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This is your fourth date.
Well, this isn’t actually your fourth date in the consecutive line up of events in your life. You’ve dated a lot of people!! Over a lot of realities. But this is the first time post game that you’ve ever dated anybody, and two anybodies at the same time, and you think things are going really well.
It’s kind of a hassle, not living on an island, but they found you something pretty close – a piece of land just off one of the coastlines, where you can have a little cottage on a bluff, and plenty of rolling green land that devolves into a forest line of pitch pines and other evergreens. It’s chillier than you’re used to, but that’s okay.
Cold means you get to make big, rip-roaring fires in your fireplace, and you get to dress in big oversized jumpers as you retrieve tea and snacks for your guests. Whoops! You mean your dates.
That’s not the only thing you’ve retrieved. Damara is sitting in her house kimono, legs spread out like a winnowing basket as she separates stems and seeds and rolls you a couple of fat, choice blunts. She’s remarkably good at it, and you could watch her long, skinny fingers at it for hours, painted nails folding everything in, tongue peeping out of her black-cherry glossed lips to seal it all up.
This is always how you spend your dates, each of you picking out a season of anime to watch. They usually stay for a week or more at a time, none of you having to worry much about the hardships of life when you’ve got the kinds of powers that make this new reality of yours easy. Beyond that, you’ve got all the harvest from your garden stored up in dry goods containers or the freezer or preserves or pickles, so no food runs. Just tea, and smokes, and your bodies all curled up together in front of the fire.
“Mrrbe,” Meulin says, letting out a purrticularly – ah, particularly – large cloud of smoke, “We should purrsue other pawssibilities.”
“Like what?” you ask, puffing on your tea. “I’ve got plenty of board games-“
“Bored games, you mean.” Damara says, her English perfectly fluent when she’s around you two. “But I think pretty puss was going for something else.”
“I’m pawsitively shocked that you couldn’t pounce on my mewning!” Meulin says, her puns getting a little sloppy as she starts to giggle. You smile. It’s good, she mellows out a little more when she smokes, her speech less babbling full of nervous energy. A little more bashfully and a lot more seductively, she stretches out over you. “This kitty is feline purrty in heat…”
She kisses you and you exhale your drag into her mouth, something you know turns Damara on. Sure enough, when you glance over, she’s licking her lips, the black-cherry stain on them not smudging. You’ve got to ask her what she uses. Meulin breaths out in a deep purr.
She kneads your chest – her body is more soft and squishy than yours is, all filled out curves and pudge over muscle, a kind of protective layer for when prey gets scarce even though she doesn’t have to worry about solely hunting anymore – and bites down on your lips. Your fingers hook through her panties – olive green with purple paw prints – you’re so glad they stand for Rose as her moirail now instead of what came before.
“Ow!” you yelp as Meulin chomps down on your neck, but a second later you’re laughing, rolling after Damara plucks a cigarette from your hand. You’ve both got muscle, but overall you’ve got way more than she has, and you pin her, rubbing your knee between her legs a little roughly and biting her right back, except on the mouth, making her lower lip swell up. She claws up your sweater, pulls it right off of you and reaches up to suck at your nipple, kneading one of your breasts.
It’s weird but good, not exactly soft but not so hard you feel like shaking her off, and you maybe make a little groan, your tail wagging, your fluffy white ears twitching either way.
You feel something slither against the back of your panties, and it takes you a second to realize it’s Damara, bending over you. She tugs hard at the leather collar they both got you a while back, and you yipe, more for fun than for actual pain. Damara is like a tiny pixie, made of slender bone and sexual domination. Her bulge dips into the waistband of your underwear and you shiver as it massages your lower lips, already swelling.
Neither of them really care it’s not normal for humans to have both parts. That’s common on trolls, and for all your nook and bulge are different in structure, they like it just as well. Your knee grinds against Meulin’s nook and the root of her bulge and she writhes, fingers hooking in to the ends of your long black hair, trying to pull you back down.
“Being such a bad little bitch, Jade… I know I trained you better than that.” Damara says, blowing smoke across your face. You whine; her bulge tip is juuuust teasing the slit on your cock, the shape of hers long and slender and very, very well controlled. “Get on your paws and present for me like a good girl.”
She reaches around and pinches the nipple that Meulin was sucking on, moving her hand round to pull your panties down to your knees while you stretch out. You put your paws – hands. Hands, geeze! – down on either side of Meulin’s head, your fingers and palms getting either side of her thicket of curls. She smells like weed and tea and sugar cubes, and you feel her bulge curl up around your prick when you’re in position.
Damara’s hand comes up, rubs at the wetness of your labia and you keen. You know what she wants, but it always kind of makes you flush to actually say it out loud. Role playing is really hard!
“Please… Ah!” She smacks your ass, and you feel your tail try to curl between your legs. But she picks it up, smacks you again, harder, and again, and you feel tears start to sting in your eyes because her swipe of nails really hurt! But there’s something rewarding about it, too, something about her commitment to what she’s doing and being in total control, this tiny pixie girl who can make you heel to anything. “Please fuck me, mistress…” you manage, not a delicate little wheeze like last time.
“I don’t know, you’re being such a naughty puppy today.” she admonishes, and you keen again.
“I’ll be better. Pleaseee…” you ask, and turn for just long enough to give her the most convincing set of puppy eyes you think you’ve ever managed. She scratches behind your ears. And that’s all the warning you get before her bulge slithers inside of you, quick as anything, doubling back and curling around itself to give you some width to clench down around.
One hand stays on your collar, pulling your head up while Meulin kneads both of your breasts, hard. She hooks her own leg up, and you feel the weird texture of troll nook around your cock, that fluttering of her inside that tries to twist you into her, but can never quite manage. It feels fucking spectacular, and you want so badly to buck down into it, but if you move Damara will pull out. She doesn’t make empty threats, and the way that her bulge is ridged it feels so good that you think you’re going to go insane if she stops.
You feel sharp teeth on your nipple and claws on your breasts, and claws in your hair and claws raking down your back, and the only thing that’s keeping you in place is that your girls seem to work on the same time table. Just as you feel Meulin’s nook start to really go wild around your prick, you feel Damara’s bulge tug and jerk and swell, hard, knotting up inside of you.
They come, explosively, Meulin crying out in a little bell-like mewl, and Damara cursing, rocking her hips into you so hard that if you didn’t have thighs of steel she’d be pounding you into the floor. Between the two of them you feel your gut curl up, hard, and barely manage a growl before you’re howling, pulling at Meulin’s hair and rocking yourself back, clenched up around Damara’s bulge, uncaring as to how much slurry she’s filling you up with.
When all is said and done, you fall against each other, a pile of shaking limbs and slurry and messed up night clothes. But your girls are on either side of you, clutching you close, warm and content by the fireside.
“Good dog, Jade.” Damara says, petting your aching scalp.
“Best friend.” Meulin adds, with a kiss.
You think you might have to reorganize the structure of your dates a little more often.