“Ah, Mrs Stubbs! Do come in.”

Mrs Stubbs was, in contradistinction to her name, tall, slender and elegant, with pale skin, gently slanting oriental eyes, her black hair formed into a soft bob which, indeed, bobbed winsomely as she entered the consulting room, smiled cautiously, and sat facing Dr Gaia’s large mock-oak desk. The doctor was, by contrast, large and buxom, with frizzy black hair, her dark skin rich and glowing despite her middle age. To her side sat her assistant Melia – thin and pale, with slowly twisting pointy ears and light blue hair.

“And how is the new arrival, Mrs Stubbs?” smiled the doctor.

Mrs Stubbs’ face broke into a broad grin. “Oh, beautiful, Doctor! Thank you so much. My wife is over the moon! It’s what we have been hoping for for years. We’re just so glad the treatment is now available on the NHS!”

Gaia and Melia grinned with evident delight. “I am so pleased, Mrs Stubbs,” trilled the doctor. Now, as you know, yours is the first ten-inch specimen we have ever installed on a human female – which is why this post-operative check-up is necessary.”

“Of course, Doctor,” nodded Mrs Stubbs. “What would you like me to do?”

“Well, first, would you mind removing your clothes, so we can see how the specimen has taken? We may need to take some measurements.”

Mrs Stubbs’ new cock was flaccid, but already some eight inches long nevertheless, thick and roughly-hewn, and dangled impressively from her crotch as she stood in the centre of the room. “Oh, that is a beauty, isn’t it?” sang Dr Gaia. “What do you think, Melia?”

It was not long before Melia was on her knees, callipers and tape in hand, measuring all dimensions of the patient’s genitalia, from the neatly trimmed black pubic bush which perched above the base of her penis, down past her two warm testicles to her labia, which parted slightly of their own accord to reveal her moist pink vaginal flesh. “Oh God,” squealed Mrs Stubbs, “when you touch me like that, I straight away go all… oh fuck…” Her cock was already stiffening, bobbing gently in Melia’s palm, and her pussy-lips parted yet further, the heady fragrance of warm cunt gently filling the consultation room.

“Ten inches indeed, Doctor,” confirmed Melia as the penis reached its full size, “and six in circumference!” She put her measuring equipment down in order to manually explore Mrs Stubbs’ genitalia in greater detail, dictating her findings as Gaia scribbled notes on a clipboard. “The foreskin pulls back perfectly; pre-cum already evident,” she added, using her finger to spread the natural lubricant around the glans.

“Oh fuckkk!” hissed Mrs Stubbs, as Melia briefly stroked the underside of her frenulum with a moistened finger. Her cock jerked up and down, releasing more glistening pre-cum, which now dangled in a thin gloopy string from the glans. “I’m always so horny now, Doctor! My wife loves it, because I just can’t get enough fucking. We’re at it all the time!”

“And what about orgasms? Easy enough to achieve?”

“Are you joking, Doctor?” laughed Mrs Stubbs. “Again and again! Do you want me to…”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Mrs Stubbs. As your wife wasn’t able to come today, could Nurse Melia give you a blowjob?”

Melia extended her tongue to lick off the pre-cum dangle. “Ooh, lovely – even better than our nine-inch model!” she exclaimed, before opening her lips wide to engulf Mrs Stubbs’ whole cockhead, which was by now swollen and throbbing.

Dr Gaia was furiously scribbling notes on her clipboard, as well as snapping photographs with a small camera, as the nurse began a slow throatfuck, dislocating her jaw with a soft click before gently lowering her mouth down Mrs Stubbs’ shaft to swallow the entire ten inches, so her lips could nibble up and against her crotch. Melia’s lips and skin were turning gradually light blue, and the twisting of her ears was beginning to accelerate. “Oh God, Nurse Melia!” squealed Mrs Stubbs, as she began to drive her cock in and out of the extra-terrestrial’s face. “I’ve never throatfucked a Vrdmlian before; my wife can’t quite get all ten inches down, but with your jaw-click thing it’s… oh fuck, so good!”

Below her swelling testicles, Mrs Stubbs’ pussy-lips were now parting still further, and a dribble of cunt-juice began to run down her leg. “Check out her pussy, please, Melia,” instructed Dr Gaia; the blue-skinned alien complied – not pausing her throatfuck, but simultaneously inserting two fingers of her left hand into the dripping gash whose rich fragrance now filled the room.

“Oh… so good!” squealed the patient. “Please, Nurse Melia,” she panted, “do you have a dildo? When my wife sucks me off she sometimes sticks a vibe up there!”

“Melia can do better than that!” interjected Dr Gaia. “Can’t you, Melia?” she smirked.

The blue-haired nurse slowly withdrew her mouth off Mrs Stubbs’ ten-inch shaft, releasing a copious dribble of pale blue saliva as she clicked her own jaw back into place. Removing her white lab coat, she revealed her own body: thin and lithe, pale creamy skin gradually turning bluer with every passing minute, three pert blueberry-nippled breasts gracing her chest, and – eliciting a gasp from her patient – a huge sapphire cock, already stiff with excitement, the mushroom-headed dark blue glans throbbing with desire.

“Oh! I had no idea!” squealed Mrs Stubbs. “Do all Vrdmlians have a…”

“No,” giggled Melia, making her stiff member jiggle up and down before her. “We have three sexes on our planet: female, futanari, and flexible. I am in the third group – which means my cock is fully retractable. Would you like me to fuck you with it?”

Mrs Stubbs did not need to reply. Her face glowed with fascination and desire, and her ten-inch cock – looking almost petite in comparison with Melia’s – stood to attention, more glistening pre-cum leaking down the shaft towards her balls and cunt. Melia stood facing her, nudged her bulging blueberry cockhead against the patient’s slimy pussy, and pushed upwards.

Mrs Stubbs screeched with pleasure as she felt herself fill with hot throbbing alien fuck-meat. Soon she was blabbering sweet lustful nothings, as Melia’s thick blue shaft pounded in and out of her cunt, while the alien stroked Mrs Stubbs’ ten-inch cock with her slender blue hand. “Oh motherfuck… mo… fuckfuckfuck… oh God, Nurse Melia, you’re going to make me fucking… oh God, I’m… OH FUUUCK!” she screamed, as a gush of warm slime erupted from her cunt, soaking the alien’s twelve-inch shaft down to her heavy blue balls. At the same time, her own testicles began to spasm, sending futa-cum coursing upwards through her shaft. The extra-terrestrial squealed with delight, her ears twisting and thrashing wildly against her blue hair, as she withdrew her tumescent member from her patient’s spasming gash, pumping it urgently with her hand until it too exploded. Mrs Stubbs’ cum squirted upwards in multiple jets, thin but powerful, adorning Melia’s blue body with fine creamy stripes and decorating her three blueberry nipples with globs of futa-jizz. By contrast, Melia’s cum came in thick azure ropes, firing high and decorating Mrs Stubbs’ pale face and black hair with stripe after blue stripe, a criss-cross pattern of cum which gradually disintegrated, dribbling down and dripping off her chin onto her pert tits.

“MJHLW!” squealed Melia in her own language, as her body trembled all over in orgasmic bliss. “MJHLW FRGLLL!!!”

“Language, language, Melia,” tutted Dr Gaia, who paused her note-taking to scoop up a sample of Mrs Stubbs’ cock-cream into a test-tube. “Well, thank you, Mrs Stubbs: we will have this sample tested in the lab – but on first appearances, everything seems to be functioning well.”

Mrs Stubbs did not respond. She had dropped to her knees in pleasure and was licking the last few drops of pale blue cum off the end of Melia’s cock, which was now beginning to go gradually flaccid, and a progressively lighter shade of azure.

“Frgl… Mjhlw frgl…” panted the extra-terrestrial, as her breathing gradually returned to normal, her ears slowed down, and her skin colour regained more of its prior peaches-and-cream hue.

“Well, that will be all, Mrs Stubbs,” said the doctor, smiling. “Unless the tests throw something up, I think we won’t need to see you again. But remember, you are on access for the next six months just in case you have any concerns. In the meantime, please give my best regards to Ms Stubbs.”

“Oh, and more, Doctor!” giggled Mrs Stubbs, smacking her lips, shaking the last few drops of cum from her glans, and slurping up the last blue stripes from her face and tits, before donning her clothes. “Thank you so much!” she grinned as she let herself out the door.

“Well, that was successful!” Melia clapped her hands in delight, as she wiped the dregs of Mrs Stubbs’ bodily juices off her breasts and abdomen. She gently stroked down the upper surface of her cock with one finger, causing the once-huge member, along with its attendant testicles, to shrink and retract into her crotch; within thirty seconds, all that remained visible was a deep blue clitoris, nestling contentedly at the top end of her azure pussy lips. “We can start rolling those out now, can’t we, those ten-inchers?” she asked, as she put her lab coat back on.

“Unfortunately, things may not be quite so simple, Melia,” replied the doctor. The blue-haired woman looked back quizzically. “There wasn’t time for me to tell you before – but we’ve had a message from the Minister: there’ve been some problems associated with our dickgirl transformations.”

“What?” gasped Melia. “Surely not! All the clinical results have been perfect!”

“The clinical results, yes,” replied Gaia. “But there have been timeline problems. Do you remember that woman Daphne, the opera singer?”

A nostalgic smile passed across Melia’s face. “How could I forget her? How long has it been – over two years now? I oversaw her case all those decades that she was comatose in the ward next door. I miss her, you know,” Melia grinned wistfully. “I feel like I got to know her really well – even though she was only awake for about an hour before we sent her home.”

“And there’s the rub, Melia: we sent her home. And that has, apparently, caused timeline problems.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, have you noticed the unusual spike in demand over the past year? The timeline investigators say that is as a result of our having sent Daphne back. Her girlfriend Lucy worked here, as you know, at the Institute, in the early twenty-first century. She, apparently, in her own timeline, harnessed our technology from Daphne, and unwittingly unleashed a whole futa craze upon the world – but two hundred years too early! It is set to become more severe over the next couple of years, as often happens when a negative timeline event filters through into the present. This could lead to massive demographic problems and social unrest: the Minister is not happy.”

“Mjhlw…” muttered Melia.

“Quite so,” grimaced Gaia.

~

Nur Todgeweihten taugt mein Anblick… sang Daphne. A warm summer breeze blew in through the open windows of her Honda Jazz, as the rolling verdant scenery of the Sussex Downs raced by.

“Is that what you’re singing tonight?” asked Lucy from the front passenger seat.

“Yes. That’s Brünnhilde warning Siegmund that she has to take him to Valhalla.”

“Meaning, he has to die?”

“Yep. Because his step-mother’s jealous that his dad’s been screwing around and fathering other races to pursue his own dubious ambitions.”

“Are you sure I’m going to enjoy this, Daph? I’m not going to be staring at a fucking swinging pendulum all night – or a green-tinted cyclorama?”

Daphne chuckled. “No, no; this production’s actually got scenery. And the Sieglinde can actually act, instead of just wave her arms about randomly. But anyway, Siegmund refuses to leave his beloved behind – and Brünnhilde is so moved by his love for Sieglinde that she disobeys Wotan’s commands and tries to save Siegmund’s life – all to no avail of course… which is when the shit hits the fan… Ah, Glyndebourne this way,” interjected Daphne, noticing a road sign.

“Got my cucumber sandwiches,” giggled Lucy.

“All right for you! But what about me?”

“Meaning?”

“Well…” Daphne looked sheepishly at her lover. “It’s going to be a long show…”

“You’re incorrigible!” laughed Lucy.

“Yes, but that’s not my fault! Remember, you told me, it’s that weird hormone from the future you discovered in my bloodstream. You should patent it and sell it at vast profit.”

“Sorry, Daphne, not buying it. Weird hormone maybe, but from the future? Pull the other one!”

“Oh Luce, do you still not believe me?” replied Daphne – an uncharacteristic hint of irritation in her voice. She bit her lip in consternation.

“Aw, love, what does that matter?” Lucy reached out to stroke Daphne’s thigh tenderly. “I’m yours, you know? Nothing can come between us.” Her right hand still stroking Daphne’s thigh, she swivelled herself around in the passenger seat and reached forward with her left hand as well, taking Daphne’s briefly off the steering wheel so that their twin rings glinted side by side.

A happy tear leaked from Daphne’s eye. “I love you, Luce. You make me so happy.”

“Shall I make you even happier?” replied Lucy cheekily, as one hand slipped beneath her fiancée’s skirt and began to explore the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

“Oh God, Luce, if you touch me like that, I won’t be able to hold back!” Daphne trembled.

“So don’t…” whispered Lucy, as her hand cupped Daphne’s testicles.

O süsseste Wonne! Seligstes Weib! sang Daphne.

“Whatever you say,” chuckled Lucy, as she released Daphne’s already throbbing penis, spat into her hand, and began to gently stroke the stiff shaft. Soon it had reached its full length, its head was bulging, and the foreskin was sliding effortlessly back over the glistening glans.

“God, this thing’s beautiful!” Lucy’s voice trembled. “Want me to kiss it?”

“No, no, just keep doing what you’re doing, love, that’s so… oh… ohhh!” panted Daphne, her cock twitching with pleasure as Lucy’s right hand continued to ease her foreskin back and forth, gently pumping her shaft whilst her other hand stroked her balls. Daphne gripped the steering wheel harder, as if forcing herself to concentrate on the road, willing herself not to lose control. “Oh Luce, my love!”

“So, what would Siegmund say then?” chuckled Lucy, as Daphne moaned, her right foot, despite her best efforts, gradually easing itself harder onto the accelerator.

Du bist das Bild, das ich in mir barg… sang Daphne, her volume gradually increasing with the speed of the car.

“Ooh, that sounds sexy!” grinned Lucy. “Is that German for ‘Jerk my fuckink futa cock, you beautiful zexy bitch’?”

O lieblichste Laute, denen ich Lausche! continued Daphne, her vibrato widening as her cock expanded and she felt the exquisite feeling of her cum rising from her balls through her thick shaft.

“Or does it mean ‘I am goink to sqvirt my huge fuckink load all over your pretty face’?”

Daphne could hold back no longer. As she sang at the top of her voice, SO BLÜHE DENN, WÄÄÄÄÄLSUNGENBLUT! her cock exploded, a great geyser of futa-cum shooting some eighteen inches vertically upwards from her pulsating cockhead. Lucy watched with delighted admiration as the cum-fountain fragmented, almost as if in slow motion, into thick creamy droplets which curled back downwards towards Daphne’s crotch. There they, and each successive glorious spurt of cock-cream, should have landed with a triumphant splatter, coating Daphne’s shaft and balls, as well as Lucy’s hands, before dribbling down Daphne’s thighs to decorate her flaring pink pussy-lips.

But it didn’t happen like that. To be fair, Lucy didn’t see exactly what happened, because she was too enraptured by the sight of Daphne’s flying cock-cream. But suddenly Daphne screamed – not a scream of lustful pleasure, but of utter terror – as she slammed her foot violently down on the brake. The car screeched and swerved, and Lucy lost grip of the cock, which waved and waggled uncontrollably, cum flying in all directions and splattering Daphne’s nose and caterwauling lips. Lucy’s upper torso, hitherto facing Daphne, was thrown backwards between the two front seats. Now she could see nothing, only feel her stomach churning as their car careered down the road, out of control, screeching to a halt halfway onto the soft shoulder.

There Lucy lay, listening to Daphne panting and squealing and sobbing in the driver’s seat, before she cautiously lifted her head to survey the damage. “What the fuck? Daph – baby, what on earth?”

“It was her!” Daphne’s voice shook, as tears poured down her face, which was now white as a sheet. “I saw her!” Her cum dangled in gloopy strings off her own face, jiggling spasmodically as she blubbed.

“What? Who?” Lucy reached forward, tenderly wiping the cream off her fiancée’s face and licking it off her own fingers.

Daphne appeared beside herself. “That blue-haired girl… that alien… whatever her name was… Melinda? Melanie? Oh God, it was her, Luce, I saw her – she was there by the side of the road, standing in front of that phone box! Help me, Luce!” Daphne grabbed Lucy tight, her fingers digging desperately into her flesh. “She’s come to get me! They want me back – I know it!”

“There, there, baby, no one’s coming to get you,” crooned Lucy, kissing Daphne’s face and stroking her hair. “Look – there’s no one there!”

And there wasn’t. For, even when they got out of the car and walked back down the grass verge, Daphne clutching Lucy’s hand in terror, there was no one to be seen. There was not even a phone box…

“It was here, Luce: a big old-fashioned red telephone box! And she was… right here!” spluttered Daphne. “The blue-haired alien: Melia – that was her name. She…”

“But love, these days people have their hair in all sorts of colours. That doesn’t mean they’re aliens. Just some young punk: did she have a mohawk too?”

“No… I mean, that’s what I thought at first, Luce – but then she turned and looked at me. She looked right into my eyes! She’s after me, Luce, she wants me back, she – OH GOD!” Daphne broke down in tears, howling in terror. “DON’T LET THEM TAKE ME AWAY!!!”

The two women, one futa, both female, stood a long while by the side of the road, holding each other tight – one of them beside herself with terror and desperation, and the other doing her best to reassure, until slowly Daphne’s tears subsided, and Lucy was able to say, “Come on, Daph, you must admit, never mind the blue-haired alien, there’s not even a phone box. You must have been imagining it. My fault for getting you all hot and horny whilst you were driving. Let me drive now. Let’s get you where you need to be, get you a nice cup of tea, or a little snifter of brandy. There’s no one here – see?” She gestured up and down the empty soft shoulder.

Daphne nodded, smiling weakly. “Of course, you’re right, love. Thank you. You put up with so much from me, don’t you?” She wiped the last of her tears away and laughed nervously, before standing up tall again.

“You’re worth it, my love. We’re together forever – remember?”

~

Schwester! Geliebte! sang the tenor.

Actually, this isn’t half bad, thought Lucy to herself, from her mid-stalls seat. In Act I, Siegmund, played by a fine tall Swedish Heldentenor, had rescued Sieglinde from the clutches of her abusive husband, played by a huge bearded Bulgarian with a voice like a choir of trombones. It was now Act II, the hapless pair were on the run, and the now-pregnant Sieglinde had collapsed with exhaustion. The divine warrior-maid Brünnhilde, played by Daphne, looking both gorgeous and terrifying in her black leather-and-chain armour, had arrived on stage, heralded by a quintet of Wagner tubas punctuated by funereal timpani rolls, to announce to Siegmund his doom, in a voice as bewitching as it was menacing:

Siegmund, sieh auf mich! Ich bin’s der bald du folgst. – “Siegmund… I am the one whom you will soon follow.”

It was then that Lucy noticed her. She could swear she hadn’t been there two minutes ago – but now there she was, standing at the back of one of the circle boxes, behind a row of glitteringly befrocked opera-goers, watching the stage intently. Despite the dark, her eyes shone a piercing blue, and a soft azure glow seemed to exude from her long, coloured hair.

Wer bist du, sag, die so schön und ernst mir erscheint? sang Siegmund on stage, as he stared in awe at the Valkyrie. “Who are you, who appear so beautiful and yet so grave?”

But Lucy was not watching the stage anymore, as her heart skipped a beat. What the fuck? was her first thought. This must be a joke, a trick. Who? And why? And how dare they? She slipped out of her seat, tripping over the feet of a few tutting glitterati as she apologised her way along the row, then strode back up the aisle, into the foyer, and up the staircase to the circle. Determined to expose the stalker, she counted the doors to the boxes until she had found what she was sure was the right one, and quietly edged it open.

There she was, standing with her back to Lucy, her blue hair draped elegantly across her shoulders, eyes fixed on Daphne on stage who, accompanied by a soft chorus of trumpets proclaiming the summons of Valhalla, was now announcing:

Auf der Walstatt allein erschein ich Edlen! – “Only those chosen to die on the battlefield can see me!”

In her rage, Lucy was about to grab the blue-haired stalker, drag her out into the lobby, and demand a confession out of her – until she noticed that the woman’s ears were thin and pointy, and slowly twisting. Twisting? thought Lucy. Ears don’t twist. What sort of sick joke is this?

It was then that the ears start to speak. Speak? thought Lucy. Ears don’t fucking speak!

In point of fact, these ears weren’t actually speaking – out loud, that is. But Lucy somehow knew that, even though the blue-haired woman had her back turned to her, she was addressing her. Her ears are talking to my ears! thought Lucy. What the fuck?

And what the ears were saying now to Lucy was, She has to come with me, you know.

Lucy froze, and dared not speak; yet she thought, Come with you? Where to? Who the fuck are you?

In reply, her ears heard, My name is Melia. I helped give Daphne her cock.

You?! What? How? Where have you come from? thought Lucy.

Same place as you: the Institute for Sexual Medicine – but in your future.

No. No, no, NOOO!!! Lucy screamed silently. This cannot be true!

I know it must be a shock, Lucy. But how else do you think she had her transformation? And where else do you think I am from? Melia’s ears continued to twist and wave, as if in silent confirmation of her non-humanity.

Lucy stood, trembling. OK, OK, she thought. Whatever. But why are you here now? What do you mean, she has to come with you? Why? Where to?

But now, Lucy noticed, Melia’s ears, still twisting and waving, were not just speaking, but singing. That is to say, the only real sound of singing in the theatre was of course from the stage – but somehow Melia’s mind, through her strange twisting ears, was taking that sound and not merely translating it but imbuing it with meaning, a meaning so clear and specific that it filled Lucy’s mind with terrifying urgency. On stage, Brünnhilde was singing to the tenor – yet Lucy knew that the alien was speaking to her, and that Daphne was her Siegmund, her target, her victim:

Zu Walvater, der dich gewählt, führ ich dich. – “I will lead you to the one who chose you: you will follow me to Valhalla.”

Lucy, in horror, understood. And yet, without intending to, she found her own mind harnessing Wagner’s words and music to scream back Daphne’s refusal, as on stage Siegmund cried:

Zu ihnen folg ich dir nicht! – “I will not follow you! Where Sieglinde lives, Siegmund will stay!”

Though the alien’s back was still turned to her, Lucy felt the frustration blazing behind the twisting ears and unseen piercing blue eyes. As muted violas scratched out their anger from the pit, on stage Brünnhilde replied to the recalcitrant Siegmund:

Solang du lebst, zwäng’ dich wohl nichts! – “Whilst you live, I cannot make you come: but death will force you, you fool!”

Lucy’s head swam, as she realised the full horror of what the blue-haired interloper meant. Instinctively, she wanted to attack her, to destroy her and the accursed message she had come to convey. She reached forward, clasped her hands around Melia’s neck, and squeezed hard, as on stage, Siegmund raised his sword over his sleeping beloved and, amid bleating of wind and churning of strings, bellowed back at the Valkyrie:

Kein andrer als ich soll die Reine lebend berühren! – “No one but I will touch her. Take both our lives at a single stroke!”

In an instant, the spell was broken. The intoxicating music and meaning disappeared from Lucy’s head, retreating, as if down a narrow tunnel, back to the stage and pit. But Melia’s slender pale hands, stronger than they looked, reached up and broke Lucy’s hold. The alien turned and, with a brief glance of her fiery-cold blue eyes, pushed past Lucy and out of the box and into the circle foyer.

“No you fucking don’t!” hissed Lucy – this time out loud, eliciting much-outraged tutting and grumbling from the other occupants of the box as she charged out after Melia.

The alien was fast. She wasn’t running as such, but seemed to have the sort of anatomy which allowed her to walk with a swift gliding gait, such that even running down the stairs, through the main foyer, and out into the grounds, Lucy was unable to keep up. “You leave her alone, you hear?!” screamed Lucy across the summer-twilit Glyndebourne gardens at the retreating sapphire-haired shape. “She’s been through enough already! You try taking her away again, and it’ll be over my fucking dead body!”

But Melia had already reached the other side of the lawn where, lodged below a small copse, Lucy could just make out the sight of a large red telephone box. The alien stepped inside and shut the door behind her. “No you fucking don’t!” screamed Lucy – but blinked, only to find that the phone box was no more to be seen, and she was alone again.

Lucy collapsed in rage, and howled into the mud.

~

“Ah, Mr and Mrs Bloggs, do come in!” smiled Dr Gaia, as the door to her consulting room creaked open.

Mrs Bloggs, tall and strongly built, with long straight blond hair down to her buttocks, strode confidently in. In her wake followed a slight, slender, beardless young man with short, light brown hair and a nervous, almost sheepish expression on his face.

“Now, as I understand it,” began the doctor, after the couple had settled themselves, “you are having second thoughts about your new cock – is that right, Mrs Bloggs?”

“Oh, please don’t get me wrong, Doctor,” replied the blonde. “I adore it! It feels so good – and it’s so beautiful. I mean, ten inches of hard throbbing fuck-meat,” she giggled, “who wouldn’t love that? But…” Mrs Bloggs hesitated, looking sideways at her husband.

Dr Gaia looked quizzically back and forth between the two. “Are you not so sure about it then, Mr Bloggs?” she asked.

Mr Bloggs looked nervously at his feet. “Oh come on, Fred,” urged his wife, patting his hand affectionately. “You can tell the doctor: it’s all right.”

Fred Bloggs, still staring at his feet, spoke in a painfully hesitant undertone. “I like it… It’s… it’s… it’s just that it’s… too big…”

“Ah,” said the doctor.

“You see?” said Mrs Bloggs.

Fred continued to look at his feet.

“Well,” continued the doctor, “there are things we can do about that. Would you mind showing me the, uh… size of the problem…?”

“Of course!” said Mrs Bloggs, peeling off her skirt and panties to reveal an enormous penis which, though currently flaccid, was thick and gnarled, marbled with prominent blue veins. “I just want Fred to be happy, you know, Doctor? He’s always wanted a futa wife – but I think it’s just a matter of fine-tuning, if you know what I mean…”

“Oh, that is a beauty!” marvelled the doctor, moving around to the front of her desk so she could take hold of the naked cock and examine it closely. The huge member began to jerk and bob in anticipation. “I had forgotten how well that one turned out!” she grinned. “When did we do it – was it a fortnight ago? It would seem a shame to… but no, show me what the problem is, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Mrs Bloggs gestured tenderly to her husband, who pulled his trousers down and bent forward over Dr Gaia’s desk, his buttocks bare, smooth, and only slightly pimply. His wife stood behind him, slowly caressing the crack of his bottom with her futa penis whilst leaning forward and whispering in his ear, “You want this, Fred? You want this in your arse?”

Fred nodded shyly, reaching backwards with two hands to spread his buttocks, so that his tight puckered hole, framed with a few wisps of light brown hair, was visible.

“Can’t hear you, Mister Bloggs,” giggled the blonde, as she continued to stroke her semi-erection up and down her husband’s arse-crack. “I said,” she breathed hoarsely, “do you want this big fat cock in your arse?”

“Oh, yes please, Mrs Bloggs,” whimpered Fred.

Mrs Bloggs raised her voice slightly. “Then tell me what you fucking want, Mister Bloggs. Talk to me!” Mrs Bloggs’ cock had by now nearly reached its full ten inches, the foreskin naturally peeling back to reveal a huge gleaming purple cockhead, as thick as a man’s wrist.

“I want your cock in my arse, Mrs Bloggs,” squeaked Fred, as his own member began to stiffen in excitement.

“You like it in your arse?” pressed Mrs Bloggs yet louder, as she hawked a large gob of spit onto her husband’s pucker, slid her middle finger in, and began twisting and twiddling it round to gradually open up the sphincter. “Why is that, Mister Bloggs? Tell me!” she insisted.

“I love your cock in my arse,” squeaked Fred, his bottom writhing against his wife’s finger. “I love your big futa dick, your beautiful dickgirl cock. You are so wonderful, Mrs Bloggs, and I love you so much, and I want you to fill me up with your big dick…” Fred’s voice trailed off into an ecstatic whimper, as Mrs Bloggs spat more saliva onto her glans, leaned inward and pressed at his anus. Fred let out a muffled cry, half of pleasure and half of pain, his own penis stiffening further as he felt his bottom penetrated by the tip of his wife’s cock.

“Oh yes, Mister Bloggs!” panted the blonde. “Feel my big fat cockhead in your mancunt. Feel it squeezing in where no man has gone before. Is that nice being fucked up your hot shitter by your dirty fucking futa wife? You want me to go deeper, baby?”

“Yes, Mrs Bloggs, please push it in deeper, let me – AAARGH!” screamed Fred Bloggs, as his wife attempted to press the shaft of her cock further in. “NO – TOO BIIIG!!”

And so Mrs Bloggs paused, her glans still buried in her husband’s anus, but unable to proceed any deeper. “See, Doctor?” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s what he always says.”

“I can understand that!” grimaced the doctor, taking a deep breath, and procuring a pair of callipers from her pocket to measure the diameter of Mrs Bloggs’ girlcock. “It’s not so much the length that’s the problem, but the girth. Our ten-inch model was really designed for postpartum pussies, not male recta. Shall we try reducing the circumference a bit? A little injection should do the trick. It’ll take ten minutes or so to take effect – but best if you stay erect throughout the process: that makes for more even results.”

Three millilitres and ten minutes later, Mrs Bloggs’ cock was indeed still erect, maintained so by the kindly ministrations of Mr Bloggs, who knelt in front of his wife making oral love to her penis, until his saliva coated the full length of the futa shaft, swayed in thin strings off her balls, and dribbled down his beardless chin. Still rugged, and still ten inches long, its girth had nevertheless reduced, making it now look long, slender and suave. Mr Bloggs grinned with meek satisfaction.

“Shall we try it again?” asked Dr Gaia – and both the Bloggses nodded in anticipation.

This time, Mr Bloggs emitted no screams of pain, but merely moans of approval and pleasure, as his wife’s ten inches slipped into his rectum in one stroke. “Oh, Mrs Bloggs!” he whimpered. “That’s so good. Thank you, my darling! I love you, my darling!”

“Oh yes!” trilled Mrs Bloggs as, for the first time since her procedure two weeks prior, she felt her whole shaft buried balls-deep in her husband’s rectum. “You like that, Mister Bloggs?” giggled his wife. “You want me to fuck your arse deep with my long cock?”

“Oh yes, my darling, I love it so much,” he tittered.

“You want me to pound your sweet little arse with my great long futa dick, dear Mister Bloggs? Want me to ram it in and out, fill up your pretty little boy-shithole with my stiff girlcock?”

“Oh yes please, Mrs Bloggs. Fuck me hard, now!” whimpered the young man. His own cock, though far smaller than his wife’s, was stiff again, its glans throbbing with pleasure and glistening with pre-cum.

Mrs Bloggs began dutifully to pound her long cock energetically in and out of her husband’s rectum. Dr Gaia’s consulting room was soon filled with scents and sounds of the marital futa-fucking: the squelch of ten-inch cock squeezing itself in and out of a tight man-hole, the slap of heavy girl-testicles against male buttocks, the moans and sighs of Mr Bloggs as he reached downward and began to manually pleasure his own cock, the ongoing scribbling of Dr Gaia on her notepad, and the enthusiastic dirty talk of Mrs Bloggs as she urged her husband on: “Yes, Freddie, this is what you’ve been wanting for so long, isn’t it? Your beautiful woman-wife filling you up with her perfect slutcock – you like that, don’t you, my darling? Want me to give you my sweet futa cum? Want to feel me spray-paint inside your pretty boy-arse with my hot cream? Is that what you want, Mister Bloggs?”

Mr Bloggs could only respond with moans and squeals – but his wife understood him well enough to time her orgasm perfectly. And so two cocks came simultaneously – the slender ten-incher deep into Mr Bloggs’ rectum, making its recipient screech with pleasure as his own cock also exploded. Mrs Bloggs lodged her spasming shaft balls-deep inside her husband, whilst at the same time reaching one hand around his trim body to pump his smaller specimen, collecting the dregs of his spasming ejaculation in her palm before slurping it off, even as her own cum began to ooze out of her husband’s happy anus.

Dr Gaia could not help but applaud. “Wonderful, wonderful, Mr and Mrs Bloggs! How was that for you both?”

Mr Bloggs had a happy grin on his face, as he straightened up and his wife knelt behind him, lips pressed between his buttocks and tongue lapping contentedly at her own sweet semen now dribbling in thick rivulets down his thighs. Collecting a generous mouthful of her own cum from her husband’s arse-crack, she stood up, pulled up her blouse, and let the cream dribble down her chin and ooze onto her large tits.  “Oooh!” exclaimed Mr Bloggs, as he nestled his head against her breasts, licking creamy futa-cum off his wife’s nipples and whimpering over and over: “Mmm… mmm… mummy…”

Dr Gaia, smiling with indulgent satisfaction, opened her mouth to speak, but was suddenly interrupted, as the door to the consulting room was flung open, and there on the threshold appeared a thin young woman with pale skin, pointy ears, and long, light blue hair.

“Melia!” exclaimed Gaia. “You’re back!”

“Oh, Doctor, I am so sorry to interrupt!” panted the extra-terrestrial. “Please, may I speak with you now – it’s urgent!”

~

“You’re very quiet, love,” said Daphne, taking a sip of wine. She and Lucy were sitting facing each other across their pine kitchen table, illuminated by a single candle.

“Hmm?” muttered Lucy. “Oh, darling – it’s nothing,” she lied. “I suppose I was quite moved by the show tonight.”

“Well, in which case, you’ve been ruminating over it all the way home: you’ve not said a word!” chuckled Daphne. “Not like you not to give me your opinion of all the things that were wrong with the production!”

The truth is that Lucy had spent the evening, ever since her encounter with Melia, fighting back tears, and rage, and fear. She had returned to her seat at the second interval, but found herself ignoring most of Act Three, as she went over and over in her mind what the blue-haired interloper had said. Determined to protect Daphne, both from Melia and from any unwarranted alarm, she had decided not to mention the episode – but was finding it difficult to feign normality. “Daph, I… I, uh, missed part of the end of Act Two: I wasn’t feeling too well. Tell me, did…”

“Ha ha!” laughed Daphne. “Too many cucumber sandwiches, then?”

Lucy attempted a half-hearted chuckle. “I mean, how exactly did Siegmund persuade Brünnhilde not to kill him?”

“She was so moved by his love for Sieglinde, by his determination that they should live or die together, that she disobeyed her orders. Unfortunately, to no avail…”

“Do you think that’s possible in real life?”

“What?” said Daphne, frowning.

“That even heartless emissaries of the state can be swayed by love, can disobey their orders out of mercy for others? I mean, history suggests otherwise, doesn’t it?”

Daphne’s face lit up with broad smile. “I think there are always exceptions. There are always remarkable people who dare to step outside the box, dare to be individuals, dare to not pander to the establishment – in pursuit of love and truth.”

Lucy gazed with awe into her lover’s face. “I hope you’re right, my love. I hope you’re right…” She reached forward to clasp both Daphne’s hands. “Look!” she added, placing their engagement rings side by side. “That’s us – always together…” A happy tear dripped down her face, before she continued: “Daph, my love?”

“Yes?” answered Daphne, squeezing Lucy’s hands.

“I… I’ve changed my mind,” said Lucy.

“Meaning?”

“You know I’ve always said there’s no hurry to get married, that it doesn’t mean anything, that it’s just a pointless ceremony?”

“Mmm?” ventured Daphne tentatively.

“Well…” Lucy slipped off her chair and knelt on the floor, her head on Daphne’s knees. “Darling, please, let’s get married – soon!” Joyous tears coursed down Lucy’s cheeks, as her lover’s face broke into a sublime grin.

“Oh, Luce, do you know how happy that makes me?” laughed Daphne, leaning down to kiss her fiancée on the forehead. “Did Wagner bring this about?”

Lucy giggled nervously. “I was just thinking about Siegmund and Sieglinde, and… well, you never you know what’s round the corner, do you? We need to make the most of every minute we have, don’t we?”

Daphne rose, pulling Lucy up with her, so that they stood face to face, lips close but not quite touching. She was about to speak, when Lucy interjected, “Also, I… I believe you.”

“Uh… about what?” Daphne’s face announced her puzzlement.

“About everything – about what happened to you, about the accident, and the time-travel, and the aliens and everything…”

Daphne stood awhile gazing into her lover’s face, lower lip trembling in awe and gratitude, before singing, in a voice as soft and happy as spring:

Winterstürme wichen dem Wonnemond, in mildem Lichte leuchtet der Lenz…

“Ach so!” giggled Lucy, deliberately breaking the mood. “Zat means: ‘You are zuch a zexy bitch, I vant to fuck you tonight!’”

Daphne laughed, before taking Lucy by one hand and gently leading her out of the kitchen.

Auf linden Lüften leicht und lieblich, Wunder webend er sich wiegt…

“Und zat means: ‘I am zo horny,” Lucy smirked as she glanced down towards Daphne’s crotch, “my big futa cock ist schtiff as a fucking girder!’”

Daphne led Lucy through the living room, down the corridor, and into the bedroom.

Durch Wald und Auen weht sein Atem, weit geöffnet lacht sein Aug'…

“‘Achtung, Daphne! Ven you sing like zat, you make me all horny too!” giggled Lucy, as Daphne pushed her back onto the bed.

Aus sel'ger Vöglein Sange süß er tönt, holde Düfte haucht er aus…

sang Daphne, as she slipped out of her dress and underwear, shaking her long dark hair loose and releasing her eight-inch cock, which was, as Lucy predicted, already stiff with joyous excitement.

“Zo fuckink horny, my pretty pink muschi is gettink all vet und dribbly!” teased Lucy, as she too undressed and lay back, legs spread.

Seinem warmen Blut entblühen wonnige Blumen, Keim und Sproß entspringt seiner Kraft!

sang Daphne, as Lucy laughed: “Fuck me, my love! Fill me up viz zat great big futa cock! Ram it into my fuckink cunt and make me schcream mit pleasure!”

And so Daphne did just that. And as she climbed on top of Lucy and slid her cock deep into her moist depths, Lucy pulled her down and held her tight, so that her fiancée’s heavy futa balls slapped against her perineum, her cockhead lodged itself hard against her cervix, and the base of her shaft ground firmly against her clitoris. “I’m going to hold you right here, Daph,” said Lucy, her silly mock-German accent discarded and her voice trembling with unmasked emotion. “Grind your cock deep inside, where I can squeeze you tight, where you can’t escape me, where I will never let you go, so that no one – no stupid fucking messengers from another world, no Valkyries in fake chain mail, no blue-haired aliens – no one at all can ever part us! Daphne, my wondrous warrior-maid, love me, and fuck me, and marry me, and make me yours forever – OH GODDD!!”

And so Lucy came, her cunt spasming joyously, desperately, around her beloved’s cock. And Daphne came too, her sweet futa seed filling her fiancée with life and happiness and truth. And they embraced long and hard, feeling their spasms ebb and flow and slowly die away, till they found themselves gazing into each other’s eyes, knowing that, truly, they were one flesh.

And in that moment, nothing mattered except the present. And it was beautiful.

To be continued…