The camera zooms in on a lone figure perched atop a low hill deep under the ocean. Long strands of moss gently sway with the current surround him, harmless overall but often enough wrapping about a bit of tubing or sucking into his breathing apparatus to be a nuisance. The figure pauses his task just long enough to violently thrash about himself, perhaps hoping to finally clear enough space to work in peace. He fails.

As the camera continues to creep forward, a series of lights begin to flare beneath it—unseen from its own viewing angle but for the wash of color each produces in the surrounding water—as it attempts to convey its urgent message. The figure looks up only long enough to deliver a particularly rude gesture toward frame, then returns his attention to the hill beneath him.

A moment later, the light of a cutting torch ignites, sending bubbles skyward and shadows flickering through the murky surroundings.

The camera watches for some time, seemingly impassive. Then, a long, slender arm begins to slowly telescope outward. Servos whir as the appendage is maneuvered to just the right spot, lifted high, then descends to swat the figure right on his stinking… fungus-blighted head.

< muffled cheers >

…?

Uh… I’m sure it’s nothing.

Shooting a documentary can be frightfully dull, you know. For every awe-inspiring shot displaying Nature in all her majesty, there are thousands more left on the cutting-room floor. To tell the truth, the vast majority of our time is spent just waiting for something interesting to happen.

Likely, the lads have just gotten up to another rousing game of knocking corks off the table from across the room with playing cards.

Now… what were you saying earlier? About the man you were forced to dismember? That must have been terribly… exhilarating.

*

“I am not making fun of you,” Naomi insisted, hands on her hips. “I genuinely find it arousing.”

“No, you don’t. Nobody does. There’s a reason people call it premature ejaculation, Naomi,” Mike stubbornly persisted from over his shoulder, but most of his attention was centered on the mess he had unleashed upon his gym shorts. “Ugh… they were still wet, too.”

The beginnings of a smile tugged at her lips before she could lock it down. Her most natural instinct in a situation like this was to crack a few jokes at the guy’s expense and move on, but Mike was a delicate sort of flower. If she were too rough on him, he was likely to wilt back into his shell, never to be seen or heard from again.

And she was just starting to drag him out of there, too.

She folded her arms in frustration. “Come on, Mike. Wouldn’t you think it was hot if you could make me come just by touching me?”

She certainly did. Maybe if they ate the right thing…

He turned just enough to glare at her. “Obviously. But you’re a girl. Everything girls do is hot.”

Well, that had almost been gratifying. But then he had to go and ruin it. Never mind him categorizing her as sexy by default; it had been an obviously stupid thing to say.

She gave him a flat look. “Menstruating?”

“What? No.” He threw his hands up, rounding on her before remembering the state of his drawers, then hastily pivoted away, waistband held as far from himself as he could manage. “Everything sexual! Men aren’t… sexy. They’re gross and weird. Nobody wants to see a guy’s O-face.”

It was a struggle not to sigh. He wasn’t wrong… but he was nowhere near right. It was like he was talking about the finer artistic merits of the Mona Lisa, but without ever having seen it through anything but a red filter, upside down, and during a full moon.

“We’re not talking about men and women here. We’re talking about me and you. Specifically. Don’t you see the difference that makes?”

“No?” He made an abortive attempt at meeting her eyes before turning away again. “Damn it… maybe I can clean it off in the moss?”

He started waddling back the way they had come, perhaps hoping to escape the conversation—or, as he had said, simply to sanitize himself—but she was having none of it. He could do that after admitting he had the hots for her.

She jumped in front of him quickly. “So you’re saying you would react the exact same way no matter who was coming on to you? As long as it was a girl?”

He shook his head in rapid confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Answer the question.”

He shrugged exaggeratedly, to the point of sarcasm. “I don’t know! Maybe? I can count on exactly one finger the number of times in my life a girl decided to say… what you did… and then grabbed my junk.”

She instantly thought to protest—she had only touched his fingers a little, not his junk—but that would just send the conversation flying in yet another unproductive direction.

“What about your mom?” she pressed. “Would you come, then?”

His eyes widened, and he hurriedly skirted around her. “Jesus, Naomi!”

“I take it that’s a no?” she called after him.

Curiously, now that they had activated them, the lights—or more specifically, lightning—seemed to follow them up and down the hallway automatically, leaping from distortion to distortion in the walls above like an ape brachiating through the trees. But she was too caught up in their argument to give that more than a passing notice.

His footsteps quickened. “That’s obviously a no!”

“So,” she argued, matching his steps, professor to protégé, “It must matter who the girl is…”

“I mean… yeah?” he said. “As long as she was at least decently attractive. And not related to me!”

Ah ha! They were getting closer.

She stopped. “Decently attractive, huh?”

He took a few more steps before drawing to a halt himself, then sighed. “Fine. She would probably have to be a lot more than ‘decent’ for me to react that way. Which you clearly are. Now, can I have a minute to clean myself off?”

She sauntered closer, confident in her kill. “I’m not fishing for compliments, Mike. I just need you to understand the difference between a guy’s O-face and your O-face.”

There was a moment of silence while he stared at her. Vacantly.

“But… I am a…” He trailed off in favor of swallowing, suddenly self-conscious. “Why? Was there something… weird about it?”

Her eyes fluttered backward into her skull. “God… damn it, Mike! What? Do I need to give you a coloring book? A connect-the-dots?” She took a calming breath. She was just going to have to explain it to him. It was as simple as that—even if it meant blowing her brains out in shame afterward. “Much as it pains me to admit it, I enjoyed watching you come, because it was you coming. Not some guy. You.”

Another beat of silence passed. “But—”

“No buts!” she shouted, fighting back sudden tears. “I am a woman, Mike. We work differently than men. Okay? We’re not attracted to a bunch of random… floating body parts. It matters who they’re attached to. Now, I’m going to need you to accept what I’ve just said to you before I start getting violent!”

He raised his hands in quick surrender, well remembering the last time. “Okay! Okay… I believe you.”

“What do you believe?” she pressed, not at all taking that at face value. “Repeat it back to me so I know you understand.”

“You…” He shook his head searchingly. “You found it arousing to tease me into coming?”

“Mike,” she began… then let out a defeated sigh. That wasn’t at all what she had just said, but it was what she had been trying to get across in the first place. She would have to give it a pass. “It’s… a little more specific than that. But yes, I did.”

Admittedly, this conversation had taken a decided negative turn—one she had not at all intended. But it seemed she was dealing with more sexual repression than she had at first realized. If he could not even accept that she found him attractive, there was no way he would ever admit his feelings for her, no matter how honest the rest of his body was being.

In the meantime, she was going to have to figure out a way to end things on a positive note…

But what could she say? Something clever? Flirtatious? Coy? No, no. Mike responded best to the direct approach.

Turning her head to one side, she delivered an aloof: “And I would very much appreciate it if you were to return the favor.”

With that, she whirled on one heel and strode purposefully away, hoping against hope he did not have his thermal vision engaged. Her face had probably flashed into a solid sheet of white after that line!

*

Mark watched her receding form, and the dancing lightnings that followed her, for some seconds before reluctantly turning back toward the entrance hall.

“Favor?” he muttered to himself. “What favor?”

That had been one of the singular, most-baffling conversations he had ever had. She had obviously figured out that they could affect the technology around here during heightened emotional states and chose to prove that by humiliating him in about the most brutal way possible. Why she needed him to know she had enjoyed the experience was beyond him.

“What a sadist,” he muttered.

He tilted his head to one side as he reconsidered the statement. If she were really a sadist, she probably would not have bothered with an argument afterward—she would have just pointed and laughed while he fled in shame. So there was a good chance he was misunderstanding something. That, or she was just really bad at explaining herself.

Why would she even think about bringing up his mom? His mom would never touch him like that. Much less after talking about—he shook his head quickly. He could barely even put the words in her mouth. He doubted she had ever said something like that.

His footsteps hastened down the hallway once more as he forcefully ejected the mental image. He was just going to have to explain to Naomi the difference between a sexual and a nonsexual entity. There was a categorical distinction between the two that could not be breached. Women within a certain age range relative to himself, who were above average in terms of physical attractiveness, and—it should go without saying—were unrelated to him, belonged in the former. Everyone else belonged in the latter. Why was that so difficult to understand?

Of course, it did not help that Naomi fit rather firmly within the former category. And extremely high up the list, too.

He shook his head in disbelief, recalling the incident that had sparked their argument. Even if it had only been a bit of teasing, he was certainly going to remember the face she had been making when she had touched him, like she was about to devour him, body and soul.

Holy shit… That was a moment that would remain in his spank bank for years to come.

One of the distorted plasma globes above his head flickered a few times in rapid response to his emotional state before spreading its fingers of liquid lightning through a nearby wall. He stared at it self-consciously for a moment in passing before returning to his thoughts.

Admittedly, that had not been the first time Naomi had looked at him that way, but he felt guilty anytime he allowed himself to get too excited over their transformation events. Neither of them had much control over themselves while they were writhing around, and anyway, it was beside the point. Naomi had not been under the influence this time. This was different!

It was just a shame she hadn’t meant it…

…though it had been quite important to her that he know she enjoyed his reaction.

She enjoyed his reaction? No, no. She had found it arousing. That was an important distinction.

He paused just outside the entry hall as that thought began to slowly percolate within his brainpan. Obviously, she had only done what she did in order to experiment with controlling the nearby tech, and it was just as obvious she had not expected for his reaction to be as strong as it was. That had been surprise and joy on her face, not disgust. He had been too humiliated to notice that before.

What could that mean other than her being some kind of sadistic pervert? And if that were the case, why would she have tried to smooth things over afterward?

He sighed. This was getting him nowhere.

Unless…

Maybe she wasn’t completely sadistic. Just… diet sadistic. Low-key. A minor kink. That would be more in line with his observations of Naomi, anyway. And it kind of went hand in hand with something else he had noticed about the girl: sometimes she could be a bit of a tsundere. It was a character archetype, and thus highly reductive, but he felt it fit her pretty well. All spiky and harsh on the outside, but with a warm and gooey center—and not at all in touch with her own feelings. Admittedly, he had yet to find the gooey center part of her, but he felt sure it was in there somewhere. She wouldn’t have chased after him otherwise.

So.

She was a lightly sadistic tsundere…

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

…who had enjoyed making him come…

…against his will.

Yeah. Definitely a pervert.

Ah! But not just a pervert… she was an insanely attractive pervert. It was kind of amazing how often he was forced to circle back around to that point. It was like there was some cosmic scale where that one virtue was counterbalancing out the entire rest of her personality. But… like his granddad used to say, you can forgive a lot when a girl is hot enough.

He let out a long, pained breath and shook his head. This whole situation was completely idiotic from beginning to end. What was he going to do? Talk to her about it? Not likely. She would just deny everything. And it was not like he could just follow her around, waiting for the next time she decided to torture him…

…and hope she got horny enough from the experience to consider sampling the goods.

…

Then again, he was going to be following her around, anyway. Who was to say what might happen?

Abruptly, the image of Naomi wantonly bouncing up and down on his engorged flesh popped into his mind, and his heart thundered within his chest in helpless anticipation.

And that was when the door to the entry hall slammed in his face.

*

Naomi turned once she sensed a Mike-shaped depression encroach upon her bubble of awareness, but her eyes instantly zeroed in on his hands. They were clutched protectively over his privates again, except this time, he was holding his wadded-up basketball shorts in them.

He was otherwise quite naked.

Her secondary eyelids flicked closed in shock. For an instant, she thought he might be attempting to take her up on her earlier offer… but her Mike would never be so bold. In fact, her thermal vision was revealing a face so drained of blood, it was almost black. The guy was practically trembling!

She tilted her head coquettishly, opting to take a delicate approach… just in case he had, by some miracle, worked up the courage to actually try something. “What’cha got there, buddy?”

“M-my shorts,” he mumbled. “I’m… I’m letting them dry out.”

She quirked a doubting eyebrow. If the guy was coming on to her, he was being awfully evasive about it… though she could not help but notice his manhood stiffening despite his best efforts to conceal it. “They won’t be doing that anytime soon; all wadded up like that?” she said, pretending not to have noticed. He got those all the time. There was no point in getting too excited just yet.

He gave a jerky sort of nod. “I—I know.”

She nodded along with him, slower. “And you couldn’t wear them to dry?”

This time, his head jerked once in the negative. “No.”

“Okay…” She folded her arms beneath her breasts in contemplation. Her fantasies of this being some elaborate ploy to win her over were drying up about as fast as Mike’s gym shorts clearly were not. Still, something had to have happened for him to be so ashamed. “Did… the moss not help?”

He moistened his lips slightly, then winced. “I, uh… think I accidentally closed the doors… before I could clean them off.”

He had closed the doors? And accidentally? How? Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly as possibilities whirled through her mind. Perhaps he had given some thought to her offer… willingly or not. That was encouraging!

“So then… you’re saying your…” She glanced toward the ball of wadded-up cloth and made a splooshing sort of motion with her fingers. “It’s still in there?”

“Ya,” he admitted, so quiet as to be a whisper.

“Then…” She shook her head. Mike looked about ready to hang himself, so there had to be more to this story than a simple pant load of uncleaned man-batter could account for. “Couldn’t you… wear them inside out or something?”

He winced again, as though having been dreading that question. “My uh… m-my hair fell out.”

There was a moment of silence. And then another.

His hair? Before she could stop herself, her eyes flicked to the top of his head, but it was clear even before she looked that had not been the hair he was referring to.

“You mean… like mine did?” she asked.

Before he could answer, her gaze inevitably settled upon his crotch—and then beyond, but he was pressing those damned gym shorts so hard against himself, she could barely tell flesh from cloth.

“Yeah. All into…” he made a vague sort of gesture over the ball of wadded up nylon, “it.”

She sucked in a swift lungful of air at the quiet admission. To be sure, finding a load of matted-up pubes and cum in one’s gym shorts would be… unenviable… so she could see why the guy had been reluctant to share his misfortune. But it was not as if he was alone in his shame. He had even plucked a handful of hers off her back before realizing what it was.

“Well…” Her knee-jerk reaction to make a quick joke died on her lips before she could get it out, forgotten.

How was she supposed to approach this? Teasing was out. He would just get upset again were she to do that, and she did not want to spend the next ten minutes assuring him she had meant nothing by it.

And she doubted he would appreciate her sharing the kinds of things she had occasionally discovered in her panties. No man wanted to hear about the realities of feminine hygiene, even in jest. Besides, in a situation like this, it would just come off like she was engaging in some twisted, dick-measuring contest.

Shivers raced up and down her spine at the errant thought, and her eyes glued themselves unbidden upon Mike’s hidden package. It was right there, staring her in the face. Why was it so hard? What was he thinking for him to react that way? Did he get off on shame?

There was no way! It hadn’t been shame that compelled him to unleash into his own pants. And he would not have fled afterward were he the kind of pervert to enjoy that sort of thing.

So… was it as simple as just standing in her presence? He had become engorged almost from the moment he walked up, after all. Maybe her bared sex was too much for the poor guy, and he just couldn’t help himself.

God, she hoped so. That would be so… incredibly hot.

The sudden desire to tackle him to the ground and rip his hands away so she could behold the now-naked glory of his throbbing manhood rushed through her, but then her knees developed a dangerous wobble, forcing her to lock them together before she collapsed. The lightnings above gave an odd sort of flicker, doubtless reacting to her emotional state, but she ignored it. She had to find a way to make him show her. She had to!

Inspiration came to her in a flash.

“Prove it,” she challenged.

Mike pulled his attention away from the seemingly malfunctioning light fixtures to stare at her. “Prove it? Prove what?”

“Your hair,” she stated. “I don’t think it fell out at all. I think you’re teasing me. Trying to get back at me.”

His face worked its way through dozens of emotions in quick succession. “Trying… teas—what?”

“You think I got the lights on at your expense,” she reminded him. “And now you’re trying to get back at me by making up some ridiculous story about your pubes falling out. Well, I’m not falling for it. Just because mine did, you think you can make fun of me?”

His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “I’m not… who would…? You were teasing me!”

“Ah ha! So you admit, you’re trying to get back at me.”

“I’m not—” He took a deep breath. “Naomi, I swear to God.”

“Don’t you go getting Him involved,” she growled, struggling with all her might not to crack a smile. Oh, how she loved these little bullshit sparring sessions. She just wished Mike was a more willing participant, but she would take whatever victory she could. “This is between you and me!”

“Why the fuck would I tease you about having no hair on your pussy?” he shouted. “I like you not having hair on your pussy!”

Her eyes widened in surprise and alarm. Holy shit… Mike was angry? Mike was swearing! He was even talking about her nakedness. She had not expected that… but she liked it. Her nipples stiffened into her improvised top, sending yet another flicker through the lights above, but she had no time for that. She was too busy trying to figure out what she could say to provoke him into a frothing rage.

“No, you don’t,” she jeered in echo of their earlier argument. “You can barely even stand for me to touch you.”

“Barely stand to—touch me? Are you outta your goddamn mind? I’m holding the result of that right now! Trust me, if I thought for one second that you actually meant to—”

“Yeah?” she interrupted. “What would you do? Huh? Stand there, quaking in your boots? You disgusting coward. I bet you wouldn’t do a damned thing even if I sucked your cock dry!”

She fought back a soft gasp as those words left her lips. She had not actually meant to say them, but they were in the air now. There was no taking them back. And she could not deny the thrill racing its way down her spine as the anticipation of what he might do next built within her.

“Like you would!” he yelled. “You treat me like I’m some kind of chew toy you can bat around at your leisure. I’m a human being, Naomi. I have feelings!”

She snorted with every ounce of derision she had left. “Yeah. I know, Mike. You have so many feelings, you barely even noticed I just offered to suck your dick.”

He just rolled his eyes. “You didn’t mean that.”

With a sharp crack, she slapped him hard across the face, and for a tense few seconds, the lights simply vanished… before gradually reigniting once more. They simply stared at one another as the lightning crawled its way back through the walls.

“Call me a liar again,” she snarled into the silence.

Ho ho! What a line! And to go so far as to actually slap him? Her mother would be so proud.

She just wished she could control her trembling. She was so excited, she could scarcely breathe. What if he grabbed her? What if he pushed her against the wall?!

Oh, God!

But Mike only held a hand up to his cheek… while tears slowly gathered in his eyes. “You slapped me,” he murmured.

Fuck!

“Of course I did,” she said quickly, trying to keep the energy up. If this man ran away again, she would hunt him down and tear his lungs out! “You deserved it.”

But he did not shout at her. Nor, for all the dampness in his eyes, did he dissolve into some blubbering mess. He just watched her. Intently.

She began to fidget slightly under his gaze. What was he thinking? Had he figured her out? Did he want her to apologize? Fat chance! She might have been performing a little for his sake, but she had meant everything she had said. She was half-tempted to slap him again!

…

Why wasn’t he saying anything?!

“Well?” she challenged. “You gonna just stand there? You gonna run away?”

Still nothing. Only that damned stare.

“W-what? You want to hit me back?” she tried again. “Is that it? Go on! I dare you! See what happens.”

She was positively shaking now; partially from nerves, but mostly with arousal.

What was wrong with her? She had no idea being stared at… by a huge, muscle-bound man… with a raging erection… could be such a turn on. If this continued much longer, she might start leaking!

What if he noticed?! She would never be able to live down the shame. She had to get out of here!

In that moment, he took a single, deliberate step toward her… and the lights flared with sudden intensity as she practically jumped out of her own skin.

His eyes narrowed just a touch, seeing that, and a bit of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. He had figured something out. She knew it! It was the lights. They had given her away. The traitors! Bunch of Stella Goldschlag’s, the lot of them.

However, the only sound that escaped him was a faint grunt.

A grunt?! That was all she got? She was going to tear this man’s asshole open and fill it in with concrete!

But before she could say anything, he lifted his open palm, and her eyes widened with shock as he cocked it back, swung it forward…

…only to gently tap the side of her face.

She gasped, instantly scandalized. Outraged! And halfway toward laughing her ass off. This bitch! He was calling her bluff. If she had not been so aflame with desire, she might have been tempted to beat him senseless for the sheer audacity.

The problem was, she was aflame with desire. And the only thing she could think of right now was how much she wanted his lips on hers. How much she wanted to run her fingers over his body. To scratch at his wide back while he pounded away at her.

Why wasn’t she? Why did she have to play these games? Jump through these hoops? Those aliens had made her into a predator, not some silly girl who had to trick men into doing what they wanted to do in the first place. She should just take what she wanted! She would take what she wanted.

He wanted to call her bluff?! Ha!

She would show him…

With no more thought than that, she flew at him.

She bit and scratched. She snarled and tore. She chewed at him… all while her legs sought to find purchase upon his muscular torso. But then his hands calmly encircled her waist, ran down her sides, over the swell of her hips, and squeezed into the firm mounds of backside… and all the pent up tension she had been holding released itself in a powerful, erotic moan of delight.

She almost broke when his lips began questing up the side of her neck. She had been waiting for this for so long. Emotion swelled within her as tears sprang to her eyes. It was worth it! It had all been worth it! The wait. The teasing. The verbal sparring. It was all culminating in this one… perfect moment.

And then the floor lurched out from under them, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

Naomi squawked indignantly as she thumped into the hard rubber, but she did not have time to bemoan her fate or curse her luck. The next instant, the two of them went hurdling toward the flat of the wall… only to phase through it.

For several seconds after that, she had the distinct impression that she had just been launched from a catapult—or so her stomach was telling her. She could not see a thing otherwise, and she could only perve a jumble of nonsense. Odd shapes, tubes, tunnels, and all flying in from random directions. Then came a wash of colors, a warbling flash of light…

With no more warning than that, she and Mike were ejected into a new place, but she could not be bothered with that just yet. Her head was still spinning too much. It took her a few seconds even to register which way was down, and that only because the two of them had been left in an undignified heap on the floor.

Unfortunately, opening her eyes did not help all that much. The area was completely dark; there were no lightnings nor the odd distorted fixtures they emanated from anywhere nearby, and her bubble of awareness was only returning a void in all directions. There were no walls, no doors, nor even a giant mechanical arm—if only to account for how she could have been suddenly deposited into the middle of what felt like the still air of a Gothic cathedral.

She clicked her tongue. “You know, Mike… I’m really beginning to hate this place.”

Her dickwad of a lover just laughed.