FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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_ Author's note: _ sequel to 'Salamander Slut'.

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A comfortable feeling of familiarity washed over Chris as he waited outside the Amphibian Research Centre (ARC). It'd been one year since he last graced it with his presence. Part of him yearned to return, to see her again.

Not just her, as he stood thinking...her children...

His. Mine.

He closed his eyes. The pitter-patter of feet nearby alerted him to another presence. He refused to spoil it, keeping his eyes shut until he heard...her...

“Hi...daddy," a breathy voice moaned from behind. He turned, coming face-to-face with a welcome alien visage.

“Trace—oh my God!" Chris drooled over her voluptuous curves, filled out from motherhood. The anthro salamander's supple body was tightly wrapped in a one-piece swimsuit-cum-wetsuit hybrid, preserving her skin's necessary moisture. From the neck down she was clad in black, with lighter seams accentuating her chest, hips and butt. Her webbed feet were exposed as the material ended just shy of her ankles, and an oily trail of wet prints led from the door of the facility to where she stood.

She knew his eyes loved to wander, so she let him take it all in. Every gorgeous inch of her.

“So," she said, “it's officially our reunion!" A short laugh followed as she touched his chest. A warm damp spot developed on his t-shirt at the point of contact. Chris took her hand, feeling the slickness that coated her digits. Her suit was similarly wet. She must've been for a swim.

“It is indeed. I kinda missed you Trace."

She gave him a peck on the cheek, her jaws nipping the faint pudginess. “You have no idea..."

* * *

Trace led her long-distance lover into the ARC. Past the front desk, and friendly greetings from the receptionist, they entered the elevator. One floor up, it dinged and the steel doors emblazoned with the logo of the centre drew back, revealing a long corridor with waterproofed floors. They walked, holding hands. Chris looked at some of the rooms they passed. Nondescript doors, and few signs, meant he would be hopelessly lost without his sexy salamander acting as his guide. He tried to recall the layout when he last visited, but things seemed different.

“You've moved," he realised, thinking aloud.

Trace glanced at him, tongue flicking in the corner of her mouth. “Yep, all thanks to you...and your daddy goo."

“Please don't call it that."

“Why? Not mature enough for you?" Trace breathed, letting Chris see her large breasts heave, trapped by her suit. He stammered a reply. Nothing intelligible. She laughed. “A whole year," she sighed.

“A whole year," Chris repeated. He slowed his pace. “Such a huge gap between us."

“Mmm-hmm," Trace nodded and came to a stop in the middle of the corridor. She faced him and looked him deeply in the eye. “I really missed you. More than anything. I missed your touch, your scent," she hissed as her nostrils flared, “but most of all: your dick!" With that, she grabbed his crotch, causing him to yelp. One solid minute of uncontrollable laughter later, she looked at Chris' bright red face. “Oh c'mon! That was funny."

“At least no-one's around to see it."

“Like anyone cares, Chris. You don't live here, I do. I got a better handle on life at the centre."

“You do, and it looks like you haven't lost your charm." He winked, forgiving her oh-so-forward physicality. He reached down and felt his pants, and his face went pale. On the front of his trousers was a wet hand-print, clearly visible on his crotch. Maybe he was too quick to let her off the hook?

Trace saw what was causing him concern, and punched his shoulder. “Ease up, baby, like you said — there's no-one around!"

They continued walking. Trace took a left turn, leading him somewhere new. Chris was eager to see where she'd moved, as one of the reasons she had for breeding with him was a chance at swankier digs. There's still that little bit of Trey left in him...uh...I mean her, he thought, that carefree selfishness.

Since leaving her a year ago, Chris was preparing for his first semester in college, having passed his exams well enough to get what course he wanted. Part of him wondered what Trace would've done if she hadn't become who she was now. His girlfriend wasn't the most academically-inclined person, a fact that'd weighed heavily on her decision to undergo her transformation. The ARC must be paying real good for her to be so happy about life.

“Trace," he began. Waiting for her to turn her head before continuing, he spoke tentatively: “how have you been? Is this place still everything you wanted it to be?"

“Aww, you're thinking about my well-being. That's such a Chris move!" she joked, letting her old self have some fun bantering. “Don't worry, things have only gotten better since you left me with a full belly."

“Oh?"

“Yep. My spawn was one of the highest successful reproductive counts in the Salamandridae population. Frogs and toads have big families here at the ARC, but our kin are less on the large side. Lucky me."

Lucky you. “And how have to taken to being a mom?" he asked.

“It's great. Lotta work, but I'm built to handle it." As if emphasising her point, Trace put her hands on her hips and spread her stance, flexing muscle and sinew to exacerbate her 'motherly' shape. “Hot single mom," she purred, smiling at Chris, “ain't nothin' stopping this body."

“Single...?"

“Well...for all intents and purposes...y'know what I mean."

“Yeah, sorry. That actually hurt a little."

Her eyes widened. “Really? I'm sorry babe, I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

“No, it's fine. It's just that...up until now, coming back here, I never thought of myself as a parent. But I am! It's bizarre!"

“Sounds like someone is starting to like the idea of being a dad. Congrats!" She slapped his back. “That bug bit me a long time ago."

“I could be." Chris paused, scratching his chin. “I look forward to meeting our kids."

“Oh you'll love 'em. I just know it!" Trace led him to her new front door. She searched a pouch on the suit, situated on her broad butt, and produced a key-card. She slotted it into the receptacle, and a small green light turned on. “Come on in," she said to Chris, opening the door.

Inside, he slowly realised the scale of where he was. The apartment wasn't an apartment — no, it was a god-damn penthouse! Two storeys, linked by a spiral staircase. Lounge area with a big pool. One wall was an enormous window, peering out over the forested environment, a carbon-copy of a tropical mangrove and accompanied by vast bodies of water. He spotted a few denizens of the ARC frolicking in the waters, far away. Returning to the indoor portion of his amazement, Chris went into the kitchen, following Trace as she strolled confidently, her ass cheeks squelching as they rubbed together in the damp confines of her suit. Her tail swayed with each step.

“Wow," was all he could bring himself to say.

“Yep! Being a mommy really paid off big time."

“Seems excessive," said Chris, surveying her digs, still in awe of its size.

“Eh?"

Her looked at her and chuckled. “Getting accommodation this swanky for lying on your back."

Trace met his mirth and smiled, teeth peeking from behind her lips, hinting at jaw filled with razor-sharp daggers. “These pearly whites ain't just for show, y'know. Gotta behave if ya don't want 'em chomping down on anything delicate." She tapped her snout. “You're a guest in my home, after all."

Chris responded with a sarcastic smirk: “and here I thought you loved me for my dick!"

“I'm an employee here as well as eye candy. It's not all lounging by the pool and getting screwed by handsome human concubines, yeah?"

“Concubines? Plural?" Chris raised an eyebrow. “So there are others?"

“Not what I meant, dumbass," Trace huffed, tiring of his antics. She was about to leave him to his snark when she felt a hand grip her wrist. Turning around, her tail swinging through the air in a wide arc — narrowly missing the centrepiece of her dining table — she was brought face-to-face with her boyfriend. His gaze bored into her, like white-hot drill points. She felt swallowed by his presence. Seconds passed, and she stayed close, and quiet.

Chris leaned in...

A kiss. A delicate kiss planted on her hybrid lips, left her breathless. How long had it been since she last saw him? Too long, that's a fact. He danced and dived his tongue inside her mouth, roiling with the tumult of flesh and fiery passion. She broke their seal, catching a moment's breath as slivers of saliva dripped from their newly-separated lips.

“I missed this," he said.

Trace held her lover close. Sensing his shape, the outlines of his figure as his clothes dampened from her touch. Soon he was soaked, thanks to her moist skin and early-morning swim routine.

He mumbled, pressed against her shoulder: “I missed this..."

She laughed. “Talk about a broken record babe! C'mon, I was minding a couple of our little terrors when you called. Wanna say hi?"

Chris gulped. This would be his first time outside of photographs and short video clips he'd seen of their children . His stomach tensed. What would it be like, to greet them in-person at last? Oh God, he fretted, what kind of dad will I be to them?

As if reading his mind, his fears were allayed by Trace's soft touch. She caressed his palm, watching him twitch and flinch as her minute movements lovingly traversed his sensitive skin. In the heightened emotion of the moment, he was primed to feel every scratch, every stroke, every single contact between them. She made good use of this to toy with him. Webbed fingers cupped his shoulder blade, another wandering hand reached down to his ass, squeezing the plump human rump of her 'concubine'.

“Ready?" she asked, low enough to be mistaken for moaning.

Chris cleared his throat. “Sure."

She began to lead him by the hand. “The rest are in daycare," she said, “in case you were wondering."

“Oh. Yes, of course."

Into another room they went. Through a broad opening in the nearby wall and into a more utilitarian environment. Chris studied the room — noticing the clean, tiled, and rubber-floored nature of the place. He heard splashing. Water spat across the room, propelled by the commotion in the corner of his eye. When he finally looked in that direction, the room opened up. Now he understood the furnishing, or lack thereof — it was a pool. And a big one at that! “Whoa."

“Sally. Devon. Looks who's here!" Trace exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, all cutesy and coy. The adult salamander ran to the end of the pool where two of her children swam, and braced at the edge. Chris got a tiny window to see his progeny clearly before Trace unwound her legs and soared six feet into the air, catapulted by powerful muscles. A stray thought regarding her strength crossed his mind, and a somewhat-intimidated Chris watched and walked slowly; the form of his girlfriend, streamlined for aquatic adventure, breaking the water. As her dive split the miniature sea, the two juvenile salamanders swam quickly to either side. Trace shot into the waters, submerging in a flash. Chris saw her disappear in a cloud of foam. A face-full of water droplets careened toward him, adding to the weight of moisture he carried around with his attire. Suitably drenched, he moved closer, no longer concerned about the splash zone.

As he neared the edge, Trace resurfaced. The sight of her emerging from the pool, rising above the waterline, got to him. Her beauty, now in her natural environment, was unparalleled. Chris was at a loss for words as the anthro amphibian smiled, skimming her arms across the pool's surface in a gesture that summoned her spawn. Sally and Devon, both bearing their mother's colours, swam close to her and followed her gaze to Chris.

“I—"

“Say hi to daddy!"

Chris felt a warmth deep in his heart. It spread joy to every part of him; a primitive, ancient instinct: fatherhood. He looked at his kids. The two pudgy baby salamanders cuddled close to their mother, clinging to her swimsuit with tiny arms. They looked just like their pictures, he thought. I can't believe it...I just can't...

It was everything he could ever hope for.

Trace interrupted his pleasant day-dream by shunting herself to the side of the pool, using the shallow end to find her footing and lift the two babies up with her — one under each arm. Infantile gurgling came from both salamanders, watching their father intently with large, enrapturing eyes. Thoroughly wet now, she waited for the dripping to cease, taking the worst of the soaking away. She switched her arms' position, holding Devon and Sally more appropriately.

“Come on, babe, let's sit down and introduce you."

* * *

Chris and Trace returned to the main room and sat at the table. Cradling one child, and letting the other crawl and wander about, Trace played the part of a proud mother and kept tabs on her spawn with ease. She took Devon's short arm and made him do a little wave toward Chris, who responded with one of his own. “Hi son," he said, almost losing his voice as the words coalesced in his mind. He reached over and tickled Devon. The infant's happy nonsense noises were music — sweet music — to his newly-awakened parental instinct.

“Sally, come back to mommy," Trace called out, “don't go too far." True to her orders, the young female crawled her way back, nuzzling Trace's splayed foot, causing her mother to giggle. Trace flexed her webbed foot, spreading it wide and closing it together, as her daughter tried (without success) to grab one of her large toes. She continued to entertain her daughter like this for a while, and Sally was content to play that way. Devon, however, was another matter...

“He's hungry," she explained to Chris, who enjoyed seeing his unusual family acting like a real one. He realised he hadn't thought through the consequences of their first time. Sure, he went into it consenting...but breeding his former bully was another matter. The notion triggered something primal in him — the need to sow his seed, no matter the form it took. It was kinky. Sexy. Borderline taboo to impregnate a woman who used to be the terror of his schooldays...and male. There was no denying it — it was hot!

But now? The reality of the situation reached him. He chose to father children. He chose to take Trace, rehabilitated in his eyes by her life since school, and give her what she wanted — nay, wished for. New life. He felt small amid the hustle and bustle of the ARC when he returned, one more year under his belt. A year without Trace...

“C'mere baby, let mommy take care of that." Chris heard her talk, and returned his attention to the present day. “Do you need anything — a hand with anything, that is?" he asked, nerves eating him from the inside-out.

“Could you pick up Sally and keep her steady for a while?"

Chris nodded, kneeling down beside Trace and taking hold of his daughter. His daughter...

“Hey there," he said to the chubby angel, “Sally, it's me. Your daddy."

A belch and free-flying spittle came as a response, coating Chris in a thin film of ickiness. He laughed and lifted her up. His little girl felt oily, her skin secreting just like her mom. She was bare, barring a pair of swimming togs that covered her waist and thighs, and was puffy enough for him to assume it could also double as a diaper. Hope you haven't left daddy a stinky present, he worriedly mumbled to himself. I have zero experience changing amphibian underwear. So be warned!

He prayed he wouldn't have to ask Trace for assistance, embarrassed and possibly smelly.

Sitting down again, he let Sally nestle into the shape his arm formed with his side. The juvenile hybrid cooed, looking up at her dad with bright blue eyes.

Oh my God, he realised, she has my colour.

His heart melted. You could pour him into a cup the way his whole body went soft and squishy. Sally's presence brought delight to him that he never expected nor experienced before. So this is how it feels to be a dad.

“Trace, I—"

About to speak, he was stopped by the sight of his lover rolling her swimsuit's zipper down, and one of the straps over her shoulder, letting it slide down her arm. Grabbing her collar, she pulled, freeing the left half of her chest. A big, healthy boob popped out into the open — followed shortly thereafter by its twin as mommy got her pride and joy out for all to see.

Devon suckled hungrily as his mom sighed. “Good boy."

“Feels to weird having boobs," she tittered, “weird, 'cause you know you're supposed to be an amphibian...oh well, the staff here obviously have a reason. Don't know what it is. Betcha they tell people it's got to do with nutrient intake or improved child-rearing — y'know, real technobabble. Or maybe, just maybe, they like boobs."

Devon gurgled in agreement. “That's right sweetie," Trace whispered, “they must like boobies as much as you!" Their son returned to suckling, seeking out her exposed nipple and attaching himself without delay. He eagerly squeezed the swollen nub with tiny jaws, his lack of proper teeth a blessing for Trace. Nursing continued for a minute, until the baby salamander wriggling incessantly in Chris' arms became too much to ignore. Sally stretched her arms out, opening and closing her hands, signalling her desire to join her brother.

“C'mon," Chris said to his spawn, “let's get you feeding too." He handed her over to Trace, whose free breast was now occupied by the chubby creature. They remained at the table, Trace now providing for both children — their small bodies obscuring her cleavage, but not by much.

Between Chris and his lover, few words ended up being exchanged as the nursing progressed. Trace was happy to let the endorphins of motherhood take over, and half-shut her eyes, drowning in the weak bites of her kids as they sent small jolts of pleasure through her body. Chris sat back and enjoyed the view of her caring for their children. Her body also a point of intense interest for him. She'd been curvy before, now she was even more voluptuous. The swell of her enormous breasts descended perfectly from her collarbone downward. The round, smooth tear-drops a cosy cushion for their infant hangers-on. In the daylight her skin glimmered, slick with moisture, adding a sheen of good health to her radiant appearance. God, his mind muttered, I think I love her.

He was caught in the moment, enamoured with the tykes. His kids were adorable. No, really...he couldn't shed his paternal pride. They were his, and Trace was his. It was as if he'd matured more in one year than all prior. He felt lighter-than-air, and perhaps it was the mild euphoria of new information rushing his senses, overloading his current state of mind, but he swore he could sit here forever.

A small matter of fact (or lack thereof) forced him to ask: “h-how many are there?"

“Hmm?" Trace woke from her pleasant daze, and asked him to repeat his question. When he did, a tinge of regret crossed her features. “It's actually kinda sad. See, my new biology reproduces using eggs, yeah? But not all of them end up viable. I was sooooo upset when I found out that I wasn't going to have all my babies!"

“Oh crap, I'm sorry..."

“It's okay," she sniffed, “the researchers explained to me that those would never hatch. Weren't fertilised properly or some science-y shit. I didn't think about stuff like that when I made you come over. Still feels bad even knowing it was normal."

“Listen," Chris said, brushed her hand with his, “I didn't know that was gonna happen either. When you texted me last year excited to be having kids, I didn't think past that. I'm sorry if seeing some of your eggs failing upset you." He hearkened back to the conversation he and Trace had before parting ways. As they talked, the memory was tainted by the news. No longer wholly positive.

Chris let her breathe, giving her the necessary head-space to compose herself. The movement of the two babies squished against her inviting chest brought another wave of fatherly joy to the young man. He took a sip of water from the glass on the table.

“So — _uh _— how many am I the proud father of?"

Trace looked him the eyes and smirked. “Eleven."

Chris spat out his drink. A spray of mist descended upon Trace and two of his prodigious progeny. “Out of how many eggs!?"

“Ahem...thirty-eight."

He went weak at the knees.

“Eleven," Chris whimpered. Eleven? Holy shit there were more in her spawning pool pictures than I thought!

“Obviously, I can't take care of every single of 'em all the time. I'm not Supermom. Some of my girlfriends help out." Noticing Chris' raised eyebrows she clarified: “we're all a big family here at the ARC, and it shows."

“Hmm, yeah...you tend to notice those signs of inbreeding."

She glowered at him.

Chris switched to a defensive posture, arms raised. “Relax," he chuckled, “I'm kidding. Don't dish out what you can't take."

“I can take it fine, sweetheart," she said, emphasising her snark with a quick flick of her tongue, “but if you're cracking jokes about my friends 'round here, they might not have the same tolerance for ribbing as I do."

“Got tough friends, have you? Any I've met before?"

“No," said Trace, pausing to adjust herself, “but you've heard of a few. Bill, for instance. Piss him off and that mountain of a toad would pick you up and snap you like a twig." She snapped her fingers for effect. “My gym partner, Tyson, would also give you hell if he thought you were mistreating me. I can bench plenty but him? Phew — you should see what he can do on the machines!"

“Ouch. And all that for an off-colour joke."

Trace tilted her head. “Weeellll...I could just be sayin' that to scare you. Assert my dominance. Show how tough I am to be besties with pure hunks of muscle."

“Talk like that a little more," he said, dropping to a sultry growl, “and we'll have to put these two into daycare as well. Give mommy and daddy some...private time."

Trace finished breastfeeding, slowly negotiating Devon and Sally's disconnect from her exhausted mammaries. Pert, holding onto their firmness despite bearing young, they bounced before Chris, tantalising...plentiful. She caught him staring.

“What!?" he protested, “I'm only human."

Trace gave him a look that said: 'later perhaps, if you play your cards right.'

Chris took time to hold the pair, nuzzling them with his nose and eliciting giggles from the year-old spawn. He followed Trace's swaying ass as she plodded towards the kitchen, tail sifting side-to-side, shielding the entirety of her sweet, silky apple-bottom from his prying eyes. Cursing her anatomy, Chris focused instead on her motion. Elegant. Practised. Lacking any signs of insecurity he'd seen last time they were face-to-face. The changes to her body had been extreme, but she wore them without regret.

Trace opened a cupboard and began preparing lunch. She'd saved Chris some food more suited to his human palette — ham, bread, various condiments. She withdrew a large algae shake and popped the lid, slurping the refined nourishment. “Whew! I was hungry," she gasped, in-between drinks. Another cabinet opened. A jar passed into her hand. Slick noises emerged as she unscrewed the top, and withdrew a something living. The unknown aquatic creature, about the size of a fist, writhed about before being tossed into her mouth. Jaws clamped shut, and a loud crunch followed as she chewed her meal.

She looked aside. Chris stared at her. “What?" she snorted. “Best way to keep 'em fresh. I need meat every now-and-then."

After hearing no response, she continued: “do you want to try one?"

“No-no-no!" Chris quickly replied. “Just a gut reaction. I wouldn't find something like that delicious. Same with eating anchovies."

“Don't like those. Too salty."

“We can agree on that," he smiled. “I'll just make myself a sandwich and leave you to your...slimy things."

* * *

After lunch, the doorbell rang. Both got up to meet the ringer, each attending to one of the two children in their immediate presence. Chris wondered about going to the daycare to see the rest. He was already seeing how much effort it took to 'convince' Sally and Devon to sit and be quiet. Imagine the hassle of herding eleven, even with help! Maybe she's bringing herself down, he thought, regarding Trace, maybe she is a 'Supermom'.

They walked to the door, ears primed for a follow-up ring. Time enough to guard their kids' ears, lest they start bawling at the loud noise.

Fortunately, their peace was not disturbed. They reached the door and opened it. Chris was greeted to the sight of a uniformed ARC attendant — a young lady with pulled-back hair, her name-tag reading 'Kate' — and a familiar-looking anthropomorphic frog, clad in a tight, skimpy bikini.

It was only now he noticed Trace's still-exposed chest. Worried a scene was about to be caused, he tensed up. However, both guests were unfazed by his lover's overt endowment and thick, milk-swollen nipples.

Trace broke the silence with a delighted yip. “Hey dudes! You're here."

The two newcomers took a step forward. The human female checked a small clipboard held in her arm, subtly glancing at both Trace and Chris, and scribbling on whatever form dwelt in front of her. The frog met his gaze, her red-green eyes dazzling him for split-second, before an elbow from Trace put paid to his dalliance. “Aren't you gonna introduce yourself?" she asked her boyfriend.

“Um...yes! Hi, I'm—"

The frog's arm shot out meet his. They shook firmly, and Chris wanted to remark on the smooth feel of her skin, but thought it inappropriate. “You don't need to be so formal," she said, winking at him in full view of Trace. Her figure was far slimmer and more petite than Trace's, and through the olive green complexion that covered her whole body (the parts not hidden by a bikini — but we can make some assumptions based on the available evidence) he saw her blush. “You must be Missy," he said at last.

“Yep. That's me. Trace's oldest and best-est friend!" She then whispered, a hand at her mouth: “and occasional rival when it comes to love interests—"

“Knock if off Missy," Trace said, “he's mine. Besides, you picked a team, and I don't see you going back on your word, eh?"

“Too right." She hopped closer. “I may have eyes for girls and girls alone," she said to Chris, “but you're awful handsome!" Kate smiled knowingly, a couple of feet from the crowd of three.

Missy leaned close to Trace, sending words of encouragement her sister-in-species' way. “Trace, your kids are gonna be tight as fuck if he's their papa." Chris may have a swimmer's build, leaner than what one might call musclebound, but beneath his sensible appearance lay a strong core. Missy had some fun sizing him up.

“Come now," the frog beamed, “hand over the fruits of your copious amounts of lovemaking."

Chris' confusion soon abated when Trace passed Devon over to Kate, and Missy held out her own arms to receive Sally. He complied, handing over the rambunctious bundle. “Hey there," Missy said to Sally, “miss your Aunt Missy?"

“If we could take a moment to finish the paperwork," Kate interjected, conversing with Trace as she tried to stop Devon climbing all over her. “Here." Handing the clipboard to Trace, she gave Chris a pen. The couple looked at the document.

“We need you to confirm your fathering of this...well...litter," she explained, “just got to have your signature for record's sake."

“Of course," said Chris, signing his name with a flourish. Satisfied, Kate took back the clipboard and tried her best to contain Devon. “We better get a move on," she said to Missy.

“Hang on..."

Chris watched Missy approach him again. “Listen," she said, speaking slowly as Trace put a hand on his shoulder, “despite my jokey personality, I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for giving Trace a family."

“R-really?" he stammered.

Missy nodded. “Yes. Trace is my friend, and seeing her so happy has made me happy. I never thought she'd make amends with you for her past life, but it seems you've taken to her without doubt. Okay...maybe her sexy curves helped seal the deal — wink-wink — but you're a good guy, Chris. And I bet you'll be an even better dad."

“See, Chris," said Trace, “see how much this means to me. I can never repay you properly for breeding me."

“You don't have to."

“Pish-posh!" Missy slapped his cheek gently. “All this stud of yours has to do is give you some of that fine human lovin' he's so renowned for."

A nervous laugh came from Chris.

“Missy," Trace said, frowning, “enough."

“Fine," she grumbled. “I've got places to be anyway. Once we get Sally and Devon to the daycare they're Kate's problem! Now if you don't mind me, there's a new resident in the Caecilian section of the centre with the cutest butt I've ever seen. I just have to introduce myself. Oooh, those overlapping dermal scales on phat set of thighs are just perfect for cupping dem cheeks!"

“It seems my colleague has her break scheduled and planned for already," Kate remarked. “Trace, we'll let you know if anything comes up."

“Wait!" Missy shouted, raising her finger. “There's one last thing." She looked at Chris and struck a pose, angling her shoulders and hips to maximise sexiness. “Do you think I make a good impression in this?" she asked, tugging her bikini-strings. The beleaguered male watched helplessly as he was forced to judge the bufonid's beauty. Trapped, and at a loss for words, he froze up.

“S'good," he said, suppressing his discomfort.

Trace sniggered. “Relax, Chris, she's fucking with you. God, how did I end up with such a dweeb!?"

“Okay, okay," he said, “I see what's going on. Missy, you look wonderful..."

“Thanks!"

“...and Trace, haven't you done enough to torment me already?"

“Clearly not," she scoffed, “if you still have free will."

“Oh, I get it. There's no hiding your master plan from me anymore," he joked.

The two guests departed with Sally and Devon, Missy blowing a kiss over her shoulder at Chris, who steamed 'neath Trace's burning intensity. With the door shut behind them, they were alone. Nothing in the apartment made a sound except for the low breathing of the mated pair. Human and salamander; love across species, thanks to the relentless march of science.

“You can tell they're a handful," Chris said, embracing her.

“Yeah, Missy can be an acquired taste, but I love her."

“Them too, but I meant the kids."

“Oh you haven't seen the half of it babe. Not even half, the 'fifth' of it."

All he could muster to say was 'wow'. And that was just two of them.

Two of his...children. He was a father...

“I'm way too young to be a dad!" he blurted out.

Trace moved back, with a surprised expression. “Speak for yourself Chris! I'm barely a year older than you. If anything I'm the one who should be shocked. I've been the one caring for them. But...when Mother Nature calls..." She hugged his arm and rested her head on his shoulder, her bare breasts buoyant in the corner of his vision. Chris held her close, feeling her curves squish against him, until the cords of muscle lying deep below came to be all that opposed further pressure.

“I missed you."

“I did too."

“Mmmmmmm." Trace nuzzled his neck. She inhaled calmly, letting the flow of air across his chest soothe her human partner.

Chris kissed her snout. “Wanna?"

“Later, there's so much to talk about."

“Kids are taken care of," he pointed out, hoping hope really did spring eternal, “c'mon."

“Nuh-uh-uh," Trace said, nibbling his earlobe. “Good things come to guys who wait."

“Then maybe stop...stimulating me so much."

“Huh?" Trace ran a finger down his spine, causing him to gasp. “You feelin' sensitive? My precious human..."

They teased one another for a while. Eventually, sobriety won out.

“What should we do?"

“What I'm gonna do, is take a bath. Have a swim in my pool. Meditate a little. Chill my vibes."

“And what'll I be up to while you're 'chilling your vibes', huh?" Chris guffawed, making air quotes.

Trace cradled his cheek. “There's a rec room downstairs — Area 46-B — and a bar for staff and residents. You can hang out there until I come get you."

“Hmm? That's it? We've only just been reunited and now I'm being told to leave you to your own devices?"

“Shhh! It sounds teeny bit rude, but it'll make sense soon, trust me."

“I—"

Trace placed a finger across his lips. He tasted her — faint notes of rivers and grasses and ponds in her flesh, mixed into the very fibre of her being. She looked amazing in the natural light.

“Trust me."

* * *

Chris had joined in on a game of pool (pun not intended) at the recreational centre after another denizen of the ARC dropped out in frustration. It'd been ten minutes since he entered, and Greg — his opponent, a large darkly-coloured red and purple salamander wearing nothing but a tight thong — was showing him up by going easy on him. Several other amphibian hybrids hung around, not paying much attention to the ongoing game between one of their own and the human stranger.

“I can see why the other guy gave up," Chris said, “you're deliberately playing badly."

Greg winked. “Was it that obvious I'm just letting you win?"

The human nodded.

“Suppose there's better games to play if you think you can take me on," the anthro said, picking one of the potted balls from the pocket. The smooth sphere glistened with moisture after being handled, a bright white spot painted on the upper-right corner. Travelling down his arm, Chris noticed a waterproof watch strapped to his wrist, its digital display ticking away without a care.

Chris scratched his neck, propping the cue against the table. “You're very competitive, uh...Greg."

“You noticed?" He gave a short laugh and cleared the table. “Our animal sides are more pronounced than yours. Males like me love a bit of competition. My streak's a mile wide." He stepped to the side, sauntering around the table. Chris shied away from him, hoping he disguised his move as much as possible. It wasn't just his size — no, though he was buff as all hell — it was the awkward bounce of his huge, dangling bulge straining the tight material of his thong. Full to bursting. Facing him directly.

Jesus, he remarked internally, taking note of the other beings present, these salamander dudes are fucking ripped...and packing!

Greg turned away from him and bent over the pool table, rolling the remaining balls off the clear green surface. His ass squeezed the thin string of his thong, tensing with muscle as he hovered over the tabletop. Chris' vision went blurry under all the beefcake on display, threatening his perception of masculinity. He gulped quietly, inching back from the stronger male.

“So, how's your visit?" Greg asked.

“Huh?"

“The booty call," he said, winking once more.

Chris looked away, his face red. “Uhhh..."

“You're Trace's boyfriend, right?"

Understanding, Chris answered 'yes'. Greg smiled and slapped him on the back. The force of the impact jostled Chris, causing him to lunge forward before finding his footing. All the air had evacuated his lungs, and he inhaled, giving his impromptu companion a disapproving glare.

Boyfriend? Likely more than that now. “When you put it like that," Chris mumbled, “how did you know? I didn't tell you."

“My girl, Beth, is a friend of hers. She works at the nursery."

“Oh, cool."

“She's minded your kids on many occasions. You and Trace really knocked it outta the park when it comes to numbers."

Chris' blushing returned. With a vengeance.

Greg, as if noticing the human's embarrassment, sought to lubricate their interaction with a dash of liquid courage. “Can I buy you a drink? Your choice."

“Okay, yeah." Chris and Greg walked across the room to the bar, where he placed an order with the thin frog manning the counter. As their glasses were being filled, Greg made small talk — casting a few wry jabs his direction on matters sexual. Chris didn't know how open folks were at the ARC, so deigned to leave his antics with Trace up to his fellow male's imagination.

Once they had their alcohol in-hand, they found a place to sit. “Man," Greg sighed, resting his firm body after what had been a long day on his feet, “it must be really weird for an outsider like you to come here."

Chris took a sip. The scotch burned his throat, but it was worth it. He asked what Greg meant.

“Well, everything. The ARC is a very...special place for people like us."

“Were..." Chris began to speak, but stumbled as a cough rose from within. Hacking, he apologised to the salamander seated opposite. The viscous phlegm that'd seized his throat held fast, until time weakened its hold on his vocal cords. Another cough and it was cleared. He continued: “...were you originally human?"

Greg reclined, throwing his arm behind his shoulder and resting it on the top of his chair. “I told you I have Beth. Getting a drink with me and getting to know me isn't an invitation to dive into my pants."

“Can we be serious for a second?" A sense of impatient took Chris, a tiredness reflected in the waning of the day.

“Just keeping things light. I dunno how much you've adjusted to us, so a joke or two ain't amiss, now is it?"

I've banged one of you, Greg. I think I've adjusted enough.

“But to answer your question," he said, downing his drink in its entirety in one sudden swallow, “I was human once. Got changed years ago. Like Trace I remember being an ordinary guy (though he/she went further than I did). The generation of true-born hybrids haven't matured yet — all our kids are still young. Well...I say 'our', but Beth and I haven't tried for any. Yet."

“I wondered how many were and weren't," said Chris.

“Yeah." Greg yawned and shifted in his seat, widening his stance. The packed bulge of his manhood, outlined in every contour and incline of the pitch-black thong, wobbled proudly. An unconscious manoeuvre, to give him the benefit of the doubt. But one that brought shyness to the fore, and the question in Chris' mind of where best to look. To the side? His feet? His chest? Eye contact?

The silence was shattered by a friendly laugh. “Chris, man. Don't try to hide what's bugging you. I know from what I'm wearing I'm making things awkward. But that's who we are now, we don't feel the same way you humans do about clothes."

“I can tell," he replied sheepishly.

“Am I making you feel small? 'Cause I can't exactly change my physiology. Not that easily, at least. And why would I?" His words were careful, chosen to coax Chris though his hang-up of being stuck face-to-face with a broad-chested, thickly-muscled demigod. Despite this, he still got on Chris' nerves. The rec room shrank, closing around him, until it was just him and Greg. He averted his eyes, staring at the floor. No luck there — the wide spread of his webbed toes and the powerful legs sprouting from the ankle upwards kept reminding him of one word: inadequacy.

What am I doing here? he asked himself. His primitive side taunted him. Whose idea was it to start mingling with the people here?

He thought about Trace. What was she playing at? Trying to make him feel small...another scheme to mess with him?

He looked around the room. The others weren't any better for his state of mind. Two handsome toads stood in the corner, chatting up a shorter — but no less athletic — salamander. Three salamanders — one male, two female — sat some distance from himself and Greg, but their conversation could reach all the way to the bar. He caught sight of tight bodies, chiselled jaws, and soft curves. Well-exercised creatures of genetic modification. Science's bounty; brawny and beautiful. Aside from the frog at the bar Chris felt lesser compared to every scantily-clad man he saw. And the women were a distraction of another kind. Like Trace, they were pretty, and had plenty of admirers who looked to score a night in their bed. Loud whispers, subtle cues, and furtive glances built up as more and more inhabitants of the ARC arrived.

“Shift change," Greg explained. “Everyone needs to unwind, even test subjects like ourselves."

“Yo, Greg!" A call from the new entrants heralded the advancing figure of another salamander. Strong and supple, like the one Chris had been sharing a drink with, he marched with confidence towards the seated pair. An icy blue, with the same kind of thong cupping his generous package. Pecs glistened in the light of the bar, and Chris swore he felt the floor tremble as the sheer mass of the newcomer crept ever closer.

“Bruno!" Greg responded with glee. The two raised arms and hi-fived — a loud, wet smack that pierced Chris' ears. The solid cords of muscle in his arms pulsed. “Good to see you man. Long day?"

“Like hell Greg. Like fucking hell!"

“What did I tell you? Don't sign up for submerged lung capacity tests if you hate being bored outta your skull."

“Yeah...well...it pays more than my usual gig. Underwater for hours and hours. I seriously thought they'd forgotten I was down there near the end."

“Wanna sit?" Greg turned to Chris, who shrugged. Bruno accepted his offer and pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat down, dragging it the last few feet with his ass planted firmly on the cushioned seat.

“Hey, hey...ease up on the leg spread Bruno, don't make Chris feel any worse than he already does!" Greg shouldered his friend. The blue-tinged salamander chuckled, and compromised on his stance. “Sure thing," he said, “so who is Chris to you anyways?"

“Chris here is Trace's boyfriend."

“Ah, Trace — Beth's friend right?"

“That's the one."

“Neat. So you're the reason I won big against the croakers."

Sensing confusion, Greg whispered to Chris. “He put a bet on that us humble Salamandridae would eventually reach bufonid levels of 'fertility'. Seems we needed some outside help to get there."

“You're a good man, helping out the team Chris," Bruno said, brushing the human's head. Chris wasn't happy with the amount of water that remained in his hair, matting it down, but was too pleased to hear nice, ego-boosting things about himself to be bothered.

“I must be famous here," he remarked.

“Ehhhh..." the amphibian pair shrugged. “What's a few words between friends is a lot different to gossiping to the entire complex."

“Don't let it go to your head," Bruno added. “You're a guest here. Maybe outside you have status but in here — you're living at Trace's pleasure."

“Easy, easy," Chris said. A sharpness in Bruno's eye caught him. Steel-grey. And looking right through him. “I wasn't trying to be a smart-ass."

“No, I should say sorry. I went too far." Bruno grumbled and shuffled closer. “We tend to miss being able to go about our business without being confined to ARC grounds."

“What, really? Do you guys not get to leave? See the rest of the world? At all?"

“What?" Greg snorted, his slit nostrils flaring. “Looking like this? Heh, not many places in the world where that'd not stir controversy, but..." he sighed mid-sentence, rubbing his chest, “I gave all that up."

“We have times where we go out," Bruno said, gauging the mood between the two others, “but the ARC is the only place where we can feel at home. People don't look at you the same way they used to."

Chris sighed. “Trace told be something similar. I sometimes thought she was exaggerating. Sometimes not. Sounds like a real bummer."

They nodded in agreement. “Maybe, in the future, when our work at the ARC is complete. For now...we get waited on hand-and-foot. It's a hard life to turn down, even if there's effort involved."

“Yeah," Bruno coughed, “I'm with Greg. We got everything we need here. I mean, you can tell, can't you?" He pointed to his surroundings, gesturing to all manner of amenities, and beyond — through the openings to the rest of the centre. Long pathways led from the indoor recreational area to other facilities. And the rustle of foliage outside spoke of vast stretches of green. Where the residents could be at peace, away from the ills of the world at large.

“Well, this conversation's gotten very serious," Chris joked. “Are you usually like that with guests?"

“Not a chance," Greg jeered in response, “I'm just plied with the wrong kinda alcohol! I wanted something with bite."

“So you're saying that's the booze talking?"

Greg squinted. “Now you're getting it! We've had a long day, and we're normally whiny bastards 'round this time of day. Do you want another drink?"

Chris was about to answer 'no', but a new voice cut him off...

“There you are honey!"

Greg turned toward the source of the voice, a big smile on his snout. His tongue flicked as he saw a female approach. Chris and Bruno followed suit, seeing a grey-skinned salamander, about five feet in height, saunter over to the chatting trio.

“Thought you'd gone when I didn't see you wiping the floor with another poor soul at your usual haunt," said the newcomer, waving.

“I decided to take a break while I hung out," Greg replied, catching the short female when she got close and bringing her in for a kiss. They remained locked together for several seconds; the soft, sopping sounds of their embrace audible to the rest of the table.

She took up position on Greg's lap, hugging his torso. She looked at the others. “Hey Bruno."

“Hey Beth."

Chris nodded politely. Beth, huh? He paused. For a guy his size, Greg's type was very petite. The grey salamander joined the table properly, finding a chair of her own. Passing Chris, she glanced at him knowingly. He sat, wondering what it meant. It wasn't cheek. The look felt...different.

“This is Chris, in case you were waiting for him to say something," Greg said to her. “He and I were in a game earlier. I went easy on him." He winked as he finished talking.

So, Chris thought, I was spared a floor-wiping. “Must be my disarming personality," he blurted loudly.

The pale expression and palm clasped haphazardly across his mouth was a source of much amusement. “Yeah, sure, your personality," Greg muttered, “not the fact Trace would rip off my tail if I upset her crush."

“More than a crush, Greg. Unless you're forgetting Bruno's bet." It was now Chris' turn to receive a hi-five from the bulky hybrid. Bruno's arm shot forward, slamming their palms together and leaving a stinging pain in Chris' comparatively delicate appendage.

“Fine," he said, sticking his tongue out, “boyfriend." As the word left his mouth, Beth looked away — a red colour rising to the fore. “Honey," she said to Greg, “stop teasing our guest!"

“Okay, then I'll start teasing you!" He swept her up into his arms, dragging her from her seat before she had a chance to settle in. He planted a kiss on her neck, gleefully whispering into her ear. “You wore the piece I got you," he exclaimed, raising his voice enough for everyone to hear, too giddy to notice. Giddy like a love-struck puppy.

Beth stroked her cheek. “Of course I did." Her attire was a lot more risqué than Trace's. Missy came close, and based on Chris' limited experience of life in this place he wasn't surprised some people like to show more skin than others. They had the bodies for it, after all.

Tiny patches of triangular fabric covered her small bust, and an ultra-thin sweeping 'V' bottom rose from between her thighs. She sat low, snuggling with Greg, his arm massive in comparison. A felled tree trunk pinning the hapless beauty beneath it's rough-hewn mass.

Beth discovered Chris' gawping. “Do you like it?" she asked, giggling.

He laughed back. “That's the second time someone's asked me for an opinion on bikinis today!"

“Who? It's not Trace — she loves a one-piece."

Greg nipped his lover's cheek. “Side effect of her former sex, that's my theory."

Suppose he's right, Chris told himself, guy like Trey wasn't the type to not stare at women. Maybe she still feels like she needs to cover up. Guilt?

“Well it's gotta be something else," chirped Beth, “because I was the same. Yet...here I am, showing off the goods!"

“Beth, honey, please! Save it for when we're alone. I don't want Bruno salivating over you."

“Yes, you do," Bruno said, without a hint of obvious humour.

“Okay, yes I do. Makes me feel important having such a lovely little thing under my arm, hmm?" Greg nuzzled Beth, who purred.

Chris interrupted their moment, surprised after parsing her words. “Wait...what did you mean when you said you were the same?"

Beth looked at him, rolling her eyes. “It means I used to be a guy too."

“..."

“Well don't look so shocked," said Bruno. “Thought you'd be used to it after Trace."

“Uhh...yeah...but...I..."

“Aww, he's flustered." Greg smiled at Chris.

“That's not the best part. Guess who I used to be?"

Chris frowned. In the dim light of the bar he didn't trust his eyes. Not after a drink or two.

“Am I supposed to know?"

“Duh! If I'm asking you to guess I you'd assume I wouldn't ask any old stranger."

Chris raised his hands. “I don't have the faintest idea."

“Begins with a 'B' and ends in 'er'. Full name, not my first on its own."

“Look, Beth, I'm not gonna guess — you'll just have to tell me."

“Fine. I'll make it easier. My first name was: Brian."

She gave him time to process her clue, confident he'd reach the answer. The cogs turned, and gears whirred, and one might swear you could hear 'em. Eventually, with Greg and Bruno having gone to the bar and returned triumphantly with yet more stiff libation in the form of multicoloured bottles the entire time he was thinking, he got it.

“Brian. Wait...Brian Keller! That Brian!?"

A clink came from the table as the glasses were refilled. Greg and Bruno shared a look, suppressing their mirth.

“So you do 'member me," Beth cheered as Greg brought her a tall sparkling flute of...something purple. And very definitely alcoholic.

“Yes, 'course I do! You...you were never so...so..."

“Confident?"

“Yeah!"

“And sexy?"

“Um...uh..."

“Have the hots for my girl, do ya?"

No-one believe Greg was being serious, and being the first to break into laughter proved them right. The table shared a round of chuckling. Beth (formerly Brian) drank her fill of the purple stuff and asked her partner for more in the sweetest tone. While Greg obliged her, Chris couldn't help but keep asking questions.

“I don't understand. What lead you here?"

Beth sipped. “That is something I'd rather keep to myself. No offence Chris. But I will say that I needed a reset on my life. I didn't belong. Inside." She placed her hand on her upper chest, fingers dancing next to her slender throat. “Knew about the centre from what happened to Trey, but hey — thinking 'bout it is one thing, actually committing is another."

“So you came here after Trey dropped off of everyone's radar?"

“Mm-hmm. Had an inkling of where he went, after reading about this new kind of scientific programme and how it provided an opportunity for a fresh start."

“Good guess."

“Well I was teacher's pet."

“You guys went to school together?" Bruno asked, his interest piqued.

“Same school. Different grades. That didn't stop kids from knowing who's who."

“Interesting," Bruno said, “your girlfriend might have started a trend, Chris."

The human looked at Bruno quizzically. Greg offered to explain: “Beth joined three months ago. She's a recent convert. Word might spread, y'know."

Bruno whispered an aside to Chris, eyes full of mischief. “She shacked up with Greg quick."

“Hey," the other male protested, “that's just my good looks and charm."

“Are you sayin' I don't also have good looks and charm?"

Greg fired a few friendly salvoes of insults in Bruno's direction. The two anthro males exchanged piss-takes, while Beth and Chris watched.

“Sure she wasn't looking for a sugar daddy? Someone older, more experienced with ARC operations. Someone with pull in the administration?"

“Hey now — I won't be slandered by you Bruno. I got you your last job, wanna throw that back in my face?"

“Oh I think you can handle a little trash-talk."

They both rose from their chairs with a clatter. The hulking walls of beef squared off against each other. “How 'bout we settle this?" Bruno growled. “Name your challenge, and I'll take you down."

“Deal!"

Heavy muscles slapped together as arms flexed. Palm firmly in palm, Bruno and Greg gripped one another. Amid the growls and taunts, a sense of friendly competition lurked beneath a mountain of aggressive rumbling. Bodies pressed. Chests made contact, pecs fighting for dominance. Each tiny movement was countered by their opponent. Their tight figures trembled, hungrily awaiting action.

Beth chose this moment to intervene. “Boys, please! Can we calm down and have a nice conversation before we let the testosterone start making decisions?"

Blocked prematurely from exercising their territorial instinct, Bruno and Greg returned to their seats, sullen.

“So Chris," she said, “what's the occasion?"

“Love, honey," Greg spoke up, cooling off with another drink, “and life, that's why he's here."

They all looked at Chris, who merely stared back at them. “What?"

“According to Trace, your one-year anniversary of — ahem — bringing life into the world, is today."

“Sorry if it sounds invasive that we know this," Bruno added, “but you did help me win a load of money off of my toad pals."

“Yeah that does sound invasive. Does nobody have any privacy here?"

“Oh shove it," Greg said, before gesturing to the two salamanders flanking him, “these two know Trace, hell we mind her — your — kids sometimes. Forgive 'em for being a bit nosy. I, on the other hand, was asked for a favour by your girl. Had to keep a ruse going for her."

“So you're being weird on purpose?"

“Well...I kinda ran outta material after the drinks did. And c'mon dude, look at me. Do I look like a guy who can think on his feet?"

Chris made a cursory glance towards Beth, who gave him her silent blessing to answer the self-deprecating dudebro in a similar tone. “Yeah, you guys look like you gained plenty of meat in the transformation, shame some of that got into your skulls."

“Hey, what did I do?" Bruno asked, feigning outrage with an overacted gasp.

“Okay you three," Chris said, “what's actually going on?"

Greg smirked. “I'm supposed to keep you occupied for..."

He checked his watch.

“...approximately ten more seconds..."

Counting with his fingers, Greg said the numbers aloud.

“...five, four three..."

He mouthed 'one', the corner of his jaw curled upwards.

In unison, Greg and Bruno wolf-whistled, looking past Chris to the entrance. Beth scrunched her face. Chris turned around, first checking over his shoulder, then...

...

He saw her.

“..."

Trace stood at the entryway, doors gently swinging shut behind her. Her old swimsuit/wetsuit combo was gone. In its place, hugging her body tightly, was a captivating scarlet dress. It hung from thin straps that tapered from her shoulders downward, gradually widening until they covered most of her breasts. Her blue-green skin shone with residual moisture, with the solid yellow patches marking out the flow of her curves, diving between her generous cleavage and disappearing beneath the dress. A plunging gap between the split sides of the dress terminated at the small fat of her lower abdomen, her bellybutton visible an inch from either side. It joined into a single piece from that point onward, spreading wide according to Trace's hourglass hips. Broad, supple, salacious spawning hips.

Chris could've stopped there. But there was more. So much more!

From her hips, the sides of the dress split once more, leaving a length of material to cover her inner thighs, leaving her outer thighs exposed. The sublime curtain of red, figure-hugging delight ended just above the knee, where it was followed by a dash of flesh before the next item of clothing. Coasting along her body, Chris saw her high-heeled sandals, a dark brown, coiling around her legs with criss-crossing knee-high straps. The spike at the heel glimmered in the evening night. Seven inches of drop-dead gorgeous, supporting her webbed feet.

At a loss for words, he could only breathe. The ensemble sheathed her supple salamander body, enhancing her cleavage, hips, and rear.

She was...

Oh my God, kill me now so I can die happy!

She was beautiful.

This was more than the lust he'd felt last year. Much more. His heart throbbed in its cage, bound by her spell. The light, the mood, was perfect. And when she stepped toward him — bliss! The rippling effect her motions made 'cross her dress sucked him into a trance. One he didn't want to escape.

He watched the delight on her face grow. A slight tilt to the side, a blushing cheekbone, every subtle cue he devoured. Ravenous.

Chris felt a tap on his shoulder. “You should sit up," he heard, though couldn't tell from who. He obeyed, standing still. His advancing love continued to enthral him. Every move, every step, every swish of her strong tail. The gleam of her teeth as they formed a perfect smile. The light of her eyes, illuminating his soul. Her presence — divine.

He found it tricky to breathe as she approached.

Another voice from behind...

“Go on then lover-boy!"

Greg pushed him, giving him the nudge necessary to power through on his own.

He walked, and his heart waited to burst.

* * *

Returning upstairs after a stroll through the ARC grounds, remarkably quiet in the off-hours, Trace opened the door to her apartment. “I dropped by the nursery before I came to collect you — kids are fine, staff's keeping 'em occupied." There was a brief pause as she studied his face. Throughout the time they spent walking she'd sensed something. They hadn't spoken much, merely linked arms and took in the sights. She had shivered in the cool evening air — an unspoken request for Chris to enclose her in his warm-blooded form. The last stretch was traversed this way. Slow, plodding steps. Her tail tucked between his legs, swishing and knocking against his ankles. His arms holding her, surrounding her...circling her waist and lying flush with her soft belly.

Now standing outside her home, key-card pressed between her fingers, they waited. One of them was going to make a move. One was going to speak, or act. Deciding on who was unimportant, and they drew their continuing silence out over the course of several minutes. Neither wanted to lose the magic of the moment.

Trace rubbed him with the side of her jaw, perplexed by his expression. “You okay?" she asked.

“Yeah. Why?"

“Nothing," she sighed, “I thought you were distant, like something bothered you."

“Well...I wasn't—"

Trace spun 'round suddenly, breaking his hold on her midsection. “The guys weren't joshin' too hard, were they?"

“No, no. They were fine." He ran his hand across her shoulder, feeling her dress. The silken strap tickled his skin. “A little weird, but I chalked that up to you beating Greg's ass if he didn't do his job right!"

“Mmm...thought I was subtler about it. This dress takes a while to put on properly...if you want to make a good impression, that is."

“And what an impression," Chris chirped. He touched his forehead against her snout, closing his eyes and lowering his voice. “You are amazing."

“Thank you."

“The dress," he said, placing a hand on her lower back, “brings out your beauty better than I could've ever imagined."

Blood rushed to Trace's head, reddening her complexion.

Chris chuckled. “Trying to match its colour?"

“Shut up," she replied, pretending to slap him. “Inside, baby. Let's go inside."

“Don't wanna catch a cold out here," Chris joked, “the dress is very nice, but it doesn't cover everything, now does it?"

“Oh you..."

Shutting the door behind them, the couple moved into the apartment. The same view that'd awed Chris confronted him again, resplendent in the dwindling daylight as a field of colour illuminated the ARC. A million miniature suns, each poised to capture the lovebird's attention with their twinkling, burned. The pathways were flanked with lamps, and neon strips glowed.

“It's like a city."

“Big town. We're not city-level yet."

“You seem to have a great nightlife here, judging from how bright the nights are!"

“Are you annoyed I made you wait in our equivalent of a community centre?"

“Why? You saying Greg could've kept me occupied in a nightclub?"

“Oh sure, but I wasn't going to have you staring at other women. Or men, if you were so inclined. Not tonight. Not when we haven't been together in a long, long time."

“Long time indeed."

Trace's tongue darted between her semi-open lips and slathered Chris, leaving a damp trail as a mark of her affection. “I can take you out some other night, eh?"

“I'd like that." Chris kissed her gently. “You hit the 'town' often with your friends?"

“What's it to you?" she asked, teasing him, “slapping the ol' ball-and-chain around my ankle?"

“Isn't that supposed to be your job?"

“Ha-ha. Funny guy. Remember what I said about my teeth?"

“That they're very sharp — yes, I do. But you could make the same threat as a human and the effect would be the same," he said, stroking her lower back.

“A lot weirder if it was Trey making that threat, not me," she whispered. Chris looked at her and smiled. “Hey," he said, “did you know about Beth?"

“About her being Brian? Yeah. I didn't think you'd meet her today, so I thought it wouldn't come up. But there, you see — you're making friends here already. Greg. Beth. Bruno. Who's next, Bill? Missy? My gym buddy Tyson?"

“Depends."

A hiss issued from the back of her throat. “Steal all my new friends why don't you..." Harmless, as he knew she was kidding.

“Besides," Chris continued, “how did you find out?"

“Oh sweet innocent Chris...I used to bully her too."

“Ah..."

“No! It's alright now, we're on good terms." Trace patted his chest. Her tone was soft, and reassuring. Her dress folded as she pressed herself closer. “When she first arrived and was integrating into the rest of the subject population, she found out about me being a certain...asshole someone. I knew she knew when 'Beth' tackled me to the ground."

“How long ago was this?"

“Hmm? Oh, don't worry, I had laid my eggs by then. Yeah, she wrestled me to the ground in full view of everyone, screaming her head off. Gave me a few decent knocks. Then I decided to get real."

“Oh yeah?"

“Hell yeah. Pinned her flat and let her tire herself out — not until I got in a few mild punches of my own. Poor thing. She was so frail I was worried I'd hurt her."

“Sounds more bad than good."

“Like I said," Trace beamed, “it all worked out. We both agreed to turn over a new leaf...start over...and after she hitched up with Greg she mellowed out even more. She became happier. More outgoing. Not like the Brian either of us knew."

Chris agreed, and let it be known with another kiss. Trace hugged him. They made it three more steps before falling into each other's arms yet again. Stuck in the one spot, too wound-up together to move.

“Plus," she said quietly, her lips next to his ear, “it's fun thinking about her tiny grey booty gettin' slammed by a massive hunk like Greg. Absolutely pounded. Destroyed by his monster cock!"

“Okay...think you're starting to fantasize..."

Trace nipped at his shoulder. “Oh, is that what you were thinking when you were downstairs? That Greg and the other males were so much more fuckable than you? My, my, Chris...after everything we've shared you're still the same pathetic dork I used to beat up..."

She watched him stew uncomfortably.

“Disagree?" she asked, observing his silence. “Then prove it!"

Their mouths met. Unlike their earlier cutesy kisses, this was raw. Passionate. After holding themselves back, they had their chance to let loose. Especially Chris. Since seeing her in that red dress it was only a matter of time before his feelings burst from his polite exterior and drove him to take her. Her words, and her taunts, spurred him on. Incensed, his hands explored her curves, and she reciprocated. Chris sensed her webbed fingers pry his fly open. By the time the jingle of his belt-buckle reached his ears it had already been stripped away, wobbling in the air as Trace pulled it free. His trousers fell, and Trace wormed her way up into his shirt — causing shortness of breath as her cold hands touched his chest. He spluttered, and gasped for air, before being sucked back into their kiss.

As he got undressed, Chris began to plan his assault on her clothing. However, no matter which angle he tried he dared not rip her dress. It was just too stunning to damage. Trace picked up on his hesitance. “Like the dress, huh?"

“Fuck yeah I do!"

“I had it custom-made. Not many options off-the-shelf for a girl like me, tail an' all."

No, Chris thought, I bet there weren't.

“Here," she said, “I'll help you." Taking his hands, she guided him in unzipping the dress from the back. She showed him the right way to disrobe. Victory arrived in the form of her dress sliding down her sides, revealing her top half to her excited mate. Diverting his mouth from their kissing, Chris dropped to breast-level, burying his head between her ample bosom. The yellow strip that ran from a tapered point on the 'V' of her collarbone flowed south and widened, colouring the cleavage he currently occupied with its marking, before shrinking back to a thin line ahead of her bellybutton. In the midst of furtive glances, he saw her colours meld together into a hypnotising pattern. The majority of her blue-green skin filled his vision, covering the rise and swell of her breasts with its aquatic flavour.

“Somebody's eager," Trace remarked. Chris didn't reply, instead he rubbed her back and gradually reached around to her front, bringing his arms close and cupping her breasts. Unable to contain the large mounds, he let go, and pulled away. They bounced, shaking in the aftermath of his retreat. He looked into Trace's eyes. She opened her mouth part-way, and moaned. He grabbed a handful of boob on her left side, and brought his mouth to her nipple on the right. Squeezing the nub of flesh, he sucked hard, causing her to squeal.

Trace freed her own hands and moved them to her sides. Chris hungrily suckled, aping their infant spawn. She gasped. The tingling spread, from her chest beyond. Her body prepared itself. Nerves fizzed. Muscles twitched. Her insides grew moist. An itching sensation formed between her legs. She shut her eyes, sensing Chris' lustful attention shifting from one breast to the next. One year. One whole year since she had the opportunity to indulge herself. By God...she was dying to feel him...

“Baby," she murred, “let's move somewhere more comfortable." She fondled his hair, enjoying the fibrous feel of that aspect of humanity, and groaned. He wasn't stopping. His sucking sent waves of pleasure through her — pleasure that was hard to refuse. She battled it for control of the moment. Seizing a brief reprieve as he looked up at her lovingly, she nudged him towards the bedroom.

The pair — in a mutual state of partial undress — waddled through Trace's apartment until they got to the bedroom. Designed similarly to her previous one, with a bed built for an amphibian's need for regular hydration, but bigger. A lot bigger! Chris ignored the vastly-expanded living conditions his mutant girlfriend had wrangled for herself and focused on pleasing her in any way he could. He was her guest, after all...it would be rude to refuse his host.

She pushed him onto the bed, watching him fall flat on his ass — the liquid cushioning of the mattress taking the brunt of his descent. He crawled backwards, moving to give her room to pounce. Trace let her bare chest shake as she adjusted the dress at the waist. Seconds later, she had undone the last binding keeping her from total nakedness. She let the dress fall to the floor, and stepped out from the crumpled red ring at her feet. Her eyes said it all. She needed sex.

Chris hurried to rid himself of his remaining clothes. Stripped down to his birthday suit, he tensed in anticipation of Trace's approach. She started low, bending down at the foot of the bed, and gripped its edge. Slowly, but surely, she crawled. Her tongue tracing its way from ankle to knee, her voluptuous body smothering his legs with her advance. She opted for methodical, agonisingly slow movement. Enough to drive her lover wild with waiting. The smooth flesh of her boobs travelled past his groin, massaging his erection with their voluminous majesty. Her hands scoured the path ahead of her main force, diving and dipping into the contours of his chest and sides. His slender build shivered upon her touch. She eyed him with ravenous intent. Her legs flanked his, sliding against his goosebumps-ridden skin.

“Can't wait, huh?" she asked, noticing the sweat drip from his hairline. “Don't worry, baby, you won't have to much longer."

With that, she dragged her foot across his leg, her whole body rising to stand atop him. The webbing between her toes formed a rubbery blanket as it moved, sliding over his thigh. Trace propped herself up using the nearby wall, and peered down her nose at him. He felt a faint wetness as her foot caressed his junk. His heated erection sent all the right signals to his brain while in contact with her taut flesh. Trace laid her foot across his penis, spreading her toes and capturing the swollen organ. Twisting and turning, the two toes either side of his cock found their partner underneath — wrapping his member with her waterborne webbing.

Chris gasped.

Trace smirked. The cheeky salamander tightened her grip, squishing his cock. It only grew harder, straining against its confines. Her lover whinnied like a desperate mare, body shaking as her vice-like grip increased.

“WHERE...DID...YOU...LEARN...T-thu-Tha-THAT!?" he stammered, his wild heartbeat apparent in the throb of his manhood.

“Feels good then?"

“Yeah! F-fuck it does!" Chris moaned.

“Gotta few tips from my girlfriends. Looks like they weren't lying when they said it would have their males at their mercy."

“Oh God, please..." he cried, “tell me..."

“Tell 'me' what?"

“Tell me I'm a good servant, my Queen." Amid his sweat and stammering, Chris managed to wink at Trace, who rolled her eyes.

“Gonna need to work on your grovelling," she said, her demeanour that of a strict schoolteacher. Her toes rubbed together, rolling his meat in her grasp. He couldn't contain his moans.

Now deciding it was time to ramp things up, Trace moved her foot back-and-forth. Stroking his cock, she kept him imprisoned and crying out for release. “Better not cum or I'll be very disappointed. A year of waiting and you'll have shot your load before the main event!"

“I...won't..." he groaned.

“You better," said Trace, rubbing his delicate meat with her flexible sole, “you don't wanna disappoint me, Chris."

Her ministrations continued for another minute, driving her lover to the brink of insanity with her orders to stem his release. Happy that she'd tormented him enough, she let his cock go and lowered herself, planting her broad, bubbly ass on his belly. Her tail swept across his feet, finding a home between his legs — somewhere to rest the enormous extremity. Chris wheezed as her weight bore down on him, alleviated only when she finished adjusting her stance.

Straddling him high, Trace leaned over and kissed him. Then, she let her breasts hang over his face, filling his vision with soft, motherly meat. “How's it feel?" she asked, a touch of care in her voice.

“Amazing," Chris responded with glee, “as good as I remember. Better even!"

“Say more nice things," she teased, “I've missed our time together."

“You and me both...Trace...this feels so...so..."

“What, babe?"

“This feels like it's meant to be." Chris grabbed her hips and moved her down, closer to his waiting cock. Trace didn't put up a fight — a token resistance at most perhaps, to keep him horny. “I should've seen it sooner."

“What, Chris? Seen what?" Trace asked, nuzzling his cheek as she leaned over him.

“You and me, together. I should've stuck around. Visited you more."

“Oh...Chris..." her heart fluttered. “That would've meant the world to me. But I didn't know how you'd feel after our breeding..." Unanswered questions blossomed in her mind. Did he like the idea of breeding her? Did he really think about the consequences? Did he genuinely give a shit?

Did he want to be a dad?

So early an age in these modern times...

“Trace," he sighed, “seeing you again...I realise there's more than lust involved..."

“I have feelings for you too," she said, holding her naked body close to his, “my maternal side is telling me to do everything in my power to keep you here." It screamed in her subconscious — roaring, proclaiming her to be a proud mother. Family was a powerful pull, and it tugged at both of their hearts.

“I didn't think I wanted have kids...for real...until I saw you with them." He didn't finish his thought, for she had blocked his words with her writhing tongue. Trace's lips shimmered with saliva, coating her lover's chin and cheeks with dampness. Their sloppy mingling proceeded, and their bodies unconsciously shifted into position.

Chris felt his dick jump, inches from her soaked pussy. The pale flesh guarding her treasure, exposed to the elements and filled with blood, twitched. He broke the kiss. Trace let him taste her breasts once more, sealing his lips around her puffy aureola. He sucked, harder and harder, his tongue massaging the bulbous knot. She cried out in pleasure, her body wracked with strong sensation. He increased his pressure, his cheeks caving, until suddenly...he tasted a trickle of liquid. Faint, barely a drop, but its foreign flavour told him the truth. Her milk flowed.

Oh God! YES!!!

Trace gasped as he coaxed milk from her mammaries. She thought herself empty after feeding Devon and Sally earlier in the day. Evidently not, as the flow steadily grew. She cheered her lover on...

“That's it! Suck my titties baby! They're so full."

The taste of her alien ambrosia was like nothing he'd ever experienced. Chris drank, thirsty for more. Her milk wasn't like a mammals', despite her modified biology. No, it felt different. It tasted new. He couldn't put his finger on it. New...different...but above all else, the product of their love. The food of his children.

He was the father. And he wanted to show the mother how much he appreciated her.

Switching boob, he suckled. Meanwhile, his hips angled themselves, rising from the bed — a slight, subtle motion, easily missed. And Trace did miss it. Taking her by surprise, Chris bucked, ramming his hips upright. The head of his cock slipped past her nether-lips and plunged inside. Trace froze, her hands squeezing his chest. Fingers dug into his skin, breaking the surface. A small quantity of blood pooled around the digits, a violent signifier of their passion.

Trace, flustered, went limp. Her legs faltered, and she had to sit. As she did, her lover's cock forced its way deeper. When her ass settled atop his groin, he was all the way inside. “Fuck!"

“Trace..." Chris murmured, separated from her bosom by her change of posture.

“F-fuck," she repeated. Sitting straight, she steadied herself. Her prominent chest — nipples leaking — rose and fell with her breathing. Her exotic colouration blurred as his vision went faint. Chris rubbed his eyes, finding them watery.

Trace stared. He stared back. She winced, wiggling her hips with him inside her. The warmth of his member emanated through her body — her cold-blooded nature absorbing as much of his heat as possible. She remained still, to which Chris had no complaints.

The couple shared a moment of heightened bliss. Just like their return home, neither wanted to be the first to interrupt the pureness of their silent union.

With the wait finally over, Chris moved his hips, lifting Trace's butt from her seated position. Out-of-balance, she slammed her palms back down onto his chest. He coughed. She purred. Gradually, they built up a rhythm. “Ah...ah!"

Chris listened to Trace's noises, a welcome delight for the ears. He thrust, his body pumping, every muscle doing their utmost duty to drive his girl wild. Her flesh engulfed him. Coaxed him deeper with each thrust. Riding hard.

“Ooohh!" Trace bobbed, her body shaking. “I've waited a year to feel a man inside me. Harder! Faster! I need it!"

Answering her call to action, Chris put all of his energy into fucking her. “G-God, Trace!" Amidst the chatter of his teeth he gave encouragement to the smoking hot creature bedding him. “Trace!" He held her quaking bosom, arms stretched to their limits. Muscles burned, losing their power as exhaustion crept up on him. She was insatiable. Her biology showed no signs of tiring. Chris wheezed. She threw her head back in rapturous ecstasy.

“Fuck me baby — FUCK ME!!!"

Grinding her hips against his pelvis, letting her moistened body slip and slide over him whenever she lowered her top half, Trace enjoyed a long-awaited fuck. Chris looked worn-out. She had a way of using her body that left him weak, and entirely at her mercy. A wry smile grew, born from the upturned curl of the corner of her mouth, her jaw loose and bouncing in sync with the rest of her. She moved close and dragged her tongue across Chris' front. The salty taste of his sweat clung to her taste-buds as they scoured his skin. Hearing him groan at the new sensation, she continued her travels. Once past his stomach she diverted to one of his nipples, coiling her flexible muscle around his vestigial peak. Nipping at his exposed body, she moved between pecs, gentle in her approach. The feel of his cock sliding into her pussy rocked her, always in the back of her mind; a deep, vaginal sensation easing the tension of the day. No...the year...

“It's s-so much better when you h-have to wait," she whispered, staring at his chest. Refusing the give him time to produce a response that wasn't a mired mix of moaning gibberish, Trace licked higher-up. She felt him tense as her tongue tickled the base of his throat. An animal reflex, fearing the intimidating mass of teeth very close to his jugular. His dick buried inside her meant the two impulses clashed. Fuck. Flee. Fuck. Flee. Both quarrelled internally, intensifying the pleasure he experienced.

The warm walls of her innards consumed his flesh. Tiny ridges and folds escorted the stiff shaft, greeting him at every thrust. He was tired now. Quite tired. How could she keep going at this pace?

He asked her.

“Saved up all my lovin' for tonight," she remarked, now up against his ear, tussling his hair, “why? You having trouble keeping up?"

“F-fuck you," he gasped, “isn't it obvious?"

“'Fuck you'...hmmm...well you are giving it your best...maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should've asked one of the guys here to help keep me company." She saw his beet-red face tilted away from her thanks to her teasing. It'd gone beyond coy — this was downright demonic!

She kept whispering, her own voice strained by their exertion. “Maybe they're still available..."

“Like fuck you're gonna leave me!" Chris roared, his speech laced with aggressive passion. He pushed himself from the bed, hurtling upright and holding Trace tight. He knew she was kidding, but he was through playing her game. Her nether-lips kissed the base of his shaft for the penultimate time, as he felt his peak approaching.

Trace paused as the rush of warmth spread inside her. Chris' faint gasp all the confirmation she needed to know he'd cum. The heat subsided for a second, then grew to a painful level. It was okay, however; she was used to it after enough times together. She felt his seed leak around his shaft, slight drops dripping onto his sac. When his shivering stopped, she took Chris' hand and guided him towards her pussy. Avoiding the remnants of the load he'd just shot, she made him stroke her lower lips — daintily caressing her labia and clitoris. The pale skin of her sensitive area rippled with a darker colour as he tended to her. Another few seconds and she could join him in orgasm.

Those infernal seconds passed slowly. Taking time to wrangle as much pleasure from his gentle strokes as possible, Trace jerked her body. Her blood was already going cold, returning to her natural low temperature. And with that temperature drop came one in the level of sensitivity down below. That wouldn't do! She needed just the last bit...the last amazing rush.

“Eeeehhhaahhh! YES!!!"

She collapsed. His dick slipped out, a blob of cum oozing from between her pussy lips. She'd made it. Got the most out of their lovemaking — well before the signs of her own tiredness could be seen by Chris.

They embraced. A soft chorus of 'oohs' and 'aahs' accompanied their relaxation. The two unlikely partners joined in a sense of shared appreciation. It would take a while before they could muster enough energy to speak.

Chris and Trace spooned for a while. Naked, calm. The night taking over. All the lights outside faded as the hours passed and denizens of the ARC retired. Only a certain subset of neon-filled facades dotted the view through the main window. Chris stared from the bedroom, seeing through the open door and out onto the living area. He felt a movement beside him. Trace mewled and squirmed next to him, a heady mix of exhausted pleasure bubbling inside her. Gently, he touched her shoulder, waking her from her half-sleep.

With speed, she rose from the bed, her curves rippling in the silver light. Chris drank in her physique. The bodacious beauty of his mate — and mother of his children.

Stretching, Trace looked behind her at Chris. He smiled at the amorous anthro, and shuffled closer to the edge of the bed. She turned back around, and walked across the room. Her nude body shone in the moonlight. Seeking a snack from the fridge, she moved into the kitchen. Chris watched her, never losing sight of his lover. Her thick salamander booty swayed with each step, his seed visibly seeping down her left thigh. She paused, sniffing the air. Chris let out a small groan and breathed heavily.

Trace looked at him, noticing his pointed stare. Her hand casually pressed against her hip, before sliding around her ass cheek and into her thigh gap. The permanent film of moisture her body secreted, thinned after hours of exertion without refreshing from a body of water, made a spine-tingling sound as her hand moved across the surface of her skin. Digits dived into her pussy, sinking into the pale lips and wiping his leaking seed from her leg.

“Mmmm...lots more babies where that came from, huh?" she giggled. Bringing her finger to her mouth — a dollop of creamy white perched upon its tip — she tasted his seed. “Mmmm! Mommy loooooves daddy's milk." Her webbed fingers returned to her moist, dripping pussy, squishing and squelching their combined gelatinous fluids, preparing another taste.

“Daddy's special milk," she moaned, lapping up the liquid treat.

Leaving Chris' view, she gathered snacks to sate her rumbling stomach — along with some to share with Chris. Ones a human would appreciate. Wolfing down another live creature, letting its aquatic body break between her jaws, Trace swallowed and licked her lips. She returned to the bedroom with a jar of cookies and some sodas. “Can't wait to introduce our kids to cookies when they're older," she said, lying down beside Chris.

“Y'know," he said, “if all my childhood bullies turned into sexy fish ladies and bore my numerous spawn life would be so much more fun and interesting."

“FISH!?"

“Sorry...'salamander' didn't roll off the tongue that well. I improvised."

Trace snorted. “You changed my species for a stupid joke? That settles it, I have to go back to being a bully. Grrrr...give me your lunch money kid!" She straddled him, pinning his arms back, their naked bodies mingling once again.

Chris was not spent yet, despite what their recent activities would have you believe. As Trace slid over him, using her nude form to tease and tantalise, he lay still. A couple of quick grabs later, and he was stroking her from head-to-tail.

“I want to be closer to you, Trace. After today, I don't know if I want to move across the country for college."

“Hmm, I like the sound of that." The supple salamander moved low, rubbing her flesh against his. “Judging by this—" she exclaimed, seizing his semi-erect dick, “—you're not finished with my body. Mommy needs her stud on-call."

Chris shivered. “You could get your wish...you make a solid case for sticking around."

“Heh, help me reinforce that case then!" Throwing her head back, she sat on his waist. The slick aftermath of Chris' climax oozed from between her nether-lips — the product of their lovemaking. Small sticky sensations clung to his pelvic area, growing in drips and drops as Trace hovered above his groin. A splash of spilled seed and feminine juices struck his cock, causing him to flinch at the oily feeling. Trace stemmed the tide by slamming her ass down. Chris jerked upright for a split-second as the force of the impact threw him. Quickly, she pressed her leaking lips against the length of his shaft, not hard enough to penetrate, yet not soft enough to completely ignore. He still had some lovin' left in him.

“Gah!"

“Hold on baby, I wanna—"

Trace lost track of her words as she slid across his length. Her natural lubricant aided passage as she travelled across his cock, kissing him in the most intimate way possible. The soft, fleshy folds of her labia surrounded his member, flanking it with thick wet lips. Back-and-forth. To-and-fro. She slid along him, increasing in both speed and intensity. The pressure applied as her weight bore down on Chris left him moaning, eking out the last vestiges of pleasure from their night of physicality. Her ass shook, tail flapping, as she humped his dick. She held her head, jaw agape, the rush flowing straight to her addled brain.

Chris grit his teeth as his second peak approached. With a halfhearted spurt, a small quantity of seed shot from his dick. Well and truly empty, he looked up at Trace, her face contorted. A loud hiss emerged from his lover, announcing her end as well. She kept moving, kept rubbing. Then, when she could no longer handle the speed, she collapsed. Falling onto Chris, she shivered, her curves wobbling, her muscles going slack. “Aahhh!"

The wet smack of her body landing on his echoed 'round the bedroom. Enjoying the glow of her climax, Trace writhed.

They lay. Motionless. For what felt like — in their drained state of mind — forever.

Relaxed, Chris held Trace. “I had an interesting day," he whispered. His breath tickled the side of her face, his jaw flush with the shape of hers.

“I bet."

Skirting the edge of slumber, Chris was suddenly wide awake. “Wait! The kids...you left them in the nursery. Is it open 'til late?"

Trace rolled over, facing him. “Sleepover," she grunted, trying to fall asleep, “couple of my friends are holding one tonight for their little ones, and they offered to mind our spawn after the nursery closed. I took 'em up on the offer, so we could spend time together."

She had this day well-planned, Chris thought — admiring her foresight. It was unlike Trey to be so...prepared.

“Tomorrow," he heard her mumble, “tomorrow. I'll introduce you all properly."

Chris lay awake beside her as she drifted to sleep. Chances of getting a decent rest were quashed by the notion of seeing all their children for the first time. “Tomorrow," Trace said, faint and fast-fading.

“Tomorrow they can meet their daddy..."