(Click on the title to read the entire chapter)
Vesta stood in front of him wearing only a pair of pink bikini panties and a matching bra made of a thin stretchy fabric that gently cradled her generous breasts. He felt overdressed in his jeans and T-shirt, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t that kind of a party. Too bad his cock hadn’t gotten the message. The soft edge of a honey colored line of swirling furred spots teased him as it peeked out from her inner thighs just at the tip of her pink covered mons. He licked his lips, an unconscious move, and then feeling ashamed he forced himself looked away. But she’d already seen him eyeing the sweet little spots. She squirmed and pressed her thighs together.
“Yesterday,” she said in a small voice, “I just noticed the new patches yesterday. I tried shaving them, but they grew back overnight.”
He wanted to touch her there, to stroke the small furred spots and then let his fingers trail up to the dampness that he knew had gathered on the thin strip of silky fabric that separated his fingers from her swollen mons.
“It’s natural,” he said, “You shouldn’t be ashamed, but it does mean that you’re closer to transition than I thought.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” she asked.
“It just means that things are progressing as they should,” he said making sure to speak in a calm voice, making sure to look into her eyes reassuringly.
“It’s under my arms too,” she said lifting her right arm to reveal a patch of golden down.
He nodded, “You should really meet with Deena, my mother. You must have a lot of questions and I’m sure she could answer them better than I can.” He didn’t want to frighten her, but from what he could tell she had maybe a couple of months before she made her first transformation and she’d certainly have to be sequestered before that happened.
She was watching him as though she was trying to figure something out, maybe trying to read his mind, to guess what he was thinking. He certainly didn’t want her in his head right now while he was trying to control his wayward impulses.
“Maybe,” she said finally responding to his urging her to meet with Deena. Pulling herself upright, she straightened her spine as though gathering courage. “Do you want to see the . . . the nub at the base of my spine?” she asked as she started to turn her back to him.
“No,” he said quickly. He needed time to calm himself. The last thing he needed was a peek at her burgeoning tail. “Let me check for nodes on your scalp.”
He moved to stand directly in front of her and she lowered her head to give him better access. Her scent, an alluring spicy musk, rose up to assault his nostrils. He shook his head to clear it and let his fingers sink into her hair. Lustrous strands slipped over and through his fingers as he searched. They were there, a series of three nodes that made a horizontal line just where her hairline ended and her neck began and another strip, a vertical line at the highpoint of her skull. He stroked them gently; she leaned her forehead against his chest and purred. It was a pleasurable sound that stirred something deep in his groin. He stroked the vertical line of nodes again and she pressed her forehead deeper into his chest, the purr slow and sensuous, beckoning. She had no idea what she was doing to him. His fingertips continued the search. The nodes near the front line of her scalp were much smaller, barely noticeable, but they were there. The vertical line ended just at the peak of her hairline. He ran a fingertip across the tips of her frontal nodes applying hardly any pressure, but she undulated toward him, her whole body a sinuous curve.
“That feels nice,” she said.
“They’re very sensitive,” Stem said, “especially in the beginning.”
“So, there are bumps there?” she asked obviously hoping he’d say no.
“Very small ones,” he assured moving his hands to her arms gently indicating that she should take a step back.
She obliged, taking a step back, but leaned her torso forward pressing her cheek against his chest even though he held her at bay, his hands around her upper arms. The spicy musk wafted up, he closed his eyes trying to block it out, but that only made it stronger. His nose brushed the top of her hair, and she groaned as though she could feel him there.
She was barely eighteen in human years and he had no idea how much experience she’d had. Although human females usually had some experience by her age. Stem knew he shouldn’t even be thinking about things like that where Vesta was concerned. It was probably the pheromones she was secreting, and the fact that she looked hot in those pink panties and the furred circles on her thighs and even the down under her arms begged to be stroked. Even now he wanted to nudge her arm up and nuzzle the down covered hollow; he wanted to hear the reverberations of her purr as he nipped and licked and pleasured her there.
He took a step back. She groaned and took a step forward, her mouth finding the hard, flatly pebbled nipple beneath the cotton of his shirt. Her mouth was hot and wet, and then she bit the pebble, her small teeth tugging. His cock rose up, a dagger in his pants. She squirmed closer and his hands fell to her sides. After a moment and of their own will, his fingers found the heat of her skin and then the strip of silky fluff that ran the length of her back. A hum, like joy, began somewhere in the back of his mind as his fingers reveled in the downy furl of her spine. His hand found the dip of her waist and slid over and down to grip her firm, round, ass, thighs and finally, discovered the furred circles between her thighs. She was breathing hard, but so was he as he stroked her thighs and she pressed her wetness against his wrist.
His mouth found hers and she opened eagerly sliding her tongue into his mouth. She needed this, he thought. She’d probably been burning for this kind of stimulation, and who better than him to give it to her. Who would understand her needs better than he. Right? It wasn’t as though she could go to a human male, not with all the changes occurring in her body. He slid his hand into her panties, over that perfect ass, cupping the firm flesh and then stroking the slightly protruding nub of her tail. He tugged it gently, his fingers enjoying its furred curve, its fledgling solidness. She groaned and moved closer, her mouth locating the other pebble on his chest and troubling it with her teeth.
His hand slipped down beneath the nub of her tail to tease the scorching heat that creased her ass and still further to cup her sopping sex. She squirmed pressing her wetness into his fingers as though seeking friction. He obliged her pushing three fingers deeper and wedging them between her engorged mons and the slick cloth. She widened her legs encouragingly and he rubbed the fingers in a back and forth motion rasping them against the swollen flesh. She groaned into his ear. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but she was so fucking hot. And yes, that’s why he shouldn’t because he knew that it was her condition that was making her so . . . sexually aggressive . . . so sexually needy. If she’d been raised Reveler, she would know what was happening to her. She would have been taught that this was a time of heightened sexuality, would have understood that it was alright to assuage her need, and would have been provided with appropriate partners and given time and space to find relief. Everyone knew a good fuck made the transition easier. But she was half human and ignorant to Reveler ways. Afterwards, she would probably think he’d taken advantage of her, or worse, she might think he meant to establish some kind of lasting relationship with her.
She squirmed in his arms, not sure whether she wanted to press herself against his slippery fingers or against his bulging cock. She nipped his neck; a pinch of tiny teeth that his mind recognized as frustration, and his cock insisted was a call to action. He slid two fingers into her tight little pussy and she whimpered filling his hand with her wetness.
And then she was fumbling with the snap of his jeans and made quick work of the zipper, her small hand slipping in to fondle and then release his cock. Before long, his jeans and shorts were riding low on his ass and his cock was free, painfully hard and straining upward. And he hadn’t spoken a word to stop her. In fact, when her hands tugged at his straining cock, he nipped her neck knowing he was sending a message to her pussy, knowing her muscles would clench in anticipation. He pushed her panties down until they were and line around her hips, but then she was sliding down his body, their scent perfuming the room. On her knees now, she took him into her mouth, nearly half of him disappearing in the damp hollow. For one so young, she had a talented mouth, strong jaws. His fingers were lost in the thickness of her hair as he watched her lick and suck him with relish.
“Wait,” he said the guilt finally catching up with him, “Stop.” He fisted her hair holding her still while he freed himself, his cock cooling quickly as the chilly air replaced the moist heat of her mouth.
“This is not wise,” he said taking a step back as she looked up at him, her lips full and moist, her eyes a little foggy with desire.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said as she leaned back, her backside making a plopping sound when it met the floor, her panties a swath of pink ribbon binding her thighs.
“It’s the transition,” he said, “Don’t be sorry. It heightens sexual response and increases libido.”
She nodded. “I need . . .” she began and then looked down at the pink ribbon and then away as though embarrassed.
“Have you . . . I mean, you aren’t a virgin, are you?” Which was ludicrous based on the way she’d sucked his cock, but then maybe she sucked cock so she wouldn’t have to have vaginal sex. He’d heard of girls doing that to preserve their virginity.
She shook her head no.
“Do you want me to help you to relieve some of the pressure?” he asked.
“I’m on the pill,” she said, “You don’t have to worry.”
“Does your mother know that? You shouldn’t be on the pill or any other drug during the transition. Besides, you don’t need it. Fertility only becomes possible after a female has completed the transition.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I guess I wouldn’t expect you to know that, but you should stop taking them immediately. They can only complicate the process.”
He held out a hand to help her up.
She nodded as she lifted her hips trying to discreetly pull up her panties.
He smiled. “Come here.” She took his outstretched hand and allowed him to help her up. He pulled her to him. Then he reached behind her to unfasten her bra and release her wonderfully pert breasts. “Beautiful,” he said.
She smiled, pleased by the compliment. He was glad that she was looking at him now and not at the floor or the far wall.
He bent to suckle first one and then the other nipple, tugging on them with his mouth and his teeth until they were taut and rosy, the nipples hard and protruding. Then he slipped her panties down and off. He stood back to look at her. “Sweet,” he said and shook his head at her beauty.
She smiled, “Now you.”
He quickly pulled his shirt over his head and kicked his jeans and shorts off leaving them in a tangled pile at her feet. Then he took her by the hands and made sure that she could see his eyes. “I want this too, but you have to understand that it isn’t meant as a commitment of any kind. It is just a way to assuage the symptoms of your transition. I know it will make you feel better, calmer. It’s meant to be . . . clinical, like therapy.”
“Clinical,” she smiled, “therapy?”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t enjoy it,” he grinned back, “I just wanted you to understand. This isn’t how Revelers chose their mates.”
“How do Revelers chose their mate?” she asked.
“That’s for another time. Right now, let’s get therapeutic.”
She laughed, “Are we allowed to use the bed for this therapy?”
“Yeah, we can use a bed,” he said as he took her hand and led her to the bed.