Chapter 24: Face-to-Cunt Metamorphosis
Time pooled like spilled oil, slow and thick. The only sound was the wet, rhythmic squelch of the dormant tentacles shifting slightly with their shared breaths. Lisa swam up from the depths of spent sensation, her consciousness firming like cooling wax. The feedback from Delores’s mind was a distant murmur of shock and shame. It was a boring frequency.
“Separate,” Lisa whispered, the word not a request but a command to the ring. The energy this time was not a violent rending, but a meticulous unbinding. It felt like sheets of Velcro being pulled apart, each connection between their flesh releasing with a soft, organic snick. They peeled apart, slick with sweat and other fluids, falling onto the ruined sheets as two distinct, trembling entities once more.
Lisa shivered, the air cool on skin that felt brand new and hypersensitive. She looked across at Delores, who was curled on her side, facing away, her shoulders shaking with silent tears. The monstrous appendage between her legs was still there, a dormant nest of slick tendrils. Good. A tool should remain with its owner.
“You,” Lisa said, her voice hoarse. She wasn’t looking at the weeping woman. She was looking at the other one, the one standing calm and observant at the foot of the bed.
The clone of Delores. Perfect in every duplicated detail—the vibrant red hair, the confident curve of her hip, the knowing glint in her eye that the original currently lacked. She had been born from the ring’s power, a perfect echo. And she waited, patient as a loaded gun.
“I’m not done with her,” Lisa stated, pushing herself up onto her elbows. A plan, cold and elegant, crystallized in her mind. The previous merger had been side-by-side, a partnership of flesh. It felt… equalizing. That wouldn’t do. Not anymore. She needed subsumption. A more complete consumption.
“Get over here,” she said to the original Delores.
Delores flinched but didn’t move. Lisa sighed, a sound of profound annoyance. She focused on the ring. It warmed, a gentle pulse. Delores’s body went rigid, then unfolded against her will, moving like a marionette until she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling with empty, resigned eyes. The nest of tentacles lay against her inner thigh, unmoving.
“Now,” Lisa said, crawling over her. “A different kind of union. I don’t want to be beside you, Dolores. I want to be part of you.”
She didn’t elaborate. She simply focused her will, the ring blazing with violet light that drowned the last of the jasmine candle glow. She didn’t wish for fusion. She wished for integration. For consumption. She poured the intent into the band: her body, dissolving, merging, becoming a specific, functional part of Delores’s anatomy.
The process was soundless. Lisa’s form began to soften at the edges, like wax held too close to a flame. She felt no pain, only a profound, vertiginous melting. She sank downwards, not onto Delores, but into her. Her legs dissolved, streaming into Delores’s pelvic region. Her torso compressed, flattened, her bones becoming pliable, rearranging. Her arms vanished into the whole.
Delores gasped, arching her back as the foreign matter fused with her own. It wasn’t an addition; it was a replacement. Lisa’s consciousness funneled, compressed, and settled into a new, horrifyingly specific reality.
When the light faded, Delores was whole again. But her crotch was not her own. Where her pubic mound should have been, there was now a face.
Lisa’s face.
It was seamless, as if Lisa’s head had been sliced just above the brow and seamlessly grafted onto Delores’s body. Lisa’s eyes blinked open, looking out from between Delores’s splayed thighs. Her mouth, perfectly formed, rested where the cleft would be. She had no neck, no body. She was the crotch. She could see the room from this low, horrifying angle: the rumpled sheets, the clone’s feet, the underside of Delores’s breasts.
“Oh, God,” the original Delores moaned, lifting her head to look down at the face that now comprised her sex. Her own voice was a ragged sob. “What… what have you done?”
Lisa tried to speak. The breath came from Delores’s lungs, up through a shared trachea that branched, feeding air to both of their voices. “I’ve improved the view,” Lisa’s voice said, the sound vibrating weirdly through Delores’s pelvis. It was her own tone, but resonant, deeper, intertwined with Delores’s biological systems.
She could feel everything. The thrum of Delores’s heartbeat above her, the stretch of her stomach, the tension in her thighs. She was a sensory organ for Delores’s lower half.
The clone finally moved. She climbed onto the bed, her movements languid, unbothered. She knelt between Delores’s spreadeagled legs, right before the Lisa-face. She looked down, a smirk playing on her lips, identical to the one the original used to wear.
“Interesting configuration,” the clone said, her voice a mirror of Delores’s, but devoid of panic. She ran a hand over her own stomach, down to the thick, conventional cock that jutted from her own groin. It was hard, already leaking a bead of precum at the slit.
“Don’t–” the original Delores began.
“You’re not in charge,” Lisa’s mouth interjected from below. “She is.” Lisa’s eyes were fixed on the clone’s cock. From this vantage point, it was a tower of flesh, intimidating and beautiful. A sharp, filthy hunger ignited in her. “Do it.”
The clone needed no further encouragement. She shuffled forward on her knees, the head of her cock nudging against Lisa’s lips. Lisa opened her mouth, a willing, living orifice. She stuck her tongue out, licking the salty bead from the tip.
“Fuck yes,” the clone breathed, her composure slipping into something raw and eager.
She pushed forward. The broad crown pressed against Lisa’s lips, then slid inside. The sensation was overwhelming for both of them. For Lisa, it was the full, stretching invasion of her mouth, the taste of skin and salt, the pressure on her tongue and the back of her throat. For the original Delores, it was a bizarre, internal pressure, a deep, resonant fullness that echoed through the bones of her pelvis, a direct stimulation of nerves that were now shared with Lisa’s facial muscles.
“Oh, fuck, that’s… that’s my dick,” Delores whimpered, her hands clutching the sheets.
“It’s my mouth,” Lisa garbled around the girth filling it. Her words were hot, wet puffs against the clone’s shaft.
The clone began to move, establishing a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust pushed Lisa’s head back slightly into the soft flesh of Delores’s mound, creating a bizarre, rocking motion for the woman beneath. In and out. The slick, wet sounds of a deep-throating filled the room, obscene and loud.
Lisa lost herself in the mechanics of it. The way her lips stretched, the press of the ventral ridge against her palate, the intense, gagging pressure when the clone hilted herself, her balls slapping against what would have been Lisa’s chin. She couldn’t breathe through her nose—that function was still Delores’s—so she relied on the shared airway, gasping in rhythm with the original woman’s panicked breaths.
“She’s good at this,” the clone grunted, her hips picking up speed. “Your little teacher sucks cock like a fucking pro.”
Delores cried out, a mix of horror and mounting, unavoidable pleasure. The stimulation was indirect but profound, lightning bolts of sensation shooting up into her abdomen. She was being fucked by proxy, her own body’s architecture the conduit for a act of brutal intimacy performed on a part of her that used to be a person.
Lisa took it all. She hollowed her cheeks, working her tongue along the underside of the shaft. She swallowed convulsively around the intrusion, the muscles of her throat massaging the invading flesh. She was a cunt made of face, and she was being used perfectly.
The clone’s thrusts became harder, erratic. “Gonna come,” she warned, her voice tight.
Lisa’s eyes, wide and watering, looked up the length of the clone’s body. She gave a desperate, eager nod, the motion jostling the cock in her mouth.
With a final, driving shove, the clone buried herself to the root. A pulsing heat erupted in Lisa’s mouth. Thick, salty jets of cum fired directly down her throat. She swallowed frantically, automatically, some leaking from the corners of her stretched lips to drip onto the sheets below. The clone groaned, a long, satisfied sound, as she emptied herself.
When she finally pulled out, it was with a soft, wet pop. Lisa’s mouth remained open, gaping, breath rasping through it. Cum dripped from her lower lip.
The clone sat back on her heels, admiring her work. The original Delores was sobbing freely now, her body shuddering through aftershocks she never asked for.
Lisa, from her permanent, embedded place, licked her lips clean. She felt the clone’s spend cooling inside her. She looked up at the clone, then up past the heaving stomach to the tear-stained face of the original woman.
“See?” Lisa said, her voice a satisfied, mucus-thick rasp from between Delores’s thighs. “No more boring merger. Now… we’re really together.”
The ring on the bathroom basin glinted, cold and silent, its latest testament complete. The hierarchy was now perfectly, grotesquely clear.