Rose Knows

Soon as I woke up the following morning I vowed to try to continue with my usual private life routine as though nothing was amiss. If something untoward had to happen, I could not know in advance, thus could not do anything about it. I got up out of bed, got into the shower, and got ready for another day to continue the routine that I had worked so hard to achieve.

The shampoo felt great in my hair and the comfortably hot water felt great all over my startlingly large and extensive body. Did you know that it’s possible to greatly enjoy one’s own breathtakingly enormous breasts from time to time? It’s true.

Before I could get any deeper into the joys of sensual cleanliness, Murphy and his eponymous law had other plans: someone knocked on the door, before I was even halfway through my shower. {Cryippety Crunklebunkle!} I cursed in my mind, {Who could it be?}

Quickly I shut off the water, toweled off as best I could with my big beige beach towel, wrapping said towel around me plus a smaller one around my wet hair. Soon as I could I slither-slid-walked out of the bathroom, bracing for the inevitable.

A wave of relief broke across the shores of my damp body, once I got into the main room and could see through the windows of my double front door who was knocking: it was Rose. The closer I got to her, the more she glowed somewhat like the blooming flower of that name.

Crouching down on my tentacles to match her (and most people’s) average human height and thus hopefully appear less scary monster threatening, I opened the door. “Hi there. You’re back.”

“Hello… yes, well, I was thinking about what you said. I’m still very shocked. I never expected to find something… someone… so…… rare. I apologize for my reaction, but please understand that it is quite unsettling to suddenly come upon someone so, mmm… big? Being honest, for awhile after you let me go yesterday I was on the verge of calling the authorities–”

“–HHHHHHHHH!–” my loud gasp interrupted her.

“–But I didn’t! But I didn’t!” she assured me twice in rapid succession. “I had to admit that you did not hurt me, as you promised. Once I calmed down I realized that no matter what exactly your story is, you’re not an imminent threat to me, and maybe before I even think about going against your wishes and reaching out to anyone I should first more thoroughly understand what happened. Don’t you think?”

“Yes! Absolutely! Definitely!” I over-excitedly agreed, sensing a scintilla of hope that things might yet possibly still work out. “Please kindly come inside. I was in the shower when you knocked and I don’t want to catch a chill on top of everything else I’m dealing with.”

With a silent affirming nod, Rose willingly followed me inside.

“Come in and make yourself comfortable” I tried to put a smile in my voice to match the one I hoped was genuine on my face. “I’m guessing you might have many questions, yes? I know I would, suddenly faced with someone with a body as unusual as mine has become!”

“Yes, I do have many questions. I know that you tried to explain a lot of things to me yesterday, but honestly I was so freaked out that not much stuck.”

“That’s OK! It’s a lot for me myself to take in, even with all day and night every day to do so. Please go ahead and ask me whatever you want, and we’ll have a nice, calm, friendly conversation as equal neighbors, where you’re free to come and go as you please, as long as you continue to respect my need to remain unknown to the outer world.”

“I really do not understand what has happened to you. I never even knew it was possible that something like…”–she hand-gesture waved, indicating my body–“this could happen to anyone. Now that I can think reasonably clearly, how again did this happen?”

I told my story from the beginning, back in my former campus-adjacent residence, same as you’ve already read: my stumps grew until they became tentacles, their continued growth, the growth of my breasts, my udders, moving to this remote locale to get away from prying eyes and minds hoping to remain unknown and safe, and especially my fears related to maintaining any sort of quality of life and freedom. Emphasizing my profoundly deep fear of being discovered, I justified what I’d done the day before. It helped greatly that I’d unlocked my handheld, opened up an album of recent pre-mutation photos of me, and tentacled the device (that’s like handing it, except with a tentacle rather than a hand) over to her.

“Alright, I get that” Rose nodded at the conclusion of my explanation. “You really were a typical young woman not all that different from me before this happened, other than the congenital birth defect that gave you no legs and being a med student.”

“I was, truly!” I nodded along, hoping to reinforce her new-found conclusion.

She still didn’t look fully satisfied.

Half a minute later after apparently formulating her thoughts into words, it became instantly clear that she needed to know more. “I’m clear now on what you were. What I cannot understand is what exactly are you now? Yesterday I only got to see a lot of oddly-tipped tentacles, breasts and udders everywhere, which frankly overwhelmed me. Biologically or physiologically or whatever, what are you?”

“The only way that makes sense to me to truly get you to fully understand is to take off the beach towel covering me, so you can see the exterior manifestations with your own eyes as I explain.” I’d already removed my hair towel earlier in the conversation once my hair was sufficiently dry and fluffed. “Are you OK with that?”

“I have to know.”

I took a deep breath, easing through my shyness. Although quite embarrassed, I gently and slowly slipped the beach towel off and set it aside, revealing all there was to see of the front of my naked body. “As you can see, basically as a first-order approximation of what’s on the surface, I'm like an octopus, with the torso of a woman. From the base of my torso where most people have hips grow these eight tentacles, each so big now that they are tightly packed against each other. The remainder of my torso heading upward is normal, apart from this pair of giant breasts. That condition alone is known: gigantomastia is the medical term, as you may know.”

“I did not.”

We detoured briefly into a discussion of the definition of gigantomastia, its relationship to macromastia, and so on. Rose seemed duly impressed, though seeing her eyes starting to glaze over, I quickly dropped the medical terminology and rushed back to common parlance and subject matter more easily relatable to non-medical people. “While I’ve made no effort to fact-check, I think I may have the record size for natural breasts.”

“Impressive indeed.” Her brief attempt at a smile quickly reverted to her ongoing look of puzzled concern. “What about your body going downward, below your… hmmm…”

“Tentacles.”

“Yeah, those. You’ve got a ginormous sac of some sort, by itself way bigger than my entire body!”

“That’s what I was telling you during the overview: I started growing an udder from nothing. It kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger, and here we are.” I chose not to get into my milk production, seeing as she appeared once again on the verge of being overwhelmed.

“I’m seeing four udders, plural: one per… each of those long pointy parts nearly the size of either of my thighs.”

I didn’t think they were that big, but it didn’t feel appropriate to debate things with my troubled guest at this time. “It looks like four separate chambers with one teat—T-E-A-T, the proper term—each, but they’re linked together, and technically as defined for even-toed ungulates like bovine cows, it’s one singular udder.”

“Udderly amazing” Rose punned, her ongoing tension all too obvious in her nervous laugh.“Where do they come from?”

{Weren’t you listening?!} I struggled not to sound annoyed, “It’s like the rest of my mutations: no one has any idea what caused any of this!”

“No no—sorry! I mean, from whence upon you—your body—does your udder originate?”

“Oh, right, sorry, yes. It’s a big bag of flesh that grows from my tentacle center, at the bottom.”

"Wow. The size is… profound. And as for your tentacles, the end… looks a lot like…” her voice trailed away.

I decided to help her out, “Yes, they seem—and are—penises. Or, if you’ve been exposed to a lot of Latin terminology as I have, peni, for the plural form.”

"Whew! Those are… mmmmmighty big! I’m almost having trouble…”

“Yes?”

“…Trouble believing they’re real.”

“They’re entirely real” I assured her with direct, slightly intense eye contact and gentle head nodding. “You are totally and completely welcome and encouraged to come closer and examine them yourself, along with any other aspect of me about which you may be struggling to accept as real.”

Rose took a seat on a sturdy medium-sized table between us, directly in front of me.

“Ready to take delivery on one?” I asked.

She nodded, wide-eyed and breathless.

“OK, here ya go: center front, delivered right into your waiting arms.”

“Hhhhhhhhh!” she gasped and visibly tensed up, as the aforementioned tenta-dong slowly approached.

“Just relaaaaax” I suggested, in the most soothing, calming voice I could muster. “Friendly neighborly visit with your new mutant neighbor, until only months ago a regular young woman quite like yourself, other than my congenital birth defect of no legs as I explained a little while ago. It’s just a part of my body under my control, like your arms and legs on yours, which I’m moving over to you for your inspection for as long or as short as you wish. Say the word and I’ll bring it back over nearer my body core.”

Initially Rose said nothing whatsoever, immersed in the reality of this novel appendage. Without consciously thinking about it, my right front tentacle end was wandering close to Rose’s right side. Seeing her reach for it, I eased it down onto her lap in front of the other she continued to hold.

Her voice was filled with soft reverence as she examined the first tentacle I’d handed her. “Wow, they are heavy. So… full. I have never seen such a big penis… and I’ve been called a size queen, and had a few big love logs in my day!”

I truly didn’t know what to think. “Glad you like them” was all I managed to say, after a brief silence.

“And they work… you know… like a penis?”

“Every single one of them, yes I do know. All eight are fully functional, and sensitive—other than milk comes out of them rather than semen or anything like male human ejaculate. In fact they’re sensitive enough that I must be very careful with what I do with them. More than once I’ve hurt myself manipulating what in hindsight I should not have touched.”

“I understand. Maybe you should make some kind of gloves for them, for some protection and de-sensitization.”

Once again below consciousness, some part of my mind (I hope!) had my right rear tentacle end hovering close to Rose’s right shoulder. “Good idea; one I’ve thought of” I replied as I eased it slowly and gently down onto her there. To this day it amazes me all I can feel so deeply over such a long distance from my body core. “In fact I have a set of covers I had custom-made for them for doing construction work on the addition.”

Rose didn’t seem to mind this most recent penile incursion, ever so subtly rubbing the side of her head against that part of me. “That was youuuu?!”

“Sure was. Who else would I have out here, wanting to remain unknown?”

“It looks so… professional! Are you or were you a contractor as well as a med student?!”

“No no. Just a young woman with a brain who can read, follow instructions, learn, and use basic tools. So anyway, I have a set of covers which were OK but as my tentacles have continued to grow they’re no longer long enough, and uncomfortably on the snug side.”

“I can help with that; I'm good at sewing.”

“Excellent! I’d much rather work with you than a stranger where I have to make up wacky stories to justify weird custom clothing requests. Just let me know your rates and so on, and I’m down with it.”

“We’ll talk.” Her attention returned to my body, “I would have thought that for someone who’d never had tentacles only a few months ago, it would be difficult to impossible to control them, yet you seem to have excellent control of each of them individually. Is it or was it ever very difficult to manipulate your eight tentacles at the same time? Did it or does it not wind up in some kind of tangled mess?”

“When the first pair started to grow in roughly the position of normal human legs as you have, I had little to no control over them. Gradually with time and practice I gained ever-more control. The learning process with the first pair made gaining control of the later pairs easier and somewhat faster, though beyond learning there’s clearly been some growth or maturation process that takes time to fully complete. After these several months I’ve had a lot of daily practice. However it came to be that these tentacles even grew in the first place, somehow all the nerve endings and muscles and so forth are as fully integrated into my existing biology and spinal/brain interties as my natural limbs.”

During this discussion, I slowly and gently eased more tentacles around Rose. Her curiosity grew, and what I thought at first for sure had been repulsion towards my body was becoming something much closer to fascination.

“May I please… inspect your udder? And a teat?”

Had I not already granted her basically free run of my whole body, her pleading eyes and sweet tone when she asked would have driven me to do so. “I already said you may, Rose” I smiled down towards her. “Help yourself.”

She spun a quarter turn around the end of the table, now facing me, claiming my right upper (or front) teat for her up close and personal inspection.

“Wowwwww” was her latest reverent expression of awe, as she held and gently squeezed both teat and nearby udder expanse. “This feels really really nice! What does it feel like to you?”

“Pleasurable” I smiled, trying not to blush.

“Hey there, tentacle penis.”

It was nice to see her smile as she reached her right hand down to pet the glans and retracted foreskin of the tentacle wrapped around her small butt. It was disturbing to feel a wave of pleasure crash over nearly all of my entire body once her soft, sensual hand made contact.

She must’ve felt or seen (or both) the jolt pass through my body, given how she quickly replaced her hand where it had been on my udder.

I took the risk of easing that same tentacle glans gently against her outer right thigh, smiling and waving when she very quickly looked up at me. Well, she was looking at other parts of me the whole time, so more precisely: looked up at my face.

“Can you feel the skin on my thigh right now?”

“Mmm hmm” I nodded.

Her extended reverent exclamation came out this time with a different word: “Amaaaazing.”

Her attention refocused from glans to gland, specifically my huge right breast, hanging almost but not quite within her reach. “I do not understand how you have grown both breasts so profoundly huge. The more I think about what you said a few minutes ago, the more I agree that it’s likely that you’ve broken all records for the size of natural breasts.”

“I concur. In terms of the underlying cause, like everything else no one knows. At least for my boobs, gigantomastia is a known condition as I mentioned, and there have been instances documented in the medical records of young women becoming incapacitated—functionally immobile, or nearly so—from runaway breast growth.”

“Were you a mega-busty brainy med student before the other changes got going?”

“Not at all. I went from an average C cup on a 30 inch band in unpredictable fits and starts of breathtakingly fast growth, slow growth, moderate growth, or no discernible growth to sudden growth about a week ago to a size that cannot be measured, off all size charts. There have been pauses, some lasting days, however so far my breasts have not stopped growing.”

“Gracious” she softly exclaimed, in her becoming-routine tone of deep awe and reverence. “And those mega-nips! Each one looks about as big as my fist! Everything I see is amaaaaazing.”

“You want to see them up close and personal?” I offered with a smile, feeling the desire to encourage her more and more.

The pleading look in her eyes and her nod answered clearly, nonverbally.

“Enjoy the ride. Going uuuuup!”

My right front tentacle slid under her, easing her up in the air and simultaneously sliding her down closer towards that tentacle’s root and my body core, almost as though she was taking a gravity ride down a big long round pole slide. I was in no way expecting her skirt to slip off and up over her head during this process! Given how she smiled and lifted up her arms so it slid clean off and fell to the floor, clearly she didn’t mind.

To ensure she remained stable and did not fall off, I gently stabilized her upper body with one of my other tentacles over each of her shoulders. Before she knew it, Rose was sitting comfortably well up in the air at my height, with this same right front tentacle as her seat and comfy back rest.

I was intrigued to discover how easy it was to lift, carry, and otherwise manipulate another person with high precision. {My tentacles truly are nimble as well as strong} I realized with pride.

I handed her my giant right gland to the best of my ability, grateful for her added two hands’ assistance. This gland which had evolved to feed a baby had in my case grown to the size of at least six babies if not more—each!

Her expression eased directly back into full reverence. She felt my breathtakingly bodacious boob for quite some time.

“Wow. It’s very soft and heavy, yet also firm. How much does it weigh? About 15-20 kg maybe?”

“I haven’t weighed them for a long time.”

“And this nipple! Goodness! It’s gotta be right about 40 cm in diameter.”

“Oh no, not the nipple alone” I assured her. “A large phonograph record is 30 cm diameter, and huge as I’ve become my nips aren’t that big” {yet?} I had to internally wonder. “10 cm at best right now… slightly smaller than a CD or DVD disc.”

“Nevertheless, in a world where a full 1 cm wide nipple is noteworthy, truly amazing.” Rose was certainly amazed, as anyone looking at her or hearing her voice could attest.

I smiled and blushed. “In terms of the weight, I don’t know. I’ve had a growth phase since the last time I tried weighing each of them, so there’s not much point until my body eventually stabilizes.”

Better able to directly feel more of (the exterior of) Rose’s body as well as see her up close, via both these senses along with changes in her tone of voice, I could tell she felt comfortable where she was, and with what we were doing. I too was enjoying our intimate sharing session—far more, I realized later, than I had any idea at the time.

The situation became gradually more intimate with the passage of time, as we fell into a comfortable mutual silence with her continuing to slowly and gently explore parts of my body within her reach and me being there for her and enjoying the feelings. {It’s like we’ve already known each other over the course of a lifetime}. It seemed to me that I had met a great friend, upon whom I could always rely.

“Mmmmm.”

“You like that?” Rose smiled.

“Always have. Don’t you like your nips and areolae gently caressed?”

“Yes. I didn’t know if it worked the same once they grew so big.”

“Just so you know—not wanting to make anything awkward—I’d be delighted to return the nip caressing favor… if that’s something you want.”

Rose’s near-immediate removal of her t-shirt and bra of her own initiative, suggested that breast attention was indeed something she wanted. “No sense being the only one in here with clothes on” she grinned. “Wouldn’t be neighborly of me to have you alone baring it all.”

With nary a toss, her shirt and bra drifted down to the floor, joining her skirt.

The profound passion that shot through me and nearly overcame me puzzled me at the time: I’d never been attracted to women, nor felt arousal from thoughts of lesbian experiences. As well, if I wanted a sexually erotic body, mine was more than enough. In no way could I explain why seeing and feeling her near-naked (with only her undies remaining in place) soft, warm skin, playing with my tentacle-peni, was turning me on profoundly. My nipples hardened, several of my peni grew in size… I was seriously aroused!

So was she, from everything I could sense, along with being very receptive to the situation in general. She seemed to enjoy examining me, and whereas just about any other person would be terrified of being surrounded by peni-tentacles, she seemed to enjoy it and get ever-more excited. Before I knew it I was honk-squeezing my own left nipple with my left hand whilst getting a sexy grip on my tentacle whose tip was currently tickling Rose’s left nip.

There were no thoughts of the outside world, nor the future: no good, no bad, no consideration of any such things. This was our bonding moment: we were too far in, and perfectly gloriously living in the moment, as spiritual gurus and others across time have determined is the only place humans can ever truly actually inhabit. Glorious moments indeed!

Passions continued to rise beyond either of our control. Rose petted my tentacle penis end which had been in her lap like it was her personal pet, or new best friend.

“Hhhhhh” I gasped, several of my penis tentacles including the one she was handling swelling up.

I might as well mention here that when I’m sufficiently aroused, any one or more or even all 8 of my tentacles swell up in girth, though not really length. In terms of firmness or hardness, that mostly remains under my control, unless/until I’m quite close to orgasm. There through release, approximately the last 15 cm of each tentacle wants to be straight and becomes more uniformly rigid.

“Something else you like?” she asked, grinning.

“Hhhhhh, it feels sooo good! Beyond nipple play, what, if anything, do you like?”

“I like your… mmmh!, all of you” she softly and breathlessly gasped. “Everything I’ve felt, and I want to feel… hhhh, more!”

It startled me how much and how quickly she moved around in her rush to get her panties off and be totally nude along with me. Somehow she knew better than I myself did that my center rear tentacle already looped around her waist (out of contact with it) would be there for her like a soft, friendly, very long arm, soon in full wrap-around contact, stabilizing her. That and the fact that her standard-sized butt was much smaller than the width of my right front tentacle atop which she was seated, making me truly no less stable than a wide-cushion padded chair seat where she sat kept her well away from any danger of tipping and falling.

She panted and her chest heaved as she gingerly claimed as many of my tentacles as she could within her reach.

Some part of me away from my conscious mind offered aloud, “Want more of them?”

“Yes please!” she pleaded, in a breathy voice hitched and softened by her strong arousal.

Going slowly and carefully to sense how she’d respond so as not to frighten her, I wrapped one rear tentacle around her left thigh, one front one around her right thigh, and the right rear all the way around her waist and looping back up to and beyond her greedily awaiting left hand. Still new to handling other people with my tentacles, it impressed me anew how easy it was to lift her up in the air off my right front tentacle upon which she’d been seated and hold her there in mid-air—comfortable for sure for me, and comfortable to her from everything I could sense.

She gently kissed and licked and otherwise loved my right rear tentacle penis head like the true penis-loving fanatic I was quickly learning she was: gently yet passionately and relentlessly. I used the penis head of another of my rear tentacles to caress her right shoulder, cheek, and hair, amazed afresh that I could do and feel all this from roughly thrice the farthest distance I could reach with my nearest arm, from where I (my body core, with the alleged brain in it) was.

When my left rear found its head wandering between her thighs, she gave it a sense of direction and purpose: clasping it in her right hand and starting to guide it into her shaved vulva. Even lost to the throes of passion, I knew that I’d likely hurt her with my hugeness if she or I or both of us plunged that particular dickish appendage of mine directly into her. Thankfully she let go with the combination of my fresh offering of my center front up near her for her right hand to play with, along with my gently tantalizing her labia lips and clit with the penis head already there, without pushing onward, inward. I didn’t know her sexual history, it is true. Knowing my own as a far more conventional albeit legless woman, remembering well the pain of an overzealous and under-clued lover pushing himself into me well before I was fully ready, I had no intention of pressing inward unless and until a) she’d been aroused for a long time, b) I knew she was quite wet, and c) she begged to have it happen.

Greedy with lust beyond anything I’d ever known, despite near-full immersion in tentacle penis tip pleasure thanks to this new friendly passionate lover, I yearned for more. Thankfully my body had plenty more sensual delights to deliver! This was likely the moment I forever lost all vestiges of shame in being autoerotic: wrapping my arms around my gigantic barrel- or washing machine tub-sized right breast with unbridled passion, I glommed onto my outrageously huge nip, power-suckling myself there for all I was worth as I watched the sexy view of—and felt!—Rose losing herself to lust of my tentacles and their pulsing, passionate penis ends.

We’d been, and remained, beyond words: ever-more attuning to each other and ourselves in our rise? descent? into unrestrained sexual passions.

Vestiges of worry flitting around in the back of my mind warned that it might not be a good idea to be doing what we were doing, what with all the unknowns of my mutations and the causes behind their existence. Be that as it may, lust and animal instinct would have it no other way—and not solely my own!

Living in isolation has its advantages. While I had things that I could have been doing, there was absolutely nothing I had to be doing on this day. Judging from her utter disinterest in the passage of time, the same must have been true for Rose.

We bathed ourselves in hours of mutual extended medium to high sensual bliss and related arousal, our respective hungers for sex apparently much stronger than our appetites for anything else. For mere moments when I looked at my wall clock, I took note that we’d been in the throes of slow, sensual sex for several hours, already into the first hour of the afternoon. Somehow it was pleasing me more to continually tantalize Rose with clit and labia teasing down below versus plunging inside.

Not that this was the only stimulation we were sharing, with all the sexual equipment I had (and have)! Rubbing her nips with two of my glans tips was truly sublime—for her I’m guessing from how her nipples engorged, for me I know from direct sensorial bliss!

About 3 hours in, it was time: Rose met all 3 of the a) b) c) criteria, c) with a deep plaintive whine in her voice. Good thing too: the pressure which had been building in me since my last (solo) sex adventure desperately needed release!

Penetrating Rose with the same tentacle penis which had been teasing her lower lips and clit for so long with so little time off was the most blissfully pleasant feeling I’d (to that point) felt in my entire life. Judging from the similarities between how we externally expressed ourselves in the throes of nice, slow, super-deep, profoundly thick intercourse, Rose must have felt the same as me, or very close.

Blowing up within her as I did with what for all intents and purposes in the moment was my huge member was an orgasm for the ages, having us both screaming in ecstasy. (Yes: I know the difference between screams of ecstasy and those of pain. These were the former.) I eased out, ready to take a break (though still able and willing to hold her).

What I had not expected was Rose screaming, “Moooorrrreee! Mooorrreee! Pound me mooorrreee!”

Quite like a standard man, once I’ve gone off with a total ejaculatory orgasm, I have a refractory period. However, that’s true only for the organ or organs which did the blowing off. With seven more penis-tipped tentacles at the ready and still with more sex drive to work them than I could have imagined possible before we got into all this, I had everything necessary to deliver what my apparently sex-crazed neighbor demanded—and I equally felt driven to give!

During this time I suddenly and dramatically felt deep joy and gratitude for having mutated the way I had. For all the awfulness and trouble and total destruction of life as I’d known it, this was an amazing experience worth having—one I never would nor could have had in my former form.

Not until I’d filled her from all eight of my tentacle peni was Rose willing to even consider taking a break. Even then, the sex never totally stopped: it just dialed down to a low simmer as we grabbed and threw together some mid-afternoon noms and took bathroom breaks. We did all these things together, always at every moment somehow engaged in what no one could deny was sex, albeit at this point restful, easy, peaceful sex.

It impressed her greatly that, wholly unlike a conventional man, since none of my tentacles were involved with my urination, I could readily keep any one or more of them aroused and pee sitting (as much as I can be said to sit, as an octo-woman) on the toilet. It impressed me greatly that her reproductive tract was able to retain all that I’d put into her.

Wiping her worked-over vulva as she finished up on the toilet, she asked, “Why is it that your cum is thinner and whiter than I’m used to?”

“It’s milk, not semen.”

“Oh—duuuh!—of course it is! You already explained that to me when I—hhhhhh”–lust overtook her once more–“sucked you off.”

We almost didn’t make it out of the bathroom before she greedily near-demanded to suck me off yet again.

It’s a good thing we made it out of the bathroom into my bedroom for a change of venue: we kept going at it in as many various new ways that we could think of until both dropping off to sleep from utter exhaustion soon after it became dark.

Rose’s favorite during this time started from this simple question: “Do you still have a vag?”

“A full vulva, yes I still have that. Access is difficult, with it being down amongst my tentacle roots, with my huge udder further claiming space.”

Lust once again overtook her expression, “Can you, uh… fuck yourself?”

“Yes I can, and yes I have.”

“Can you, um… do that at the same time you’re doing me like that?”

“Now that I haven’t yet tried. Wanna find out?”

If anyone reading this thinks that Rose’s response was anything less than a window-rattling “Yes!” you’re not paying enough attention. Turn off all your alerts and other distractions and read the damn story!

Never in my life had I imagined it was possible for two people to share that much intense, ongoing sex in a single day. Then again, never had I imagined mysteriously mutating into a strange, heretofore unknown life form before it started happening to me.