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Message-ID: <47466asstr$1081977008@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "virgosun" <virgosun@internode.on.net>
Subject: {ASSM} Beryl and the Polymorph 7/9 {virgosun} (mf cons rom pett mutant)
Lines: 682
Date: Wed, 14 Apr 2004 17:10:08 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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<1st attachment, "poly07.txt" begin>

*BERYL AND THE POLYMORPH*

by virgosun (c) April 2004
*******************************
(Part 7)

They dated, and frequented the dances. Sometimes Pro 
borrowed the car; sometimes Doug borrowed a different 
car; sometimes Dot or even Dad gave her and Pro a lift 
to where they were going. On one occasion she doubled 
behind Doug on the motorbike, clutching her hat and 
laughing all the way. With Pro she went to the movies, 
and laughed and rolled sweets along the aisles as much 
as they canoodled; if the show was good they were happy 
to curl in each others' arms and watch the story unfold. 
Most nights ended snuggled together behind the 
mickleberry, nuzzling and kissing until Mum popped out 
of the front door bang on eleven, regular as clockwork, 
calling her name.

Pro arrived on her doorstep one fine weekend astride a 
bicycle that Basil used to ride around the worksite. 
Beryl packed the Crabtree delivery bike with picnic 
goodies and they had ridden to the public reserve on the 
riverside, a shallow reach where it was safe for 
children to play in knee-deep water. They took a dirt 
track inaccessible to cars further along the river, past 
glittering rapids, and beneath long trailing curtains of 
willow boughs. At last, hot from their ride, they found 
a secluded place to picnic, cooling off with a splash in 
the river. Pro dispensed with his clothing altogether, 
and Beryl slipped off her shorts to reveal boy-leg 
bathers that may not have revealed much skin, but 
emphasised her womanly curves. Pro couldn't keep the 
grin of approval off his face, and his eyes kept 
creeping out on stalks as if to speak for a much more 
mysterious part of his anatomy.

"Pro, cut it out!" she giggled, "that looks ridiculous!" 
Laughing, he splashed her with cool riverwater and she 
squealed, nipples rising up at the chill.

They snacked from the picnic hamper, all the while 
devouring each other with their eyes. She had revelled 
in the power the sight of her body had given her over 
George...but they had both been innocent then. That 
power had turned against her when George kept trying to 
touch...

"Hey." The feather-touch of gentle tendrils on her cheek 
brought her back. George was long gone, and the soft 
fingers that tilted up her chin were not blunt and 
rough. "Beryl? Are you okay?"

She smiled, caressing that familiar, textured face. "I 
love you, Pro," she smiled, drawing him into a lingering 
kiss. When they parted, she saw his eyes move toward the 
down-view of her rounded bosom. He was still innocent. 
He rolled onto his back with a sigh and shut his eyes, 
his limbs losing definition as he stretched.

"You look mighty fine, Beryl, and I look so-so. Let me 
try something. Maybe I can get more than just the ears 
right." Several pores as well as his nostrils flared as 
he drew a deep breath. Sitting beside him, Beryl watched 
as subtle changes rippled beneath his skin. His arms and 
legs resumed proper human form, becoming even more 
refined and chiselled. The biceps muscles and forearms 
became much more heavily fleshed and their shapes 
defined, even to the cords of veins appearing. His chest 
became deeper, shoulders wider, with deep pectoral 
muscles and a rippling stomach. From a lean and average-
shaped base, Pro transformed into a muscular athlete.

"Pro, you don't have to do that for me." She rested a 
hand upon that sculpted chest, over his heart. He still 
_felt_ like Pro, warm and resilient. "I love you the way 
you are, the way you're comfortable."

"Yeah?" he grinned, eyes popping open. He released a 
breath, and some of the tension left his perfect shape. 
"Good, it takes a heckuva lot of concentration to do 
that for too long! I thought that was the kind of shape 
every woman desires in a man. If you could change your 
shape, what would you do?"

She thought a moment. "I'd probably...longer legs and a 
smaller beam," she concluded, and he laughed.

"Don't you dare! There's nothing wrong with your legs or 
your beam."

"I like you better the way you are. Big muscles aren't 
everything." Beryl raised an eyebrow archly, gazing at 
his pelvis. "Besides which, you've left something off."

"Oh...heh heh, _that_!" For all his masculine shape, his 
groin was still store-dummy smooth. He blushed deep 
scarlet. "I've, er, had better practice at ears than, 
er, one of those," he admitted.

"You mean you don't know what one looks like?" Beryl's 
eyes were like saucers; Pro scowled and flushed even 
more and sat up, bending his knees as if to protect his 
lap from scrutiny.

"Of course I know! I just...never needed to practice 
before, I...I'd have to copy Reg or Dad or someone to 
get it realistic."

"But don't you have to, well, go to the loo?"

"Yeah but I just make a hosepipe to do that, I wouldn't 
want to...make a fool of myself." He stood up and walked 
away, retrieving his shorts. "I gotta look right," he 
mumbled as he dressed. "You'd laugh at me."

Standing too, Beryl sobered. "I'm sorry," she soothed, 
slipping her arms around his waist from behind and 
squeezing him. She kissed his shoulder and felt him 
relax, and he melded his arms over hers. "I wouldn't 
laugh at you, Pro. Don't you...you know, do what young 
men do?" She was desperately embarrassed even as she 
asked, and was glad he couldn't see her face although he 
could probably feel the heat of it.

"What? Oh, you mean, er, play with it, well, yeah," he 
said slowly. "Some parts of my skin are more sensitive 
than others, like, _really_ sensitive."

"What were you going to do when you got married, then?" 
Beryl asked gently. "How were you going to be ready for 
your wedding night?"

"I...honestly hadn't thought that far ahead," he 
confessed. "Nobody was ever going to want me that much. 
But..."

"But?"

He swivelled quickly, releasing her arms and smiling 
down. "There's something else I wanted to practise," he 
murmured, changing the subject, cupping her face in his 
hands. Heartened by his change in mood, she sought his 
lips, running her hands along his back.

Pro answered in kind, their bodies curving together, his 
tongue forgiving any hurt she may have spurred. He 
brought one hand to the nape of her neck, to the soft 
skin beneath the tumble of her hair. She could feel his 
palm ripple and shift, changing shape - and then it 
seemed another pair of soft lips nibbled there, as 
though he stood behind as well as before her, tickling 
in the fine hairs right up at the top of her spine.

Beryl shivered. It felt so good she sighed into his 
mouth, letting herself rest against him. He allowed her 
no respite, kissing her strongly and passionately, 
kissing her twice for every one of hers. He let his left 
hand drop to the small of her back, just above the line 
of her costume. A wave of goosebumps rippled across her 
skin as a third pair of tiny lips played upon her spine, 
while his fingers made little spirals all around.

"Ohhh, Pro," she whispered.

"You like?" Although his lifted his mouth to speak, his 
palm-kisses continued, lips caressing shoulder and back. 
Beryl allowed her body to answer, rocking her pelvis up 
and against him. A gorgeous heat was building that 
echoed the fire in her heart, tingling deep between her 
thighs, and she wanted to wrap her legs around him as he 
teased her skin. His warm flesh slipped around her, 
clasping her in an embrace that pulsed gently. She 
wanted to run her hands up and down his body, to stroke 
his every square inch, and find those darkest places 
where his hot blood was closest to the surface. Wherever 
their bodies touched, he sprouted little fingerlets that 
nuzzled and swirled.

Beryl drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I want to please 
you," Pro breathed before she claimed his mouth again. 
His many kisses, the feel of his body, the nimble play 
of his liquid tongue - the bombardment of sensation was 
almost too much for her. The pulsation in his body was 
strengthening and picking up speed, but not as quickly 
as the sharp pinging in her groin. Sheer delight 
clenched her whole body, and she thrust herself against 
him hard, shivering and gasping as the climax passed 
through her.

"Oh my goodness!" she whispered, relaxing. Pro lowered 
her gently to the ground, melting and flowing around 
her, his own body still pulsing. For a moment he hugged 
himself to her, covering her body entirely with the 
warmth of his. Then he pulled gently away, tenderness in 
his eyes. Shrinking into a ball as he flowed out of his 
shorts, he then scooted backward into the chill of the 
river, emitting a discordant whistle when he hit the 
water.

Beryl sat up, staring at her still-tingling body, 
seeming innocent still fully-clad in her bathing suit. 
Beyond the blanket's edge, Pro was in the river, 
resuming his human shape as he reared from the shallows 
cussing about the cold. He gave her a rueful grin. "I 
think we'd better save that one for very special 
occasions. I thought I was gonna split my skin!"

She wanted his touch again, and extended a leg toward 
him. Pro smiled and knelt, gathering her ankle in his 
hands, and lightly kissing the top of her foot. She 
shivered again from head to toe, anticipating a strong, 
slender tentacle that would curl around her leg, lips 
forming at its tip to kiss her thigh. His hands melded 
into a firm ring that rolled up her calf, his lips 
following to just above her knee, a sensation wondrously 
like slipping into silk stockings. "You make me feel as 
dirty as Jean Winslow looks," she murmured, lips swollen 
and sultry.

"But I have to keep you clean." He hugged her leg with 
his whole body, then melted away. Slithering to her 
side, he gathered her in his arms. "I love you, Beryl 
Crabtree, and I only hope you want me as much as I want 
you."

She had trouble keeping her voice steady. "I do want 
you, Pro, oh so much, believe me! No other man in the 
world could make me feel so delightful, so wicked, so 
sexy! But there's more to it than that." She trailed her 
fingertips along his face. "What's better still is that 
I love you too. I just wish I could kiss you three times 
over, so that you could know how wonderful it feels. 
You're one of a kind, Pro, and that's kind of sad. What 
is it they call you, a polymorph? I'd be no contest for 
a girl polymorph."

"Rubbish!" he breathed, kissing her nose. "Nobody else 
could come close to you." He drew away so that he could 
study her face, eyes sober. "Do you ever think of the 
future, Beryl? Where your life might take you in five, 
ten, even twenty years?"

Her gaze faltered, for she still didn't care to think of 
George, and he had figured strongly in those future 
plans. She was sure Mum had the seating layout planned 
for the guests at the wedding reception. "Marrying 
George, at least until recently," she admitted. "Helping 
out with the shop, having a family, but none of that 
applies anymore. I'd still like that to be in my future, 
but it won't be with George, no way."

He nodded. "Don't give up on the future yet. It's hardly 
begun. Together, we could make it a much better place."

***

Looking back, it was hard to say when she had become 
part of the Clan.

Beryl returned to delivering the lunches via bicycle, 
and she often lingered after the meals were given out - 
not to make nookie with Pro, though. She helped Granny 
and Barbara sort out a routine for getting work clothing 
washed and mended. With new homes springing up 
everywhere, there was far too much work on hand for 
everyone. Gardens remained thistle-choked weed and hard 
earth, with very few of the Enabled folk managing to 
prepare much in the way of gardens. Beryl had to stop 
pinching carnation buds for her feller on Enabled 
ground, there simply weren't enough to go around.

There were times when some of the women were run off 
their feet, while others sat idle waiting for other jobs 
to be completed. Floor coverings couldn't be laid until 
the skirting boards had been painted. There was no real 
point to cultivating a lawn before driveways were 
cemented. If the washing hadn't been collected, no 
ironing could be done. Without fabric, wool or thread, 
mending simply didn't happen. The lady who made curtains 
could not work if there was no childcare for her baby.

Perhaps that was when Beryl truly entered the family; 
when she started examining what each family member did 
well and enjoyed, then organised them for maximal 
efficiency. Granny didn't have to darn all the socks by 
herself any more. Nor did Beryl confine herself to 
women's matters; a system she developed meant Doug no 
longer lost his tools to absent-minded workmates, which 
was tantamount to a lover's gift.

But maybe her inclusion had begun much earlier than 
that, from her first journey up the tower, or even on 
the day she had accepted a ride into town with a 
bizarre-looking stranger. Now, as the tower soared 
above, the Enabled celebrated her seventeenth birthday 
with as much gusto as they would celebrate for one of 
their own. This night, Pro was happy to appear in his 
bathrobe, and to slither and loop about in a variety of 
weird shapes; always to return to Beryl's side. He could 
still surprise and startle her with the things he did, 
and the truth of it was he still startled himself from 
time to time.

They danced and sang, Pro setting his maximum three 
orifices to whistling in harmony. The atmosphere was 
carnival in the wake of the family luncheon Mum had set 
out, attended by Dad, Dot and Ted and their little son, 
her rowdy younger brothers, and of course her boyfriend. 
Mum eyed Pro with the same slit-eyed suspicion with 
which she peered into the 11pm darkness from the 
doorstep. Dad, on the other hand, welcomed him 
cordially, and by the end of the day had mooched himself 
a guided tour of the tower workings. Smiling blandly, 
Pro had sat opposite Beryl at the dinner table...and 
made mischief.

As Dad passed the gravy boat along the table, Beryl felt 
a soft, warm fingertip brush her shin, then another. At 
first she thought it might have been a brother under the 
table, but Mum was berating the boys into eating their 
greens as they sat and wriggled. Pro glanced at her and 
smiled, both his hands in full view as he sliced roast 
beef. Yet, the caress came again, fingertips slipping 
along her calf, just up to her knee, then back down to 
the sensitive skin inside her ankle. She was having 
trouble concentrating on her own lunch. Then, soft lips 
nipped and nibbled along the arch of her foot. She 
pulled her feet back primly under her chair, so the 
teasing little mouth found its way to her knee instead.

"Oh, darn!" she said as she flicked a broad-bean off her 
plate, then backed her chair out and peered under the 
table. Sure enough, Pro's right shoe and sock sat empty, 
his extruded leg weaving like a cobra from the cuff of 
his trousers. She retrieved the bean and sat up again, 
letting her legs stretch out enough to return the 
footsie favour. Pro grinned as he piled mash on his fork 
and explained shortwave radio to Dad.

One of her brothers, who had been disturbingly quiet, 
gave a giggle. She clearly heard him whisper, "It's like 
a worm!" The game had gone on long enough; so she chose 
her moment and stomped on Pro.

"Oohw!"

"All right there, lad?" Dad asked jovially.

"Fine, fine, I just parked the chairleg on my foot, 
that's all...Clumsy of me."

Dad had later delivered Beryl to the Clan party, and Pro 
(in proper homoform) had shown him around the workings. 
Beryl danced with everyone, including just one dance 
with Doug, who was being monopolised by Tempest and 
didn't seem to mind. Tempest had allowed him to teach 
her some formalised steps amidst all her whirling, and 
together they moved unexpectedly well.

Unbeknownst to Beryl, Dad had also delivered a cake. 
After she blew out her candles and Pyrus snuffed the 
sparklers in his own inimicable style, she was delighted 
and flattered by a mass of little gifts as the Clan 
celebrated their Lunch Lady.

Smiling sadly, Pro picked up a satin bow and ribbon and 
put them over his head. "Unfortunately, the only gift I 
have for Beryl is me," he sighed, to a chorus of "Aww" 
from the spectators. He raised his hand dramatically, 
index finger extended, then let that digit lengthen 
further so it became a fine tendril that weaved and 
coiled. Then he fashioned it into a small, slender loop, 
a circle. "All I could ask," he continued, "is that she 
wear my ring."

"Proteus, don't be so _rude_!" Tempest snapped amidst 
chuckles and titters.

"Oh, but I'm serious - you are the crude one, sister 
dear!" He spun with a flourish before Beryl, sinking to 
one knee, still holding up his knotted finger. "Beryl, 
my love, if I were to ask you to marry me, seriously, 
would you? I mean it, now."

She looked around for some clue. He seemed to be playing 
up, flirting, making mischief, and yet...The Clansfolk 
smiled, curiosity on their faces, as bemused as her. 
Come to think of it, Pro and Dad had chatted alone 
earlier in the day.

Beryl eyed his looped finger, then laughed and slipped 
her ringfinger through, humouring him. "Of course, Pro," 
she said softly. She meant to sound lighthearted, but 
the honesty of her feelings made her voice husky.

"I mean it," he repeated, eyes luminous. His arm pulsed, 
and his hand engulfed hers. Within that warmth, she felt 
something small, round and hard. "You see, it would fill 
me with joy if we could, on this very day next year, be 
celebrating our wedding as well as your eighteenth 
birthday. I love you, and would be deeply honoured if 
you would be my wife." The Clan drew a collective 
breath, as he rolled his hand away to expose the dainty 
golden ring.

There was no doubt in Beryl's mind. No man in the world 
would be able to please her in quite the way Pro 
Phillips could. "Oh, yes, Pro! I love you!"

The party kicked off again with a new burst of 
exhilaration, and Pro and Beryl danced the night away. 
Later, as eleven pm passed unremarked, they took a 
stroll along the newest of the graded streets, pausing 
outside a barely-completed house. The full moon gleamed 
upon stacked rooftiles, a promise of security to come. 
One small flowerbed had been turned, and planted out 
with carnation seeds.

For a while, the couple were content to stand nestled 
together. To have a place to call home beyond her 
parents' walls had been almost undreamable; a room above 
the pub had seemed her only likely destination. She 
kissed Pro gently, once, twice...longer, and longer, 
their limbs entwining in passion.

"I can only match you two-for-one tonight," Pro murmured 
as their lips parted. "Since you gave me a fat lip at 
lunch today."

"Well, you deserved it, you naughty man!" They giggled 
together, then cuddled quietly, leaning together, taking 
in the cloudstreaked sky. That was when they both heard, 
clearly, a faint gasp from amidst the stacked planks 
close to the Wall.

Pro raised a finger to his lips. "What was that?" Beryl 
breathed close by his ear. Attention focused outward 
rather than upon each other, they waited, listening. And 
heard a soft, high moan clearly over a puff of shifting 
breeze.

Pro grabbed her hand and slithered down into a silent 
slug-roll, towing the tiptoeing Beryl behind him. 
"Someone's getting theirs!" he whispered.

"No! We should leave them alone!"

"No way! I want to know who's doing it in my backyard!"

"Pro!"

They trod noiselessly between stacked building 
materials; long blocks of timber and piles of brick. 
Beryl went after him more in the hope of restraining 
Pro's curiosity than in any spirit of exploration; how 
would he have felt if it were them being sneaked up 
upon? Whoever they were, they were intent on only one 
thing, for she was making little whimpers as she gasped 
rhythmically, and deeper, ragged male breaths were 
mingling with her song. Pro edged around the end of a 
half-used stack of roofing beams, and his curiosity was 
rewarded.

By moonlight, a pale arc of flung-up skirts and 
petticoats made a fan on the dark ground. In their midst 
lay the long shape of a man, dark except for where his 
pale, skinny exposed buttocks jerked and thrust for all 
they were worth within the embrace of womanly legs. The 
polish on his shoes glistened as his feet scuffed the 
tarpaulin on which they lay.

"Oh Douggie, Douggie!" Tempest gasped.

Before Beryl could react, Pro wrapped swiftly around her 
like a wide elastic band. His body arced and streamed 
upward, to the top of the woodpile, then bounded again, 
soaring up onto the top of the tower wall, taking her 
with him as he stretched and shrank like taffy. She was 
too astonished to cry out. Suddenly they were both 
sitting on a walkway just the other side of the top of 
the wall, where Pro threw back his head and bubbled with 
bawdy merriment.

"And I was worried about hurting his feelings!" Beryl 
cackled, unable to resist the joke. Pro was almost 
helpless with laughter and they collapsed in each 
others' embrace, giggling and gasping as they tried with 
little success to keep quiet. "How long do you think 
that's been going on? What I mean is, how often have 
they, he hee?"

"Oh ho ho that's rich!" Pro gasped.

"I thought he was a gentleman!"

"He is, he is, I reckon it's Tempest finally got her 
wicked way...woo hoo there's proof!"  A sudden, hot gust 
whirled leaves and dust up from the workings and struck 
them with stinging force, and a sigh rose from every 
tree as still leaves suddenly rustled. Pro wrapped his 
body firmly over Beryl to shield her from the brief 
onslaught. Metal creaked and shutters slapped, and dogs 
barked as the out-of-place gust billowed across the 
town.

Their laughter subsiding, Beryl enjoyed the all-body 
sensation of Pro enfolding her. Cuddling, they rocked 
together gently. She could feel his heartbeat, and the 
steady pulsation of his breathing. As the night grew 
still again they heard no sound from below.

"He's gonna want to make sure he does that indoors, away 
from the weather," Pro murmured by her ear. His body was 
pulsing strongly, as though he was still breathless. 
Beryl drew away enough to gaze into his eyes and caress 
his face, as his skin crept against where her arms were 
bare, forming many tiny fingerlets. "My love," he 
breathed, "your body against mine feels so good."

They were sitting on a narrow platform high in the air, 
with only a thin cord safety rail for protection. In 
spite of that, Beryl was not alarmed. Although she 
wanted to stay right where she was, common sense 
suggested they should move. "Maybe we should get down 
from here." Instead of moving, she kissed him, long and 
lingering.

"Why? I'll keep you safe. Are you afraid we might fall - 
from grace, I mean?" The lower half of him was spread 
out as a secure base, locking them both in place, and 
his arms were strong and solid around her. She was 
kneeling, legs slightly parted and, she realised, tensed 
about him as if to hold on. The warm, resilient pillow 
she sat against was pulsing lightly, which felt 
delicious against her inner thighs.

Tingles were rising up her legs to the hearth of her 
virginity. "I don't feel very graceful at the moment," 
she said, a shiver in her voice. In their flight, her 
skirt had risen up and was bunched at an unladylike 
level in front of her hips. Pro's skin was in intimate 
contact with stockings, britches, and the soft skin of 
her uppermost thighs.

His lips travelled along her neck. "You're not in envy 
of Tempest, then?" 

The urge to rock her pelvis was irresistible. "Oh, 
heavens no!" 

Pro emitted a deep sigh, his body answering her motion 
by creeping up snugly to fit along the space between her 
thighs. His lap was now a long, throbbing mound of flesh 
that made her want to arch her back and drive herself 
against him.

A tiny set of lips opened and puckered against her 
inmost thigh just above her stockings, the kiss sending 
a jolt of pleasure to her crotch. "Pro!" she cried, but 
instead of pulling away she wriggled herself harder 
against him. He gave a bubble of low laughter from her 
shoulder.

"Seeing them like that kind of...turned me on!"

For answer Beryl tightened her arms, feeling his body 
pulsating strongly beneath and around hers. The heat 
between them made her clothes feel less substantial than 
gossamer. His rhythmic throb clenched lightly at her 
breasts, making them tingle, which was nothing to the 
fire in her groin. She recaptured his mouth as his lap 
trickled extra kisses from thigh to thigh, working 
toward the damp gusset of her knickers. "Where's that 
sensitive spot of yours?" she hissed, wanting to give 
him what she was getting.

"All over!" he groaned. She ran her tongue from his 
earlobe to his throat, and twisted her pelvis. That 
second little mouth had centred in a peak of flesh 
beneath her undies, and if she jiggled just a bit the 
cloth would hitch aside and - yes! Hot lips below 
pressed softly through the moist nest of her bush, and a 
small, wet tentacle flicked gently into her juices.

Beryl's whole body jolted with orgasm, back arching, 
throat clenching on a cry of mindless delight. Pro's 
arms clamped and flexed about her, holding her safe. Her 
underwear had snapped back into place, and she crushed 
his face between her breasts. He shivered from end to 
end, then threw his upper half backward as well, a 
smooth arc of thrumming flesh. As she came down from her 
climax, she watched him convulse, a massive ripple 
rushing from where he still nested between her thighs. 
It made a large bubble that briefly distorted his 
shoulder, before a ribbon of silvery fluid burst into 
the night.

With that moment, all his strength deserted him. He 
flopped back to the decking losing shape as well, a 
quivering mass. Beryl leaned over him and put her arms 
around him, still clasping him firmly with her legs lest 
he roll off the platform. She pressed her lips to the 
flutter where his heart would be, while he panted and 
started to laugh, euphoric.

"My God, Bezz...what a night our wedding night's going 
to be!" He brought a hand up to tangle tenderly in her 
hair while his eyes found their way back to their proper 
place. She gazed in awe at the wet pattern that slicked 
his arm, letting her fingertips glide through that 
mysterious substance, the deepest secret of a man. 
Within it was written everything that made Pro the 
extraordinary being he was. And it could have been 
inside her.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, taking her solemnity for 
disgust. "I had to get rid of it somewhere, anywhere but 
_there_, like, not down where it wanted to come out, 
oh..."

Her smile was luminous. "One day, soon, it will be, Pro. 
I want you. I love you!"

They lay entwined side-by-side as they rested. "I didn't 
think you'd like...being touched down there, after..." 
Pro murmured awkwardly.

"Maybe gentle kisses are another matter," she whispered, 
caressing his chest.

"I'd never thought to taste anything so delicious," he 
sighed in awe. "I would never have done that unless you 
wanted me to."

"Thank heavens for loose elastic." She gave a gentle, 
wry laugh. "Never thought I'd have reason to say that! 
Do you mean to say, your little mouths can taste too?"

He shrugged. "I am the Polymorph, and I can sense with 
my whole body. I can taste you any time we touch."

"Sometimes I wonder what I am missing out on, just being 
normal." He kissed her forehead as she spoke.

"Don't," he chided. "Be content to know me. Never wish 
to be me. I am as I am, and I am tasked to make the best 
of it. Your closeness guarantees that'll be a lot easier 
from now on."

They hugged a while longer, ever conscious of the 
lateness of the hour. Eventually, Pro guided her to the 
safety of solid ground, and they made their way out of 
the worksite. While Pro cleaned himself off with a rag, 
Beryl looked up at the tower, tall and imposing.

"That's the best thing," she said softly. Pro glanced up 
from wondering what to do with the cloth, then dropped 
it into a garbage drum.

"What?"

She nodded at the tower. "Knowing that...our children 
will have somewhere to belong. Somewhere other than the 
pub."

"There can be no greater joy for me than knowing you 
wish to belong," said Pro with a tremor in his voice, as 
he hugged her fiercely. "That is the ultimate 
acceptance!"
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