Doctor Devoid's Device
When his car came to a stop, Anchor looked out of the shaded passenger door window. He slowly removed his sunglasses and stared at what awaited him outside: a small booth that bore the faded insignia of the long defunct Bersid Continuum. He snorted and looked to the car's driver, a young woman.
"An ancient toll booth?" he said. "This is where I'm supposed to meet him, Beryl?"
Beryl nodded. "Yes, Anchor. Is that really the problem?"
"No." Anchor shook his head. "The problem is we're dealing with the definition of a madman."
"It's our only choice. The next pod leaves in six hours." Beryl sighed. "Come on, Anchor, just do your job."
"My job?" Anchor folded his arms across his chest. "I am an infiltration and espionage expert. I can get into the facility without this loon's help. Let's drive away and say he wasn't here." He motioned towards the booth. "Because he obviously isn't!"
"I don't doubt your skills," Beryl said. "But we can't risk taking any of the blame for this. We don't want war--"
"Yet we're committing acts of war, yeah, yeah," Anchor said, waving a hand. "It's not that hard to make the Doctor take all the blame. Why couldn't the boys at the lab cook up something crazy?"
"Because our crazy isn't effective," Beryl replied. "Doctor Devoid is crazy effective. Now get out of the damn car and see if he left another clue or something. We're not leaving until you do."
Anchor frowned.
"My god," Beryl groaned, rolling her eyes. "You agents are all divas."
"I have a right to be concerned about my safety!" Anchor shouted. When Beryl rolled her eyes again, Anchor snarled and opened the door. He stepped out, and then ducked back in. "If I don't come back in thirty minutes this mission is on you, you know!"
Beryl shrugged. Anchor gave her a long hard stare, unblinking as he put his sunglasses on in the process. Afterwards, he left the car, slamming the door as he turned around. He glanced at the booth. As expected, the space where someone had once worked collecting tolls was empty. Still, Anchor figured Beryl might be right and there could be another piece to the Doctor's puzzle inside. Thus, Anchor walked around the booth until he stood in front of its backdoor. He stepped forward and laid a hand upon its rusty handle. Surprisingly, it turned easily enough and the door swung right open. Without even thinking, he took another step forward. He heard a click and immediately afterwards pain coursed through Anchor's body. He screamed as he was torn apart on the molecular level, the agent quickly losing consciousness as he was separated into billions of infinitesimal pieces then accelerated at an unknowable pace elsewhere, miles and miles away.
Anchor was surprised and pleased to come into consciousness, and then wary when he noticed his location had changed. He had been somehow transported from the dusty backroads of Runibia to a large lecture hall that slanted downwards. He sat in a stiff seat at the farthest back and highest part of the room, allowing him to see all below. The other seats were unoccupied and it would have been just him in an empty room save for a figure standing before a long blackboard, back turned towards Anchor. The figure wore a sterile white lab coat, blue jeans, and a black gas mask that concealed all parts of his head. In his right hand he carried a piece of chalk that he currently used to add more to a lengthy equation that took up most of the blackboard's space, an equation Anchor tried and failed to understand.
Before Anchor could say anything, the figure wrote a few more constants and variable and then gingerly placed the chalk down upon the board. It came to face Anchor, holding his gloved hands behind his chest.
"Agent Anchor," it said, its voice muffled but unmistakably male. "You've arrived."
"Yes," Anchor said. He covertly reached for his handgun, but found it was no longer on his person. He did his best to hide a scowl as he continued to speak: "You are Doctor Devoid?"
The Doctor nodded. "That is I. Now that you have asked me a question, I have one for you: why did you seek me out?"
"The..." Anchor paused, searching for the right words. "...faction I represent desires your assistance in one of my missions."
"Assistance?" The Doctor let out a low chuckle. "In what matter?"
"The Runibians recently built a deep-sea base off the Laoco Coast. I am tasked with destroying it."
"Why?"
"Why?" Anchor laughed despite himself and the current situation. "You're one to talk. Why did you bring another moon into our orbit? Why did you kill all the zebras? And what about the Spaghetti Incident?"
"Oh good," The Doctor said in a pleasant tone. "I've brought you out of your shell. I thought you would be speaking in that tepid, diplomatic manner this whole time. You still haven't answered my question: why, Anchor, why?"
Anchor grit his teeth. "It gives them an avenue for aggression that Finmar can't allow."
"So..." The Doctor stroked his gas mask. "They have it and you don't, so they can't have it."
"Yes, but they can't know we're the ones who took it away from them."
"Bah!" The Doctor flippantly waved a hand. "You 'superpowers' are no different than the last set. I've seen this before, this Cold War. Well, not really, not the original. That was far past my time, but I've seen history repeat itself here, there, everywhere. But what should I expect? You're only human."
"And you?"
"The same, only madder and why not? This world is much more fun than the last. Everything is different, you see--or you don't, really. In the last, everything was quantified and known, understood--or so we thought. If it weren't for Beta energy we might have stagnated. If it weren't for CausDek experimenting with it, I wouldn't be here." Doctor Devoid shrugged. "It's a shame you have such a limited perspective. You asked about the second moon, the zebra killings, and the Spaghetti incident. Why? Because I can and could not then. So many constants there are not here and that is insanity! You live in a mad world and do not even know it. So, I have to show it. Now, what can I do to help?"
Anchor blinked. "It can't be that easy."
"What did you expect? A plea for payment? A bargain for a seat of the Finmar government?" Doctor Devoid shook his head. "No, no, no. Anytime I have asked that is to make all of you squirm. 'How horrible that man is!', you all thought. 'We can't let him have that!' And you didn't, at least until you saw what I could do. Then the game became boring. I don't want money, I don't want political power, I don't want recognition--those are already easy to acquire. I want confusion and chaos. It's much more fun that way. Again, I ask, what can I do to help?"
"I need something from you," Anchor said. "Something that could destroy the facility and leave your signature, something related to you. Something insane."
"Oh," Doctor Devoid chuckled. "You just had to say that."
The Doctor reached into his lab coat and procured a small object. Without any warning, he tossed it to Anchor. It sailed through the air in a strangely linear path until Anchor caught it in his hands. He examined it, turning it over in his hands. It was a capsule of some sort, polished and black with the only marks on it being an inscription of "C/D" three times over its rounded exterior.
"You will need this as well," Anchor heard from close behind. He looked over his shoulder and saw Doctor Devoid had somehow transported himself from the board to his rear in the few seconds he had glanced at the capsule. The Doctor held a clacker in his right hand and a syringe in his left. He suddenly lunged forward and jabbed it into Anchor's shoulder. The agent grimaced in pain and tried to move but his body was unresponsive. A moment later, Doctor Devoid pulled the syringe out, threw the clacker in front of Anchor, and stepped back.
"Detonate the device when you are at the stabilizer," the Doctor said. "It will not kill you and I promise you the world will know of my genius, not that of Finmar. Goodbye, Anchor. Everything will go swimmingly for you."
Anchor shuddered as he was once again molecularized, his consciousness fading as he drifted elsewhere...
When Anchor reappeared inside the booth, he hastily ran out of the backdoor and to the car. He flung the door open and sat down. Beryl looked over to him, her eyes wide.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Drive," Anchor growled, mind already racing as he reached into the glove compartment and taking out the leaked blueprints for the sea base. "We've got a lot of planning to do and not a lot of time."
Five hours later, the car came to a stop again, this time in front of a Runibian security checkpoint. In that time, they had traveled from the abandoned tollbooth to Port Laoco, the site of transportation between the Runiban sea base and land military operations. Anchor and Beryl had swapped positions so that Anchor drove and they both had changed into Runibian officer dress uniform. Anchor had acquired a new handgun as well.
"Here for the launch?" the checkpoint guard asked, peering inside the car.
Anchor nodded and handed over his ID. The guard took it, glanced over it for a few seconds, and returned it.
"You're good to go, sir and ma'am," he said, waving them forward. "It's that small building, all the way down."
Anchor flashed the young man a smile as they pulled away, an expression that only lasted until they were out of his sight.
"Is this really going to work?" Beryl asked.
"Of course," Anchor replied, keeping his eye on the road. "We've had these identities set up for months. If we don't know much, oh well then. We're posing as second lieutenants for a reason. We're not supposed to know anything, just smile and look good."
"I mean this," Beryl said, thrusting the capsule into Anchor's sight. "Do you think this is going to work?"
"I sure as hell hope so."
"We can't rely on hope, Anchor! If we screw this up--"
"Hey!" Anchor growled. "Don't you think I'm worried too? I don't even know what the fuck that thing does! It could kill me for all I know and I'm relying on a madman's word that it doesn't. You weren't the one ripped apart and you didn't have to talk to him You're not even going to be down there and you're the one who insisted I talk to him." He sighed as he parked the car in front of the launch building. "Look," he said. "All you have to worry about is picking me up after the whole thing goes kaboom." He handed the map sitting on his lap to Beryl. "I even marked down the location for you. This is going to go smooth and if it doesn't...well, the Finmars had no involvement."
Beryl was silent as Anchor turned the keys and the car's engine came to a halt. He exchanged the keys for the capsule and opened his door.
"Listen," he said, slightly stepping out of the car. "Just be there on time. You've done all that you can for this mission."
"For Finmar," Beryl said.
"For Finmar," Anchor said, sneering as he exited the car. He closed the door and gave a wave and a smile to Beryl before turning away from her. When he heard her beginning to drive away, he pocketed the capsule and entered the building.
Upon entrance to the launch facility, the sight of a hall filled with a mass of civilians with a beleaguered private the only military man among them greeted him. The private looked up to Anchor and confusion filled the soldier's eyes when he saw Anchor's rank.
"Sir?" the private said. "Are you here for the tour?"
"Yes," Anchor said, walking towards the private, the civilians making way for his path. "Is that a problem?"
"N-no, sir," the private replied. "This is a civilian tour. I wasn't informed--"
"An officer?" Anchor said, holding forward both his ID and forged launch allowance card. "Well, there is now. When are we leaving?"
"In a few--"
"No," Anchor said. "We're leaving now."
The private nodded and started to herd the fifteen or so civilians down the hall. Anchor knew he was being a little too pushy for a second lieutenant, but he had no choice. He only had three hours before he was supposed to be at the pickup site. He didn't have any time to spare because the only unknown of the mission other than the capsule's effect was the time taken traveling back and forth between the deep-sea base was preventing precise calculations. Though they had been able to acquire intelligence on the base's layout, its precise location was still unknown.
So, it was a little ironic that Anchor was given that information so easily. The private led him and the civilians out of the back of the building and onto the beach, where a strange see-through craft almost spherical in its appearance awaited them. It had plenty of seats in its space for its passengers, though Anchor did not feel comfortable even when he entered through its hatch and forcibly took the copilot's seat. He had no idea how the craft worked, and the array of knobs and buttons in front of him didn't help, but he intended to find out.
When everyone was aboard and the hatch closed, Anchor watched as the pilot hit a green button. Abruptly the craft shuddered and then they were rapidly pulled into the ocean and its depths. The ride was extremely rocky for a few minutes. After this time, the private stood from his seat and began to speak about the sea base, though in Anchor's opinion he was just spewing forth Runibian propaganda and how great they were for building something underwater. Rather than listen to the private, Anchor watched the pilot. He was surprised to see that the man just leaned back in his chair and relaxed.
"Don't you have to pilot this craft, sailor?" Anchor asked.
"No, sir" the pilot said, shaking his head. "It's on autopilot. It would take us there even if I weren't here. Someone's got to press the button, but I'm really just here for reassurance or if something goes wrong, which it never has."
"Good to know," Anchor said. "Any way to reprogram it?"
The pilot shook his head again. He pointed at a small display that showed their route. "Not this one, sir. The newer models like the ones we got down there, yes."
"Huh," Anchor grunted. "We should send some to those Finmar bastards with bombs attached."
"That's the plan, sir," the pilot replied, nodding. "That's the plan."
Anchor smirked and leaned back in his chair. He absentmindedly put his hand into his pocket and felt the capsule and clacker. He wondered what was in the container. He figured it had to be a virus of some sort. It made sense, because the facility didn't have to be destroyed, just denied and a virus, especially one crafted by Doctor Devoid, would do just that. The Runibians wouldn't dare touch a contaminated zone. Still, it made Anchor speculate about his own survival if it were a virus. Had the good Doctor injected him with a vaccination of sorts?
Suddenly the vessel shook again. Anchor sat up straight and looked to the back. They had docked and arrived at the facility and he hadn't even noticed them approaching it! The hatch to the craft opened up and the civilians came spilling out. Anchor was disappointed to see that the only one who bothered to coral them was the private. There was security in the form of armed soldiers (or was it sailors? Sea men? Anchor didn't know) throughout the docking bay, but none of them bothered to look at the civilians. In fact, a majority of them were smoking and staring listlessly out into the water.
As Anchor stood up, he glanced down at his watch. The whole journey had taken less than half an hour. Really, the facility had to be only a few miles off the coast at best. He looked out from the craft and saw there were other smaller versions of it already docked, which he could no doubt use for his escape. He smiled and made his way out of the craft.
Taking his first steps into the facility, he noticed that it didn't feel any different from being on land, no doubt an effect of the stabilizer. In fact, he didn't even feel like he was in a deep-sea facility as the only evidence he resided in one was the sight of the ocean that could be seen out of the facility's translucent walls. In addition, they weren't really that far down too, as evidenced by the slight bit of sunlight that penetrated the depths. Anchor questioned Finmar's fear of the small facility. He just didn't see the point in it. The spherical crafts it housed could be countered with submarines if need be and there was nothing in the leaked blueprints that revealed something sinister or dangerously knew. It really was about Finmar not having a deep-sea base of their own, but now Anchor wondered why they would even want one, at least like this. Still, it wasn't as if Finmar would build something this substandard.
"Sir?"
Anchor looked up to find the private and the group of civilians waiting for him.
"Are you coming, sir?" the private asked.
Anchor nodded and joined the tour group, though he stayed in the back. The private led them out of the docking bay, past the mess hall, and into the barracks. As he followed the group, half-listening to the private speaking more propaganda and half-concentrating on the mental map in his head of the facility. Nothing they saw impressed him: the mess hall was unclean and smelled of fish, the barracks disorderly and filled with all manner of contraband, the supply closet unorganized. The sea base seemed no better than a land facility shoved into a smaller size and at the bottom of the ocean for no reason. The base's security was nil as evidenced by the guards from before and the fact that they allowed civilians to go through all of it. Anchor was actually surprised he didn't know more about the facility before coming here given the amount of information they gave out so freely. The civilians he accompanied were privileged, sure, but still...
Anchor's interest was finally peaked when they came to a set of steel doors near the center of the facility, the entrance to the room containing the stabilizer. Instead of entering, however, the private took the group past it and down the hall back towards the mess hall. Anchor realized he must have missed something the private said in his thoughts.
"Hey!" he called after the private. "Why aren't we seeing the stabilizer?"
The private and the group came to a halt.
"Sir," the private said. "It's off limits."
"Off limits? You mean we can see everything but the most important part of this facility?"
"Well..." the private said with a blink. "Yes, sir. Officers normally can, but--"
"Run along then, private," Anchor snarled. He turned to the two men guarding the doors. "When they go, I want to see it."
"Yes, sir," one of the guards said.
Anchor turned back to the private. The agent waved his hand in a shooing motion.
"Go ahead. I'll catch up with you later. I'm sure they made a good lunch or dinner or whatever for you visitors."
The private opened his mouth to speak, then closed his mouth and nodded. He turned away and the group followed him. When they were out of sight, the guards took the steel door's handles and pulled it open, revealing the stabilizer inside.
For once, Anchor was impressed with the Runibians. The stabilizer was a large glowing tube through which green water, a slimy green substance, and red particles intermingled, pulsing and whirling. Anchor had no idea what was going on and it was wondrous.
"So this is it," he said, taking a step towards the stabilizer. "This keeps this whole place afloat, so to speak."
"Yes," a voice spoke from close behind Anchor.
The agent turned around and found that not only were the guards pointing their rifles at him, but an officer, a Runibian major, stood before him with a standard issue handgun in hand and pointed at Anchor.
"Agent Anchor, is it?" the major said with a smirk.
"No," Anchor replied. "I'm second lieutenant--"
"Whatever name you're going to say is false and you have neither the bearing nor respect of a proper officer. We know your face, Anchor. You and your Finmar conspirators have sabotaged enough of my good people's operation already. It ends here."
Anchor smiled. "I don't think--"
Suddenly a shot rang out. Anchor fell to the ground, clutching at a fatal chest wound.
"Fuck!" he swore.
"Didn't expect me to shoot, did you?" The major asked, stepping nearer to Anchor. "I'm only so dramatic."
"Yeah," Anchor said, sitting up and pushing himself back with one hand while reaching into his pocket for the capsule and clacker. "You Runibians always go on talking, usually. Urgh..."
"I won't speak anymore. But you? Any last words?"
The major centered the handgun's sights on the agent's forehead.
"Yeah, catch!" Anchor replied, quickly bringing the capsule out of his pocket and throwing it at the major.
Rather than fire, the surprised major caught the capsule. He looked down at it in confusion.
"That's not a grenade," the major said. "What is this?"
"Hell if I know," Anchor said, reaching for the clacker in his pocket. He squeezed it. "But KABOOM!"
The major flinched and even the two guards looked away at the loud exclamation, even if nothing happened, at least until the capsule hissed. The upper portion of the capsule dissolved into nothingness and when the major dropped it, the rest of it melted into black ooze.
"A trick," the major sniffed, turning his attention from the puddle to Anchor. "You still die, Agent--aragh!"
The major screamed out as patches of rough grey flesh appeared across his face and exposed arms. He fell onto his knees and dropped the handgun, clawing at his changing face. The two guards soon joined him, screaming and crying out as their forms contorted and twisted.
"What the hell?" Anchor said. Despite his confusion and his wound, he forced himself to his feet, dashing past the Runibians as his mind struggled to think of the fastest way out of the facility. He made it only a few steps when he stumbled and it wasn't due to pain. He looked down at his body for a cause and gaped. His entire body was thinner, lacking the mass and muscle definition of earlier. In addition, his hair seemed to be retreating into his graying skin and--
Anchor shook his head and made himself step forward, even if taking a step in his oversized boots slowed and he knew his clothes hanging loosely on his frame wasn't his imagination. But it had to be just that! He was just hallucinating from the wound, right?
Anchor stumbled forward and felt for where the bullet had passed through him. The shirt was still slick with his blood, but underneath he could feel nothing that told of a wound. He glanced down at the spot and saw the crimson blood and torn fabric yet there was no wound, only smooth, grey skin that was certainly not human. His wound had healed seemingly healed, but at what price? What had he done? What had Doctor Devoid's device done?
The agent took another step, shuddering as his hips widened with a pop. A second later his pants fell to the ground, far too loose to stay on his childbearing hips. He glanced down, his thankfulness that his underwear remained up quickly dissolving when he saw his lithe legs and their gray tone. He had little time to focus on this before something tugged at his spine. He looked over his shoulder, eyes widened when a fleshy mass sprang out at midway down his back and another down near the base of his spine, forming into a fin and the beginnings of a broad, fluked gray tail respectively. From the center of his new appendage the gray spread, up his back and to his neck and down to his legs, his rear plumping.
"No," he breathed in a higher pitched tone, wincing as he felt the slick gray overtake what remained of his human flesh until all that was left was his head. He brought his dainty, nailless fingers to his cranium and wailed as the gray overcame his visage, his hair falling out in clumps, ears melded into the sides of his head while his nose flattened into nothingness. His skull reshaped into a melonlike dome, his jaw extending into curved beak akin to a smile. Small, sharp teeth replaced his old ones that had fallen out. He blinked and his blue eyes grew larger, lightening to green pupils. The agent felt around his face, barely able to see the reflection of a dolphinlike head in the facility's walls.
Anchor groaned when his tail pushed to greater lengths and then squealed in surprised when something lower pushed in. His hands and gaze flew to his crotch and they both arrived there just in time to see his covered manhood and testicles sink into his crotch like a doomed ship. He shivered when he ceased being a man as his crotch curved inward into the cleft of womanhood, feminine folds already slightly damp. He...she moaned inadvertently as further interior changes made sure she was nothing but a woman, a waiting womb the last of these developments.
Anchor groaned again when her tail gave one last push, finally complete in its length. She had little time to celebrate before her chest too pushed out, her nipples pressing tightly against her shirt as the flesh beneath them gathered into teardrop shaped mounds. She brought her hands to her chest and felt the soft flesh, surprised at its sudden sensitivity. As the touch sent shivers down her spine, she realized she possessed breasts now, and a nice pair. She wasn't too proud, even if she did continue to squish them until a sudden shriek caught her attention.
She glanced in fright towards the stabilizer where the sound originated. Her eyes widened at the sight of two humanoid shark females dressed in Runibian uniform. The pair were clothed until they tore each others garments off and lustily went at each other, teasing the other's slick slit and mashing their breasts together. A third female, wearing an officer's uniform and with a flatter snout and barbels around its mouth, faced Anchor. The shark leered at the dolphin, ripping away at her jacket to reveal a pair of full breasts. There was hunger in her eyes, but it was of a more carnal nature. With a laugh and playful snarl, the shark dashed towards Anchor. The dolphin stood stock still for a moment, unsure what to do. She felt a sudden lust in her altered loins that she yearned to sate, but rationality quickly took over. Thus, she ran.
This proved more difficult than the dolphin had expected it to be. She had to step out of her oversized boots and hastily tear off her socks before she could properly run. Even then it was not a proper run, for her unsupported breasts kept bouncing this way and that, distracting and denying her from her full speed. She also accidentally slapped her tail against the narrow halls at times. Despite all of this, she managed to stay away from the shark, which calmed her a bit until she passed the barracks.
In the moment that she glanced into the barracks, she saw that whatever had spilled out of the capsule had spread. Many of the soldiers were now female sharks as the others, though there were a few males here and there and a few unaffected. Those unaffected were not for long so, for those females which weren't busy licking at each other's slits, groping breasts, or being pounded by a male jumped on those still human and bit into their shoulders. Once bitten, the victim quickly ceased to be human, losing their hair and masculinity in most cases for a distinctly shark like appearance. It was then that Anchor realized she was only the dolphin among them and it did not take her long to figure out why. The shot Doctor Devoid had given her hadn't inoculated her; no, it had merely affected her alteration, marking her as different and also not making her lose her mind to lust as the rest. At least that was one thing she could be grateful for.
After the barracks, Anchor came into the mess hall. The soldiers in this area were already all converted and engaged in sexual activities. When she ran, she did so a bit quietly, lightly hopping over a few pairs within the writhing mass of the orgy. Just as she was about the leave the mess hall unscathed, a hand from below grabbed for her. The snatching shark girl caught her underwear and pulled it down, revealing Anchor's pussy to the world and her for the first time. Surprised, Anchor did nothing until she felt a finger brush against her sensitive sex. She shivered, but set to running before lust overwhelmed her.
Finally, she reached the docking bay. The place was thankfully and surprisingly empty. Not of the underwater traversable craft were taken, so she had plenty to choose from. She selected a small one near the end and dashed for it. She made it in and quickly sprinted to the control panel. Using what knowledge she had studied from the pilot earlier, she touched the map display screen and traced a route approximately to where Beryl would be to pick her up.
Beryl! Would her compatriot even recognize her now? Probably not, but that was the least of her concerns. She just had to get the hell out of here and--
Something hissed behind Anchor. The dolphin turned around and found the officer shark there. Instinctively, Anchor reached for her handgun and found only emptiness. It wasn't there, of course, because she had left her pants behind at the stabilizer.
The female shark advanced upon Anchor. Anchor turned to flee again and tripped on the copilot's chair. She fell upon the ground, her breasts cushioning her fall in an extremely manner while her erstwhile tail slapped against a green button. Immediately the hatch closed and the craft shook as it began its journey to its destination. The shark growled and Anchor looked up just in time to see her bear down on her. The dolphin squealed as the shark bit in her shoulder, her aggressor pulling her maw out a second later. It only hurt for a moment before intense desire overcame her, burning all the way from her brain to her loins. Anchor shivered, trying to fight it, but it was too powerful. With no other option, Anchor gave in.
The dolphin turned over and looked lustily to the shark. She calmly unbuttoned her dress shirt, letting it fall off her narrow shoulders while she spread her legs, puffy pussy on display for the only other aboard the craft. The shark took the invitation happily, falling to her knees and extending her tongue until she was lapping the dolphin's slit. Anchor moaned at each ministration, loving how the rough tongue almost hurt but the pleasure it brought was worth the pain. She self-pleasured at the same time too, groping at her own breasts while her partner brought her closer and closer to orgasm. Overloaded as the dolphin was, it did not take long before she did orgasm, letting her pleasure be known to her partner with a series of high-pitched whistles and clicks. The shark tickled at the dolphin's soft belly, giving her partner a moment to recover from her sexual stimulation before straddling the dolphin and going for a round two, this time for both.
The shark groaned her rougher sex against the dolphin's slicker one, their clits occasionally bumping up against the other for spikes of intense pleasure. Anchor reached up for the shark's chest and took her lover's large breasts in her smaller hands, giving them sensual squeezes intermittently. The shark returned the favor, roughly caressing the dolphin's boobs and occasionally tweaking her dark nipples. In a matter of moments, both of them reached their sexual peak, shrieking in unison as they simultaneously orgasmed. Exhausted for now, the couple curled up together, former enemies, Finmar and Runibian, interspecies lovers now. Anchor rested her head against the shark's pillowy breasts until they regained enough energy to go another round, pleasuring each other over and over as the craft neared its destination where Beryl was waiting...