by Oblimo
Dee sunk his fingers into the giving surface of her jellied flesh, and pressed gently down with his palm. As he expected, the gel rolled over his hands and wrists, sealing them within the elastic substance of her breast. "Ready?" he asked again.
This time, he was certain she was panting. "Just stop asking and keep going. Whatever it is you're doing it feels incredible and I trust—"
Dee pushed the hand reaching under forward while pulling the hand reaching over backward, ever so slowly. And, gradually, her nipple rotated downward into view. He could feel her body heave as she gulped for air. When the dark nipple was just inches away from his face, he said, "It's like the world's biggest trackball."
Her whole body stiffened. "Oh, Christ, Dee," she wailed, "what a way to ruin the moo—" But he had kissed her nipple into his mouth, pressed it firmly with his tongue, and began to draw down milk. The liquid was hot, sweet, and tangy (lime?). She was dead silent as he drank. He had not realized how thirsty he really was. He gently withdrew his hands from her material—they came out sticky and wet and beaded with green droplets. His drought from her breast lasted a good ten minutes. Dee felt her change beneath him, around him, felt her lose cohesion. Her lap grew more sticky and cloying, and a runnel of hot green gelatin ran down his cheek. When he was finished, he tried to reverse the process of revolving her breast, but it was much harder going. He eventually had to nuzzle and nudge it back into its original shape and position. When he was done, he had to peel himself away from her body, and a coating of green gel came off with him. He looked at her face for the first time since he began, and saw that she was gasping for air, her surface dappled and dewy. "Are you all right?" he asked, although the ropey goop around his mouth, delicious and definitely lime, make it tough to talk. "I'm still thirsty, believe it or not, so if you want me to do the other—"
The green girl reached down and hauled him up over her bosom to look him square in the eye, although her lap would not peel away from his back, and her tits refused to part with his chest.
Speaking was even harder for her because her lips kept running together. "Deiter," she smacked, "shut up and look at me. You've made me so fucking wet I can't fucking stand it. I appreciate your nice, sensitive caring guy routine, I really do, but if you really want to know what I want, well right now I fucking want you to fuck my fucking brains out!"
Dee grabbed handfuls of her hair, now a forest of runny ice-cream cones, and sought her lips with his. Muck bubbled over his nose and down his smooth chin, but her mouth was in there, warm and eager. He wiped just enough mess away on his forearm to whisper, "I'm just as soft as you are, here, in just this one spot," before squooshing his fingers into her melting hair and pressing back into her with a deep, French kiss. A mad moan reverberated through the green girl and her mouth collapsed into a thick, tangy, treacle that filled his mouth with a taste so heady and overpowering that he—
He broke the kiss and sat back. Eyes wide, he stammered. "I'm sorry I couldn’t help it, it tasted so good and I swallowed—"
"I know," the green girl said, propping herself up and wrapping her legs around him.
"But I just ate—"
"I know and, oh, fuck do it again," she begged, arched her back, and pushed the sloppy mound of her pussy into his face.
He had eaten a woman out before, but never like this. At first he worried he couldn't possibly find her slit in all the ooze but it found him instead, unfolding in delicate petals about his mouth and unleashing a torrent of sticky nectar. The green girl murmured nonsense words and incoherent phrases, her thrashing throwing long swathes of green gunk all over the room. Dee sunk his head in up to his ears and she gave a burbling cry. Freshets of the remaining milk coursed down her breasts and pooled in the curve of her belly. "No more, no more," she whimpered, crawling backward, away from him.
The naturally kinky curls of his hair were slicked flat back, his head and chest completely coated in thick sheets of green icing. Sitting back with legs splayed, all Dee could think to say was, "Holy shit."
The green girl snorted a weary laugh. "Understatement of the fucking year, bright boy." She ripped the caps off two of the plastic water jugs and upended them both into her gaping mouth. When they were depleted she did the same with the last two. She gargled, mouth stretching cavern-wide to prevent spilling a single drop—argle-bargle-gargle—and Dee had to laugh, despite his iron-rod erection.
She did an about-face on all fours, locked her eyes on his, and padded silently toward him, the green gobs scattered across the room morphing forward to slurp into her body. Her definition and size sharpened and grew as she crawled closer, her hungry glare roving down his body to zero in on his dick. Her mammoth chest squashed against the floor, pushing out into cleavage that must have been a few feet deep. "Uh," Dee said as she crawled over him, sandwiching his legs between her tits. The green icing coating Dee's skin flowed over and around and into her chest, causing her breasts to bulge out and down even further, trapping his legs tight. Her hot breath burned his crotch as she hovered over him, nearly ten feet of predatory, feline femininity, for several silent moments. Looking down and through the top of her head, Dee tried to break the electric tension in the air: "What—"
Not bothering to look up, she pushed him supine with a dismissive shove.
"Mine," she growled, and smothered his dick with her mouth.
Dee had always wondered what a porn starlet's blowjob might feel like, but he knew he would never fantasize about something so mundane again, not after being deep-throated by a living champagne whirlpool with the vacuuming force of a tornado. The green girl started by swallowing the tip of his prick into delicious, pressing warmth. He sighed. She looked up, raised one eyebrow, swallowed again, and this time he gasped as her lips sank over his entire shaft and the incessant suckling sensation began. Her lips munched on the base of his cock as she closed her eyes in happy concentration and added a rumbling, leonine purr to the concoction. "Oh, man, wow!" Dee said. "Wow! Wo—ohhshit!" he squeaked when without warning she swallowed again and took his entire pelvis into her mouth, balls, hips, ass, and all.
"Not having a jaw really helps," she drawled through her chatty hand, her head starting to bob up and down with an ever increasing tempo. Dee managed a whimpering groan. "Ooh, that gives me an idea!" said the hand. "Be right back!" Her arm elongated to snake out of the room but turned to face him when it reached the doorway. Every impulse in his body demanded he buck and thrust but the weighty tits held him fast. "You're not going anywhere for a while, are you?" the hand asked. The slurping, slapping, and rumbling hum doubled in speed and volume.
"Didn't think so," the hand said, and the arm stretched out the door.
Dee was almost as amazed at his own resilience as with the cosmic blowjob. The slow pressure buildup of his orgasm only coaxed the green girl into increasingly inventive maneuvers. The imperative to thrust become unbearable. "Let me move!" he growled through gritted teeth. She whipped over onto her back, dragging him up and plopping him astride, almost inside, her chest. Uncontrollable, he fucked her mouth furiously up through the green valley between her breasts. Her eyes lost focus and crossed as she nodded her encouragement, sometimes grunting in between thrusts when his cock popped out of her mouth and slithered back into her cleavage: "Urgh. God. More. Yes. Fuck! More."
Finally, Dee felt the throbbing inevitability of a crashing release. He could barely speak. "Gunna—"
The green girl's form had grown soft and gooey again, but that didn't stop her grabbing his ass, lifting him up in the palm of one hand, and rocking forward with lightning speed, spattering a spray of gel emeralds in every direction. She dropped him on the bed and dropped into his lap. "Cum for me, Dee," she said, running a gooey tongue up and down his dick. "Cum for—"
"Holy shit!" said the hand as it raced in, carrying a half-dozen small boxes. "I almost missed the best part."
Dee and the green girl turned and shouted, "Shut up!" in perfect unison.
"Sorry," t
he green girl panted. She rubbed her oozing cheek over his member, slopping and pumping with her more agreeable hand. "Cum for me, Dee. Please. I—I want—I need…"
Dee trembled and went rigid. "Yes!" the green girl hissed, taking his entire dick in a single swallow just as it erupted. Dee shuddered as he spurted into her. He grabbed for her head and lurched upright and then over, thrusting down her throat as he spurted again, and again. He toppled back on the bed and she sucked down one final gush of spunk. She pulled her head away, wearing that blissful expression again, a steady stream of green gel running from her parted lips and coating his rock hard erection in slime.
He propped his head up, staring at his still hard dick in disbelief. "What the fuck?"
"That's my boy," she sighed, her ecstatic gaze never leaving Dee's crotch as she tore open the little boxes her hand had brought in. Somewhere, some part of her started up that wordless fanfare again. "Yah dah-dee dah yah-dah yah-dah…"
She tipped a jumble of extra strength Alka-Seltzer out of the boxes and onto the bed. "I had to break into five apartments to find all these," she said over the tuneless singing.
"Why?" he asked, and watched in sinking realization as she popped a dozen of the effervescent tabs into her mouth. "Oh, no."
"Oh, yes," she replied. The fizz started behind her lips but soon filled her every crevice with bubbling, snapping, coruscating foam, making her hair stand on end and writhe in the air. "Woo! Does this tickle! So…you ready?"
He shook his head but said, "You better fucking believe it."
The guitar intro of the next song jangled from the media server's vibrant speakers. The green girl lying on her back on the floor bopped to the beat, stirring up some last few funnels of fizz in her jellified head and feet. Recognizing the song—it was her playlist queued up on the server, after all—she sang with the first verse, her pitch going sharp on every stressed word: "This bed is on fire with passionate love…the neighbors complain above the noises above…but she only cums when she's on top…"
Staccato drums rattled. She swizzled a pair of fingers around the pool of semen cooling in the hollow between her breasts and popped them into her mouth, making a happy, smacking "Mm!" noise as she sucked down a little more of Dee's cum before belting out the next verse, badly out of tune: "My therapist said not to see yah no more…She said yer like a dizz-ease! without any cure…She said I'm so ob-sessed that I'm becomin' a bore oh no…"
She smeared more spunk up and around her breasts, slathering and squeezing the saucers of green-black areola, puffed out thanks to all the fizzing, until his cum ran warm and clear around her neck. She tried to suck and shovel it into her mouth but didn't get far before her favorite verse started. She gave up trying to sing altogether and shouted like a demented William Shatner declaiming Beatles' songs: "Moved out of the house—so you moved next door! I locked you out—you cut a hole in the wall! I caught you sleeping next to me—I thought I was alone! You're driving me crazy when are you coming home?"
She arched her back, clenched her fists, and the remains of Dee's cum simply slurped straight into her skin. She collapsed into a fit of giggles. Dee wandered back into the bedroom soon after, a flannel bathrobe plastered to his sticky skin, drinking ice water out of a big blue plastic cup. He asked, "What's up?"
She tilted her head back so she could look upside down at him. The next song started ("Hey boy take a look a me let me dirty up your mind") but she kept silent, spreading her legs and pointing down at the cleft of her gelatinous crotch, where she had shoved the subwoofer. When the snazzy chorus kicked in, the bass pulsing from the subwoofer shook her body into a stereoscope. Thousands of little triangular waves spiked and frazzled.
"You drank more Nyquil?" Dee asked.
She raised a hand to salute him with the empty shot glass, her arm rendered fuzzy from the fractals shooting through her. "A little," she admitted.
Dee drank in thoughtful silence for a while. A third song wound up. The green girl, her head still upside down, watched him as a voice with a piping brogue sang, "A rubber band hold me trousers up! A rubber band ponytails! If I could learn to twang like a rubber band, I'd be a Rubber Band Girl!"
"I found some stuff in the living room," Dee said. ("A rubber band girl, me!")
"Yeah?" said the green girl. ("A Rubber Band Girr-rl, me!")
"You’ve been shopping. On eBay, I presume? With my account." ("Oh I wanna be a Rubber Band Girl…")
"Only when you were unconscious." ("A Rubber Band Girl is she!")
"Autographed posters; autographed commemorative plates; autographed figurines; autographed life-sized cardboard cutouts?" Dee said.
The green girl shrugged, a Hell of a trick to do with your neck craned upside down on the floor. "He's number one on the list," she said.
"What list?"
"You know, The List. Where we each get to pick five different celebrities that we can sleep with, and the other one can't get mad. He's number one on mine," the green girl explained.
"René Auberjonois?" Dee demanded.
"So?" She shrugged again. "I bet the number one celebrity on your list isn't even real."
"Jessica Rabbit," Dee said without hesitation. "Actually, none of the celebrities on my list are real. That's why it's perfectly okay for me to have a list, because I'm never ever going to meet…"
The green girl rocketed up in showering fountain and a monochromatic Jessica Rabbit stood before him in a shimmering sequined dress. Dee probably would have ejaculated right on the spot except for cables running from a subwoofer stuffed up and pounding away at her box, ruining the effect. "You were saying?" she asked. She had to raise the timber of her voice just a bit for a perfect impersonation.
With exaggerated care, Dee put down the cup, walked over to the media server and stopped the music. "Oh, you want summa this?" came Jessica Rabbit's voice again.
With a few clicks of the mouse, Dee called up the media server's graphic equalizer, cranked its bass and volume to the maximum, and swapped out the song. A finger hovered over the "play" button on the keyboard. "Let's go home and I'll bake you a carrot cake," the jade Jessica baby-talk mocked, shimmying.
Dee's finger drifted down. "Wah!" the green girl cried in alarm, pin wheeling around and losing all definition after the very first boom of thundering house music. In between shuddering thuds, the green girl barked pleas. "Gah! Help! Sorry! Dee! Help! Please! Sorry!"
"… My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard…"
"Ngh! Can't! Think! Help!"
Leaving the house music to pound away, Dee stepped into the narrow hallway connecting the bedroom to the apartment's one bathroom and modest living room / dining room / you-can't-afford-a-real-kitchen room. He glared at the row of rattling Star Trek: Deep Space Nine commemorative plates now decorating the former tenant's cheerful wallpaper. The green girl's pleas turned into wordless, monosyllabic cries: "Yah! Eee! Whoa! Oof!" Something thumped in rapid succession up from beneath his feet; Dee's downstairs' neighbor banging with a broom, he had no doubt.
Cardboard cut-outs of René Auberjonois in full Odo makeup (Dee christened them "The Auberjon-eoises") dominated the living room. Dee lost a staring contest to the silent, mournful gaze of the one in the middle, the one with the fluorescent green lipstick imprint smeared on its cheek. "Oh, shut up," he told it before stomping into the kitchenette.
Dee was refilling the blue plastic cup from the tap in the kitchen sink when the green girl gave one single, piercing shriek followed by a tremendous splattering noise. He spun on his heels. The blue cup flung away, end over end. He raced through the living room, mowing down the lip-printed Auberjonois, and skidded through the bedroom door. He dove for the media server like it was home plate. The speakers hummed and popped before falling silent. The server toppled over.
Dee came to a painful, sliding halt, the media server's power cord in his hand. Dee stared.
The green girl sat on the subwoofer in the middle of the room. Her teeny feet, wrapped in tight bal
let slippers, dangled over the subwoofer but her stubby legs didn't reach the floor. A pale green, silk taffeta tutu flowered around her bottom, an opaque leotard hiding her boyish figure. With hair done up in spiky pigtails, her head was the same size as ever, almost dwarfing the rest of her. She pouted, wide saucer eyes thunderous, on the verge of a terrible tantrum. But instead she lowered her gaze, scuffed her feet and muttered a squeaky protestation. "That wasn't very nice."
Dee stared.
A thick coating of green goop painted the ceiling. It gathered into a central mass high above her and distended downward. A pear-shaped dollop of the stuff snapped off the bulge and plopped onto her head. She grew a bit taller and her feet touched the floor. She skooched around so Dee couldn't see her face. "You were mad."
"Yes," Dee said, although he knew it had not been a question.
Another gobbet fell, and she grew another inch. She turned back, pigtails whipping about eyes twinkling liquidly with tears or rage, Dee couldn't tell which. "Why?" she demanded, her voice a bit deeper now. "Was it because I spent your money? You got mad at me about your money?" She stood up and kicked the subwoofer away.
He opened his mouth to say, "But I have so little of it!" but instead he shouted, "No!"
A few more big drops fell. She glared at him, morphing into puberty. The bands holding her pigtails in place snapped back and her hair stabbed out into its familiar frizz. The silent treatment she gave him reminded Dee so painfully of his boyhood experiences with girls he started to panic. "I thought you'd like it," he said, scrambling to his feet, bathrobe falling open. "Really! You know, because of the vibrations, and how you'd stuck—I, I—there's this Howard Stern movie, see, and I—"
The remaining stuff on the ceiling crashed onto, then into, the green girl in a series of wobbling spheres. As each one splashed down, she would make a quantum leap in size and age and take another step toward him, her voice double-pitched for a split second then dopplering down into a more adult tone, until with a final splash she stood almost as Dee first met her, cherubic yet mature, proud, and only inches away. "You -splash- dumb ass! Don't you -splash- get it? Things don't turn me on, just -splash- you! Your -splash- touch, your -splash- smell, your taste! You, -splash- you, you! Just stupid -splash- fucking -splash- you!"