* * *
Panacea's robes swished slightly.
Taylor's grip tightened on her armrests.
* * *
Panacea repositioned herself with a little hop.
Taylor bit her lip.
* * *
Panacea had been bouncing in place for a while now, simply jumping up and down on her chair. Taylor, on the other hand, was flinching with each bounce. At this point, everyone in the room had caught on that something fishy was happening. Even as Brain did his best to ignore it, Panacea's bouncing sped up— only to stop with a sigh.
There was a loud snap.
Taylor was looking down at her hand in surprise, where she held the edge of her armrest— ripped off of the chair. Her eyes left the piece of wood— only to notice everyone staring at her. She blushed, hopped up, and mumbled something before rushing out of the room.
Everyone simply traded glances for a second, before Panacea rose out of her chair-only to nearly fall a moment later. She had to brace herself against the table for a moment while her legs stopped trembling.
"I-I'm going to s-see what's wrong with her." Panacea made her way to the door, wobbling with each step— each bow-legged step.
Lisa couldn't hold back anymore.
Uncomfortable to walk. Still happy. Still pleased. Robes larger-longer than usual, slightly different color. Weight difference results in different movement of robe— heavier than it looks. Pleasure is sexual-limp is from hard sex. Robe contributed. Robe is living creature. Robe is living creature Taylor can control. Bumping was rough sex, shivering with all limbs implies total body excitement.
Robe has inside made of tongues and tentacles. Panacea is nude within it. Taylor was sensing and partially controlling the licking and eventual fucking of Panacea in front of us.
* * *
Brain had no idea what was wrong with Taylor, but he hoped Amy could help her. Now he just had to figure out why Lisa was laughing manically while pausing every few seconds to say 'Ow' and clutch her head before laughing again.
Failing Relationship
(Автор: Mr_John)
"Missy, please!"
"Damnit Chris, I've told you, I will drink when I want to and you can't stop me!"
"But, but you get violent when you drink! You always threaten to hit me!"
"Have I hit you yet!?"
"No, but-"
"Then shut up or I'll hit you!"
* * *
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
"Out where?"
"Out with the girls."
"And where is that?"
"Goddamnit Chris, I'm fucking going out! Why the hell does it bother you!?"
"Missy, you're always going out with the girls! You never just stay and have some time for us!"
"This is the exact reason I always to go out!"
* * *
"Please? You said you'd stay and cuddle for a while-"
"Yeah, well, that was before. I've changed my mind."
"I... I just want someone to be close to."
"Yeah, well, go see if Carlos is up for that. Oh wait, you can't, he's dead!"
"Missy!"
* * *
"I just don't know what to do, she won't stop ignoring me! I've tried to talk to her, and I even made a lasagna dinner for her!"
"Kid Win, how will this discussion lead to the .7% increase in efficiency you spoke of?"
"We're getting there! And then, she just... She called the lasagna too dry! I worked on that lasagna for hours! Why would she do that!?"
"Kid Win, tears are inefficient. Please cease your production of water over my Halberd."
Irresistible
(Автор: ArnaudB)
It was so hot in her room.
Taylor forced her hands to remain on both sides of her body, the fingers clenching around the drenched covers. There was no heating, but the temperature kept rising with every hour. The ever-present warmth made her body tremble along with others feelings. Her eyes glanced toward the window, wishing to open it despite the winter air outside.
Both her hands moved as she lost focus, and the shocks came back again. Taylor heard the cry struggling to escape, she struggled to keep it inside even as her whole body jerked despite the covers's weight. She failed and the soft sounds left her again even as the ten digits pressed and bounced against the already battered surface.
It was so very hot here.
The digits dived into a pound just as the floor creaked on the other side of the door. Taylor felt a moment of mixed panic and excitation, both fueling each others just as her fingers touched the solid depths of the pound. Her mouth bit into the covers just as unbearable discharges rendered her mind devoid of any coherent thought. She bent inside the covers twisting until her fingers were caught between her thighs, her body trembling all the while.
"Taylor? Do you feel better?" It was an overpowering effort of will and, most humiliatingly practice, that allowed the girl to smile as a man carefully peeked inside.
"A little, Dad." She managed in a whisper, all she wished to hide covered by her real exhaustion and turning the pleasant part of her emotions into joy at seeing her father. He smiled back despite his own obvious tension, a tension that only seemed to increase when he steeped into the room's atmosphere.
She managed to keep the smile up for a few seconds longer, until her fingers slipped from their prison and trailed up her legs until half of them went back between them.
"Taylor, are you really sure that you don't me to call a doctor?" Danny asked with concern in his voice. The man awkwardly shifted from one leg to the other as his daughter gathered her will to give him a reassuring, so pleased smile. Taylor breathed in, too little air in her lung to speak and she shook her head vividly.
It hid the tremors when her fingers pressed against the drowning flesh with a vengeance. Her voice caught and left her unable to speak at this terrible moment when her father was watching. The words halted in her mouth, then came with a bouncing rhythm that echoed the five others fingers drumming against her leg.
"No, Dad. It's just a fever, there is no need to call someone." Her voice faltered toward the end in a longing echo. Taylor felt herself blush furiously but thankfully the difference it made upon her face wasn't noticeable. Too much crimson already.
"No matter, if this keep up I will call one. Here, you should drink a bit." She blinked at the offered bottle of water. A thirst she had forgotten made itself know and she reflexively started to sit up so as to take it, stopping a moment later as the sensation of her damp hand upon her stomach overwhelmed her. "Taylor?" The worried inquiry came up with as just her battered mind caught up with the situation.
She most certainly could not offer that hand to her dad. That what her vanquished mind howled before the rest of her body rendered it useless again. Taylor didn't answer, as much unable to formulate a sentence as to voice it. Instead she wiped the least wet of her hand, the one formerly upon her leg, against the sheets as strongly as she could. Then she snatched the bottle of water from her father's hand, trembling too much, moving too fast, trying so hard not to touch him. Her father steeped back as if startled, but once she had the bottle in her hand she no longer cared.
The stifling odor of the room, the sweet scent that had already along with her father. Both overwhelming, both overwhelmed as her nose caught the strong yet bland odor of what fluids still permeated her arm. It sent her mind screaming back into abysses of frustration, her lips harshly caught the tip of the bottle, and she raised the bottle to greedily to gulp the water.
Taylor swallowed multiple times as the liquid poured, interrupting herself and starting again in a vain effort stabilize her trembling grip. Water dripped between her bottle and her mouth, it fell upon the top of her chest and left clear and steamy trails as each drops passed over the uncovered top of her breasts. They vanished from sight, those drops, and roamed into the mysteries hidden by the covers.
* * *
Irresistible — 1.1b
There was a loud swallowing sound. It almost startled Taylor when her tongue poked out at the spilling water, the girl abandoned that course of action to turn toward her father, himself turned partly turned away from her. There was unease in his voice when he spoke.
"It's a tad hot in your room, Taylor. Maybe I should open the window?" The man didn't wait for her response to walk away from the bed.
"I would like that." The agreement parted from her lips in a loud whisper and froze her father in his steps. The simple words seemed to echo with far greater promises to her own ears, it made her notice the nervous twitching of her father's fingers before the man went to the window and opened it in a single motion.
The cold air of Winter rushed inside with a vengeance. It tore through the scents of the room as if trying to destroy the odors themselves and slammed against Taylor's daze, hardly dissipating it.
"Well, that's a little better. Should I leave her open?" Her father commented after taking a heavy breath. Taylor nodded at his inquiry before diving deeper into the warm covers. The stifling atmosphere gone, the sweet scent that accompanied her Dad still present, the throbbing of her body whose fingers tried to warm the cold-hit parts.
It was comfortable.
"Are you going to work?" She softly inquired. For a moment her Dad seemed disturbed again, shifting from one feet to the other before he answered again, an uneasy edge in his tone.
"Yes. Unless you want me to stay."
"Will be fine." She shook her head, which was a delicious mistake. Her long hairs pulled by the movement brushed against the arguably least stimulated part of her, her back. The hundred strands tingled against the skin and she pretended that the shake of her head made her far more dizzy than it did.
"Well, if you say so." Her father carefully said while she choked the rising moans into her pillows. The walking steps sounded more hurried and cautious than it was usual. With great struggle Taylor bottled up the sensations and gave her father a smile when he passed the door.
"Have a good day, Dad."
"You too, Taylor. Rest, um, well." Her father answered back without managing to hide the mix of worry and perplexity on his face. Then he carefully closed the door. The sweet scent left with him and Taylor felt as if the Sun had just been shoved out. She twisted with her stomach against the mattress, jerked her head up as if drowning, and tried to hold back the haze.
She failed. Her arms shook the covers in burst, letting the cold air slam against her overstimulated skin before burying it again in damp warmth. She turned her body over in the covers, making the hairs brush again. She buried her face to stifle her moans, then raised one hand to her mouth when it wasn't enough anymore. It made the haze worse. The steps of father leaving echoed for moments longer while she tasted the substance upon her fingers, and lost herself anew as her other hand kept swapping between her breasts and her lower parts.
If her alarm clock and her memories were to believed, it was fifty minutes later that Taylor shook the haze long enough to successfully get out of her room. Her own legs were unsteady and she had to lean against the wall for support. The bathrobe was moist with sweat and other things, but at least it had absorbed enough of her fluids that she wasn't spilling them all over the floor.
Unlike the first time she had hurried to the showers. This was the fourth time and she wasn't looking forward trying to wipe the floor when she could no longer keep her hands from fondling her even now. Taylor wasn't really surprised when she managed to reach the bathroom. She slipped out of the bathrobe and packed it inside the basket that contained the odors of the used towels inside. In the same movement Taylor staggered inside the stall and turned the shower on. The girl didn't bother stopping the moans as the water impacted her raw skin, just as she hadn't tried to stop her free hand from still fondling her body all the way there. Rather she used the shift to lean all the fingers against the wall, and cursed.
"When. Is. It. Enough?" Taylor carefully accentuated every half-moaned word. It helped. Because of the water falling upon her, despite how each drop made her body stir and shake, her mind could somewhat function. "When, Power?" She bitterly asked while eyeing how water briefly chased the somber substance that covered her skin. It came back quickly, continuously produced by whatever dimension or gland her power used.
Yes, her power. It was the sole consolation of this whole mess, the humiliating one that caused the trigger event, and the embarrassing one from afterward. It had felt like a very awkward ability to have at first. There was a substance that was slightly darkening her skin and covering all of it, an exciting one, raising her sensitivity. She released it or something else like spore in her surrounding, although she hadn't studied that before holing up in her room.
Her body had started changing too, many faults she had found before in her body were gone. The bust increase had been the notable change that made her notice the others. They sprung to mind too, but she lost them and her focus when her throbbing body rubbed the aforesaid bust against the wall. Her mind went to pieces when her fingers followed up with sudden agitation between her legs. It was only accumulated frustration that allowed her to tear herself from the wall and her fingers from herself, with a roaring protest.
"Stop it!" Unsurprisingly her quivering body made the words shaky, but the real irritation gave her mind a hold to come back to. Then she could swear profusely at the one part of her power that truly frustrated her.
Surprisingly, it wasn't the excitation. It had been an awkward surprise when she found herself almost naturally fondling herself, made stronger by how the substance raised her sensitivity. Very awkward, it had been downright mortifying when she had found out, and would have remained so yet a limited annoyance if she didn't stumble into her major problem pretty quickly.
Namely, she couldn't come. No matter how much she had stimulated herself during her first minutes of stimulation, it didn't work. She couldn't achieve that exhausted deliverance that some previous limited experiences assured her existed.
Hours after her trigger she had shrugged it off, left to prepare dinner with mere dissatisfaction. But the feeling hadn't left her and she had found herself experimenting again after she had gone to bed.
In the thirty-seven hours that separated then and now there hadn't been any further success. At first she remembered stopping her attempts, resting, reading, eating, walking with putting the problem mostly out of mind. Then it ramped up as she showered, struggled to keep her hands writing notes and nothing else at her desk. It went on with she grew bolder and bolder, more and more frustrated, until her hands constantly fondled her body. Sleep quickly ceased being a stop-gap, her body proving it could manage going on without her input, just as the last episode with her chest proved. Then her hands had accumulated the hours until her whole skin felt raw and hot, keeping her from returning to school as a small mercy.
