Coc: Shouldra (Lake)
Racer2 Jul 22nd, 2019 (edited) 76 Never
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- On sudden impulse, you spin around and begin marching determinedly toward the nearest landmark: the lake! It takes you a little bit, but you eventually locate the correct trail and begin your trek. The ghost girl begins stirring inside you, and you feel her spirit concentrating toward your bicep. A face resembling her human-esque form pushes out of the skin, and she waits patiently for you to get over your initial shock of her freckled face appearing on your arm. “Where are you going?” she eventually queries worriedly. “I thought we were gonna get off!” You implore her to wait and watch, and with a huff, she falls back into you in anxious anticipation.
- You recall the experiences of both the slime and the shark girl. Which encounter would you wish to seek out?
- You reach the lake without incident, and quickly hop into the waiting boat. As you cast off the dock, you keep an eye out for any signs of your intended prey; luckily, you did not have to wait long. A telltale fin breaks the surface of the water, heading unerringly towards you. You turn about and row back to shore, hopping out and waiting anxiously (the ghost girl screaming warnings in your ear about sharks in the lake not helping anything). The “shark” reaches the shore and breaches beautifully. You narrowly avoid getting splashed, and she lands solidly, spinning to face you. The shark girl gives you one of her vicious, tooth-filled smiles. “Wanna play? Heads up th-...grfgh!”
- You don’t even give her time to finish, rushing up to her and slamming your lips against hers in a passionate kiss, tits squishing and squashing against her own barely-clad bosom. Confused, the shark girl stands stiffly, arms flailing about. The corrupted creature’s confusion only heightens when, on telepathic command, the ghost-girl’s form suddenly substantiates... in your mouth. Taking the form of a serpent, the ghost lances across the bridge of lips, zipping down the shark girl’s throat before she can even draw a surprised breath. You gently break the embrace and back off while the two girls begin their internal battle. After long moments of gasping, head-grasping, and teeth-gnashing, the shark girl quiets and looks up into your face. The formerly red eyes now shine with a pale yellow light, the same glow you previously housed. She smiles and nods, signifying the ghost-girl’s successful dominance of the body. You stand patiently while she gets used to her new host, gray hands roaming over the alien dermal denticles that make up her skin. You notice she lingers for a long while at the groin. The ghost girl veritably purrs when she inserts a probing finger into the shark girl’s snatch to find cilia-like structures wriggling inside it. With her analysis complete, the ghost girl returns the shark’s gaze to you. “Well, we COULD just fuck,” she begins, “but let me make this a bit more interesting...”
- She muses over her choices for several moments, snapping her fingers when she appears to find a good one. “Oh, this will be fun,” she purrs, then begins casting the archaic spell. A short way into the chant, however, the ghost-girl’s voice wavers, and she falls to a kneel. You figure the shark girl decided her mind was not completely taken yet, but that never stops the ghost, whose voice hardens as she forces the rest of the words out of her mouth, ending the last word with an uncomfortable groan. As soon as her concentration returns to her, she mentally cows the shark girl back into submission, then stands, brushes herself off, and shrugs at you. You return the gesture, then move forward to check the results of the spell.
- On her beckoning, you approach the ghost-turned-shark with an eyebrow raised. In lieu of words, the ghost gestures towards her undercarriage, still (hardly) enclosed in her black bikini. To her bemusement, the gray arm spasms as its host fights against this third-party rape. It seems as if the shark girl nearly succeeds, the yellow eyes even changing shade slightly, before the ghost girl thrusts herself back into the driver’s seat. Despite signs of continued struggle, she winks an again-amber orb at you, and runs a hand along her rough thigh in anticipation. You push her backwards until she is forced to use her shark tail as a tripod, then drop level to her nautical nethers, the cloth dripping with a mixture of water, sweat, and an occasional small droplet of femspunk. You give it a little lick, not surprised with the salty taste in your tongue, then go at it with steadily increasing vigor. Her legs quiver with the power of her budding arousal, and her breathing quickens, short moans and sultry sighs escaping her throat. You hook your fingers around her bikini bottom and prepare to expose her naughty bits, but are stopped when her hips suddenly puff up to pull the fabric tight against her flesh once again. You slip your digits away and lean back, realizing you’re about to be treated to the effects of her spell. The ghost girl gives an especially passionate groan, but interrupts it with a concerned gasp. The shark girl’s visage momentarily restructures while she’s distracted, showing hints of her possessor’s features. After noticing and correcting the slight, she turns to you. “...I think... I cast... the wrong spell...” she pants, brow suddenly furrowed with worry. You begin to ask what she’s talking about, but the words die in your mouth when the muscles of her right arm wriggle wildly before surging against the skin, stretching and swelling. Her hand swiftly grows as large as her head; her upper arm similarly enlarges until her elbow nearly touches her waist. The weight becomes too much of a strain on her still-regularly proportioned body, and the appendage flops onto the ground. Undaunted, the limb continues its growth.
- Now as alarmed as she is, you start to pull back and get up, but are stopped dead in your tracks by a surprised 'oooh' coming from the now very-flushed girl before you. Your hesitation costs you your chance of escape as she brings her newly enlarged arm to bear, grabbing you roughly by the back of the head and shoving you back between her legs. As if in concert, the shark-girl’s labia surge forward, engulfing the strained garment attempting to restrain it, then slapping against your face with a juicy smack. Her clit follows soon after, growing to its full size before the rest of her body can catch up. If she felt like it, she could most likely pull the engorged prick right into her cleavage. Knowing that appeasing the spectral shark girl will be your only means of escape, you feverishly assault her love canal with your tongue, slipping across and smooshing against the feelers lining it. Meanwhile, you manage to tilt your head enough to see her left arm swelling up to match the right, and judging from the increasingly urgent rumblings of her abdominal muscles, you can tell her torso won’t be far behind. Unexpectedly, your head is forced up a couple inches, and you reach across to confirm your suspicion; her tail, and the toned ass surrounding it, is going along for the ride. On impulse, you roughly massage the muscular cheek, eliciting a throaty groan from your lover and a quickening of the growth. Her hips, butt, and tail continue to swell up until her overburdened, incredibly tight thong’s straps burst under the pressure and fall free, eliciting a relieved gasp from the girl. You pause only enough to slowly draw out the remnants of the swimwear from her lubricated fuck-tunnel, causing the ghost-girl’s steady stream of erotic sounds to climb slightly higher in pitch from the additional stimulation. You’re heaved up from your spot betwixt her loins suddenly, picked up around the waist as she finally collapses under the pleasure, forced slightly to one side by the fin as she falls to the soft grass. You need no explanation as you glance back and watch her now-squirming legs swell with the power of the spell, thickening thighs closing in on each other with enough force to crush any poor soul foolish enough to stay between them. “What are you...stupid!?” the possessed shark girl pants. By the way her voice shifts from melodious to coarse, you can guess who it was who saved you from your fate. “Don’t just stand there when...a girl’s legs are grow-...o-oh...oooooh...”
- You redirect your attentions to her breasts, glancing back around just in time to see one heaving orb burgeon with new mass, quickly followed by the other, the motion seeming like some ridiculous dance. While you could sever the straps beginning to sink into the swelling mammaries, you hold back, nearly drooling with arousal as the breasts bulge around the restrictive fabric. Her boobs climb the alphabet in a breakneck pace, reaching I-cups before the bikini top finally gives in to the pressure, causing a ripple to run from her nipples all the way to her feet as the surging breasts break free of their prison. Your eyes widen as you bask in the glory of the unveiled and still-swelling tits. They give one last surge, then stop, and you glance around to see the changes mostly complete. With one last shuddering sigh, the ghost girl raises her head to consider your suddenly insignificant frame. Where once stood (or, you suppose, laid) a short, rowdy shark girl now lays a moaning, sweating, and incredibly horny shark giantess! You make a swift mental note to forgive all of the faeries you had ever thought to take advantage of as the shark-ghost scoops you up once more, drunk with the arousal of the unexpected results of her wayward spell. You manage to take one desperate breath before she quite literally plunges you back between her love-lips, buried up to your waist in wiggly, jiggly chaos.
- You set your jaw and go at your work with fervor, caressing, groping, and licking every inch of her that you can reach, taking note of the increased frequency of her gasps and groans. As if to reward your efforts, the girl reaches down and lines up her pinky with your own neglected snatch, and before you know it, you’re suddenly being stretched by the biggest object you’ve experienced since Tamani’s deluxe dildo, and your eyes almost cross by the sheer scale of the insertion. Within a minute an orgasm rocks your body, the ensuing spasm pushing the ghost girl over the edge with a final, urgent scream resounding with equal parts ghost and shark girl. With as much concentration as you can muster while your stomach is stretched as large as it is, you desperately wriggle out of the gigantic shark-pussy a moment before her climax. Not able to completely escape, you receive a face-full of female lovejuice for your trouble, bowling you over and caking your cleavage with the excess lubrication. After the cloud of arousal disperses from the ghost-girl’s normally intelligent mind, she can’t help but notice how uncomfortable you must be, squirming about with her gigantic pinky shoved up your moist snatch.
- As gentle as she can possibly be, given her current stature, she extricates the finger from your vagina with a 'pop' and nestles you against her breasts, letting you rest against the soft, human-like nipple until the enchantment wears off. Sure enough, within minutes, you feel her frame shiver and begin to scale down, and you cling to her tits all the way back until the shark girl is back to her normal athletic proportions.
- Some time later, with another, much softer kiss, you draw the spirit back into yourself, leaving a very tired and surprisingly content shark girl in her wake. She reveals her consciousness throughout the experience, going so far as to apologize to the ghost girl for disrupting the spell—though the spirit would have nothing of that, claiming that though the spell was not what she had meant—or even readily knew how—to cast, she enjoyed the experience as well. With a friendly wave, the now-naked shark girl dives back into her habitual home.
- With that settled, you and your temporary ghostly companion decide to part ways here. Pushing out of your stomach, the ghost girl flows out of you and reforms, giving you a quick hug and a reassurance of the good time she had. As she begins her trek back to the ruined city, she warns that if you expect her to follow along with your wishes, you’d best be ready to put up a fight.
- You hike easily along a path leading around the lake, keeping a wary eye on any potential playthings. With effort, you ignore the increasingly frustrated telepathic protests from your otherworldly companion. You begin to whistle a jaunty tune, but cut the noise short as you glance over and see a perfect recipient for the ghost girl’s lust; an amoeba-like glob of goo. The ghost girl’s complaints cease as she notices the squishy thing, and you can imagine her eyes lighting up as she queries, “Ooh, ooh, can we rape that?” With a widening smile, you confirm her excitement. Realizing you can’t exactly sneak up on the thing, as you don’t know how exactly its perception works, you bid the ghost to act as vanguard. “...Exactly what does that involve?” she responds hesitantly, and you sigh, bluntly telling her to go and possess the thing. “Ah,” she says softly. “That makes sense.”
- The ghost girl wriggles her way out of your torso, hovers hesitantly for a moment as she sizes up her intended prey, then floats towards it. You stifle a giggle as she 'crawls' slowly through the air, a near-intangible, vaguely human-shaped wisp. She reaches the slime, steels herself, and dives in. The slime jiggles like... well, gelatin, as the spirit pushes herself into the green mass. You wait several moments, confusedly observing the gyrations of the agitated stuff. Then, the motion just... ceases. Curious as to if the attempt worked or not, you approach hesitantly. The green slime shuffles in place as it turns itself to regard you. Looking carefully into the stuff, you make out glimpses of the ghost girl’s face, and you catch a wink. Knowing what that signifies, you throw off your red, high-society bodysuit as you stride towards her, slipping a hand down to your bitch-button eagerly. The gelatinous mass shudders as the girl giggles, the sound strangely distorted. “This thing is so... empty,” she says in a curiously watery and gurgly voice. “It’s like taking over a sponge!” You raise an eye at the curious simile, but don’t think much of it. You have work to do.
- You stand for a moment, chin resting upon your hand as you consider the best way to pleasure both of you. Nodding as a thought comes to you, you kneel down next to the ghost girl turned slime girl and sink your fingers into her pliable form. The mass responds with a shudder of pleasure, and you’re a bit surprised at the reaction. You ask her if that actually felt good, and her semi-tangible mouth pulls up into a smirk. “Very,” she says in the most alluring voice she can manage given the strange voice she has to work with. Encouraged, you go back to your work with vigor, digging deeply into the squishy ooze. You massage the stuff as it quivers under your capable hands. Aroused groans begin issuing from the sensitive girl. You slowly centralize the stimulation into one grabbable region. Like a ceramic sculptor you begin kneading the green goo, forming the stuff into a rounded-off cone.
- You continue shaping your creation until finally releasing it and rising to scrutinize your creation. You seem to have successfully molded an eight inch long slime protrusion. Giving it a little flick that sends a shiver through the ghost girl’s gooey host, you confirm its solidity with a grin. The ghost girl offers a low moan as you climb up onto the green slime and aim yourself above your phallic creation. Although you think to tease the girl a little bit by hovering over her makeshift phallus, she’s clearly not in the mood for foreplay. The quivering mass thrusts itself upwards at you, and you’re neatly impaled by all eight inches straight off. Her slime, however, will not stop there, and the goo returns to its semi-solid state... in your gaping fuck-hole. You bite your lower lip as you feel the ooze pressing tightly against your tunnel. The malleable mush squeezes past your cervix and quickly fills your womb tight. Her redistribution of volume compromises your balance, and you slip. Your voluminous ass slaps against the slime, right above the ghost girl’s face; your legs are forced to do the splits as you sink down. Although the feeling is wonderful, you ask the ghost girl to slow down a bit. She responds by forcing even more goo into your cunt, your belly bulging slightly to accommodate. Yelping in surprise, you press your hands against the emerald surface in an attempt to calm the wraith. She reacts in the exact opposite way, quickening her rough treatment. A tendril of slime reaches up to teasingly circle your pucker, and you beg her to stop before this gets out of hand.
- The ghost girl gives a concerned groan. “It’s not me... this thing, it’s... hungry,” in an increasingly desperate voice. “I’m sorry!” With that, the protrusion lances up your butthole, wriggling its way through your colon eagerly. Although not as painful as you’d imagine, the insertion still inspires a sharp breath hissed through clenched teeth. Before you can stop it, the green slime shoots another prehensile appendage straight towards your face. The thing floods your mouth and bulges your cheeks as it demands entry. You keep your jaw firmly shut, knowing you must keep the situation from getting out of hand, but tiny tentacles simply break off the main one and begin to seek other means of access. Two of the things slide through your nose, and your eyes widen as they wriggle through and down into the back of your mouth. The monstrous ooze jiggles in victory, though the ghostly visage within winces worriedly. Once inside, the goo surges against your jaw, forcing it open just far enough to open the floodgates. Like a jade river, the stuff flows down your throat. You snap your head back to attempt to extricate the stuff, but it simply follows you, pushing you even farther backwards as it goes. A muffled cry is the only protest you are allowed at the grotesque triple penetration. Your only consolation is you can still somehow breathe, and you figure your spiritual friend has something to do with that.
- You hear, as if from a great distance, the hasty chant of the ghost girl as she casts another spell. Not even allowing you a thought as to what in the world she might to do you in this state, the goo surges deeper into you in all three holes. Your stomach bloats obscenely as the slime slips down your throat, through your intestines, and against your womb. “This might help,” the ghost girl breathes, finishing her spell. “Please, hurry up... the thing won’t stop until it’s had its way with you, and I... oh... I feel myself... losing...” Though wishing to heed the girl’s warning, you’re unable to do much against the onslaught of the gelatinous thing. You feel a lancing pain in your belly as it’s stretched to its breaking point, and you wonder if this will be the end of you. Suddenly, the pain is lifted, and you glance down to witness the power of the spell. You reach down and pinch the flesh, and you gasp as it easily squishes...despite how tight it was a moment before. The ghost girl heaves a distorted, relieved sigh at the success of her magic. Of course, the only thought the green slime registers is the amount of goo it can stuff into you, now. The assault doubles, then triples in intensity, slime pulsing into your body recklessly. Your frame is jostled about as the slime under you shrinks, your goo-filled gut pushing your pillowy tits up into your overburdened jaw.
- Your distended belly shivers as the goo jostles around, puffing up like a goblin after a minotaur bukakke. Some small thought, buried under layers of agonizing pleasure, calls to you repeatedly. The green slime likes it when you massage it; massage it, and you’ll get out of here. As solid of reasoning as you’ll get in a situation like this, you reach up and wrap your fingers around the thick oral tentacle. Treating it as you would a huge phallus, you caress, squeeze and stroke as much of the mostly solid ooze as you can reach. The stimulated green slime rewards you with a huge bulge of itself, beginning at the base and working its way toward you. The nearly-overwhelmed ghost girl screams out a warning, and you almost panic as you consider the thing. You can’t see them, of course, but the appendages filling your lower crevices begin forming similar bulges, and they begin their way towards you as well. You can only wait in horror as the mouth-tentacle’s lump squeezes under your now-still fingers, forcing them apart with its thickness. It’s a macabre race to see what can stretch you first, and no matter the outcome, you have a feeling you won’t enjoy the prize. Your cunt-tendril wins out, and your wail falls on deaf ears as your vagina dilates to compensate.
- Content in taking second place, your anus also stretches as the bulb flows into it. Moments later, before you are even allowed to recover from the first two, your jaw is forced farther open to make room for the bulbous deposit. You hum unhappily as your throat widens, not unlike a croaking frog. Your already-huge belly burgeons with the new additions until it’s at least twice as large as both of Markus’s testicles, combined!
- The slime is too small to keep you up at this point, and your voluminous butt touches the soft grass. Finally, the green slime breaks apart into three separate pieces. The bottom two slide into your orifices, making you sigh in relief as they settle in and leave your poor stretched holes alone, but the one connecting your mouth has one last surprise in store. The ghost girl, struggling frantically to hold onto herself in the midst of the mindless shell she’s in, wriggles towards you. Her barely-visible face is locked in a determined, yet lust-filled grimace. “Do something!” she implores, seconds before the last of the goo disappears into your maw.
- You’re stuck on your back like an unlucky turtle, the weight of your still-ballooning belly pressing down on you. The goo in your gut sloshes impatiently, roiling under the skin like a quintuplet of angry minotaurs. A thought strikes you, and though it’s a bit insane, you figure you might as well work with what you’re given. You lean as far as your belly allows you to one side, then with an almighty heave, throw yourself the other way. The momentum carries you up and over until you’re resting on your own squishy stomach. Your weight squishes your swollen body, and you can feel goo threatening to spurt back out of the gaping orifices that the stuff entered through. The substance inside you quakes happily from the pressure, and you’re relieved to finally be making progress. You knead and press your tight-stretched skin furiously with your arms, legs, and tail, taking pleasure in the distant cries and moans from the ghost girl inside. The ingested green slime begins rumbling, softly at first, but with increasing intensity. You’re actually knocked from your tentative perch as the quake of flesh continues growing, landing heavily on your side. As abruptly as it began, the vibrations cease, but you continue to rub, feeling the worst is not yet over.
- Indeed, your ministrations proved just what the green slime (with the increasingly overwhelmed ghost girl in tow) needed to reach its 'orgasm'. A strangled cry is the only reaction you can give as your poor belly bloats even further. This new filling feels...different, however. Squishier. You poke your middle—it isn’t difficult, as the flesh is nearly surging over your arms at this point—and ascertain the fairly obvious; the slime just came. You lie there for several more moments before you have to wonder how exactly you’re going to get the goo out of you. As if reading your mind, the mass of gel pulses once, then begins receding. Your belly finally knows comfort as the stuff shrinks into you, and you’re left to guess which hole the stuff will come out of. A sudden twinge of discomfort from your chest gives you a fairly good idea, and you glance down to see your pillowy breasts trembling, fleshy teat twitching eagerly. Your jaw drops as your chest heaves forward, filled with the same slime that was just stuffing your stomach.
- You hardly notice you’re on your back again; the feeling of the ooze somehow pumping into your tits threatens to overwhelm you. The growth of your boobs is directly proportional to the shrinking of your gut; it’s as if the slime is actually just trading places. You can’t resist the urge to squeeze one of the burgeoning boobs, and the compression does nothing but excite the slime and cause it to move faster. Resolving to get the goo out of you in the most efficient way you can, you go to town on the billowing breasts. You smash them together, rub them down, run a thumb across your lengthening nubs... anything to further the process along. Before long, enough slime has flowed into your breasts to make them at least three cup sizes larger than original, and your nipples grow until you can wrap your hand around them... which you promptly do. Stroking the teats as you would a pair of veiny cocks, your arms are forced to bend to accommodate for the increasing amounts of squishy boobflesh. You feel a warm tingling beginning at your sternum and working its way up your engorged tits, and you speed up your self-stimulation. A pale emerald moisture starts to work its way through the pores of your nipples, and a few strokes later, you reach your boob-crescendo. You throw your head back, mouth open in a wordless moan of orgasmic pleasure as the slime, mixed with your boobmilk, explodes out of your body in a heady spray.
- The oozy evacuation keeps up for many long, pleasure-filled heartbeats, your breasts deflating as the slime spurts out of your body. Eventually, the spurts turn to a drizzle, and you push out the remainder of the goo with a compression of your back-to-normal boobs. Reaching into the diluted sage substance, you feel around for any signs of life for the poor ghost girl. You feel a slender hand wrap around your wrist, and you easily heave the spirit free of the twitching mess. Free of the mostly-empty influence of the green slime, she whimsically floats about you. “It took you long enough!” she berates you angrily. “...But, you managed to get me out of there with my sanity intact... and I DID have a good time, so...” She substantiates in front of you, smiling radiantly. “Thanks,” she says amiably. “I’m gonna go home. Oh, before I go...” She brazenly undoes her leggings, pulling them away from her crotch and reaching into her box. She extricates a good amount of ectoplasm, then pulls a small bottle from a pocket inside her tunic and squeezes the goop inside. With an amiable grin, she hands the bottle to you, and you nod your appreciation. You part ways there, with you redressing and heading back to your campsite, and the ghost girl beginning her trek back to the town ruins.
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