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Message-ID: <47470asstr$1081980609@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "virgosun" <virgosun@internode.on.net>
Subject: {ASSM} Beryl and the Polymorph 9/9 {virgosun} (mf cons rom 1st mutant)
Lines: 639
Date: Wed, 14 Apr 2004 18:10:09 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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<1st attachment, "poly09.txt" begin>

*BERYL AND THE POLYMORPH*

by virgosun (c) April 2004
*******************************
(Part 9)

They drove to Dot's place, where Beryl was to stay while 
the storm blew over. Dot welcomed them both, and served 
them cocoa in the kitchen. Ted was locked to the telly. 
The household was in cheerful disarray, Rhoda's toys 
scattered about. Dot listened sympathetically as Beryl 
told the whole story, including the night George had 
assaulted her; it was then that Pro demonstrated, with 
rather more delicacy than he had used in front of Mum, 
what exactly he could do. With a soft, supple arm that 
snaked into a fine tentacle, he reached down behind and 
under the heavy kitchen cabinet to retrieve a wedding 
photo that had slipped down there.

At first, watching him, Dot's face was agog with 
fascinated horror. But then, when the lost photo was 
placed back in her hands, joy lit her face and glinted 
with unshed tears in her eyes. Thanking Pro, she dusted 
off the portrait and set it on a safer shelf.

"I have a little news of my own," Dot said demurely. 
They could hear Ted's deep voice murmuring after he 
answered the telephone, and the trio exchanged glances. 
Then Dot patted her apron, over her stomach, a glow in 
her eyes. She winked at Pro. "By the time you two get 
married, you'll be aunty and uncle again."

"Oh Dot, that's wonderful!" Beryl cried, hugging her 
sister. Holding her at arms' length, she frowned, 
lowering her voice. "But I thought...you and 
Ted...weren't happy!"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Dot wondered.

"Well, just that...Mum..."

"Oh for God's sake Beryl, you should know our mother by 
now! After what went on tonight, for heaven's sakes? 
She's never understood Ted and she's had us heading for 
the divorce courts since we got married! Look, I'll 
grant you, marriage isn't always easy, 'specially after 
you have a baby, but it gets easier..." She gave a start 
as the kitchen door creaked and Ted poked his granite 
face into the kitchen. He favoured Pro a broad, keyboard 
grin, a rare sight in itself, then presented him a huge, 
thickskinned paw in greeting.

"Reckon I oughtta welcome you to the family right now, 
you're gonna fit right in! She really has got her pinny 
in a knot. That was the Truffle Troll..."

"Edward Ryan..."

"...I let her know Beryl was safe and sound and going to 
stay the night. Should I make up the nursery? It's only 
tiny, but it's the only room we got. She din't stay on 
the line for long, but she never does when I answer, 
dunno why."

Beryl was destined to spend several weeks staying with 
Dot. The going joke within the family was that Beryl 
could only stay until the new baby arrived, by which 
time she would be moving in with her husband. During her 
stay, she noticed the little clues she had missed 
before. Although each of them sometimes seemed 
preoccupied with their own thoughts, Dot and Ted also 
shared much - a look, a brief touch in passing, and a 
complete ease in each others' closeness that spoke 
volumes for mutual trust and respect.

And they both welcomed Pro when he came to dinner.

Pro fronted up at the scene of Mum's dinner fiasco the 
next day with a piece of glass, and helped Dad fix the 
door. "I...know a good man when I see one," said Dad, 
drawing on his pipe as he faced Pro through the missing 
window. And later, as they worked together to fix the 
panel, "Don't pay no heed to Flora, young man. She just 
takes her time to change her mind. She teaches patience, 
but that's no bad thing to learn."

Slow anger and disappointment seethed within Beryl, 
though, at her mother's refusal to accept Pro. When it 
became obvious George was _not_ going to sell his car, 
and he continued to parade around town with Jean on 
display in the passenger seat, Mum retracted none of her 
belief in the former boyfriend.

_Just because she had to marry, and Dot had to marry!_ 
Beryl fumed. _I'm doing the right thing and she's 
punishing me!_

Resentment was potent fuel for rebellion.

***

As the weeks passed, one of the Phillips Clan houses 
received intensive care. It had been designed so that 
rooms could be added later as needed, but thus far had 
been little more than a shack for a single man. The 
kitchen was properly fitted out, and the blankets that 
had served as makeshift curtains came down from the 
windows. Raw external timbers were whitewashed, and 
paving stones set.

Beryl herself worked full-time with the Enabled now, 
organising and ordering, and taking her turn in the 
gardens and with the children. However, she was not 
allowed to work upon Pro's house other than to plant 
garden beds. Tempest was largely responsible for keeping 
her at bay.

"Ohh, shoo you!" Beryl flapped her hands at the laughing 
girl one afternoon. "You should be working on your own 
house! Doug's billet's hardly a place to go!"

"Ooh! That reminds me! Pro's cake! Don't say anything!" 
With a classically Tempest leap of logic, she turned and 
ran back inside to take a whistling kettle off the boil, 
and was still taking off her apron as she trotted back 
outside past Beryl. "And his present! Doug said we've 
got to be uptown before closing to pick it up! Secret, 
mind! Don't go 'way, I'll be back soon!" The weekend was 
bringing Pro's birthday party.

Shaking her head as she stood to watch Tempest go, Beryl 
pulled off her gardening gloves. In Tempest-speak, 
"soon" could mean half an hour, or half a day.

Enough of seedlings! The punnets had been well watered, 
so they could wait to go in the garden. Beryl's back 
needed stretching, her knees a walk about. The fellers 
would be knocking-off for the evening shortly; if 
Tempest had left a hot kettle, the reasonable thing to 
do would be brew a pot of tea.

It wasn't that she was banned from the house - on the 
contrary, she was consulted on everything from paint 
colours to doorknobs. Pro returned to his home every 
afternoon wondering what had changed, and what new 
surprise was in store. Now, as Beryl wandered in, shoes 
clicking on plastic matting that protected the 
floorboards, she gazed about in satisfaction. Although 
still lacking linoleum or curtains, the kitchen was 
functional. Making the tea while gazing from the window 
felt...different to making tea with Dot or Mum bustling 
around, strange and lonely on her own. But that 
loneliness would pass. Someone else would be home soon.

Leaving the tea to draw, she walked into the loungeroom, 
past the dining table and a set of raw pine chairs 
awaiting varnish. There were coils of wire looping from 
holes in the wall for the television, the phone. She 
glimpsed the bathroom, still scented with fresh grout. 
The short hallway had an open end that had been tacked-
over with plywood; beyond there was a timber skeleton 
for a second bedroom.

She turned, entering the master bedroom. There were 
still speckled dropsheets all over the floor, but the 
painting was complete. Soft gossamer curtains filtered 
the warm, late-afternoon light. Pro's simple, single bed 
was covered by a fresh calico sheet. In a few weeks they 
would go to one of the big department stores, perhaps 
all the way to Kennaware, and shop for a double bed. The 
thought of it made Beryl draw a deep breath and clasp 
her hands to her heart for what that purchase 
represented. This was love splendid, love sublime...and 
love for life.

Her happy face was slightly flushed, as reflected by the 
long mirror on the new wardrobe. New things smelled so 
good! Experimentally, she tugged one of the doors open. 
This half was still empty, a-jingle with coathangers, 
and she could see Pro's clothes hanging in the other 
side. How would it feel, to change clothes in here, 
before this mirror, before going off to the dance or the 
pictures? She could imagine Pro fiddling with his tie in 
the mirror, chin stuck forward, neck rippling and sizing 
to fit his collar.

How would it feel, to relax at day's end? Beryl stepped 
out of her shoes, wriggling her toes. With a fey laugh, 
she pulled open the shoe drawer and set them neatly 
inside, then closed it again. In the privacy of her 
room, she could dress and undress as she pleased.

Facing the mirror, she unbuttoned her blouse, wanting to 
hang _something_ in that empty cabinet. She wouldn't 
take all her clothes off, just a couple of items, to say 
she had claimed the space for herself. She shook the 
blouse out, then hung it fussily; undid her belt, 
unfastened her skirt, then slipped it down and stepped 
out. There was a clip-hanger that she could pin the 
skirt to. Then she stepped back, admiring the sight of 
her clothes hanging there, where they belonged.

There came a muffled clatter, crockery on a sink, with a 
wonderfully familiar cheerful whistling. Beryl blushed, 
heart racing. Pro was home, helping himself to the tea, 
while she was standing around in her underwear. 
Although...the petticoat was a nice one, sheer and 
satiny, with plenty of lace on the hem and bodice. She 
turned side on to the mirror and posed, feeling like a 
vampy screen goddess. Arms raised and elbows bent, she 
took off the scarf and fluffed-up her wavy brown 
tresses. _Pearls!_ If only for a long string of them, or 
some bird-of-paradise feathers for her hair! She twirled 
from side to side, piling her hair up on top so that a 
few strands escaped and dangled down her neck in a 
wanton manner...

"Er, Beryl?"

Of course, he had oozed out of his grimy work-clothes in 
the laundry, then stopped by the kitchen when he saw the 
steaming teapot, then hoped and suspected she was still 
about. He'd heard movement in the bedroom, and slithered 
sneakily up the hall to check. Now he reared up to full 
height and human form, a tea mug clutched in one hand, 
grinning broadly and blushing almost as much as Beryl. 
His free hand had spread out as a broad sheet, making an 
apron of flesh that covered his pelvic area.

"Hi!" Her face was on fire as she let her hair drop. "I 
was just trying out the wardrobe!" Her nipples had 
jumped to attention, so strongly that their peaks were 
visible in spite of her heavy cotton bra. The soft light 
caught the satin of her petticoat as it fell from those 
sharp points, and she could see Pro's eyes lingering on 
the view.

The tingle in her nipples matched the moist pleasure 
that crept deep within her privacy. "Does it work?" Pro 
asked whimsically.

"Oh yes. I should ask you that!" Beryl giggled, eyeing 
him curiously. "What's up? Have you got something to 
hide? I've seen you naked often enough," she teased.

"Um...things," he said coyly. "Thank you for making the 
tea."

His sudden shyness was endearing. All mischief, Beryl 
teased, although her lips were tingling with the need to 
kiss him. "I've seen your testicles before," she said 
softly, amazed at the silken change in her voice. 
Perhaps she truly was that siren of the screen, and if 
she arranged herself elegantly on the bed, would Pro 
feed her grapes before ravishing her?

"Not like this you haven't," he vowed soberly.

Beryl paced toward him, no longer looking at his groin, 
but his face. Raising her hands, she drew his face to 
hers in a long, velvet kiss. He relaxed and enfolded 
her, extending his arm to set his cup on the dresser, 
then bringing those nibbling lips to play. Across her 
shoulder, then up the arc of her neck, kissing her two 
for one. She pressed her satin body to him, feeling a 
warm and exciting pressure against her belly. His 
shielding hand, he brought away, to cup the smooth 
fullness of her rump and feel her womanly shape.

"You're tense," she whispered, slipping her hands around 
his back, feeling the texture of his skin rippling.

"Of course I'm tense...there's a beautiful, half-naked 
woman rubbing herself against me," he breathed. "In my 
bedroom."

"Our," she corrected him. "Or should I leave now?" She 
drew a fingertip along his neck, down to the place where 
his heart pulsed strongly in his chest. Tiny patterns of 
scarlet flashed through his skin in response to her 
caress, and his whole body shivered.

"God no, Beryl, love, don't leave!"

"I wanted to be here for you, when you came home. I 
guess I wanted to know what it's going to be like when 
we move in together." Their lips merged passionately, 
tongues slithering in union, his agile tongue curling 
over hers. The loose straps of her petticoat slipped 
from her shoulders at a gesture from his kissing palm, 
and when she offered no protest, he eased the sterner 
straps of her bra aside too. Lifting his face from hers, 
he gazed at the beauty of her bare shoulders, the 
inviting vale of her cleavage.

His body was beginning to pulse to the rhythm of his 
heart, as it had that night atop the Wall. Beryl let her 
head fall back in delight, hair tickling down her spine 
as he brought his lips to the sensitive skin. The hand 
that had caressed her behind rolled into a tentacle that 
snaked around her thigh, questing as it had beneath the 
table at dinner so long ago, tiny lips opening so that a 
tonguelet could play across her skin. "Please," she 
breathed, slipping her hand along that cord, to and fro, 
encouraging his exploration between her thighs.

Her other hand roved over the smooth strength of his 
hips, and around toward the heat where their bodies 
pressed together. She wanted to touch him. With 
wriggling fingers, she let him know, drawing back only 
far enough to allow her hand access.

Pro gasped, raising his head, eyelids falling shut. Lips 
parted in wonder, Beryl found hot, soft dangling, 
sensitive shapes to cup in her fingers gently. At first 
it seemed tighter cords might reel them in, safely away 
from reach, so she kept her hand very still. Soon, their 
weight settled in her gentle clasp, and Pro moaned in 
delight, rocking against her. 

She let her hand trail upward, a caress that found a 
thicker, stiffer tentacle than any she had felt before. 
Beneath her slip, a much finer, nimble feeler slithered 
beneath the elastic of her knickers, creeping into the 
soft forest of her pubes, and the well at its heart.

"My love," Pro murmured, running palm-kisses up her 
throat, "would you...be nude with me?"

For answer, she drew her hands away from him, to start 
raising the hem of her petticoat. Her nipples were so 
sensitive that they hurt where they rubbed on the bra. 
As her shift rose up, with the probe that explored her 
he hooked her panties down, so that they slipped from 
her legs with a caress of farewell. She stepped back 
from them, out of them, away - they were ugly and 
utilitarian, a remnant of girlhood and the safe things 
her mother bought for her. Now she was free of them.

Pro admired her, her body unveiled like some warm, 
living, classical statue, a temple of womanhood 
awaiting. His arms encircled her once more, and the 
catch of her bra made little resistance to so many 
nimble fingers. At last, her full beauty was revealed, 
rosy nipples sweet with promise as her breasts were 
uncovered.

Tightening his arms, he drew her to him, to stop her 
looking at that scarlet, throbbing place he had been 
trying so hard to shape. Beryl gazed into his eyes, 
cradling his face in her hands.

"It's not right yet," he mumbled. She silenced him with 
a kiss.

"No, silly, you're perfect. You're perfect for Pro. You 
don't have to look exactly like other men." She gave a 
wicked giggle. "I'm sure I'll never know what I'm 
missing out on. This has got to be better." Her pelvis 
ground against him with a mind of its own, as she tried 
to catch the pleasingly hard stump between her upper 
thighs.

"Skin upon skin," he breathed, hands dividing into many 
fingers, rippling over her back and through her hair. 
Beryl drew a deep, shivering breath at the forbidden joy 
of his body pressed close. "Although nudity was normal 
for me, it was never for anyone else...but now, my 
darling, now..." He brought both his hands with 
ceremonial slowness to cup her breasts, gently dappling 
and kneading the soft flesh, tweaking her nipples. She 
gasped as little lips opened, sucking one nipple into 
the palm of his hand as he lowered his face to the 
other.

 From that place at his groin, something smooth and hot 
grew. A pulsing, firm cord snaked into her crotch, 
testing and tasting. Beryl groaned as secret, naughty 
needs clenched every part of her, from the fire in her 
clit to the deep, rolling clenches of her vagina. The 
one thing that would relieve her body's longings was 
lingering just outside.

The third, tiny mouth that opened was just large enough 
to embrace her clit with its lips, to tease with its 
tongue, lapping and stroking her point of fire to an 
agony of purest pleasure.

Beryl cried out his name, digging her fingers into his 
throbbing flesh as she climaxed. He kissed and nibbled 
upon nipples and clitoris, the sturdy cable of his 
manhood rubbing against her entry. As her orgasm ebbed, 
she let her weight fall against him, the rest of his 
body morphing to catch her. Together, they slid to the 
comfort of his bed.

"I want to be Mrs. Phillips, Proteus. Make me your 
wife," Beryl murmured, a low command. She rolled onto 
her back, welcoming him within the embrace of her 
thighs, wriggling as that smallest mouth continued to 
lap amidst her folds. Rocking back, he stroked and 
kissed her breasts with his hands, revelling in how she 
responded to his lightest touch.

The part of him that explored her went deeper...deeper. 
A long, slender cord reached further than any finger 
had, slipping beyond the low frontier of her maidenhead 
without breaking it. The sensation of him writhing and 
twirling deep inside begged her to wriggle and bear 
against him, bringing her to throb in time with his 
body. She kneaded his back and rump, squeezing 
rhythmically. His skin was taut as a drum, body tight 
and rigid.

"Let it go!" she pleaded. His eyes were bright, face 
tense. "Let it go! I want to hold you, all of you inside 
me!"

Something deep within grew, stretching, a pressure 
building that made her clench. Pro gasped, arching his 
back as she gripped him. Deep pulsations rolled the 
length of her vagina, each expansion larger than the 
last, filling her utterly.

"Love you Beryl!"

Her answer was a lusty cry of delight as she soared upon 
her second orgasm. His rhythm drew her on, and on, 
holding her at that point of ecstasy. When at last she 
gasped for breath, the room coming back into focus, Pro 
was still throbbing like one giant heart. There came a 
wave of heat across his skin, a massive spasm that 
started somewhere deep inside him, and ended in an 
explosion at her core.

With the passing of that moment, Pro quivered and lost 
all form as his body relaxed, a warm mass that sighed 
and slipped around her. She held him in her arms, 
stroking his liquid back and whispering his name. He 
melted from within her, leaving a hot lake of moisture 
in her care.

"I...never thought...a woman could love...one such as 
me," he mumbled through lips gone rubbery. Strength and 
tension slowly spread through him as he regained his 
senses, resting within her embrace. Beryl hugged him 
fiercely.

"Nonsense. Basil found someone, why not you?"

"Oh, I hoped...but couldn't imagine...what this moment 
would feel like...darling Beryl." He peeled back 
slightly so that he could see her sweaty face, taking 
some of his weight on columnar arms. The face he formed 
was one of tenderness and concern, and he brushed her 
brow with a tendril. "Are you all right, my love? I felt 
something...give way inside...and I couldn't stop."

"I'm fine, Pro, it's all right. Maybe it was the future 
giving way to us? I am yours, now and forever." She 
squeezed him, and he relaxed against her, smiling. "No 
other man in the world is like you, and no other could 
satisfy me now."

They nestled together until the sunlight faded from the 
window. Pro gazed in wonder at the pale carnation that 
had appeared upon his bed where they had lain. They were 
married now, more soundly than the murmurings of a 
country minister could make them.

They bathed together, washing the sweat from each other, 
touching and caressing. There was time to grab a bite to 
eat, and to put ice in the long-cooled tea. When Tempest 
returned she snacked with them, a knowing sparkle in her 
eyes.

Beryl phoned Dot, blushing as she did so, wondering how 
she would explain staying at the tower site overnight. 
For there was nowhere else she wanted to be. She said 
Tempest and Pro's parents had offered to take her in.

***

"This is what it's all about."

They walked their bikes along River Road, arm in arm, 
Beryl with her head on Pro's shoulder. That they lived 
together in their new home raised eyebrows about town, 
but only smiles on Enabled ground. Although, Tempest had 
raised some dust in wanting to spend more time with 
Douggie. It was he who settled her, with talk of "the 
future". And pegs were hammered into the ground assigned 
to Tempest, the weeds cleared and a few holes dug.

Beryl and Pro had bought ice pops and now walked down to 
the river, watching the rose and gold of sunset as birds 
flocked home to roost. It had been a thrilling day, 
perhaps not in activity or obvious strife; the kind of 
day where the furore was mental, a flurry of news and 
elation and apprehension combined. Through it all, their 
arms were entwined, the strength of two into the future. 
Later they would curl in their new bed, together, and 
make love until the deepest hours.

For now, it was time to rest and relax, together, away 
from the eyes of public, family and friends. Behind 
them, on the deepening mauve sky of the east, the tower 
gleamed with golden sunset light. The town lights were 
just flicking on, the sky still bright.

A heavy engine roared. The baleful eyes of a large sedan 
veered toward them, with the doppler bray of a rude 
horn. Pro threw himself and Beryl into the roadside 
easement, trying with swift cords to cushion her landing 
as bikes and limbs flew all ways. The large, red car 
passed so close it showered them with sprayed gravel, 
leaving thick tyre-tracks in the sandy road shoulder, 
the stink of its hot breath over-rich with fuel.

They picked themselves up, Pro brandishing a fist as he 
helped Beryl up. "Rowbotham!" But before they could 
check their scrapes or straighten their clothing, there 
came a splintering crump, a deep rattle and smash; a 
splash of something large and weighty hitting the creek, 
another crunch.

Pro was on his bike in a moment, punching the pedals, 
Beryl close behind. "Shouldn't we call the police?" she 
shouted. But they were close to the bridge, and Pro 
wasn't stopping to discuss niceties.

Dust still hung in the air, intermixed with exhaust 
fumes. Beyond a confusion of torn and splintered 
vegetation, George's car was in the riverbed, upside-
down, wheels still turning as they lost momentum. Steam 
hung wraithlike over the car's carcass, a questionmark.

The river wasn't deep, but the current was strong, 
crescent waves rising around the front half of the 
wreck, lapping the wheel-arches and spitting from hot 
brakes.

The passenger's door was flapping open. Jean tottered 
from the river, bedraggled, bloodied but mobile.  Her 
jade silk dress was torn, her hair a tangled mass. Beryl 
scrambled down the bank, catching Jean's questing hands 
and helping her to the shore.

"George..." she whispered, then pleaded. "_George!_"

Beryl whirled to face the car again. The cabin was full 
of boiling brown river water, and the strength of the 
current was swinging the whole car about on the pivot of 
its sunken roof.

How often had she gone parking, nuzzling and cuddling in 
that rigid metal cage? She could have let George touch 
her, and could have still been in there, trapped with 
him. Drowning. The horrible, hateful thought that came 
to mind made her stomach turn.

_Leave him there!_

Then she saw a flutter of discarded fabric. Jean 
shrieked. A fluid ripple of flesh slipped from the 
confines of clothing and plunged into the water. Beryl 
glimpsed his breathing-pores opening wide before he 
sank.

"What was that???"

"My fiance."

"The freak...oh..."

Beryl stood motionless in the shallows, Jean sobbing as 
she clung to her. The river chuckled gleefully and 
twirled its new toy. A car halted on the bridge, and 
someone called out.

It seemed forever, but it took a few short minutes. 
Through the back of a glossy dark wave, Beryl saw 
something slither along the stones of the creekbed, 
perfectly adapted for the conditions. Then two bodies 
broke the water's surface, George wracked by explosive 
coughs. Pro carried him into the shallows on his 
mollusc-back, then supported him while he vomited.

More bystanders were arriving, taking Jean in hand and 
helping her to a seat, taking off coats and finding 
travel blankets. Beryl gathered Pro's clothing, for a 
moment pressing the cloth to her face, catching the 
comforting scent of his body and their wardrobe.

Gravel crunched, and his outline loomed tall before her 
in the deepening dusk. He smiled his lopsided smile, 
then turned his head toward town. Between the trees, his 
tower was tall enough to still be catching the sunlight. 
It blazed like a candle of redemption.

"Now _that_," Pro breathed, "is what it's all about!"

***

Proteus "Pro" Phillips and Beryl Crabtree married six 
months earlier than was originally planned. If Beryl had 
worried about her mother, she needn't have minded - Mum 
attended the wedding and cried her eyes out for joy. 
Most of the town turned out to wish the newlyweds well, 
and the churchyard was brilliant with flowers, notably 
an abundance of carnations. Even George and Jean 
attended, and while George couldn't quite bring himself 
to shake Pro's hand, he wished the couple well.

Doug and Tempest married within the next year. Of 
course, a fortuitous breeze had carried Beryl's bouquet 
almost directly to Tempest's hands. On Tempest's wedding 
day, the weather was perfect.

Pro's first baby son wriggled in the cradle of his 
father's arms. He had perfectly-defined limbs and a 
square, stolid face, definitely taking after the 
Crabtree side of the family.

Beryl hugged her husband and son. To her mind, both her 
men were perfect, in every way.

(end)
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