It is a curious thing, being a more generalized description than a precision one. An idea of ever reaching lover, fitted together perfectly. His brain sleepily curls around it, considering the way to work this sort of thing. He kisses Hyth as they tangle up more thoroughly; a snap and their clothing is gone -- restored to it's basic aetheric state. Emet-Selch grabs Hyth with both hands drawing him tight against Emet-Selch's cock so the Hyth's slides against it.
"I will change," he says, drawing inspiration from the way they rock together, "and then we will see about your remaking."
The first thought Emet-Selch had was that the flying naiads of late design could be manipulated for a most salt-water suited form, instead of their gently flowing fins, a man of sensory tendrils that can communicate desires, pleasures, wants, sharing the pleasures they coupled. Humanoid in shape, but legs are gone for a serpentine trunk that will make Hyth's legs spray to grapple it's middle.
By the time Emet is done, he is wrapped himself in a polished chrome scales, so that Hyth could see himself made on the flate glimmering planes of Emet's elongated belly.
It is still Emet: just larger, serpentine, metallic and gleaming. His tendrils go from brow to the middle of his spine. A hybrid of a chrome cobra and soft jelly fish. His genital configuration; mounds of soft flesh, milky-white and matching his tendril mane, slidinng through the scales of his belly. Huge now, he around the couch and over it again, and drags Hyth over those thick, damp ridges.
"You want to be soft for me?" he says, drawing his sharp, gleaming talons over Hyth's still pink skin, letting it ripple silver in it's wake as he begins his work. "Then I will make you soft for me, hollow you out for me, and I will curl around you, and I will make you scream my name."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-08-10 03:28 am (UTC)"I will change," he says, drawing inspiration from the way they rock together, "and then we will see about your remaking."
The first thought Emet-Selch had was that the flying naiads of late design could be manipulated for a most salt-water suited form, instead of their gently flowing fins, a man of sensory tendrils that can communicate desires, pleasures, wants, sharing the pleasures they coupled. Humanoid in shape, but legs are gone for a serpentine trunk that will make Hyth's legs spray to grapple it's middle.
By the time Emet is done, he is wrapped himself in a polished chrome scales, so that Hyth could see himself made on the flate glimmering planes of Emet's elongated belly.
It is still Emet: just larger, serpentine, metallic and gleaming. His tendrils go from brow to the middle of his spine. A hybrid of a chrome cobra and soft jelly fish. His genital configuration; mounds of soft flesh, milky-white and matching his tendril mane, slidinng through the scales of his belly.
Huge now, he around the couch and over it again, and drags Hyth over those thick, damp ridges.
"You want to be soft for me?" he says, drawing his sharp, gleaming talons over Hyth's still pink skin, letting it ripple silver in it's wake as he begins his work. "Then I will make you soft for me, hollow you out for me, and I will curl around you, and I will make you scream my name."