Message-ID: <47466asstr$1081977008@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Mail-Format-Warning: No previous line for continuation: Wed Aug 14 16:30:23 2002Return-Path: X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <004501c42209$0c81cde0$6701a8c0@penguin> From: "virgosun" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2615.200 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Wed, 14 Apr 2004 20:12:52 +1000 Subject: {ASSM} Beryl and the Polymorph 7/9 {virgosun} (mf cons rom pett mutant) Lines: 682 Date: Wed, 14 Apr 2004 17:10:08 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, dennyw <1st attachment, "poly07.txt" begin> *BERYL AND THE POLYMORPH* by virgosun (c) April 2004 ******************************* (Part 7) They dated, and frequented the dances. Sometimes Pro borrowed the car; sometimes Doug borrowed a different car; sometimes Dot or even Dad gave her and Pro a lift to where they were going. On one occasion she doubled behind Doug on the motorbike, clutching her hat and laughing all the way. With Pro she went to the movies, and laughed and rolled sweets along the aisles as much as they canoodled; if the show was good they were happy to curl in each others' arms and watch the story unfold. Most nights ended snuggled together behind the mickleberry, nuzzling and kissing until Mum popped out of the front door bang on eleven, regular as clockwork, calling her name. Pro arrived on her doorstep one fine weekend astride a bicycle that Basil used to ride around the worksite. Beryl packed the Crabtree delivery bike with picnic goodies and they had ridden to the public reserve on the riverside, a shallow reach where it was safe for children to play in knee-deep water. They took a dirt track inaccessible to cars further along the river, past glittering rapids, and beneath long trailing curtains of willow boughs. At last, hot from their ride, they found a secluded place to picnic, cooling off with a splash in the river. Pro dispensed with his clothing altogether, and Beryl slipped off her shorts to reveal boy-leg bathers that may not have revealed much skin, but emphasised her womanly curves. Pro couldn't keep the grin of approval off his face, and his eyes kept creeping out on stalks as if to speak for a much more mysterious part of his anatomy. "Pro, cut it out!" she giggled, "that looks ridiculous!" Laughing, he splashed her with cool riverwater and she squealed, nipples rising up at the chill. They snacked from the picnic hamper, all the while devouring each other with their eyes. She had revelled in the power the sight of her body had given her over George...but they had both been innocent then. That power had turned against her when George kept trying to touch... "Hey." The feather-touch of gentle tendrils on her cheek brought her back. George was long gone, and the soft fingers that tilted up her chin were not blunt and rough. "Beryl? Are you okay?" She smiled, caressing that familiar, textured face. "I love you, Pro," she smiled, drawing him into a lingering kiss. When they parted, she saw his eyes move toward the down-view of her rounded bosom. He was still innocent. He rolled onto his back with a sigh and shut his eyes, his limbs losing definition as he stretched. "You look mighty fine, Beryl, and I look so-so. Let me try something. Maybe I can get more than just the ears right." Several pores as well as his nostrils flared as he drew a deep breath. Sitting beside him, Beryl watched as subtle changes rippled beneath his skin. His arms and legs resumed proper human form, becoming even more refined and chiselled. The biceps muscles and forearms became much more heavily fleshed and their shapes defined, even to the cords of veins appearing. His chest became deeper, shoulders wider, with deep pectoral muscles and a rippling stomach. From a lean and average- shaped base, Pro transformed into a muscular athlete. "Pro, you don't have to do that for me." She rested a hand upon that sculpted chest, over his heart. He still _felt_ like Pro, warm and resilient. "I love you the way you are, the way you're comfortable." "Yeah?" he grinned, eyes popping open. He released a breath, and some of the tension left his perfect shape. "Good, it takes a heckuva lot of concentration to do that for too long! I thought that was the kind of shape every woman desires in a man. If you could change your shape, what would you do?" She thought a moment. "I'd probably...longer legs and a smaller beam," she concluded, and he laughed. "Don't you dare! There's nothing wrong with your legs or your beam." "I like you better the way you are. Big muscles aren't everything." Beryl raised an eyebrow archly, gazing at his pelvis. "Besides which, you've left something off." "Oh...heh heh, _that_!" For all his masculine shape, his groin was still store-dummy smooth. He blushed deep scarlet. "I've, er, had better practice at ears than, er, one of those," he admitted. "You mean you don't know what one looks like?" Beryl's eyes were like saucers; Pro scowled and flushed even more and sat up, bending his knees as if to protect his lap from scrutiny. "Of course I know! I just...never needed to practice before, I...I'd have to copy Reg or Dad or someone to get it realistic." "But don't you have to, well, go to the loo?" "Yeah but I just make a hosepipe to do that, I wouldn't want to...make a fool of myself." He stood up and walked away, retrieving his shorts. "I gotta look right," he mumbled as he dressed. "You'd laugh at me." Standing too, Beryl sobered. "I'm sorry," she soothed, slipping her arms around his waist from behind and squeezing him. She kissed his shoulder and felt him relax, and he melded his arms over hers. "I wouldn't laugh at you, Pro. Don't you...you know, do what young men do?" She was desperately embarrassed even as she asked, and was glad he couldn't see her face although he could probably feel the heat of it. "What? Oh, you mean, er, play with it, well, yeah," he said slowly. "Some parts of my skin are more sensitive than others, like, _really_ sensitive." "What were you going to do when you got married, then?" Beryl asked gently. "How were you going to be ready for your wedding night?" "I...honestly hadn't thought that far ahead," he confessed. "Nobody was ever going to want me that much. But..." "But?" He swivelled quickly, releasing her arms and smiling down. "There's something else I wanted to practise," he murmured, changing the subject, cupping her face in his hands. Heartened by his change in mood, she sought his lips, running her hands along his back. Pro answered in kind, their bodies curving together, his tongue forgiving any hurt she may have spurred. He brought one hand to the nape of her neck, to the soft skin beneath the tumble of her hair. She could feel his palm ripple and shift, changing shape - and then it seemed another pair of soft lips nibbled there, as though he stood behind as well as before her, tickling in the fine hairs right up at the top of her spine. Beryl shivered. It felt so good she sighed into his mouth, letting herself rest against him. He allowed her no respite, kissing her strongly and passionately, kissing her twice for every one of hers. He let his left hand drop to the small of her back, just above the line of her costume. A wave of goosebumps rippled across her skin as a third pair of tiny lips played upon her spine, while his fingers made little spirals all around. "Ohhh, Pro," she whispered. "You like?" Although his lifted his mouth to speak, his palm-kisses continued, lips caressing shoulder and back. Beryl allowed her body to answer, rocking her pelvis up and against him. A gorgeous heat was building that echoed the fire in her heart, tingling deep between her thighs, and she wanted to wrap her legs around him as he teased her skin. His warm flesh slipped around her, clasping her in an embrace that pulsed gently. She wanted to run her hands up and down his body, to stroke his every square inch, and find those darkest places where his hot blood was closest to the surface. Wherever their bodies touched, he sprouted little fingerlets that nuzzled and swirled. Beryl drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I want to please you," Pro breathed before she claimed his mouth again. His many kisses, the feel of his body, the nimble play of his liquid tongue - the bombardment of sensation was almost too much for her. The pulsation in his body was strengthening and picking up speed, but not as quickly as the sharp pinging in her groin. Sheer delight clenched her whole body, and she thrust herself against him hard, shivering and gasping as the climax passed through her. "Oh my goodness!" she whispered, relaxing. Pro lowered her gently to the ground, melting and flowing around her, his own body still pulsing. For a moment he hugged himself to her, covering her body entirely with the warmth of his. Then he pulled gently away, tenderness in his eyes. Shrinking into a ball as he flowed out of his shorts, he then scooted backward into the chill of the river, emitting a discordant whistle when he hit the water. Beryl sat up, staring at her still-tingling body, seeming innocent still fully-clad in her bathing suit. Beyond the blanket's edge, Pro was in the river, resuming his human shape as he reared from the shallows cussing about the cold. He gave her a rueful grin. "I think we'd better save that one for very special occasions. I thought I was gonna split my skin!" She wanted his touch again, and extended a leg toward him. Pro smiled and knelt, gathering her ankle in his hands, and lightly kissing the top of her foot. She shivered again from head to toe, anticipating a strong, slender tentacle that would curl around her leg, lips forming at its tip to kiss her thigh. His hands melded into a firm ring that rolled up her calf, his lips following to just above her knee, a sensation wondrously like slipping into silk stockings. "You make me feel as dirty as Jean Winslow looks," she murmured, lips swollen and sultry. "But I have to keep you clean." He hugged her leg with his whole body, then melted away. Slithering to her side, he gathered her in his arms. "I love you, Beryl Crabtree, and I only hope you want me as much as I want you." She had trouble keeping her voice steady. "I do want you, Pro, oh so much, believe me! No other man in the world could make me feel so delightful, so wicked, so sexy! But there's more to it than that." She trailed her fingertips along his face. "What's better still is that I love you too. I just wish I could kiss you three times over, so that you could know how wonderful it feels. You're one of a kind, Pro, and that's kind of sad. What is it they call you, a polymorph? I'd be no contest for a girl polymorph." "Rubbish!" he breathed, kissing her nose. "Nobody else could come close to you." He drew away so that he could study her face, eyes sober. "Do you ever think of the future, Beryl? Where your life might take you in five, ten, even twenty years?" Her gaze faltered, for she still didn't care to think of George, and he had figured strongly in those future plans. She was sure Mum had the seating layout planned for the guests at the wedding reception. "Marrying George, at least until recently," she admitted. "Helping out with the shop, having a family, but none of that applies anymore. I'd still like that to be in my future, but it won't be with George, no way." He nodded. "Don't give up on the future yet. It's hardly begun. Together, we could make it a much better place." *** Looking back, it was hard to say when she had become part of the Clan. Beryl returned to delivering the lunches via bicycle, and she often lingered after the meals were given out - not to make nookie with Pro, though. She helped Granny and Barbara sort out a routine for getting work clothing washed and mended. With new homes springing up everywhere, there was far too much work on hand for everyone. Gardens remained thistle-choked weed and hard earth, with very few of the Enabled folk managing to prepare much in the way of gardens. Beryl had to stop pinching carnation buds for her feller on Enabled ground, there simply weren't enough to go around. There were times when some of the women were run off their feet, while others sat idle waiting for other jobs to be completed. Floor coverings couldn't be laid until the skirting boards had been painted. There was no real point to cultivating a lawn before driveways were cemented. If the washing hadn't been collected, no ironing could be done. Without fabric, wool or thread, mending simply didn't happen. The lady who made curtains could not work if there was no childcare for her baby. Perhaps that was when Beryl truly entered the family; when she started examining what each family member did well and enjoyed, then organised them for maximal efficiency. Granny didn't have to darn all the socks by herself any more. Nor did Beryl confine herself to women's matters; a system she developed meant Doug no longer lost his tools to absent-minded workmates, which was tantamount to a lover's gift. But maybe her inclusion had begun much earlier than that, from her first journey up the tower, or even on the day she had accepted a ride into town with a bizarre-looking stranger. Now, as the tower soared above, the Enabled celebrated her seventeenth birthday with as much gusto as they would celebrate for one of their own. This night, Pro was happy to appear in his bathrobe, and to slither and loop about in a variety of weird shapes; always to return to Beryl's side. He could still surprise and startle her with the things he did, and the truth of it was he still startled himself from time to time. They danced and sang, Pro setting his maximum three orifices to whistling in harmony. The atmosphere was carnival in the wake of the family luncheon Mum had set out, attended by Dad, Dot and Ted and their little son, her rowdy younger brothers, and of course her boyfriend. Mum eyed Pro with the same slit-eyed suspicion with which she peered into the 11pm darkness from the doorstep. Dad, on the other hand, welcomed him cordially, and by the end of the day had mooched himself a guided tour of the tower workings. Smiling blandly, Pro had sat opposite Beryl at the dinner table...and made mischief. As Dad passed the gravy boat along the table, Beryl felt a soft, warm fingertip brush her shin, then another. At first she thought it might have been a brother under the table, but Mum was berating the boys into eating their greens as they sat and wriggled. Pro glanced at her and smiled, both his hands in full view as he sliced roast beef. Yet, the caress came again, fingertips slipping along her calf, just up to her knee, then back down to the sensitive skin inside her ankle. She was having trouble concentrating on her own lunch. Then, soft lips nipped and nibbled along the arch of her foot. She pulled her feet back primly under her chair, so the teasing little mouth found its way to her knee instead. "Oh, darn!" she said as she flicked a broad-bean off her plate, then backed her chair out and peered under the table. Sure enough, Pro's right shoe and sock sat empty, his extruded leg weaving like a cobra from the cuff of his trousers. She retrieved the bean and sat up again, letting her legs stretch out enough to return the footsie favour. Pro grinned as he piled mash on his fork and explained shortwave radio to Dad. One of her brothers, who had been disturbingly quiet, gave a giggle. She clearly heard him whisper, "It's like a worm!" The game had gone on long enough; so she chose her moment and stomped on Pro. "Oohw!" "All right there, lad?" Dad asked jovially. "Fine, fine, I just parked the chairleg on my foot, that's all...Clumsy of me." Dad had later delivered Beryl to the Clan party, and Pro (in proper homoform) had shown him around the workings. Beryl danced with everyone, including just one dance with Doug, who was being monopolised by Tempest and didn't seem to mind. Tempest had allowed him to teach her some formalised steps amidst all her whirling, and together they moved unexpectedly well. Unbeknownst to Beryl, Dad had also delivered a cake. After she blew out her candles and Pyrus snuffed the sparklers in his own inimicable style, she was delighted and flattered by a mass of little gifts as the Clan celebrated their Lunch Lady. Smiling sadly, Pro picked up a satin bow and ribbon and put them over his head. "Unfortunately, the only gift I have for Beryl is me," he sighed, to a chorus of "Aww" from the spectators. He raised his hand dramatically, index finger extended, then let that digit lengthen further so it became a fine tendril that weaved and coiled. Then he fashioned it into a small, slender loop, a circle. "All I could ask," he continued, "is that she wear my ring." "Proteus, don't be so _rude_!" Tempest snapped amidst chuckles and titters. "Oh, but I'm serious - you are the crude one, sister dear!" He spun with a flourish before Beryl, sinking to one knee, still holding up his knotted finger. "Beryl, my love, if I were to ask you to marry me, seriously, would you? I mean it, now." She looked around for some clue. He seemed to be playing up, flirting, making mischief, and yet...The Clansfolk smiled, curiosity on their faces, as bemused as her. Come to think of it, Pro and Dad had chatted alone earlier in the day. Beryl eyed his looped finger, then laughed and slipped her ringfinger through, humouring him. "Of course, Pro," she said softly. She meant to sound lighthearted, but the honesty of her feelings made her voice husky. "I mean it," he repeated, eyes luminous. His arm pulsed, and his hand engulfed hers. Within that warmth, she felt something small, round and hard. "You see, it would fill me with joy if we could, on this very day next year, be celebrating our wedding as well as your eighteenth birthday. I love you, and would be deeply honoured if you would be my wife." The Clan drew a collective breath, as he rolled his hand away to expose the dainty golden ring. There was no doubt in Beryl's mind. No man in the world would be able to please her in quite the way Pro Phillips could. "Oh, yes, Pro! I love you!" The party kicked off again with a new burst of exhilaration, and Pro and Beryl danced the night away. Later, as eleven pm passed unremarked, they took a stroll along the newest of the graded streets, pausing outside a barely-completed house. The full moon gleamed upon stacked rooftiles, a promise of security to come. One small flowerbed had been turned, and planted out with carnation seeds. For a while, the couple were content to stand nestled together. To have a place to call home beyond her parents' walls had been almost undreamable; a room above the pub had seemed her only likely destination. She kissed Pro gently, once, twice...longer, and longer, their limbs entwining in passion. "I can only match you two-for-one tonight," Pro murmured as their lips parted. "Since you gave me a fat lip at lunch today." "Well, you deserved it, you naughty man!" They giggled together, then cuddled quietly, leaning together, taking in the cloudstreaked sky. That was when they both heard, clearly, a faint gasp from amidst the stacked planks close to the Wall. Pro raised a finger to his lips. "What was that?" Beryl breathed close by his ear. Attention focused outward rather than upon each other, they waited, listening. And heard a soft, high moan clearly over a puff of shifting breeze. Pro grabbed her hand and slithered down into a silent slug-roll, towing the tiptoeing Beryl behind him. "Someone's getting theirs!" he whispered. "No! We should leave them alone!" "No way! I want to know who's doing it in my backyard!" "Pro!" They trod noiselessly between stacked building materials; long blocks of timber and piles of brick. Beryl went after him more in the hope of restraining Pro's curiosity than in any spirit of exploration; how would he have felt if it were them being sneaked up upon? Whoever they were, they were intent on only one thing, for she was making little whimpers as she gasped rhythmically, and deeper, ragged male breaths were mingling with her song. Pro edged around the end of a half-used stack of roofing beams, and his curiosity was rewarded. By moonlight, a pale arc of flung-up skirts and petticoats made a fan on the dark ground. In their midst lay the long shape of a man, dark except for where his pale, skinny exposed buttocks jerked and thrust for all they were worth within the embrace of womanly legs. The polish on his shoes glistened as his feet scuffed the tarpaulin on which they lay. "Oh Douggie, Douggie!" Tempest gasped. Before Beryl could react, Pro wrapped swiftly around her like a wide elastic band. His body arced and streamed upward, to the top of the woodpile, then bounded again, soaring up onto the top of the tower wall, taking her with him as he stretched and shrank like taffy. She was too astonished to cry out. Suddenly they were both sitting on a walkway just the other side of the top of the wall, where Pro threw back his head and bubbled with bawdy merriment. "And I was worried about hurting his feelings!" Beryl cackled, unable to resist the joke. Pro was almost helpless with laughter and they collapsed in each others' embrace, giggling and gasping as they tried with little success to keep quiet. "How long do you think that's been going on? What I mean is, how often have they, he hee?" "Oh ho ho that's rich!" Pro gasped. "I thought he was a gentleman!" "He is, he is, I reckon it's Tempest finally got her wicked way...woo hoo there's proof!" A sudden, hot gust whirled leaves and dust up from the workings and struck them with stinging force, and a sigh rose from every tree as still leaves suddenly rustled. Pro wrapped his body firmly over Beryl to shield her from the brief onslaught. Metal creaked and shutters slapped, and dogs barked as the out-of-place gust billowed across the town. Their laughter subsiding, Beryl enjoyed the all-body sensation of Pro enfolding her. Cuddling, they rocked together gently. She could feel his heartbeat, and the steady pulsation of his breathing. As the night grew still again they heard no sound from below. "He's gonna want to make sure he does that indoors, away from the weather," Pro murmured by her ear. His body was pulsing strongly, as though he was still breathless. Beryl drew away enough to gaze into his eyes and caress his face, as his skin crept against where her arms were bare, forming many tiny fingerlets. "My love," he breathed, "your body against mine feels so good." They were sitting on a narrow platform high in the air, with only a thin cord safety rail for protection. In spite of that, Beryl was not alarmed. Although she wanted to stay right where she was, common sense suggested they should move. "Maybe we should get down from here." Instead of moving, she kissed him, long and lingering. "Why? I'll keep you safe. Are you afraid we might fall - from grace, I mean?" The lower half of him was spread out as a secure base, locking them both in place, and his arms were strong and solid around her. She was kneeling, legs slightly parted and, she realised, tensed about him as if to hold on. The warm, resilient pillow she sat against was pulsing lightly, which felt delicious against her inner thighs. Tingles were rising up her legs to the hearth of her virginity. "I don't feel very graceful at the moment," she said, a shiver in her voice. In their flight, her skirt had risen up and was bunched at an unladylike level in front of her hips. Pro's skin was in intimate contact with stockings, britches, and the soft skin of her uppermost thighs. His lips travelled along her neck. "You're not in envy of Tempest, then?" The urge to rock her pelvis was irresistible. "Oh, heavens no!" Pro emitted a deep sigh, his body answering her motion by creeping up snugly to fit along the space between her thighs. His lap was now a long, throbbing mound of flesh that made her want to arch her back and drive herself against him. A tiny set of lips opened and puckered against her inmost thigh just above her stockings, the kiss sending a jolt of pleasure to her crotch. "Pro!" she cried, but instead of pulling away she wriggled herself harder against him. He gave a bubble of low laughter from her shoulder. "Seeing them like that kind of...turned me on!" For answer Beryl tightened her arms, feeling his body pulsating strongly beneath and around hers. The heat between them made her clothes feel less substantial than gossamer. His rhythmic throb clenched lightly at her breasts, making them tingle, which was nothing to the fire in her groin. She recaptured his mouth as his lap trickled extra kisses from thigh to thigh, working toward the damp gusset of her knickers. "Where's that sensitive spot of yours?" she hissed, wanting to give him what she was getting. "All over!" he groaned. She ran her tongue from his earlobe to his throat, and twisted her pelvis. That second little mouth had centred in a peak of flesh beneath her undies, and if she jiggled just a bit the cloth would hitch aside and - yes! Hot lips below pressed softly through the moist nest of her bush, and a small, wet tentacle flicked gently into her juices. Beryl's whole body jolted with orgasm, back arching, throat clenching on a cry of mindless delight. Pro's arms clamped and flexed about her, holding her safe. Her underwear had snapped back into place, and she crushed his face between her breasts. He shivered from end to end, then threw his upper half backward as well, a smooth arc of thrumming flesh. As she came down from her climax, she watched him convulse, a massive ripple rushing from where he still nested between her thighs. It made a large bubble that briefly distorted his shoulder, before a ribbon of silvery fluid burst into the night. With that moment, all his strength deserted him. He flopped back to the decking losing shape as well, a quivering mass. Beryl leaned over him and put her arms around him, still clasping him firmly with her legs lest he roll off the platform. She pressed her lips to the flutter where his heart would be, while he panted and started to laugh, euphoric. "My God, Bezz...what a night our wedding night's going to be!" He brought a hand up to tangle tenderly in her hair while his eyes found their way back to their proper place. She gazed in awe at the wet pattern that slicked his arm, letting her fingertips glide through that mysterious substance, the deepest secret of a man. Within it was written everything that made Pro the extraordinary being he was. And it could have been inside her. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, taking her solemnity for disgust. "I had to get rid of it somewhere, anywhere but _there_, like, not down where it wanted to come out, oh..." Her smile was luminous. "One day, soon, it will be, Pro. I want you. I love you!" They lay entwined side-by-side as they rested. "I didn't think you'd like...being touched down there, after..." Pro murmured awkwardly. "Maybe gentle kisses are another matter," she whispered, caressing his chest. "I'd never thought to taste anything so delicious," he sighed in awe. "I would never have done that unless you wanted me to." "Thank heavens for loose elastic." She gave a gentle, wry laugh. "Never thought I'd have reason to say that! Do you mean to say, your little mouths can taste too?" He shrugged. "I am the Polymorph, and I can sense with my whole body. I can taste you any time we touch." "Sometimes I wonder what I am missing out on, just being normal." He kissed her forehead as she spoke. "Don't," he chided. "Be content to know me. Never wish to be me. I am as I am, and I am tasked to make the best of it. Your closeness guarantees that'll be a lot easier from now on." They hugged a while longer, ever conscious of the lateness of the hour. Eventually, Pro guided her to the safety of solid ground, and they made their way out of the worksite. While Pro cleaned himself off with a rag, Beryl looked up at the tower, tall and imposing. "That's the best thing," she said softly. Pro glanced up from wondering what to do with the cloth, then dropped it into a garbage drum. "What?" She nodded at the tower. "Knowing that...our children will have somewhere to belong. Somewhere other than the pub." "There can be no greater joy for me than knowing you wish to belong," said Pro with a tremor in his voice, as he hugged her fiercely. "That is the ultimate acceptance!" <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+