexy … I can be … super … hhuuuhh?” With that her whole body lurched out of the water, pulled into the air like a broken puppet being hauled away. She hovered horizontally face down above him like the worlds sexiest magician’s assistant doing the world’s sexiest levitation act, her arms reaching out to him and pleading with the forces surging through her. “Oh … Ohhh … fuck me … I … super … fuck! Ohhh … super fuck me … harder, I can take it … huhh-h-h-harder …” The pressure crushed the breath out of her in jolting puffs as she built towards an unseen climax. “Hhuhh … HARD-ER … huhh … can take it … ooh … ‘cause I’m … super … hhhuhhuuhharder … Super … oh, super fuck, fuck! … yes … I’M. SUPER! …Hhhhaaaaaahhh—” she trailed off in an orgasmic wheeze. Then her breathing grew long and steady. She slept while the wish tore through her, destroying any ‘realistic’ limits that got in it’s way.
He’d never thought she lacked for beauty, even if her physical charms had been … conventional. She’d achieved devastatingly gorgeous with her first metamorphosis. But this was something else. She was becoming … More. More what? More everything: more toned, more curvaceous, more desirable, more breathtaking. Wider hips, rounder ass, longer legs, firmer muscles, even thicker golden hair falling over her face, trailing back into the water.
Oddly, her pendulous breasts, swinging softly beneath her as she breathed in and out seemed to be shrinking, until he realized they weren’t smaller … they had just become so firm they defied the very concept of sagging under their own weight, losing their teardrop shape, thrusting up to redefine ‘perky’. Her breasts floated with her tight and upswept, perched high on her chest like she was drifting through space far from gravity. ‘Well, she can stop worrying about ordering bras’ he though. Her breasts proudly declared ‘additional support’ was a needless joke.
All the comic book adjectives applied: amazing, fantastic, incredible, sensational, and most definitely spectacular. She was a living wet dream. A pornographic nymph rising from spring waters. He was pretty sure her main super power was the ability to send teenage boys scurrying to hide in their rooms, clutching their cocks and reaching for the tissue paper. And not telepathically.
The white/black suit she had bought especially for that evening had experienced its own transformation, still clinging to her like body paint instead of tearing to shreds. She wasn’t technically naked, but there was not one curve left to the imagination.
Just as he dared to reach up and shake her, she yawned and stretched out her arms, her right foot swinging down and stirring the water by his knee. She ran her hands up and down her body, surveying the changes. Even her most casual, carefree motions were the most alluring thing he’d ever seen.
“Wow?” he whispered.
“Hey, its still me. I’m just super now.” She hit him with a radiant smile.
There really was no cleaver response to that, he decided.
“And super-sexy feels sooo fucking good.” She twisted and turned in the air, effortlessly wheeling through pose after pose that showcased the exaggerated lines of her body even in the gathering gloom. Tumbling in the air like a puppy chasing its own tail in three dimensions. She giggled, discovering she was also more flexible than anyone she’d ever known, doing splits and twists like an acrobat.
He gulped loudly and she stopped twirling to hold out her hands in both directions. “I wonder if I can shoot beams or something?” Now her laugh really was the dulcet tones of an angel.
“That wouldn’t fit your story. You always play a buff-bot or tank online.”
“You’re probably right. Might still be able to bench press a city bus though.” She reached down and gently, cautiously squeezed the fiberglass edge of the tub. The molding resisted for a moment. She tensed and the lip crumbled to dust between her fingers and she laughed again. “Don’t know my own— nah. Too easy.” She paused, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “But does all that super-strength … extend … down there.” She drew a single finger over one staggeringly erect breast, down the center crease of a tightly muscled belly copied from the Olympics, then traced the edge of nature’s most perfect bulging camel-toe before she hooked it under the edge of her suit and snapped the crotch seam with a single effortless flick.
“Oh that’s better. Gotta admit, hanging up here with you staring at me like I’m a Cirque du Soleil porn-act is making me terrifyingly horny. If you don’t get those trunks off and start touching me I’m gonna see to my needs myself … and I’ll make you watch.
Funny, he was flinging his suit out of the tub before she had even finished her threat.
“I saw this in a movie once, and I have to say, I’ve always wanted to combine sex with flying …” She twisted, turning her back to him and began to sink down into the tub. He was more than happy to work out the issues of aim for her as she descended, knees down and spread wide, her feet touching her own sculpted buttocks. As they pressed together, they both gasped- she was very strong ‘down there’ and for one embarrassing moment he needed both hands to pry apart the edges of her hole so he could slip into her. Superwomen were built for super-partners they both realized. Still, she continued descending, sliding down his pole with the inevitable force of a spaceship docking, finally bottoming him out with what was for her sensual ease. She felt him trembling inside her and it turned her on that much more.
Resting in her for a moment, the pain was real. ‘Tight’ didn’t begin to describe what the spring-steel of her fluttering pussy muscles was doing to him. There was zero chance he could service her like a man, or like the superman her powerful body now required. And he wasn’t quite sure how he’d fondle her breasts either – they were so firm it was like trying to squeeze the air out car tires with his bare hands. He could barely budge them now. And her nipples … saying ‘they could cut glass’ wasn’t a metaphor. His already bruised dick reminded him it was about to be mashed in what felt like a industrial press. If she started pumping he’d burst.
He had just started to beg her to release him when he felt her deep warmth infuse him, his abused cock rising to the challenge of her crushingly powerful super-pussy with a greater hardness than he had ever known. “Ohhh …” he exhaled. “Now that is a good superpower,” realizing what she had done.
“You said it: I like to buff. Or is that fluff?”
His prowess restored, he laid into her with a will, trusting he could solve the other issues himself. His hands danced over her back, stroked her neck, ruffled her hair, pulled her earlobes, snuck around to brush her super-firm breasts in unexpected moments, and she shivered with joy as he played her body — both familiar, unfamiliar, and overwhelmingly well-endowed — like an instrument. He had always made her feel like the intimacy they shared was ‘making love’.
For her part she simply floated. Up. Then down. Slowly. It seemed being super-fucking-sexy came with super-fucking-senses. She felt everything he did to her a dozen times more clearly, more intensely, more thrillingly. Down. And up. Then down again. Not quite so slow now. She felt him try to lead, to set the tempo and he couldn’t begin to budge her. She was immune to any force he could apply to her hips or body. Her strength was impossible for him to rush or to resist. It was her show. A paradox then: being in complete control was driving her completely wild.
But his skill would not be denied. His hands were all over her. Tickling tweaking, touching. He couldn’t squeeze her breasts, so he tried slapping them. First gently, but as she urged him on, he applied harder blows. “I can take it, lover. Hard-er!” she purred as the air rang with meaty powerful impacts that set her breasts faintly jiggling but left his hands red and stinging. She could take all the roughhousing he could dish out like he was poking her with a feather. The only reason he could plunge deep inside her without being squashed like a bug was that she gave him the strength to do so. That thought drove her arousal to a whole new level. She gently guided his sore hands down to the silky fur of her crotch and set him to work on her throbbing clitoris, discovering that what used to be knot of dense nerves no bigger than a sunflower seed now peeked from between her pussy lips as big and plump as a grape, and even more powerfully erogenous than her breasts. It seemed she had a super-fucking-sexy everything. When he suddenly clamped down on her clit with both thumbs applying pressure that would have made her scream in pain on any other night, she instead unleashed another liquid, glorious laugh and taunted him, “Oh yes. Try harder. I CAN take it, lover.” trying to not let on how he’d sent a jolt jangling raw sex rattling in her skull. He wasn’t fooled for a second and added the new target to the dancing of his fingers.
“And speaking of hard-er …” With his hands safely out of the way, she could give her breasts the super-groping that only she could deliver now. Her immovable objects felt the rubbing of irresistible force in an explosion of satisfaction. In her hands they did indeed move, though even with her awesome strength they felt as solid and heavy as clay. She pulled the top of her suit down, at last freeing her breasts from its embrace. Ploughing her right breast in slow circles she lifted the left towards her face and realized she might actually be able to do one of those moves real people only read about … Sure enough with a little more vigorous shoving she brought her engorged nipple close enough to just brush the tip with her bee-stung sex-bomb lips, both the bright flushed pink of young, sensitive flesh. She felt his hands slow even as she increased the pace of her rise and fall. Out of the corner of her eye she caught him starring at the side of her beautiful face in awe. ‘Could she do it? Could she actually do it?’ was written on his face plain as could be. She stuck out her tongue, a quick darting lick surprising him. For the first time, since he had touched her chest, her nipple actually swelled larger, her conical pink areola puffing up even higher on the globe of creamy flesh. It wasn’t just the feeling which drove her arousal (which was amazing), it was the idea. There was nothing sexier than an idea, and it wasn’t just a theory that she could lick her own nipples. Her tongue struck again, only this time with long lingering stroke you’d use to clean up an ice cream cone trying to melt. Then she winked at him, sharing the moment, watching him watching her, before her head bobbed forward, her hand her breast higher, and the whole nipple vanished into her mouth, going so deep her lips covered her areola entirely. His eyes went as wide as saucers as she sucked on herself, her cheeks hollowed like she was drinking a super-thick milkshake through a straw. The wet rasping of her tongue swirling herself was the most powerful tactile sensation she had experienced since getting in the tub. She wasn’t just doing it, she made it look easy. Despite the magnitude of every other change that had come over her, this was the fulfillment of fantasy that made her feel like a superwoman.
Rising and falling on a unflagging steel pole of a cock by her own ability to fly, supersenses drinking in a lover of surpassing grace, feeling cold air and hot water slither across her breasts, and finally both sucking an being sucked became almost too much. The pleasure roaring through her should have washed her mind completely away in a flood of super-sensation but now she had super-fucking-stamina to go with her super-sexy body. Instead of drowning in his love making, she felt … nice … and ready to explode all at the same time.
Even with her energy flowing into him, he was approaching his limit …
She knew. Precisely. Her sexual skills were as exaggerated as her body, letting her match his growing need for release like a living mirror. At the last moment, she rose completely off him, prolonging the last hissing breath, twirling in midair to face him chest-to-chest, then slamming down onto him in one last glorious thrust as she looked deep into his eyes, searching for the reflection of her love there.
He’d been craving her eyes, her face, the touch of her lips since she first rose out of the waters above him. Despite all the adjectives – amazing, fantastic, incredible, sensational, and most definitely spectacular – there was one more he wanted for her.
“My angel,” he whispered.
“What did you say?” she murmured as she impaled herself on him and they both melted in to ecstasy.
Eyes scrunched tight with bliss, neither of them actually saw her angelic transformation. But they both felt it seize her body. Not with the crushing force of previous modification, but like a breeze. It started at the very top of her head as a subtle radiance lit her hair and framed her face, a delicate, almost invisible halo. The zephyr curled down across her body, refining, polishing, making what had been exaggerated instead exquisite. The object of lust for teenagers became a portrait of timeless beauty for adults. Chutzpah blended with ethereal grace, both enhanced by the fusion. Her strength and powers stood undiminished but carried a softer touch - the iron fist drawing on the white silk glove. Even her suit got in on the act, the white panels gaining shimmering mouther of pearl highlights while the dark sections became windows into the night, utterly black with stars twinkling in the depths.
As she shook with orgasm and metamorphosis she hugged herself tightly under her breasts. Hunched over him in blaze of pleasure that burned in them both. The breeze of change became a cloud of golden light visible all around them. The cloud thickened and brightened until it suddenly collapsed on itself like a picture coming into focus: a snapshot of long sweeping wings with feathers as golden as her hair rising from her shoulders. She was, unmistakably, his angel.
In the passion of the moment, or perhaps because her strength was momentarily spent, he finally had his way. Surging to his feet, he threw them both on to the pile of towels beside the tub. He thrust into her with a last few jittering strokes before rolling off to gaze up at the sky beside her. He was sprawled across one of her outstretched wings, their heels and the tip of her other wing still dangling in the water.
The afterglow was strong, but the silence ran its course.
“Well, I’ve got just two words to say about that.” he proposed, stroking her thigh.
Her brow furrowed cutely, trying to guess the punch line.
“Much cruder,” he suggested with a grin. “But factually accurate.”
She looked puzzled a moment longer, then a smirk appeared. “Nooooh …”
“Yeaaah …” he countered, before inhaling dramatically.
“Holy Fuck!” they barked in unison before collapsing into laughter. Her smile literally lit up her face as the halo effect surrounding her brightened with her joy. She pulled her suit back up over her massive, weightless, and now perfected breasts with habitual modesty before kissing his shoulder.
“I– I have wings.” she said, wonder in her voice. “Do you think I can fly?” The wing he was laying on twitched as if she were thinking about moving it, but wasn’t quite sure how.
“You could fly before you had wings.”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s right …” She grimaced. “Sorry, I’ve been going through a lot of changes lately.”
“I hadn’t noticed. But seriously: what did you – we – wish for?” He stroked her hair “What one wish accounts for all this?
She giggled and it was like bells. “Oh, I just wished to become the sexiest woman you could imagine. I’ve wished that a bunch of times. It finally took.” Her musical laughter rolled over him like caress.
“Clever girl. That’s why you were asking so many … Objection! Counsel is leading the witness!”
“You know, with a background like mine you might have ended up a Klingon or something. Of course you’d be like a really hot Klingon … rowrr …”
“You know I LIKE you being a geek, right? I took my chances and wished I could make you happy. Faith was kind, secret longings fulfilled, yadda, yadda. You know the song … On the other hand this was your first time wishing my wish would come true. So this could all be beginners luck.”
“Are you sure this is the first time I’ve wished you’d turn into a chesty angelic super-babe and ravish me?”
She thumped him on the chest playfully. They both realized how hard of a hit it actually was as his breath shot out of him and his ribs creaked. She started to apologize but he laced his fingers in hers, signaling it was ok. They lay together in silence, holding hands.
“Maybe its just a sign we do great things together.” he finally announced.
She nodded. “I love you.” Before he could answer she tried to sit up and ended up dragging a wing deeper into the tub. “Gah … soggy feathers. Still think wings are sexy?”
He smirked, “Eh, we all have a few quirky fetishes. You like wishing on stars. Weirdo.” He chuckled. “They’ll dry. You’re probably more kin to eagles than a duck.”
She flapped them experimentally, slinging long streamers of water across the deck. They felt as natural to her as her own arms. “How am I going to hide these things?”
He sat up beside her and hugged her with one arm, deftly reaching over her wings. “You were fooling yourself if you thought you could lead an ordinary life of anonymity starting about thirty seconds after the wish took hold. You know superhero secret identities don’t work in the real world, right? We’ll figure it out together.”
“True. Since we don’t own a bat cave … Maybe we should travel.” She flapped her wings again, trying to dry them. “See the Vatican. I bet they’d put us up as long as we wanted to stay.”
“You are incorrigible!” He threw a towel at her, laughing.
She pulled it over her head like a nun’s habit and put her palms together in prayer, trying to look pious or at least innocent. It was pretty convincing despite her cleavage nearly engulfing her hands. Her wings weren’t the only thing it would be impossible to hide. But at least they sort of balanced each other out weight-wise.
“Ok, fine. That part is my fault. Kinda. At least 20% – call it a Catholic school flashback – but I blame 51% on the filter spirit.”
“Yeah, right. You didn’t go to Catholic school. But you do collect Magic cards.” She mimed swinging a sword around until she nearly popped back out of her top. “Just call me Serra! Flying and vigilant!”
“Busted. You know me too well.”
“I know you just right.” She wrapped a wing around him and pulled him close, leaning into his hug. He fit into her as well as she did into him.
Together they both looked up. That first star of the evening was about to dip below the horizon. Their shared wish was about to become final and permanent– they could feel it.
“Any last thoughts? Requests? I do requests you know.” Mirth lit her eyes.
“Just one. More like a promise. Nothing is more sexy than when a woman loves you completely. If you can return that love.”
“Good man. I think I’ll keep you.”
“See? Sexy.” They kissed until their new favorite star had set.
He never did find her lucky quarter.