Smarter Than The Average Bear

Right about the time I thought I might need to insist that we find a place to stop even if it didn’t feel optimal, Rose eased off the accelerator, signaling a right turn into a turnout so shrouded by tall bushes that I had no idea what she had in mind.

Soon as she slowed further and completed the turn onto the dirt road, I could readily see: the Yogi Berra Campground. Closed For Winter, per the very clear signage.

“I don’t think this is a good place, to just stop here in this turnout like this” I advised.

“That’s not what’s happening.”

“It’s closed for the season, Rose!”

“Not to 3 young mutant women in urgent need of a safe space to sleep overnight, it isn’t!”

“The gate’s locked!”

“It won’t be once you go take care of that for us.”


Where else are we going to sleep safely tonight?!” She pretended to make a call on her turned-off handheld, “Hey Motel 6? Got a room for a plushly-appointed sleepy humantaur, an abundant boob worm, and an octopus woman about the size of a VW bug?… You heard me right. So how about it?… You don’t? Alright thanks bye.”

Grumbling and trying not to curse aloud, I got out of the motorhome and went over to have a look at the gate, hoping no one would happen to come by.

To my stunned amazement, the gate wasn’t even locked: the chain and padlock were put in place to appear locked, but in actuality were not. I didn’t need my tentacles’ super strength at all: just used my hands to undo everything and open the gate right up, all the way.

Rose started the engine and began driving through, puzzling me as she rolled down her driver’s window and pulled to a stop next to me, “Wipe away all signs of our tire tracks coming in, then not-really-lock the gate back up exactly as you found it. Keep wiping away all the tire tread tracks until you round the corner over there, where we’ll be parked. Then you’ll climb in and we ride in to the actual campground.”

“Wipe away with what, exactly?”

“What do you think?” she glared, pointing clearly at my tentacles.

“Alright alright. You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Yes. Long ago. Let’s do this before it gets dark.”

I was already hard at work as the motorhome eased away.

{I would not be doing this if you hadn’t made me these amazing, durable denim tentacle pants, or socks as you prefer calling them} I remember thinking at the time, relative to Rose’s request/demand that I cover our tracks.

It wasn’t as bad as I’d thought: thanks to the great length and multitude of my tentacles giving me great reach, wiping away all the tire tracks from the edge of the paved road through the gate and all the way around the corner (a distance of about 80 m at least) was fast and easy.

True to her word, the motorhome was right there out of sight, ready for me to climb back aboard.

“This is deeper in from the road than I thought” I commented as Rose rolled us slowly along the campground’s not-so-smooth dirt access road, whose bumps made all of our boobs and other soft parts bounce, sometimes violently.

“That’s why we’re here” she smiled, which I could see reflected in the rear-view mirror. “Safest overnight space I can think of for 3 mutated young women to catch a break and some Zs.”

The access road gradually opened up ever-wider, onto at least 5 separate camping areas that I could count. Rose seemed to know which one she preferred, aiming directly for it, easing the motorhome into the designated parking area with aplomb.

Whew!” Rose wiped her brow, turning the captain’s chair driver’s seat to face us after having shut off the engine. “That was a long drive!”

I patted her shoulder with my nearest tentacle (easy despite my body core being over half the motorhome’s generously-sized interior away), “You did great, and without a break too!”

“I had one when we picked up… what’s your name, girlfriend?”

“I’m Sara, no H on the end, nor anywhere else. Ever so grateful that the two of you so kindly stopped and saved me, in your own rush away from… stuff.”

“Of course!” “Gladly” Rose and I spoke atop each other.

“You haven’t had a bathroom visit yet, the way we did” I directed towards our wondrous driver. “Need to go?”

“You betcha I do!”

Rather than heading towards the motorhome’s bathroom as I expected, she was nearly out the nearest door.

“Where are you going? I didn’t see any restroom facilities.”

“Reliving a childhood experience. This campground was the first place I ever snuck off and had a nature girl elimination experience. How about breaking out some liquid refreshment and meeting back up outside at the picnic table, for fresh air and free space?”

It wouldn’t have mattered if either myself or Sara had disagreed or wanted to discuss things further: Rose was already out the door and on her way to let loose.

“Aaaaahhh!” Rose grinned, wandering back into view from the depths of the woods carefully on her gloved lowest pair of hands and bottom-cloth-padded boobs.

Soon as she was near enough to the picnic table where Sara and I were resting I asked, “Delightful dump or wicked wee?”

“I didn’t take any toilet paper, did I?”

“You might have a clean anal machine.”

“You know better than that, Ms. Tent.” She eased up to the table, pouring herself a cup of water. “Like it here, Sara?”

“It’s so… quiet. It’s like there’s no one else around for miles.”

“That’s precisely the point of the exercise.”

“Here—I’ll get up so you can sit down and relax.”

“That’s OK. I’ve been sitting for hours.”

“OK, well I’m going to stand too, ’cause no matter how I sit, it’s not really comfortable for me. So are we going to talk about our mutations and stuff?”

Rose and I looked towards one another, basically doing slight shoulder shrugs. “Sure” she replied on my behalf as well as her own.

“You seemed awfully excited or anxious or something to share your story when you first joined us” I noted. “Would you like to go first?”

“Promise you’re not going to turn me in?!”

“Have you killed or maimed or seriously injured anyone intentionally?”


“Then neither of us are going to turn you in” said Rose.

Sara’s eyes widened, “My mutations actually started about a month and a half ago. At first I thought I was just fattening in a weird way: growing a huge whale-ass, with no prior propensity for getting fat at all anywhere. But with all the stuff in the news I’d been stress eating more than ever before in my life, so things being different was entirely possible. Then when it kept growing more out back than to-the-sides hippy and the wee little second legs started growing and I could feel the bones, I knew that what was going on was way worse than just becoming a fatass! This is embarrassing, but I’m actually a med student, on a research study path–”

“–So am I!


“Well, I was, until life got complicated” I sighed.

“Tell me about life getting complicated! And about your research, please.”

“I was really just starting, so some years out from an actual chance to make progress with congenital diseases.”

“Interesting choice. What led you to pursue it?”

“I was born with no legs at all. Bizarre as it is to have turned into an octopus woman, I do like being able to more or less kinda sorta walk. What’s your area of interest?”

“Stem cell research. There’s so much potential there. But now, hhhhhhhhhhhh”–she let out a deep loud long sigh–“there’s no ‘there’ there, for me.”

“What makes you so sure?” asked Rose.

In a temperamental fit of pique, Sara whipped off the 3 improvised garments passing as her clothes, hurling them far aside towards the motorhome. “THIS!” she yelled, her yell echoing through the forest.

Tent, Rose, and Sara, gathered near the campsite’s picnic table

A gigantic penis as girthy as my entire body is around and as long as my mutated extended horse body is reason enough! Add to that that I’m sitting my fat horse ass atop a giant ball sack and that I’ve grown all these udders, and that’s kind of a problem for working in a lab doing research! Especially with normal people!

Any wildlife which might have been near and had any hearing capabilities likely took off or burrowed down, or if nothing else remained totally still and silent, to avoid the wrath of this loud creature they’d just heard.

The 3 of us joined any such critters in silence, at the end of Sara’s vociferous rant. Sara seemed to have even stunned herself silent, her front standing there holding her gigantic cock as her back end remained seated on what was most likely either her huge balls or an udder with no teats (at least not any I could see).

My head was in my hands, elbows very comfortably pressed into my exceedingly plush huge breasts, themselves resting comfortably atop the picnic table. There was no such comfort in my mind at the time, feeling in the moment all too hopeless about the future, for the same general reasons as Sara, plus all we knew so far of what was going on in the outer world (via news reports). I hadn’t even noticed that my left front tentacle had wandered near Sara, looking quite like a denim-bagged snake, the way its tip “looked” towards her.

Heroic (and no doubt worn out) all-day driver Rose sat silently, deep in her own thought, sipping water. Insufficient room in her top top for her milk-filling udder meant that one huge teat and the part of that udder around it found their saggy way to freedom.

“Apologies for yelling” Sara said very much on the soft side, several minutes after finishing her rant.

“It’s alright” replied Rose, with equal softness and a tone of deep resignation, just short of a sigh.

I was not short of a sigh: I had a soft one, after which I said, “We’re all dealing with quite a lot of unknowns. Us three here and others in the world affected by any of this.”

“Yeah” Sara agreed with her own soft sigh. “We’ve all got intense stuff going on, I admit. But can either of you imagine waking up one morning and having a really big penis that keeps growing and growing?!”

Calmly, I began rolling the sock off my left front tentacle, bringing it back ever-closer to my body to continue until I could take it all the way off. “Yes” I replied as I gradually moved this now-nude tentacle back over towards her. “Nowhere near as girthy nor is the head remotely as big, but quite a bit longer in the sense of being one with my still-growing tentacles, and I have eight of them.”

She turned towards Rose, “You too?”

“That—a penis—I don’t have. Yours is very nice, by the way.”

“Thanks… I guess.”

We fell into another several minutes’ span of silence, apart from occasional soft sighs.

“I feel bad for interrupting your explanation of what happened with you,” I broke the silence, “which I at least truly want to hear.”

“So do I” added Rose.

“Where was I?”

I remembered quite well. “You were telling us about first sensing your rear leg bones growing, then about being a med student on a research study path.”

“Oh yes; OK. One might think that given my interests and area of academic endeavor that I’d have been more aware and proactive about investigating the changes I was undergoing before they took off so extremely. But here’s the thing: not only am I on a research track, I’m also on a clinical track.”

“That’s crazy much work!”

“I know! Not judging anyone else’s path, but for me, I believe that to be the best possible researcher, I need to clearly understand life on the front lines of hands-on healing. No way I’m going—was going—for the full residency and all that, but what I was doing was CNA-level nursing.”

“Sorry?” asked Rose. “CNA?”

“Certified Nursing Assistant. Basically doing most of what a registered nurse—RN—does, in my case in a hospital setting. Very likely my nursing shifts plus my studies were too much, hence my ignoring the profoundly serious symptoms of mutation until they became more extreme.”

“Linear pattern?” I asked. “Or exponential? Or what?”

“Start-stop, with unknowns. Everything we’re hearing and reading from CDC and elsewhere indicates that transmission only happens via tainted milk consumption from that one dairy, but I’m not so sure. We were getting mutants admitted to the hospital around the same time I was in hindsight already starting to mutate, but when I remained in denial and kept working. This one patient who’d developed a…”–she became choked up here–“penis at the end of his arm… mmm… he found my more butt-curvaceous figure so inherently and unavoidably appealing that he ejaculated onto me, including a little bit into my mouth, which was apparently open from the shock of seeing the end of his arm get swollen and hard then shoot off.

“I ran over to the sink and washed off and rinsed my mouth out of course. Nevertheless, it was only hours after that when I first started growing this… gigantic penis, which has just kept… growing!

“How long ago was this?”

“Days are blurring together for me. More than 3 weeks, less than a full month.”

Rose and I shared momentary side glances. That seemed about right for mutations really taking off from consuming our milk.

“Needless to say my nursing shifts were all done, especially with concerns back then about direct interpersonal transmission between people creating more mutations, which is to say turning more formerly-normal people into… mutants.

“There was a period of about a week or two once my hind legs started coming in and before the penis arm cumming incident where some of my professors on the research side very much wanted to study me. Both from my own interest in this sort of research and the more compellingly immediate desire to understand what was happening to me, I gladly and fully cooperated. That all went along well until this… gigantic huge thaaanng started growing, at which point they shunned me.”

This made no sense to me. “Why would they do that?! Seems like a perfect opportunity to double down on the research and truly make important discoveries, or at least make the first steps towards those!”

“This is going to sound awful, but I think it’s true: most of them were men. My penis being so vastly bigger than their own and with everyone staring at it and some of the women doctors and nurses cracking jokes they thought I didn’t hear about how obscenely well-hung I was and whether it would be pleasant or not to take my love log in, it shattered their egos. I hasten to add that this was back when it was merely honkin’ big, rather than this… enormous monstrosity unable to fit any living human, or nearly anything else!

“So I was no longer being studied. As well, beyond the penis thing and despite their rationality, I believe many feared that transmission can happen apart from milk consumption, and were afraid they’d mutate in unknown, uncontrolled ways as I was undergoing. But of course this wasn’t enough of a multiple body blow: my boyfriend dumped me too, same day that the researchers dropped me.”

“Why would he be so shitty?” asked Rose.

“Same reason as the male doctors: having a girlfriend 20 times as well-hung as him and getting more so every day wasn’t working for him. Nor was… my… becoming a fat horse-cow ass!” she sniveled.

She cried more when by instinct rather than conscious thought, I raised my nude tentacle up near her upper body, going for a cheek caress. When I attempted to quickly retract it she grabbed it, cuddling into it as well as her own giganto-dong, holding our penis-like appendages intimately together with her hands.

Sara kept holding us together like that as she continued her story, “Unable to work, unable to go on campus, no intimate emotional support, mutating like crazy, the final blow was paranoid neighborhood vigilantes that refuse to listen to the CDC nor any other scientists. Absolutely convinced that there were airborne mutation pathogens and that my mere existence in my home meant that they too would soon catch it and mutate had them chasing after me, trying to catch me to turn into the authorities to be locked up in isolation confinement. The more extreme ones wanted to kill me, not understanding that doing so might make the spread worse, as whatever’s going on in my body is now faced with needing to find another living body in which to survive!”

I nodded. Her theory made sense.

“So that’s most of my story… at least everything I can remember right now. How did you two get it? What’s each of your stories?”

Thankfully Rose went first, setting up the framework of what would be shared and what would be obfuscated. Thankfully knowing my issues with lying, she kept things as truthful as possible, as did I. For Rose it was easy to say that it was the “tainted” milk that got her mutations started, conveniently omitting that she consumed it directly from me rather than from a bottle or other container. I had fancier figurative footwork to do, dancing around how mine started—especially because I still did not in any way know! My lie was that I’d eaten some cookies that someone had baked using the tainted milk which got me started, then had the actual milk in its bottled form later, after reading a review of how good this milk tasted. I could feel stabbing pains in various parts of my body as I told these lies.

All the mutation origin storytelling ran long enough that it was actually starting to get dark outside. The sun would still be up for maybe another hour, but here in the deep forest, the tall tree canopies had us already well past forest sunset.

Repeated wincing I was seeing on Sara concerned me. “You look like you’re in pain.”

“Continually, and it only keeps getting worse!”

“Since when?!” asked Rose.

“Since weeks ago! All part of the pure hell of these mutations! I’m doing my best—I really am!—but damn it hurts a lot at times—so much I can’t ignore it!”


“Here” she pointed to her udders, which on her appeared at the time to be individual one-teat multiple separate body parts. “They keep swelling bigger and hurting more and more.”

“When was the last time you milked?” I asked.


“You know: express it.”

Her quizzical look suggested she did not know, shocking me.

My more intense tone revealed my shock, “Pull the milk out! They’re udders; you’re making milk almost certainly! Don’t tell us you’ve never been milked!”

“I… don’t even know what that is! I’ve been afraid to touch them, more so as they hurt more and get bigger.”

I could not believe what I was hearing! “Of course you’re hurting! Sara: you’ve got to get that milk out of you! Beyond pain, it might stagnate and you’ll eventually go septic! That pain is your body trying to tell you to let it out!

I don’t know how!” she whined. “Do I just tug on it? Like—OWWW!

“Not so hard, girl!” Rose chided her. “Teats be tender!”

“I’m sorry!” she whimpered, edging near tears again. “This is just too much!”

“You bet it’s too much!—too much milk in you! C’mere, I’ll show you. Pan please, Tent?”


Sara later told me that it blew her mind how I barely moved past where she was standing before unfurling one of my tentacles (right far front, I think it was) the 9 m or so to the side of the motorhome, unlatching the side storage compartment and pulling out a milking pan in no time, handing it off to another tentacle then placing it down on the table in front of Rose, where Sara herself was moving into milking position.

“Get those radically over-full milk bags up here, young lady” Rose smiled towards her.

“My feet’ll be up on the table too if I do that.”

“Do it.”

She winced mightily as she did so, soon thereafter hefting her prodigious penis up onto the picnic table bench seat.

Rose milks Sara atop the picnic table—Sara’s first-ever milking

“So before you start, why are we saving my milk in a pan rather than dumping it on the ground? It’s not like we can do any chemical analysis on it out here, and surely none of us nor any other sane creature is going to want to drink it!”

“We don’t want to leave any evidence we were here” Rose explained as she wiped her upper pair of hands in preparation for teat tugging.

“The fewer traces we leave anywhere we go, the less chance that we’ll be tracked down” I added.

“Makes sense. Aaaaahh!

Rose abruptly stopped her first tug, “Did that hurt?! I’m going as gentle as I can”.

“N- no. It just, mmm, startled me, that’s all.”

Rose resumed her gentle pulling.

I stayed to watch, happier than I cared to admit that Rose had mutated in such a wonderful way that her middle hands easily held the pan in place like doing so was the most natural thing in the world, whilst her uppers worked Sara’s upper teats—first Sara’s upper left only, then her upper right only. Once our over-milky new friend started getting used to the sensations, Rose got into an alternating pull left-pull right motion.

The other aspect of the scene I was watching were the beads of sweat developing on Sara’s forehead, accompanied by squirming and occasional brief gasps.

“Doing OK, udderly wonderful milky med student?” Rose grinned Sara’s direction.

“Please keep doing this!” she breathlessly gasped.

“Don’t you want to try?”

“Not yet, please.”

It was difficult not to grin at Sara’s obvious pleasure. As if the writhing, gasping, and beads of sweat weren’t enough, her amazingly enormous penis visibly crawled across the bench seat as it grew even longer and more huge. It was so distracting, I almost missed her generously big boobs swelling bigger.

“I need to go take care of that, on myself” I told the contented milking team.

“Grab some pans and go, girl!” Rose smiled.

“Nah, I’ve got enough that I need to empty out elsewhere.”

Sara looked confused. “But I thought we weren’t supposed to leave any traces, hence my… I can’t believe I’m making milk! Hence that my milk is going into the pan, which is nearly full.”

“I’m heading deep into the woods.”

“How’s about another pan before you go?” Rose requested.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want you actually exercising and losing any weight on your boobs now, would we?” I gleefully laughed.

To make a point, she planted her upper hands on her middle shoulders and her middle hands down lower where her hips used to be, trying to shoot me a surly glare and instead laughing along with me. This was good: it got Sara laughing too, releasing some of her held-in tension.

I delivered a second pan, then was on my way into the forest.

A mild sense of foreboding stayed with me as I journeyed deeper into the forest, despite there being no threatening creatures of any sort (within my awareness).

{This should be far enough in} I thought, removing my tentacle socks and hard-working giant bra top.

Very carefully I wrapped a couple of tentacles around some nearby trees.

{Here we go.} “Hulllllh!”—with a push off the ground with some of my other tentacles, I hurled myself up into the air, grabbing other trees with other tentacles, briefly swinging like a monkey between trees to get safely away from my clothes pile.

Tent hanging from trees in the forest

Soon I found a good spot to milk myself: a small opening, with the trees spaced comfortably apart, providing plenty of support. I adjusted myself into a comfortable position for the duration of milking time, ensuring my bloated udder was sufficiently above the wild grasses. I found I needed 5 tentacles to comfortably support all my weight, leaving 3 for teat pulls.

{What a year it’s been} I thought, as I got to work. {My last birthday I had nothing remotely resembling legs, unable to stand up straight for my life. Now I’m a full-fledged octopus-woman, hanging from these trees like a spider, milking my udder teats with two of my tentacles, and the first of my two giant milky boobs with both hands.}

The whole experience was surreal, and at the same time as real as could be. This was me… this was my life.

Milking takes time. As often happens, eventually I slipped into a zen-like zone of tranquility. As bizarre as all this was, I had a sense that this could actually be a decent quality of life… if the rest of the world would stop persecuting me, Rose, Sara, and other mutants.

It felt good letting go of the milk, as usual. It did sadden me to see the ever-growing massive puddle of my milk slowly struggling to seep into the saturated soil. Oh how I wished that my very tasty milk could be useful! But no: it was dangerous, triggering unknown, uncontrolled mutations in others as well as myself, if consumed in certain ways and quantities not yet understood whatsoever.

Sadness now… grieving the loss of my medical research career before it ever got started. {I’m so young! A whole life ahead of me, and now this!} I remember thinking.

The sadness went away as I got back in touch with the wonderful sensations of feeling my huge, soft, warm breasts, along with all the rest of my unusual body—yes, even my tentacles. They do feel nice, you know. Actually you don’t know… and I wish you did… or could. Truly: if we could body-swap for maybe an hour then swap back with no harm to either of us, I’d gladly do that with you, so you’d know. There are hundreds of thousands if not millions of worse things in the world than being an octo-woman the size of a small car with dick-tipped tentacles.

No creature bothered me, allowing me plenty of time to milk myself down to my usual near-zero residual, in my udder and both breasts—none of the 3 of which ever were truly small, even when empty.

Right about the time I was finishing up, I heard loud laughter and music from the direction of our campground. Curious, and also worried that the racket might draw unwanted attention, I hurried, swinging back tree-to-tree above the milky mud puddle I’d made back over to dry ground and my (thankfully) dry clothes.

Putting them on with maybe half the speed of a firefighter awoken from sleep and responding to an emergency—which is still quite fast for an octo-woman!—I made my way as fast as I could back through the forest to the campsite.

What I saw upon arriving made my jaw drop.

🎼 Express yourself!

DA-duh, du-du-doo

Duh, doo-doo-doo-dooooh

Express yourself!

DA-duh, du-du-doo

Duh, doo-doo-doo-dooooh 🎼

Rose and Sara, both nude, were dancing, loudly singing along, and self-expressing their milk into a shared pan to the sounds of the 1970 song by Charles Wright & the Watts 103rd. Street Rhythm Band of the title they repeatedly (and joyously) yelled aloud, the song playing in good, loud fidelity on a Bluetooth speaker Rose brought.

It was truly impressive watching the acrobatics they each got into, as they squirted milk out of themselves into the pan. It went without saying that Rose was doing handstands, but it wasn’t solely on her bottom hands as usual: she did successful shots standing at various times off all 3 pairs of hands! Sara’s over-shoulder squirt right into the pan with minimal splashing out is a vision I’m unlikely to ever forget (as long as my mind works).

I waited until the song was over before asking, “What’s got you two so energized at the end of this long day?!”

Chocolate!” they yelled out and grinned, with Rose tossing a bar into my cleavage (admittedly a very easy target).

I picked it up in a tentacle and handed it back over. “That’s alright, thanks. I want to sleep tonight. Is it entirely the chocolate that has you smiling Sara?”

“No, it’s actually being without pain in the first time in weeks, thanks to the milking!”

“You understand you’ve got to milk regularly, yes? Likely every day.”

“I already had that discussion with her” said Rose.

“Now that I know what’s going on and how epic it feels to express milk, I guarantee I’ll find a way to do it every time it’s necessary… at least” Sara grinned.

“So once we’ve all expressed ourselves close to dry, what’s the plan?” I asked. “Dinner, maybe?”

“Dinner definitely” replied Rose.

Rose’s prior camping skills—which I lacked—proved beneficial: she had the start of a very nice, safe, controlled campfire going—the source of heat for the pot of pasta that would constitute the core of our dinner.

Sara carrying wood past the parked motorhome

She’d sent Sara out to gather more firewood. I watched the determined look on Sara’s face as she returned, dry needles and leaves crunching under her four sandals, punctuated every so often by the soft slap of her testicles or udder clapping against her legs in just the right way. She was sweaty, but not from gathering wood: with her weight distributed on her four legs it was easy to carry even heavy loads. The sweatiness remained from her milking, from the pleasure of relief… and of expressing milk. Walking around with an empty udder—it now looked like one rather than multiples—was a whole different, superior experience, she explained to us over dinner.

Also over dinner she shared with us how she had to keep herself from laughing at the absurdity of the whole mutation situation: “It’s still so ridiculous and unreal to me to talk about my udder, on my four legs, with my enormous penis draped over my hindquarters—hindquarters!—else carried in my hands when I walk to keep it from dragging on the ground and causing untold amounts of hurt!

“But then I look at you two. Not only are you each dealing with different things as extreme as me if not more so, unlike everyone else in my life since this started happening in earnest, you look at me like a person—not a freak!”

“We‘re all still people” I replied on the soft side. “Though the animal comparisons may seem apt in some ways, they‘re really not. What I call my tentacles have smooth human skin, not cephalopod skin, much less anything with suckers or feeding apparati. Real worms aren’t made of soft breast tissue and human skin the way Rose is, nor human hands and arms with human joints. You might arguably be a humantaur, but you’re assuredly not a horse, and despite all three of us having working udders producing milk, none of us are cows.”

“I’m so profoundly grateful that the two of you stopped and picked me up. If the vigilante mob hadn’t done me in, my own blindness to my lactation and needing to be milked might well have—and about as soon!”

“Glad to have done it.”

“You fit well onto our team” added Rose.

The very last vestiges of twilight vanished as we kept slowly, calmly eating, leaving our campfire as the only source of light.

“I saw a weird plaque on my way back from picking up wood that I don’t understand” Sara broke the silence.

“Weird how?” asked Rose.

“It looked like it had a saying on it, but the saying didn’t make any sense. Tried looking it up online, but there’s no cell reception here.”

Admittedly, I flew off the handle, “What’re you doing with your device turned on?! They’re gonna–, They’ll track us dowwwnn!

No cell reception!” Rose yelled back, plinging a still-hot marshmallow at me, angry with how my outburst was upsetting Sara.

It has other transceivers besides cellular! GPS, Wi-Fi, Bluetooth–”

“–Pffffft!” Rose raspberried, “Bluetooth barely has enough range to span your tentacles! And there’s no Wi-Fi here–”

“–Unless the motorhome has something!”

Sara proved the most reasonable and rational of the three of us in this moment: as Rose and I argued, she powered down her handheld.

Once it was fully off, she handed it to me, “If you’ve got a Faraday bag or similar, go ahead and stow it there if you want. I admit having not thought that through” she finished with a deep sigh.

“Apologies for yelling” I said. “All the stress of everything and that sense of being thrust back into the Dark Ages of disconnection apparently triggered me.”

Sara looked as sad as I felt. “I’m already feeling that.”

Rose agreed. Quite devastating to three 20-somethings who’d grown up with the ubiquitous Internet and all it had become to have to shut off our perfectly viable devices to remain minimally trackable—to preserve our lives!

Thankfully Rose took the lead redirecting all our attention, asking Sara, “Do you remember what that plaque you saw said?”

“Yes, clearly: ‘90% of a pic-a-nik basket is edible; the other half isn’t’. What does that even mean?”

She grinned, starting to chuckle.

“When I looked at the trail map before going out into the forest to milk myself, I saw a highlighted part of the map that said ‘Heyyyy Boo-Boo: When you come to a fork in the path, take it’. None of that makes any sense to me.”

“It’s all related” Rose laughed. “It‘s because it’s the Yogi Berra Campground.”

“That tells me nothing.”

“Me either” added Sara.

Rose set her bowl aside and settled herself into position, which suggested to me that this might be a long explanation. “OK, so this is how I heard it. There was this baseball guy Yogi Berra, who besides his sports career was apparently famous for twisted sayings that don’t make sense if taken literally, but according to what I read tend to have deep wisdom within the seeming contradictions.

“Along with that, way back in the 1960s, when television reigned supreme and was warping the minds of several generations all at once, someone thought it clever to create an animated cartoon anthropomorphic bear named Yogi Bear—a ‘funny animal’ they’re called, meaning more that they behave in their fictional universes as humans, not that they’re ha-ha funny necessarily. Whomever created this campground apparently mashed up these two disparate concepts as a theme for this place.”

Sara’s expression suggested she looked as lost as I knew I felt, which reassured me that I wasn’t the only one who didn’t “get it”.

Rose looked slightly exasperated. “OK, so this animated cartoon bear had some catch phrases, one of which was saying picnic as three syllables: pic-a-nik. Apparently pic-a-nik baskets were what this bear went after, for food. The rest of that 90% and other half stuff is a phrase from the baseball person. ‘Heyyyy Boo-Boo’ was from the cartoon, referencing a cartoon character sidekick, with the fork in the path stuff from the baseball dude. That’s the zeitgeist of this campground: mashing those things up.”

Sara and I looked at each other, shaking our heads. It may make sense to Rose, but it still didn’t make sense to me, nor I found out later to Sara. The inability for any of us to look anything up without giving away our location again reared its ugly head: learning more about anyone or any place with Yogi in their name would have to wait until some future day, when we might again have safety, security, and a life.

With dinner wrapped up, the campfire dying down, and exhaustion making everything seem worse, what made sense was going to bed. There wasn’t room for all of us inside the motorhome, and to be honest, just me and Rose would have been tight, due mostly to me.

Thankfully we found an air mattress hidden inside the motorhome, which, once outside, unfolded, and inflated, was big and (amazingly) sturdy enough to hold me. A folded-open king-size sleeping bag was just barely big enough to cover enough of me to keep me sufficiently warm overnight.

I set up between the campfire and the motorhome, nearer the latter, in part so that I could monitor the fire until it was all the way out. Rose and Sara were barely back inside the motorhome by the time I was already drifting off to sleep.

With me outdoors, Sara and Rose had a generous amount of sleeping space on a pair of long, narrow fold-out beds near the motorhome’s kitchen area that fit their mutated bodies surprisingly well.

As I’d feared, this recent-model motorhome was loaded with technology, including security camera stuff. Don’t ask me how this happened, but somehow the system recorded Rose and Sara lying in bed—sound and video. We might not have ever known about it, had the system not auto-pushed a copy of the entire overnight video whenever it sensed motion onto Rose’s cloud account. We do know that it happened with her account and not mine because she’d needed to enter the account’s credentials to access the motorhome’s navigation system.

Thanks to Rose saving the video and letting me view it again recently as I type this, I’m able to share what happened with you as though I was inside with them, watching.

Sara and Rose couldn’t sleep, which I’m certain was due to being wired on chocolate. Additionally, each of them were used to sleeping nude in their recent post-mutation(-start) lives. It quickly became clear that each of them found freshly-exposed details of the other’s body fascinating—so fascinating that they left the lights on.

“Weird as it is to have this extended 4-legged humantaur-I-suppose body with this ridiculously enormous penis, at least I still have normal arms and my legs are normal. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to have no legs at all, despite the extra arms and matching hands seeming normal.”

“It’s different, to be sure” Rose replied. “Then again, Tent was born without legs, and only had a normal woman’s body from the base of her torso on up before any of her mutations started. By comparison my ability to walk with my lowest pair of hands and rest on my bottom boobs between ‘steps’ is relatively easy.”

“I do admit I like having big boobs” Sara smiled. “What’s it like having so many, each pair even bigger than mine?”

“Fun” she blushed, several of her hands caressing conveniently nearby breasts.

“Oh great,” sighed Sara with hints of frustration, “now my ridiculously enormous glans is starting to slowly punch me in the face as it grows.” She didn’t have to explain to Rose why it was growing.

“Why do you hate on it so much? It’s right there where you can kiss it and lick it and nuzzle it and otherwise enjoy it.”

“It’s impractically obscenely outsized!”

I like it. And you.”

Rose’s words hung in the air for awhile.

Sara blushed, unready to pursue Rose’s ending comment in any outward manner. “That’s a big vulva you‘ve got down there.”

Now it was Rose’s turn to blush, and grin. “Yeah. You still have yours, don’t you?”

“Yes, but now it’s well out of my reach.”

“Does that matter, when you have something else so very nice so easily within your reach? Or do you not feel as much through your penis?”

“Oh I feel everything exceedingly well… too well, sometimes.”

“Why too well?”

“I rub things all the time, then it feels too good, then I get aroused, which makes me hard, which often makes me have to stop what I’m doing until I relax.”

“Or cum.”

“Wouldn’t know. Haven’t been relaxed enough nor in a safe space long enough since mutating, to want to get into sexy stuff.”

“You feel relaxed enough to get into that now?”

Sara eyed her suspiciously, “Maayyybe. Time will tell. What my mind is latched onto at the moment is the question: are you flexible enough to lick yourself all the way down below?”

“Let’s find out together.”

She curled the base of her body up in the air towards her face, easily able to lick the outside of her vulva then do a face plant into it. Equally impressive to Sara was the way Rose easily wrapped her lowest arms around her upper shoulders and back, truly hugging herself in a way normal bodies never could.

Next, she used several of her hands to run one of her teats in and out of her vag, like the teat was a fairly flaccid penis.


“I can’t believe you’re not all over your penis, given that it’s naturally basically in your face with no effort on your part. You’re amazing too, ya know… at least in my world.”

“Here… if you like my penis so much, you play with it for awhile.”

Rose rolled herself back out to her normal flat straightness, gladly taking the grand gland into her eagerly awaiting middle hands. “This is so amazing… that you’re so gigantically-dicked that you can just lie there comfortably and be all schlonged across the bed gap distance and onto me.”

Before Sara knew it, Rose was rubbing Sara’s huge glans across several of her big boobs.

Rose and Sara lying near each other in the motorhome’s single beds. Rose sucks Uddy as she plays with Sara’s ginormous penis.

Not only that, Rose felt and followed through on the urge to suckle one of her own teats.

“You’re drinking your own milk?!”

“I’m pleasuring myself. Need the end of your cock back so you can better do that?”

“No, I’m better off with what you’re doing, thanks.”

It pleased Rose to see Sara getting into suckling her own luscious boobs. It pleased her further seeing Sara watching her, as she was watching Sara, both of them boob-suckling.

Occupied mouths meant neither said anything for quite awhile. Nothing needed to be said: they were enjoying their and each other’s bodies, and assuredly each other’s company.

A few minutes later, Sara was getting so hard that she had to turn on her side facing Rose in order to keep her penis straight. “This feels so… unnnf!

Rose dropped her currently-ravaged teat to reply, “There are good things about being a mutant, some of which we’re experiencing now. Please embrace everything wonderful about it—the gifts of your mutations.”

“I’mmm… so horny, I can’t believe it! (hhhh, hhhh)” she panted. “(huff) I have never felt anything like this before! (gasp) Do you think, (puff), the mutations affect libido?”

“It’s certainly affected mine. I’ve always enjoyed decent sex and sensual things, but since mutating, the hunger is intense.”

Sara’s voice was now fully breathless, “That’s what I’m feeling. Oh how I wish that I could fit this thang into you even part-way, without tearing you wide open!”

“Betcha can.”

“No way!” she exclaimed at full volume.

“You’ve seen what Tent’s got.”

MMhhmhhh! If I could have one of hers in me now without her ripping me open, that’d be almost as good. Though… I’m… extremely wanting to know what sliding this into somebody feels like… if such a thing was possible.”

“Tent’s had 3 of her hard, erect tentacle ends in me at one time. No rips, no tears, no pain.”

“But I’m…”

With a grin, Rose happily finished Sara’s sentence for her, “Enormous! Go on… give me a try. Prong me, Sara… your tip at least.”

Trembling with extreme lust that felt as though it would soon consume her if she didn’t let its energy out somehow, in the moment Sara was aroused rather than disturbed by how obscenely profoundly impossibly gigantically hung she was. That this sex organ for the ages was part and parcel of her absorbed over half her total attention, the remainder of which lusted intensely over Rose… especially a certain part of her, itself outsized.

Uaaahhh!” “Aaaugghh!

These and other sounds of pleasure I distinctly remember hearing (at reduced volume) as I lay in my outside bed. The general nature of Rose and Sara sharing something sexual and/or sensual was clear even then. Given what I knew Rose knew of how sex affects mutations, I figured they were each going solo, sharing the experience. For myself having not slept the night before, my bigger need was sleep.

What I learned later was that the sex Rose and Sara enjoyed was anything but solo.

HHHHHhhh! My entire huge cock head’s inside you!

“Yes! And you feel great, so you keep going!”

“How can– how can you possibly take any more of me and my over-endowment inside?!”

“Tent put far more than just her tips into me, girlfriend! This is great, and if this is what you want, keep workin’ it here and I’m good. Just saying that I’ve had a lot more length in me from Tent since her and my mutations, so stopping just past the entryway is your call, not mine.”

The driven look on Sara’s face indicated that Rose’s comment put her deeper in touch with her innermost primal passionate desires. “You better tell me when I’m in too far!”

“I will! Trust me on this!”

Words ceased to matter as Sara drove ever-further inside Rose, a gradual push with each slow, measured thrust. The vociferous vocalizations of two very lusty young women in the throes of passion echoed off virtually every surface of the motorhome’s interior, the louder ones wending their way to my ears as I tried to get to sleep outside.

This is crazy! I’m more than halfway into you! And—ooohhhaaa!—the way my udder tingles with scintillating sensations as it drags across your luscious boobs!”

“Just wait ’til I get handy with my hands, bae.”

Hhhhhhhhh!”—the teat fondles Rose’s experienced hands gave Sara flipped her into unexpected sudden orgasms, though surprisingly not an all-out penile explosion. That huge part of her remained fully hard and wanting, easing ever-further inside her amazingly deep-vaginaed boobacious lover.

Sara, standing on all four legs, prongs Rose, lying down face-up

This is… unbelievable! Are you hollow inside or something?! I’m basically all the way in you!

“You are, and you feel stellar inside me! I’m well-built to take you in… and feel you up… and love you like only we sexy mutants can.”

Rose wasn’t exaggerating: being able to fondle her own upper left boob and Sara’s right and tug one of Sara’s upper teats and grab Sara’s udder-like ball sack with a pair of greedy, fondling hands absolutely required a non-standard human body!

I admit to you here and now that watching this part of the video gets me worked up in the best possible way. Via her facial expressions primarily, one can see aspects of Sara learning in real time how amazingly well her mutated body was equipped for sensual and sexual experiences and activities. She and Rose went nice and slow, immersing themselves in the feelings and the moment about as much as any lovers ever have. They both thrilled at how Sara slowly eeeaaased her mega-schlong back out until only its giant glans remained inside, then slllllllliddd back in tantalizingly gradually until she was again all the way in. It’s also clear from either having been there as the two of them were or from watching the video that the sensations of her udder repeatedly slowly dragging across Rose’s soft breast flesh felt at least maybe approaching half as good to Sara as the sensations her profoundly packin’ penis was providing.

Intercourse with plenty of sexy feel-ups continued for an impressively long time, well beyond words.

The moment when Sara was all the way in and Rose not only squeezed her sack with both bottom hands as she’d been doing for awhile and not only had both middle hands working Sara’s udder but additionally used her upper hands to deep-grope each of Sara’s boobs was what drove schlongy Sara to lunge for Rose’s top breast and udder. Getting the nip and one teat into her mouth at the same time tripped Sara’s full, explosive penile orgasm wire. Those sensations pushed Rose back over into her latest of several strong orgasms during the course of this extended sex event so far.

It would take another page or two to go through all the things Sara and Rose got into, on this extended sleepless (for them) night of sex and sensuality. All that might accomplish is boring you or, more likely, making you decide to stop reading and go have solo or partnered sex, so I’m not doing that.

Upon first meeting her, neither Rose nor I at first thought that Sara would be of an amorous mindset or emotionset or feelingset anytime soon. Yet here she was, trusting her first mutant sexuality with Rose!

Had I thought more about it, maybe this shouldn’t have been so surprising. Take it from someone who is one: get to know a shy girl, earn her trust, and make a safe space for intimacy, and you’re in for a good time.

Long after I’d fallen asleep outside, they too fell asleep, cuddled in each other’s arms.