Tornado
The shift happens without thought, without intention. Our cells collide in a reaction that sends lightning pain along our nerve endings, as if we got so near to each other that we couldn’t not transform.
The sand compresses under our magnified weight, and we sink an inch, even as we stand two feet taller. We remain frozen for a long moment, held in place by Keelo’s shock and Eot’s gleeful pride.
This is happening? This is really happening!
A furtive glance at Rin and Halley shows us that they haven’t woken. So we climb the nearest dune, putting a little space between us and the others—not so far that we can’t see them and protect them, but not so close that they’ll hear our shaky breaths.
Our combined pulse thuds in our ears. Our vision blurs.
For once, the fragile scent of Halley does little to distract us from our purpose, and we sink to our knees even as we fumble with the closure of our breeches.
The too-tight fabric, already stretched to its limits, bursts along the seams, and ribbons of material flutter to the sand around our feet, unsalvageable.
The intensity of our hunger is undeniable, a combination of both our wants transformed into their own monstrous form—oppressive and primeval, more so than ever before. With one giant hand we cup our sac and with the other we pump our cock, using pre-cum as lubrication.
We’ve never done this together, and the new sensations send prickles of heat dancing across our bare skin, even as the cold air stings.
“Close,” we grunt, and speaking our combined thoughts is like barbed wire in our throat. Somehow the pain acts as an amplifier—for Keelo. Therefore, for the both of us.
We would roar into the silence of the night in a clumsy attempt to release some of the tension building in our muscles if we weren’t so intent on remaining private. Instead, we clamp our mouth shut and taste blood as one of our tusks accidentally pricks our top lip.
Eot’s memories of kissing Halley, of rutting into Halley, echo through our thoughts. But it is the feeling of our own hands on our shared body that we relish.
Then pleasure is blooming outwards as our cock convulses, splattering ropes of glistening cum across the otherwise pristine sand, and we curse all the wasted years we spent together before we realized it was possible to feel this way—about each other. About ourself.