5 on 1 - Chapter fifteen: Fire in the belly (Patreon)

“Quite the wordsmith,” Afi said.

Her throat was hoarse. After a night of gastric lavage, anyone’s would be. The XXXL hospital gown was still on her, hiding her upper half in endless ruffles while being stretched taut by the lower. The flannel and towel had been discarded, sitting beside in a neatly folded stack. They’d said she could keep it a few days, just so long as she brought it back in one piece.

“You’re joking?” Yuki replied, flicking her eyes over the two options as the morning traffic did its morning traffic thing.

“I don’t know you well enough for jokes,” Afi said, making her decision, “none of them make such short changes. Your clarity is impressive.”

“He wants more stamina, he’ll get more stamina.”

“I suppose he will. Will you make love to him when he attempts to… consume you?”

The votes ticked up in the corner of Yuki’s eye, right as traffic began to move again.

“With so many eager bodies, he is unlikely to spot the unwilling one.”

It begins to spin. Coils tighten, the whirring gets loud. A hum. Its everywhere. An MRI machine, wrapping around the soul. You can feel your own blood. Each vein, each artery, is a highway. A million cars zip up and down. Not a stoplight in sight. The heart’s moving so fast it looks still. Lightning is quick. Flashy. Then it’s over. The thunder keeps going. Echoing off the dark clouds of the night sky. An orchestra of distant electricity and the explosion of air.

Mike took a step back. Recoiling, as if struck. No pain. Shock. His head waved around, catching sight of one body. Another. Long hair. Curves. Naked skin, dripping in the dew of morning. All of it was tinted red.

A tie. 3-3.

COMPROMISE CHANGEHe is ravenous. Full of fire and lust. He can control it, but straying from the truth is a decision. He can delay his orgasms for as long as he likes. He may consume their bodies and any others as often as he likes, without issue. The troubles of sex are lost to him.

His head dropped forward, lolling on his neck as a hand reached out to steady him. Splayed against his thigh. The nails were just long enough, winding through the short, black hairs. She looked up at him, slow and wide and with her mouth open.

He leapt.

A change came through him. Physical. Visceral. His cock head hit her mouth, forcing her backwards. She moved back in shock. The cock followed. His hips weren’t as fast. Growing. Longer. Thicker. Harder. The distance between bones grew. The dick never fell away.

Contact. Back of seat became a headrest.

Contact. Lips parted.

Contact. Hips struck nose.

His hands were either side of her face. Fingers white around her skull. Bunches of hair, curling into his digits. Welcoming the violence. Her eyes streamed with tears. Her lips stretched as all three feet of his glorious cock turned her into a condom. His hip was a piston. Fire, fire, fire. Bang, bang, bang. Every half second a slab of meat became visible. An enormous weight, coated in all the spittle she could give. More cock, in just this space, than any other man on earth. And then it was gone again.

Mike’s jaw was made of wire. Mechanical and metallic. Clenched so tight you could hear the gears scream. His tongue lashed behind. The tightness. The wetness. Bathing in it. Drinking it in. Satiating the inferno pouring from every inch of his skin. He wanted more. Wanted to force even more of himself inside her.

He spun his head. Sweat. Drool. A hand. Not pointing. Grasping. Reaching into air.

Lilly stepped forward into his waiting fingers. It was a rush of motion. Did she keep stepping? Fall? Pulled? It’s too fast to say. She had no clothes to grab, no hair to pull. Only her throat, wrapped in his hand. Come close, shift the grip, come closer. His mouth found hers and kept finding it, tasting her drool and tongue and heat. Her body would’ve sunk to her knees if not for his hand.

Rocking. His mouth was rocking against her, the pistoning of his hips not slowing. It couldn’t slow. Not anymore. It never had to slow down again, the tracks extending out for miles and miles and miles until they looped back on themselves. Carmen’s eyes were shut. Her throat was noisy, saliva flying everywhere. No need to breathe, no need to stop, but she still held onto his hips like they might steady her. Or maybe she thought she was helping him move that fast, unaware she was a drop in the ocean.

Her throat bulged. Thick and fat with the weight of his cock. Through her collarbone, between her breasts. They fought to stay together, fought to keep sagging into one another as they had all her life. Their master wouldn’t let them. Every movement of his body caused a reaction in hers. Every retreat returned her to normal, every acceleration reminded her who she belonged to.

He was leaning over Lilly. Twisting his body towards her. Hips forward. Head right. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it? No. No that’s not allowed.

He forced her forward. Moved her with hands and chest and tongue. Her clumsy legs. Like a newborn deer. Three left feet, colliding into each other. What should she do with her hands? Mistress Carmen sounded good. All those sounds, she must be enjoying herself. It was a good change. She wish she’d thought of it. He was still moving her, was she doing something wrong?

Her hip was against Carmen’s head but that force wasn’t stopping. One bump, a second, she got the message. She kicked her leg up, over. Straddling Carmen’s head. Her curls sliding between her thighs. Her bushy tangle getting caught up in her hairless sex. Lilly drooled onto her head. Her pussy a waterfall with ever slurp that reached her ears. The motion was relentless. Carmen rocked back and forward still, the enormous rod of cock forcing her hair to wipe up all that pussy juice. To drench her hair. If she could feel such subtle things through the avalanche of movement and pleasure, she would’ve noticed the exact moment those droplets of femcum dribbled through her locks and touched the skin of her head. She might’ve shivered, were she not already shaking.

Renewed energy. Ferocity. Pushing, forward, pressure. A tongue in one mouth, dick in another. He pushed as deep as he could and kept going. Forcing them both back. Against the couch. An awkward curve. Trying to stay standing, to keep kneeling upright. He wouldn’t have it. Too strong for both of them, too overwhelming. They fell against the soft spread, caking it in sweat and spittle and moisture instantly. He leaned on them, using them like they used the couch. Uncaring for the bends and twists and angles their bodies contorted into. Concerned with nothing else.

Wetness. Tightness. Softness.

His hands were claws. Digging into the soft flesh. Caramel and vanilla. Thigh meat, hip curve, breast, neck, cheek, arm. If only he had more heads, if only he had more arms. He could. He could do that. He could eat them alive, feel every inch of them at once. Wear them like clothes, give himself a million cocks. Pleasure. All his. All his things. Softness like he’d only dreamed of, devotion like he could only imagine, they would beg him for his darkness, beg him for…

Mike screwed up his eyes. Pulled away. His tongue and cock withdrew, slow inch by slow inch. Covered in the spit of beautiful women. They seemed to draw back at the same speed. It came free. They came free.

He stood in his apartment, filled with the sounds of gasping and subtle moans of… pain? Longing? Were they coming from him? He screwed up his eyes again. The Red retreated like early morning fog in the midday sunshine. He jumped as his soft cock slapped against his thigh on its way down, splashing him in all sorts of goo.

Carmen looked like she’d been hit by a car, which… well. Her hair was wild, more flyaways than fly-ins. Her mouth was still hanging open, giving him full view of her throat. The muscles, the tongue, they contracted with each breath, but made no effort to shut. Her eyes were drooping. The fire he was so used to was gone, replaced only by exhaustion. Her pupils wide, but he’d never noticed how dark they were until now. Splatters of drool and pubes were spread across her cheeks like a piece Picasso would’ve been quite proud of. Her nose was red. So was her neck.

Lilly was blotchy. Red clouds across pale Midwestern skin. She was breathing heavy and quickly. Her back and legs were at a right angle from each other, bent over the couch as if posing for some elegant photo shoot. It could not look more painful, but she wasn’t in any rush to twist out of it. The elegance of her face, you could believe she was in repose. That this was her decision, not an awkward result of his. A few stray hairs from Carmen’s head were still sticking to her pussy, but they were not enough to hide its occasional spasms. She could not stop staring at Mike.

Mike felt as if he’d only been staring for a half second, but Carmen had gotten three full breaths before he finally stooped down to her.

“Oh Christ,” he said, reaching tenderly for Lilly’s leg, searching for some way to move them that wouldn’t have her topple onto Carmen’s head, “are you two OK?”

“Huh, hah, yeah?” Carmen said, some of that customary fire crawling back into her voice, “can’t wait to have you do that to my pussy.”

“D-did you cum?”

“Why does- No? That’s not-”

“Oh master no, no!”

She twisted out, accidentally grazing Carmen’s face with her foot, who let out an ignored ‘oi!’ before fumbling and falling off the couch. She scrambled back to her feet, hands outstretched for his softened dick. She was already trying to jerk the giga-noodle by the time he had a chance to talk.

“Woah, hey, no, are you alright?”

“I’m f-fine! J-just…” there was a hitch in her voice, aside from the usual one, “w-was I not g-good enough?”

“Lilly. Stop.”

She retreated, leaning back into her thighs. He watched, drinking in the way the flesh expanded outwards beneath her weight. How it shifted and wobbled just like her voice had. The Red, that sudden overwhelming sexuality, crept fingers over his lashes. He slammed his eyes shut again. A deep breath, another. When he released, he found her crying. Big dolloping tears that weren’t even rolling down her cheek. Just dropping fully formed onto the carpet.

He switched forms, and felt the way all that fluid dropped to the ground, no longer attached to anything. He stooped down to join her in his own puddle.

“I know this is all a bit high energy, but that was not how I wanted to do that. I stopped myself cumming. If I hadn’t, I would’ve plowed you both until there was more cum than oxygen in here.”

He reached a hand out. Running two fingers under her chin, guiding it up to look at him. Her eyes were still wet and wide. Shimmering, really.

“Y-you m-mean it?”

“…” Mike shut his own eyes, more so he could put energy into fighting a giggle in his throat. God, these girls, “I promise.”

She nodded. A shaky smile, with a few odd-angle teeth, pushed her cheeks up to catch the tears that hadn’t quite shed just yet. She relaxed backwards, dropping her shoulders and gingerly getting off Carmen’s legs, who she’d dashed over in an effort to reignite his emergency shut-down. Carmen groaned, shaking out a leg to get some feeling back into it.

He turned, and found a freckled palm.

“Are you alright sir?”

He clasped it, letting her haul him to his feet once more. She began dabbing at the sweat on his belly with a tea towel.

“Thanks Mia,” he said, raising an arm to let her get at his armpit, “That was… a lot.”

“For the record, I didn’t vote for it.”

“Neither, though I can’t argue with the results…” Carmen purred, wiping some errant spit from her cheek, “though I thought you’d’ve loved it Dragon Girl.”

“I want Mike to be someone I can respect,” she said, stooping down to wipe off his hips, “someone smarter than me, clearer headed than me. Not a wild animal.”

“Wow, you really thought that through,” Carmen said, lolling her head back on the couch and pushing herself onto her feet.

“Why didn’t you go for it?” Mike said, rubbing Mia’s hair as she moved to let her know she was doing a good job.

“Don’t like Yuki,” she smiled, waltzing past them both and grabbing a glass off the freshly cleaned pile Mia had been making.

“Charming.”

“D-does… Does that m-mean y-y-you’ll undo it? The ch-change?”

Mike switched back to Lilly. The crying was over, but she did look a bit paler. Not quite looking at his eyes, not like before, but searching his face. Looking in the stray hairs for an answer other than the one she was worried was coming.

“No,” Mike said, which did get Mia to stop and cock an eyebrow towards him, “This is a democracy, it’s built into the fabric of these powers. Even if there wasn’t some bullshit that would kick in if I tried, which I reckon there might be, I still wouldn’t want to. You all voted for it, fair and square.”

“Sir, it was a tie vote,” Mia stand, bringing herself up to her full, still short, height.

“And the compromise seems fair,” Mike said, “I get to be clear-headed and wild.”

“Not at the same time.”

Mike moved his hands to her shoulders, giving them a light squeeze, “it’s OK. How about we-”

He was cut short as the intercom buzzed to life, filling the apartment with the shrill tones of a poorly compressed doorbell.

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