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Chris loitered outside the Amphibian Research Centre, whistling while he paced. Another minute or two of nothing, and he'd be about ready to leave. Screw Trey. He was the one who wanted to meet, he should be on time!

Why Chris even bothered to respond to his texts was a mystery. Yet here he stood, the building before him lifeless, devoid of activity. He stood alone. Nine o'clock in the morning. At least the weather was nice.

It was Spring Break of his final year, and for some bizarre reason his former classmate had reached out to him.

Trey...

What an asshole.

They were never on the best of terms. Chris was a late bloomer when it came to his physical stature, and spent the majority of his school-days a short, dumpy nerd hoping — nay — praying for a growth spurt. It'd come one year too late. Why, you might ask?

Because Trey dropped out.

Trey. That name carried with it nasty memories. In both middle and high school he bullied Chris relentlessly, often accompanied by his gang of sycophants and hangers-on, eager to show their master loyalty and torment him. Trey was the reason young Chris desperately wanted to grow tall, grow strong...something, anything to help him stand up to that snot-nosed shit-heel.

Not anymore.

In the past year Chris had experienced a major turn-around in his appearance. A foot taller. Fitter. All those round edges that once qualified him as 'tubby' gone. A triumph of diet and exercise, and giving a shit about his appearance. He actually looked healthy. Nothing spectacular, but still...given his previous situation, quite an improvement. Not that he could do anything with his newfound peace of mind, the confidence it granted him...

Because Trey dropped out.

Last year to be precise. Failed his end-of-year exams, and disappeared off of everyone's radar. Oh, there were rumours aplenty. That he'd fallen in with criminals; he'd moved out-of-state with his family; he'd gone to military school after disappointing his father. The list was endless, and only increased as the schoolyard rumour-mill wove tales of the most salacious speculation. Did he get someone pregnant and have to marry them? Did he run away from home? Did he commit suicide? Ooh, that last one was dark.

Chris knew about as much as anyone else in his class. Which is to say: nothing. This served to add to the surprise when his phone received Trey's first text. I NEED 2 TALK, it'd said. Talk? About what? Chris chose to ignore it.

Another text: I REALLY NEED 2 TALK. Again, ignored.

A third: CHRIS, I WANT YOUR HELP, PLEASE. That one caught his eye.

FUCK YOU, he sent back, WHY SHOULD I?

Weeks passed before he heard anything more. Clearly his response had touched a nerve. But, eventually, Trey texted him again.

SORRY. FOR BEING A HUGE A-HOLE. JUST TALK TO ME OK?

This touched his hardened heart. Maybe he could spare a moment of his time to humour his bully. Yeah why not? I've got ten minutes to waste, he thought. So he sent a message of his own: WHAT IS IT U WANT?

Thus begun the chain of events that led to Chris presently wandering the parking lot in front of the ARC. The drab steel-grey facade of the building felt eerily out-of-place, juxtaposed with the low-density office blocks surrounding it, the other buildings more colourful and lacking the same sheer volume of cold, uncaring glass and concrete the structure before him comprised.

The ARC actually extended several dozen acres beyond the facility proper, the local river having been diverted into the compound to provide easy access to fresh water. The sound of rushing water could be heard in the distance.

In short: it was an odd place to meet.

Why he'd been asked here specifically, Chris didn't know. Did Trey work here? Was he trying to meet up before his shift started?

Chris noticed someone at the door. They opened it and asked him what his business was here. After informing them of Trey's messages, he was ushered into the building.

* * *

Out back Chris sat on a patio chair, in a small tree-ringed alcove with a large body of water (most likely an artificial lake of some sort) to his side. The person who had led him here told him to stay and wait, then they promptly vanished, no doubt to continue conducting research on the resident 'amphibians'.

Chris was no fool. He knew what kind of research centre this was. There were stories. There were pictures. He'd seen those people. What they were. The world kept turning though. Lots of them were even on TV. Living lives as normal as the rest of us...or as normal as they could...

He'd never expected to find himself in a place like this.

There wasn't much else to see. The area he was in was relatively small, and while he had the luxury of tilting the chair back and relaxing in the warm Spring sun, he couldn't. Not here. There were too many questions. Now if only Trey were here to answer them.

His eyes shut, oblivious to the world, Chris heard the wet slap of feet approaching. Someone had been for a swim — judging by the sound. He turned his head, seeking the source of the noise.

The sight before him made him do a double-take. Wearing a one-piece bathing suit that barely contained her ample cleavage, an anthropomorphic salamander walked towards him. Her amphibian skin had an oily appearance to it, coloured a dark blue-green with bright yellow patches. Her body was athletic but soft. Her legs and arms contained powerful genetically-enhanced muscles, their shapely curves wobbling slightly as she strolled onward. The creature's form was slender, gorgeous. Her odd, alien face held a fascinating beauty to it. A thick tapered tail followed behind her.

Chris watched the exotic female come ever closer. He was confused, and a bit worried. What was the meaning of this?

The salamander smiled, her eyes lighting up as she greeted him.

“Thank you for coming to see me."

“Where's Trey?"

The creature giggled. “That's me silly! I'm Trey." She looked offended that he didn't recognise her, and how could he? She looked nothing like him. “Or," she added, “I was Trey."

She took two more steps towards him, her webbed three-toed feet smacking against the stone paving. The anthro salamander extended a hand to Chris, who shook it. The feeling of her wet, slippery skin intrigued him, warm to the touch yet so...strange. This was more than enough for him to second-guess coming here. Things were getting weird. What mess had he stumbled into?

At the very least, it explained why he'd be summoned to the Amphibian Research Centre.

“You can call me Trace."

“Trace?"

“Yup. Trey wasn't gonna suit me no more was it? Not the way I am now."

“I guess."

“Can I sit down?" she asked politely. Chris merely nodded.

“Thanks!" she cooed. “It's fun to meet with outsiders. They don't let us leave the centre much."

With a moist plop she settled into her seat. Rubbing her skin, 'Trace' studied Chris' wandering gaze, her dark red tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, touching her cheek. She took to opportunity to stretch her legs, running her hands along her knees and thighs in a sensual manner.

“I'm glad you're here. I didn't know if you'd actually come."

“Don't know if I should," Chris spat, “not for you."

Her gaze moved downward, the salamander's features wearing a sullen, heavy expression. No easy way out of apologising, profusely, for the way he (she?) had treated him in the past.

“Chris. I want to talk to you because, because..." she hesitated, “I've no-one else left. Nobody left to be kind to me."

Consternation was visible in the way she avoided direct eye contact. A potent mix of shame and anxiety. Her voice was timid, the way she spoke: cautious. This was not the brash asshole Chris knew as a human. This was someone who was running out of hope.

“Oh, I'm supposed to be kind to you?" She winced as his sharp tongue struck at her delicate state of mind. “You? You made my life a living hell. This year has been the best I've ever had, you wanna know why? 'Cause dickheads like you aren't around to bully me!"

“I'm sorry, I—"

“That's not even going into what you've done to yourself," he cut her pleading off, astonished at how he (she?) could be so naive. To think she could make things right in a single conversation. “You tell me you don't have anyone else? Good."

“C'mon dude!"

“You stole my girlfriend..."

“ Pff. She wanted me more."

“You and your gang of thugs beat me."

“I..." Trace fell silent. She had no response to that.

“You're an all-round, grade-A prick. Karma should be fuckin' you in the ass as hard as possible! Go homeless. End up on drugs. LOSE the game of life. Fuck if I care."

“Listen, I—"

“But nooooo. God doesn't want me to be happy, it seems. You get to paddle your way up shit creek to safety by trading your life as a human for one as a fucking lizard."

“Salamander! We're amphibians. That's prejudiced."

“Cry me a river."

“JUST SHUT UP FOR ONE SECOND!" she screamed, at her wit's end. “I've changed."

Chris snorted. “I have eyes, y'know."

“Not THIS," Trace said indignantly, showing off her curves for effect, “I mean as a person."

“I'll believe that when I see it." He looked around, wondering if their argument had attracted the attention of the ARC staff. Seeing the place deserted, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Will you at least listen to my request?"

“ Hmpf. Fine."

“I failed my exams. Everyone knows that part. I was a bully to a lotta people. Hurt them. Kicked 'em when they're down. Didn't care much for guys like you. Socially fucked with you all too. Held parties for the popular kids, the jocks—"

“And didn't invite those you picked on. Organising it so that we were collectively flipped the bird by your band of douches."

“Yes." In Chris' mind the mere fact she acknowledged the shitty things she did was a start. He looked at her a little more favourably. “Yes...my parents didn't approve."

“Obviously."

“I blew through my last couple o' warnings without a care in the world. They grounded me. I cussed, told 'em to go fuck themselves. They grounded me more. I sneaked out to continue partying. They found out, and ground me for the rest of the school year."

Harsh, but nowhere near harsh enough, Chris thought.

He listened as she continued: “The deal was I get good marks, I don't get thrown out on my ass at eighteen. Which, given I was held back a year, meant I'd already disappointed them. This was purely about me not giving them a reason to kick me out. Mom's a bitch and dad's a hard-ass, so they meant what they were saying."

She chose her next words carefully, painfully aware of how Chris would treat her based on them. “Things didn't work out for me. Surprise!" she laughed awkwardly, hiding her sorrow. “They disowned me. My 'friends' gave less than a shit 'bout me after I was no longer seen as 'cool'. Shit fucking sucks. For the first time I saw them as you did: bullies." Chris remained silent. She cleared her throat nervously, wary of his judgement. “I wasn't finished school, so no graduation, no diploma. Family kicked me out. No friends. No-one to turn to. I needed cash, and somewhere to live. Ended up coming here and signing up to their programme."

“That's a helluva fall from grace, Trey — I mean Trace."

“Mm-hmm. The money they offered was decent, and I would have my own place. They asked in return that I undergo the transformation. That...that wasn't the only catch..."

Trace averted her eyes, unwilling to face him. She bit her lip. “There was a shortage of female volunteers."

“So they had to make do, huh?"

Trace turned away, embarrassed, cross-armed, trying to cover her womanly figure. That was the worst part. Not the signing away of his humanity, but the uncomfortable reality of his/her gender-swapped life. Becoming a research anthro was enough for one to stomach, becoming a woman was in a whole 'nother ballpark.

Trace looked down, the female's view filled with her generous cleavage. Real salamanders (the four-legged kind) lacked mammaries; the twin teardrops that decorated her pronounced chest, a queer melding of human and amphibian characteristics. Then again, she reminded herself, real salamanders don't speak or walk on two legs either.

This has gone on long enough. Time to lower my guard. Hope Chris takes this the right way...

H __aah_ h,_ she sighed internally, am I really gonna ask him?

* * *

Trace recalled her first day as a female. The fear, the uncertainty. Terrified she made a terrible mistake, doctors trying to calm her, kicking and screaming and scratching over and over and over.

The ARC staff were far kinder than she'd expected. They took their time explaining the details of her new life and body. There was unease in the pit of her stomach as her mind realised the extent of the physical changes. Fear and disgust at what she had become. It brought her to the brink of tears.

Her handlers were patient. They cheered her up just by talking to her, assuring her she wouldn't be treated as anything other than their honoured guest. Timidly, Trace stood on unfamiliar legs and made her first steps towards a new beginning. They walked her to her room, thankful she had volunteered to help their research.

Her body was the hardest aspect of her changed life to come to terms with. The reflection in the mirror disturbed her. Gone was Trey's handsome (if brutish) exterior. In its place was a blue, green and yellow-patterned animal. Animal. Creature. Non-human, the less open-minded would say.

Her hands were three-fingered, webbed between all digits. Same with her feet. Large webbed toes, like...like a frog's (she never knew that much about salamanders, so starved of an apt comparison she was). They made swimming a breeze. That was the one advantage she liked. Her fellow denizens of the centre had been gifted their own abilities, far in advance of her own. She couldn't crawl up walls like she saw some smaller, lighter frogs in the ARC do — not that she even wanted to. Too weird.

Putting aside the shape of her head — her jaws more suited to devouring raw meat than cooked food — the colouration of her skin, the presence of a big tail...Trace knew she'd overcome this out-of-body discomfort. She wasn't the only one to have gone through this.

There were others here, and she resolved to talk to them.

Over time, she made friends with some of the other residents of the ARC. There was Missy, a ballerina who joined to get even more of a spring in her step (she of course, became a frog). Missy was older, and often spent her leisure time in the 'Bufonid' section with the other frogs and toads, but she always made time for Trace — offering support, and the occasional shoulder to cry on.

Missy had been obsessed with anthros growing up, and wanted nothing more than to be one. She took the plunge five years ago, when the centre was first opened, and had watched the rising amphibian population with excitement. This was her home, and she welcomed Trace with open arms. The young salamander felt comfortable in her presence. The insecurities she'd nursed since transforming faded as they grew to be fast friends. She found she belonged in her new skin.

There were nights when Trace looked upon her as more than a friend; the possibility intrigued her. Nights when they frolicked in the pool, moonlight dancing off of Missy's moist skin, her lithe form surging through the waters with grace. Petite breasts streamlining her figure, on display as she swam naked. Her dazzling red-green eyes pulling Trace in. Yes...there were nights when she thought of taking their relationship a step beyond mere friendship.

Yet, she didn't truly feel it. Not like when she was a human, lusting after pretty girls. She had changed too much to feel that way about another female. This worried her. Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind Trace continued to settle in; Missy was always there to help out.

It was through Missy she then found a friend in Bill, a large muscular toad. The guy came off a self-centred prick when Trace first met him, a hypocrisy she was well aware of. First impressions weren't everything, however, and she grew to like the guy. Minus his...um...dress sense...

Bill tended to stroll around the grounds buck naked, his big oily toad-pecker swinging in the wind. While it caught the eyes of many of her fellow females in the ARC, it was a little off-putting to hold a conversation with his pride and joy hanging free. The others had the decency to put on a swimsuit, togs or bikini most of the time. Then again, he probably liked the attention. Trace didn't mind it too much. Her feminine mindset made sure of that.

Missy once hinted she'd love to 'wrestle' such a well-built toad, but joked that she wasn't his type. Trace was ambivalent. Despite this, he was a looker. She felt drawn to him, his physical presence alluring — a shining male specimen of his kind.

Those thoughts distressed her. Her mind fought itself, struggling with a crisis of identity. She could feel the attraction to males growing, it permeated her entire being. But this wasn't her! I mean him! This wasn't Trey! Trey...no...Trace! Trey was a man for the ladies, always has been, always will; Trace, well, Trace was something new. It hurt, feeling this divide in her psyche.

Maybe...maybe she'd ask him...could she...?

Could they mate?

Would that do it? Help her feel happy in her new body?

Then again, it wasn't likely. What did Missy mean when saying he preferred a different type? Well, Trace soon discovered the answer. One day she wandered in on the brawny stud pinning down another bufonid male, pounding the living daylights out of his companion's squishy behind. His glistening length slid in-and-out of the frog's ass, the lesser male squirming under his relentless thrusting. Quite the sight to behold.

Well that explains it...

The vigorous display continued. She watched him take hold of the frog's hips — make one last, powerful thrust — and cum. Flooding his partner's rear with his thick load. Deep, rumbling noises were made by Bill as he threw his head back in ecstasy. His submissive lover lay still beneath him, immobile, unwilling to spoil the moment by sliding free.

Trace saw the seed leak from around his generous member, pumped in volume from the vice-like grip of the lesser male's tail hole, dripping onto the floor beneath the pair. She could've sworn she noticed wriggling in the sea of sticky white cream, like teeny-tiny tadpole sperms — just visible to the naked eye — were slithering about in his juices. Or her eyes were playing tricks on her, the excitement of spying on the racy encounter overwhelming the poor girl.

Worse still, the craving was stronger than ever, the rutting males having awakened a desperate desire. She wanted to fuck. Wanted to be fucked. Wanted to breed.

From then on Trace would lie in bed at night, fingers tickling her sensitive womanhood, wondering how it would feel for her, as a female. To indulge in the fruits of her new body.

A male. She wanted a male. Her attraction to Bill tormented her. Her pain would be brief, luckily, as her craving for toad-meat waned over the coming weeks, going from intense lust to tempered attraction. Nevertheless, she wanted to breed. Desperately. It burned a hole in her heart nothing else could fill. Better still, rumour had it breeding was a good way to get lots of extra perks from the ARC. She fantasized about getting rich off of her lust. There was a certain appeal to such a lifestyle. Her instincts were the source of this desire, after all. No need to stifle them if she could exploit them.

Bill. Why couldn't she tear her eyes away from him?

...

Fuck!

...

So, he was gay. That sucked. Takes him off the list of potential mates. No other male in the centre could hold a candle to Bill, so Trace searched high and low for another outlet for her budding hunger.

When she settled on a plan of action, she fought with herself on whether to proceed.

It was her last resort, but if she was honest, he might be willing to look past their history together...

* * *

“This next part is embarrassing. But I need this...I need to know if you'll do this with me..."

Chris leaned forward, attentive. This was the reason he came here. Something so important they had to speak in person to discover.

“I want to spawn."

Hmm, he wondered, does she mean...?

“I want to breed. With...you," she said, reading his puzzled mind.

Oh. Ohhhh...she does...

At the moment of revelation, he uttered a monosyllabic: “huh."

“I want...you. To do it with me."

“This is..." Chris stammered, “a little out of left-field doncha' think?"

“I know it sounds fucking crazy! But I mean it. Please give me an honest answer."

“Aren't there like, males here...other, um, salamander-people for this kinda thing?"

“There are males. Yeah...but they're sooooo lame! Think of the type of guy who agrees to become a slimy male salamander. Ew...creepy! Who'd want that? Am I right?"

“As opposed to the type of guy who agrees to become a female salamander?" Chris raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up," she huffed, “y'know what I mean!"

“Oh, I think I do."

She saw him crack a devious smile . “Let me get this straight. You pissed off the last people on Earth who might give you the time of day. The last folks who'd put up with your shit. Dear old mom and dad. Look where that got ya. Alone. All alone and...heh, this is too rich..."

He laughed. His cruel streak was showing.

“You're turning into a whore. Not just any kind of whore. Whorin' yourself out for science, a lab rat! A non-human."

Non-human. The words stung.

“I had to do this," she protested, “I had nothing! This place saved me."

“In return for transforming into... that..." he gestured to her new body, “and letting a bunch of doctors experiment on you?"

Trace nodded, having lost the will to speak up for herself. She was visibly upset as his remarks. Luckily Chris picked up on that and tempered his tirade. He chastised her for a minute more before calmly — and carefully — asking why, in all honesty, she wanted him.

“I looked you up on social media and all; I gotta say, you really got in shape."

“That's why? You want me for my body?"

She looked panicked. “No, that's not...okay, that's one reason why. I saw the beach trip photos you posted...but I have other reasons."

She huffed. This was tougher than she'd expected. “You're smart, Chris. Smarter than I ever was. Why do you think I always copied your work?

“Makes sense. You were an astonishingly unrepentant cheater."

“ Nerd." she remarked, teasing him.

“Ha-ha, I use big words, very funny."

She shifted in her seat. “I want my offspring to have your smarts. And...you're kinda the only person I'm comfortable asking. You ain't a bad guy."

“Oh how the tables have turned."

Trace fidgeted. “So, will...will you do it?"

Chris needed a moment to think. Mulling it over, he stroked his chin. Well, it's not how I envisioned 'fucking' my bully...but it's something.

* * *

“This is me."

They stopped outside one of the doors in the residential portion of the centre. Trace was still wet after her swim, damp footprints trailed behind them like fairytale breadcrumbs. That was no issue — the centre was built to house amphibians after all. Common areas were furnished with water-resistant flooring, perfect for their semi-aquatic hosts to go about their business. Chris made a mental note to wipe his shoes clean when leaving.

She tentatively placed the key in the lock. “Before we go any further, I have to ask: are you absolutely positively sure you want to do this?" The nervous hybrid watched for any tell-tale signs in her prospective partner's face.

Chris exhaled. Today was strange. He failed to reply.

“Are you sure you want to...have...sex?" she whispered.

“I said yes didn't I?"

“I know. You have to be weirded out, like, a little?"

He placed his hand over hers. “Just open the door would ya?"

They entered her room. It was fancier than Chris was expecting. He assumed a dormitory bedroom, instead he was greeted with a small but cosy apartment. They treated their subjects well in the ARC.

“Hungry? There're smoothies in the fridge."

Chris opened the metal door, scanning the refrigerated interior. None of the food inside interested him.

“Some are normal fruit, but steer clear of the algae ones, I don't think you'd like 'em."

“Nah, I'm good," he said, shutting the fridge door. “This is a nice place. For what it is," he commented, looking around her mini-apartment.

“Neat, isn't it? I have one of the smaller ones. They give bigger pads to breeding couples and long-term subjects. I've thought 'bout upgrading, but it costs money. Since I've got everything I need here — kitchen, living area, bedroom — why should I?"

“What's through there?" he pointed to the far side of the room.

“Oh that's my pool."

“You have an indoor pool?"

“A little one, yeah. I use it for baths and chillaxin'. We gotta keep our skin hydrated to stay healthy." She narrowed her gaze. “Why? Wanna have a little splash in my pool? Together?" Her voice reached him laced with seductive tones.

She stood close to him, eyes wandering over his body. Chris couldn't help but fall under the same spell. She touched his arm. His skin flushed with the contact, sending tingling sensations up his shoulder and neck.

“Let me show you the bedroom."

Trace led him by the hand. Upon entering, Chris noticed a second, much smaller pool.

“Another one?"

Trace skipped over to it from the doorway. “This...is my spawning pool. When I lay my eggs they'll incubate there," she said, motioning to the bowl-like depression.

“How long does that all take?" Chris wondered.

“Umm, from what I'm told by the other females it takes a couple of weeks for my eggs to develop, then I release them into the pool, and keep an eye on them. Until they hatch of course."

“Seems a little quick."

“Well, that's amphibians for ya!" she chirped. “Now..." she turned to face him, dialling the sexy up to eleven, “come closer..."

Chris — her willing servant — followed orders. Trace pulled him into an embrace, leaving a faint damp imprint of her figure on his t-shirt.

“To business?" he quipped, already missing the feel of her body against his.

“To business. You shoot your man goo all up inside me and I'll have a batch of lil' salamander babies to raise."

“Putting it that way kinda kills the mood, doncha' think?"

“Oh shush, you agreed to this, don't you back out now!"

She disrobed, her wet bathing suit hitting the floor with a splat. Chris at last saw her nude, her divine yet alien figure the product of science gone too far. A perfect breeding female for her species.

Her non-human form was his to enjoy. Her tongue flicked as she posed for him, kicking away her one-piece and caressing her needy body. Her hands cupped her breasts — free at last from the tyranny of clothing. Beneath the thin layer of moisture her dark green nipples were hardening. Firming up in anticipation of her lover's tender touch.

Chris watched her tense up. Never had he seen someone so turned on by the prospect of sex. In his limited history with the ladies he hadn't once garnered such a reaction. Trace let out a timid moan as she worked herself into quite a state. His opinion of her was being slowly clouded by the primal urge to mate, overwriting their history, leaving him wanting. She was attractive, yes, and looking for love. Who cares who she used to be? Chris felt his member strain against his pants, desperate to be set free.

Her curvaceous hips guarded the greatest treasure of all. Pale fleshy lips hidden between her thighs, swelling with blood from self-stimulation, drew Chris' stare away from her breasts. She ran a finger lightly across them, with delicate precision, just enough to tease herself. She licked her lips.

While she toyed with her sensual form, Chris undressed. He wasn't bad to look at. Nice pronounced abs, nothing over-the-top. Soft yet strong. Unconstrained, his cock rose to attention, fully erect. Average length. Decent girth. Surrounded by a short, sparse patch of pubic hair, pleasing to the eye. His breathing grew shallow, the lust building. The scent of mutual arousal blanketed the room.

Neither could wait a second longer.

Face-to-face, they kissed. Trace found her large jaws somewhat unwieldy, pressing them up against Chris' lips in a vain effort to emulate the actions of two humans smooching. Chris didn't seem to mind the awkward manoeuvres necessary to truly kiss one another, and put his own effort into sealing their mouths together.

A sharp thwack echoed throughout the room as her tail snapped against the floor, excited by the touch of skin upon skin. Chris edged forward, nudging her, running his hands over her. Trace's skin felt smooth, and cool; her low body temperature a side-effect of her amphibian form. Not cold enough to make things uncomfortable — for Chris, she was the ice in his drink.

He pushed her up against the wall, passions aflame. She cooed as he pressed tightly against her. A dull purring. Chris grabbed hold of her juicy rear, squeezing her buoyant cheeks together. With her back propped up against the wall he let her lower half shift forward as he leaned in. This freed her tail to swish back-and-forth at her leisure, twitching with each tender ministration applied by the amorous human. Trace forced her tongue into Chris' mouth. Her long flexible muscle swirled inside his mouth, exploring her lover, stealing his breath.

Chris moaned. Trace moaned back.

They broke their kiss, leaving the pair to look deeply into each other's eyes. An unspeakable bond formed, fleeting though it may be. They talked through their eyes, burning with desire. Fuck me, Trace screamed — silent the to world at large, fuck me!

His stare said it all: not yet.

He lifted her up slightly, her ass still firmly in his grasp. Her swelling flower came to rest on his lower abdomen, her thighs curling 'round his waist. This was the only part of her that felt warm. Amidst the wetness of her body in general, Chris could sense the trickle of lubricant, leaking from her pussy and dampening his waistline as it ran down his sensitive skin, matting his body hair. It dripped onto his hard member, leaving him prematurely slick.

No penetration yet. Just teasing. And boy, did Chris love to tease.

With Trace's legs wrapped around him, her thighs clamped across his waist, Chris brought his head to her chest. There he admired her wonderful breasts. Large and pliable. He kissed one of the mounds, tasting her body. There was a hint (however faint) of salt on her flesh. He worked his way along her chest, massaging with his tongue, until he reached her right nipple. The small bud felt like a stone — hard under his licking. Shortness of breath overcame Trace, her breathing a shallow, staccato beat. Her nerves were firing on all cylinders. Feeling his primal assault, she quivered and quaked. It was sublime.

Chris suckled, burying his face in her beautiful bosom as much as possible. He switched sides. Heaping devotion upon her other breast, savouring every moment, every second he licked and sucked. Trace giggled: “someone likes my titties."

Removing them from his mouth with a fat pop, Chris smiled at her. “I do."

“Aahh," she stretched, her limbs shivering, “this feels amazing!" Trace never knew how many nooks and crannies could be stimulated by a considerate lover. This body of hers...just wonderful...

Chris dived back between her breasts, thanking all manner of deities for what the ARC had done to her. Careful to not hurt his partner, he bit one of her nipples. This produced a delightful squeal from Trace. She ruffled his hair as he nibbled her sweet nubs. Her tail flicked between his legs, slapping his behind. A surprised Chris pulled his face away from her chest. She laughed when she saw his expression. Her powerful tail coiled around one of his legs, the prehensile tip stroking the back of his knee. He went weak in that leg for a second, trying to keep her supported.

Repositioning herself, Trace clenched her ass around his cock. The hot spear begged for attention, she flexed her butt muscles, constricting around it. Chris gasped as the salamander squeezed his shaft. His chest rose and fell with laboured breaths.

Moving away from the wall, he carried her in the direction of her bed. Just in time too, for he collapsed on top of her, his legs no longer able to stand the tickling she administered with her tail. The mattress was strange, much the same as a waterbed — but filled with a thick, viscous gel. Whatever it was, according to Trace it was perfectly normal. She sank into it a bit before it solidified into a stable mass, hugging the edge of her body.

Chris crawled over her, sliding over her blue-green skin. Two blobs of yellow colouring at her shoulder-blades caught his eye, and for a moment he paused, then looked up at her face. She was panting. She needed this. She needed it bad.

He positioned himself at her entrance, his tip barely nudging against the silken folds guarding her womanhood. Sweating, he made measured movements to rub gently his spear-tip on her waiting nether-lips. Methodically he played with her pussy, adding his fingers to the mix — lightly rubbing her pubic mound. One hand held his shaft in place, the other tended to her needy sex. Trace whimpered. His touch was exciting. Was this how it felt for women? She could barely contain herself. Chris stopped, and focused on her expression, noting how blank it'd become with yearning. He smiled. She returned the adulation, snapping out of her libidinous haze. Her mind was clouded with thoughts of him entering her. How it would feel. How happy it would make her.

Resuming his treatment of her exposed pussy, Chris singled out her clit for extra attention. As he rubbed his heated shaft along her labia, the human used his free hand to brush against the delicate nerve cluster. Trace bit her lip. Rods of pleasure shot though her body, her muscles twitching. Her three-toed feet flexed, joints popping with a satisfying crack. She lay paralysed by his miniature massage. The salamander's legs tightened around his trunk, preparing for the next step.

Having tormented his former bully enough, Chris pushed himself inside. Opening up her folds he felt the tightness of her virgin body fight back his invading cock. That did little to stop him. To Chris it seemed like she was sucking him in, drawing his member inside despite the resistance. Her oily walls helped him glide deeper, his mushroom-headed probe clearing the way.

Trace very nearly cried then and there. It's not supposed to be this way. She is...she was a horrible person. She wasn't supposed to feel so good. Nobody like her deserved this! She inhaled strongly, followed by a loud sniff as she composed herself. It was tricky with Chris having already entered her, but she managed to stave off the worst of her oncoming emotions. He was able to put aside their differences, she could too.

He reached the maximum extent his length would allow. Hilting himself, his anthro lover wriggled under him, finding a better position to take his soon-to-begin thrusting. Trace rested her hands on his chest, gripping a pec each. He's so warm!

Once more tears threatened to form. She grimaced as Chris closed his eyes. Thank you, she mouthed, for everything!

Chris pulled out, stopping short of exiting her completely. The sensation of his cock dragging along her inner walls drove Trace wild. No way in hell could being a guy compete with this kind of feeling. Chris grunted as he thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The quickness of his push caught her off-guard, but in a good way. “Mmmm...aahh!" she purred. He repeated his pull-and-thrust movements. Another full cycle. Chris experimented with different speeds, thrusting again and again with variations in pace, hoping to find a comfortable rhythm.

Finding one they both enjoyed, he settled in, hips bucking — pumping her full of his red-hot meat. Trace moaned as he moved. Her body complemented his actions by pushing against his thrusts, elevating the pleasure. Her thighs wetly smacked against his pelvis, her human lover buckling — falling into her arms — whenever the feel of her velvet lining was too much. This was everything she ever wanted: someone to mate with her. At last she could quench the burning.

His vigour did not falter the longer they fucked. Chris didn't get in shape for nothing! Well...he didn't get in shape for this, exactly...but hey, he made do. He watched her face contort with delight; open-mouthed, her tongue lolled aimlessly, flapping with the rhythm of his pounding.

Trace bounced on his cock a minute more, before leaping up into his arms. She now sat upright, Chris propelling his hips upwards to fuck her. Her breasts bobbed, nipples scratching his chest. She kissed him, holding his head in her hands, engulfing his small human tongue with her jaws. He pussy slick with her juices, Trace gyrated, her muscular legs holding them together.

Chris picked up the pace, trying to hasten his release.

Yeah, take that Trey! Piece of shit...who's in charge now!?

“GAAAGH!" Oh God, I'm close...

He plunged inside her one last time, and froze. He howled, muffled by Trace's mouth, as he came. His whole body shook. The pressure building in his balls was at last relieved. Ropes of human seed squirted into Trace, thick with life-giving sperm. The salamander knew she could get pregnant from a human, they were genetically compatible enough to achieve fertilisation. She wondered how many eggs would grow from their union.

Chris tore his lips away from hers. He felt her constrict around him, both in limb and pussy, holding him tight. He could breathe, gasping as he shot his load. She soon followed with an orgasm of her own, biting down on his shoulder. Chris hissed as she broke the skin, her figure pulsing with blissful abandon.

“Ohmygod! That was—" Trace left her sentence half-finished as she collapsed back onto the bed, Chris' manhood stuck firmly in her canal. “Ohmygod!"

“Yeah. That was something else," he uttered, weak from their encounter, “I like the new you."

She chuckled, glad they were on good terms. Chris slid out, moving back on the bed and positioning himself beside her. An arm wrapped around her waist, her tail flicking, their legs entwined. Her feet fought with his for space.

Trace sighed. She could feel Chris' heartbeat on her back as he held her. Obsessed with his form moulding around hers, she ignored another issue. Then she felt it — something was off. She felt queasy. And the burning in her womb hadn't really faded.

“Chris."

“Yeah."

“It hurts."

Chris kissed her neck. “What does?"

“It's too hot!" She began to weep.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Chris sat up beside her, seeing her crying affected him. “What's wrong!?"

“Aagh," Trace groaned as she rose, resting her upper body against the wall. “Your...um...stuff...it's..."

“It's too...hot?" he ventured.

She sniffed. The discomfort was palpable. “I'm cold-blooded, Chris. We don't have the same body temperature anymore. Your cum, it's starting to hurt — a lot!"

“Jesus, I had no idea."

“Not your fault. Not your..." she trailed off, wincing at the pain, “...fault."

Chris hugged her, whispering comforts in her ear. “Listen, okay, just breathe." She did as instructed, calming herself. “In-and-out, in-and-out."

It took a while, but the burning subsided. The tears went away. “There we go," Chris assuaged her, “feelin' better?"

“Much better."

“Guess were aren't the most compatible species, eh?"

“Aah...aahh," she exhaled, “yeah, should've checked that first, hah!"

They rested, napping for an hour while they bathed in the afterglow. Trace placed a hand on her belly. His seed was no longer burning her insides, having cooled to a nice level. She pictured the countless swimmers vying for her eggs, his essence host to millions of the tiny tadpoles. She laughed aloud — she had amphibians on the brain!

Her mirth woke Chris. The human, half-asleep, spoke: “what's up?" Trace felt a hand slide between her legs, and a cheeky couple of fingers dance at the gateway to paradise. She swatted away his wayward digits.

“You can spend the night here if you want."

“Well," Chris lay down, “I've got nothing better to do...not after what you offered me...so I will."

Trace hugged him. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou! You sure?"

“Hey, easy there. Mom's out of town, so I don't have curfew or anything."

“What time is it?"

Chris reached off of the bed and fumbled through his discarded clothes for his watch. “It's only two."

“I can make dinner...if you're staying here."

“Geez, Trace, really rollin' out the red carpet for me."

“It's nothing," she blushed, “wanna watch some TV?"

* * *

Chris woke alone. Groggily, he pulled himself out of bed. Rubbing his eyes, he wandered the room looking for his scattered clothes. As he dressed himself he heard splashing. Leaving the bedroom he waltzed over to the source of the noise: Trace's pool.

Submerged beneath the surface was his amphibian fling. Her eyes were shut. She sat below the waterline, peaceful.

The rumbling of the water around her was relaxing. Trace wanted to stay here all day. In fact, she could! Thanks to her genetically-engineered physiology she could take in oxygen from both air and water. Faint vibrations in the surrounding liquid alerted her to someone moving around. No doubt it was Chris, ready for some breakfast.

She opened her eyes, spotting the human staring at her in the pool. She rose quickly, breaking the surface. Chris watched this creature emerge from the water, skin glistening, breasts bouncing free. She was something else.

“Good morning!" she said cheerily.

“Having fun?"

“What?" Oh, this!" Trace climbed out of the pool. Her naked form a welcome sight for the young man. “Just a little peace and quiet."

Chris kept his distance, not willing to get his only set of clothes wet. Trace didn't mind. She dried herself with a towel, retaining just enough moisture to maintain a healthy shine. Her butt wobbled as she shimmied with the towel, hypnotising Chris.

“Chris?"

“Huh," he stared, dumbfounded.

“Eyes up here."

Chris cut out his gawping at her ass, and met her gaze.

“There's a favour I'd like to ask you."

“What is it, Trace?"

“I want...I want to make sure I've gotten pregnant. This is my one and only chance to do this with you. So, could you...could you stay a few days more? Just to make sure."

“And this 'making sure', would involve...?"

She hid her embarrassment. “You know exactly what it involves, mister!"

Chris grinned. “Maybe you'll let me in the pool next time?" he said, giving her a sly wink. Trace ran up to him and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Maybe."

* * *

Chris made himself a sandwich when there was a knock on the door. Abandoning his lunch, he went to answer it. Opening the door he discovered the swimsuit-clad body of his new friend-with-benefits. Trace carried a couple of plastic shopping bags. They weren't the focus of his attention, mind you. Instead, he watched her firm cleavage strain against the tight swimsuit — struggling to be contained by the synthetic fabric.

Copping a feel, he invited complaint. “The least you could do is take my bags," Trace snapped.

“Sure, sure." Chris stepped back to allow her entry. Taking a peek at her groceries he was pleased to see plenty of snacks.

They both walked into the kitchen area. Trace held her sides and let out a tired sigh. She caressed her lower half. Her belly bulged with dozens of eggs. More than noticeable, her pregnant stomach presented a nice round bump to the world. Chris touched her belly, admiring his handiwork.

“I ran into Missy when I was picking up the food."

“Missy...oh that's your frog friend."

“Uh-huh. She was sooo excited when she saw my bump! Couldn't take her hands off it!"

The pair settled in for a feast of candy and soda. The ARC commissary took orders, so Trace was able to get a hold of all Chris' favourites. It cost a tiny bit more, but it was worth it to keep him happy.

“Hey, Chris," she asked between mouthfuls of junk food, “this might be a bit much but, do you want to stick around 'till I spawn?"

“I...uh...I don't. Sorry, but it's almost a whole week since I came here. I don't mean it in a bad way, I like...what we did...but—"

“Nonono! I absolutely understand. I don't wanna drag you away from your life to be a dad."

“God, you make me sound like a deadbeat now."

“Gosh no, I'm sorry. I don't mean...not like that... gah...kids are my responsibility, not yours. And besides, they won't be human. Most folks'll kinda take that the wrong way."

“You're awfully considerate these days," he remarked. She was definitely not the same guy who bullied him relentlessly in high school.

“I did kinda revamp my life...it'd be hard not to change you mind about people. For what it's worth, I'm sorry for being such a prick to you."

“You're right. You are way less of a prick now..."

Across the table they share a kiss. This was fun while it lasted, but soon they would part ways — each had lives of their own to live.

Way less of a prick...

Chris let her tongue dive into his mouth. His own tongue tasted her exotic flesh as it danced across his teeth.

...and way more of a slut.

* * *

The end of his break came much sooner than Chris expected. Time flies when you're having fun, he surmised. He was back in school now, two weeks after leaving the ARC (and Trace) to pick up where he left off on his studies.

His mother had come home from a trip to Europe. The first time he'd seen her in a month. She lay exhausted on the sofa, not even willing to unpack yet. Neither she nor Chris had put aside much time to catch up, he was powering through a particularly tough assignment.

“Better start opening my cases," his mom said, literally throwing herself from the cosy seating to get to work.

“Need a hand?"

“No sweetie, I'm fine. It's mostly clothes."

Chris' phone vibrated on the kitchen table. Putting his pen down, he went to unlock it. There was a message, the sender still marked as 'Trey'. Gotta update that, he noted.

He opened the message; there was a picture as well. Trace, striking a sexy pose with a big dumb grin on her face, had taken a selfie. At the bottom of the image was her spawning pool, filled with a huge number of semi-transparent orbs. The text read:

SO EXCITED!!!

CANT WAIT 2B A MOMMY.

THNX SO MUCH!!!

XXXXX

He looked up from his phone to see his mom walking over to the sink, and filling a glass of water. Chris carefully closed the message app and put his phone away.

“So, what did you get up to for Spring Break?" she asked.