Tonight's livewriting: ADULTS ONLY! (Patreon)

IF SEXUALLY EXPLICIT MATERIAL DISTURBS YOU, OR IF IT'S NOT LEGAL FOR YOU TO READ IT, BEGONE FROM THIS POST.

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OK, let’s begin by working on a project… inspired by an X-rated fiction series called “She-Hulks in Heat.” I say inspired, but this is not meant as part of that series. For practical purposes, all you need to know is that there are hulks (grow big and green and smash-prone), they’re horny, and (to a degree) they’re infectious. 

Patient Zero, more or less, for this condition is on the lam seeking to control the inner beast via alcohol (as you do). Unfortunately, she’s caught the attention of a guy on singles night. He’s not a douche- much- and he and our viewpoint character hit it off…

The conversation continued. So did the drinks. After the fourth beer, Steve ordered a margarita, then another for Carol. She agreed at first- she was curious about margartitas, having heard of them but never had one before. But when the greenish-yellow liquid with a slice of lime arrived, she went pale, shook her head, and turned away.

“What’s the matter?” Steve asked. 

What’s the matter is, the color green. But I can’t explain that to you. “I don’t like lime,” Carol said lamely. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No problem.” Steve got the attention of the waitress, then said, “I’m sorry, but we’ve changed our minds. Please take these and just give us two shot glasses and the tequila bottle.”

“It’s your tab, sir,” the waitress said, taking away the margaritas. A minute later, two empty glasses and a full tequila bottle replaced them, along with two small bowls filled with salt. When the waitress tried to add a small plate of quartered limes to the array, Steve waved them away. 

“Thanks,” Carol said, finally relaxing. “So, what is this stuff?”

Steve made a show of examining the label. “The good stuff, looks like,” he said. “Ninety proof, one hundred percent agave. Dunno what agave is, but that’s what they brew tequila from. And nothing else tastes like it.” The bottle had a stopper instead of a cap, and Steve worked it open gently, then poured himself a shot and took a sip. “Whoa,” he said. “Really the good stuff. No burn, all flavor.”

“Let me have a try,” Carol said. 

“Okay, but be careful,” Steve said. “This stuff’s stronger than whisky when taken straight.”

Carol watched as the shot was poured. The liquid was clear and hardly had any aroma. What smell it did have came sweet and vaguely fruity, like the mush of flavor in kids’ fruit cereal, only without the sensation of fakeness. She picked up the glass and took a sip, then found herself downing the shot as quickly as she could.

“Careful!!” Steve said. “Go easy!”

“Sorry,” Carol said, liking her lips. “But that tastes really good!” The warmth hit her a moment later. “And potent,” she added, patting her torso just below her braline. 

“Have another,” Steve said, pouring them both another shot. “But sip it this time.”

The conversation resumed, turning to Steve’s knowledge of liquor and Carol’s almost total ignorance. This led into one story after another of Steve’s escapades while drunk, each of which made Carol laugh at the absurd things a man blowing .18 on the breathalyzer would do. 

The level of the tequila bottle gradually descended. 

At some point- was it the fourth glass she was holding?- Carol looked at Steve and thought, You know, I wouldn’t mind going to bed with him. 

One glass before, or possibly two, that thought would have been followed by a spike of terror, knowing the consequences of going down that path. But the alcohol in the tequila took the whole concept of consequences and drowned it, replacing it instead with the illusion of infallibility, invincibility, and all-around good feeling common to many drunks but especially to tequila drinkers.

At the same time, deep in Carol’s intoxicated mind, the beast awakened. 

Fuck going to bed, Carol thought. I’d like to see if this guy has the stones to handle eight feet of fucking goddess. 

The beast agreed, stirring within her. 

Of course, we don’t know that he’ll be into it, Carol thought. But I really hope he is. I want to feel him inside me… I want to see him dominated by me… as we tear this bar apart at the seams…

Now, how to get him to go along with it…

The beast, coming closer to the surface, didn’t care about that. It liked the warmth inside Carol, and the rising lust only added to it, slowly bringing about the little changes that would trigger a very large one.

Steve finished off his drink- with all the talking he’d done, it was only the second glass of tequila for him. “So, we seem to be compatible enough,” he said. “How about I pay the tab and we go find someplace more… private?”

Aha. Bingo, Carol thought. She giggled, feeling a familiar jolt run through her body, knowing her eyes had just turned that unnatural shade of glowing green. 

The beast laughed along with her.

“What’s funny?” Steve asked. “Is there-”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Carol cooed, leaning back in her chair and stretching her legs, which were already filling out her pants as the alcohol-slowed transformation began. “It’s just funny, thinking we’re even going to make it out the door.”

Steve’s confusion broke through his confident facade. “Come again?”

“Oh, I hope so,” Carol said, her voice deepening as her hair began to shift on her head, growing longer, darkening. “I hope you cum a lot, handsome, because I am going to fuck the shit out of you. Here and now.”

Steve looked around. The bar was sparsely populated, but not at all empty. And there was the barmaid and waitress to consider, too. “Maybe you’ve had a little too much,” he suggested. 

“Oh, noooo.” Carol put her hands behind her head and stretched, flexing her arms, which ripped through the sleeves, showing off her firm, growing biceps. “I’ve had the perfect amount… and now it’s time for the main course…” She thrust her shoulders back, pushing her chest forward, shoving her firming, rising breasts against a shirt that already felt far, far too confining. 

A button popped free, hitting Steve in the forehead. He leaned back, scooting his chair back, preparing to get up. “Excuse me, but-”

“No, noooo…” With a shove Carol rammed the table into Steve, shoving it and him into the wall behind him. “You came here hoping to get lucky, right?” Her smile became a wild-eyed grin as she wobbled to her feet, leaning over the table, her swelling breasts pushing open a window full of cleavage right in front of his eyes. “Well, be careful what you wish for… “ She groaned and writhed as a surge of growth hit her, sending fabric popping, rushing a wave through her body that spread to her fingers and toes, rebounded, and crashed right back down into her abdomen, where the warmth of the tequila and the heat of her nethers met to produce a firestorm burning away the last barriers of her psyche. “She is coming.”

(and that's as far as I got, because I really wanted to reference a late Silver Age Hulk appearance I only half-remember for the dialog to come. But I couldn't find it, and it's driving me nuts. I'll have to come back to this...)