Comm: Going Soft (Part 1)

Summary: Jolene is a woman that, after going through a strange mutation, develops incredible malleable powers... and she gets a little stimulated over her own soft body. Ten years later, she's just trying to live her best life. Commissioned by jack2112

[Story Listing]

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Jolene saw her life being very different, ten years ago. She hoped she would be leading a successful career well into adulthood, finding a lover to share a bed with... a car with insurance would've been swell too.

None of those things really panned out for her. She didn't even manage to find a bed. The nature of her condition defied explanation; one day she experienced a terrible fever, and the next day she was literally melting from her own body temperature reaching a boiling point. It took a long time for Jolene to build up the courage to consult a doctor, to learn that her condition was a one-in-a-trillion mutation, her gene-pool at a strange crossroads from otherwise typical parents. She was relieved that she would be allowed to live her life on her terms, rather than be cooped up in some dank laboratory... though the nature of her body provided no shortage of challenges.

Ten years later, she had become distressingly accustomed to her situation. And on this particular day, she had a day off to run some errands, and attend to her particular needs. Unfortunately, these errands required her to leave the house, so she'd have to pull herself together.

Shlurk...

Suspended in the middle of her bedroom was a hammock, lined with plastic wrap. It cradled a wet mass, sleek as if drenched in oil and shifting softly. A disembodied voice moaned softly, bubbling contentedly as it burbled, folding over itself repeatedly... Though parts of her body pooled within the hammock, her limbs had a tendency to wander about the room, limbs outstretched and hanging over the edges, snaking over each other as they flopped over the sides of the hammock. Her jaw distended with a burbling snore.

BRR BRR BRR! The peaceful serenity was interrupted by the blaring of the alarm on the bedside table. She stirred, rolling over her own arm as the other flailed limply at the alarm clock. With a clunk, her palm splattered over the top, silencing it.

"Mrgh..." Jolene muttered to herself, her voice disembodied and warbling through her overstretched form. "Time to get up..."

The hammock rocked back and forth as its contents began to spill from each side in gobfuls of liquid flesh, her limbs losing shape in the process. As parts of her plopped to the floor, it shifted to the center of the room, merging with each other into an undulating puddle. As the puddle shifted together, her form began to bubble upwards in a pillar of slime. As she reshaped herself, torso first, then limbs, she could feel the puddle beneath her shift and sink into her thighs.

"Mmngh..." Jolene moaned as the curves of her soft, nude body solidified, her toes scrunching as she massaged the underside of her breasts. With each tensing of her fingers, she could feel her supple chest inflate with each breath she took, expanding to perky F-cups.

She purred, feeling her thighs rubbing against each other. No matter what part of her body touched another part, she felt sexual heat building, reverberating through her form. The squishing of her breasts' cleavage against each other, her thighs pressing together, her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth and mouth... her body was a simmering volcano of desire, moments away from an eruption of a climax at any given moment.

She tried to ground herself, looking back to the hammock. Jolene was annoyed by the need for plastic wrap over the mesh knots; she missed relaxing on hammocks like this on her trips overseas. But now...

...Now they introduced a different form of pleasure. A need built up in her chest; the soles of her clay feet peeled as she staggered forward, her arms reaching forward to remove the plastic covering. She leaned forward to lay herself out again.

Shlurk... the nylon knots tensed as they pulled against each other, growing taut as Jolene's form slipped deeper, the roof of her bedroom growing farther away. She could feel her overly soft skin press through the gaps in the mesh, straining, before spooling through into inch-thigh strands of spaghetti flesh. She could feel her defined shoulder blades separate, her legs jerked upwards as, from the thigh down, they were split apart. Her ass, actually, was the first part of her to be split apart, the flopping of her disparate body beginning with the heaviest part.

She took deep, haggard breaths as, with every gasp she took, she could feel her form slipping through more and more, eager to be rendered apart. Her arm, connected to her shoulder by mere threads, shifted to massaged her aching breasts, her nipples erect and pointed to the ceiling like little torpedoes. She let out one ecstatic gasp as her head slipped through the hammock, arching her back as her erogenous zones, in sync, plopped through the hammock piece by piece.

Plopping over the floor in a spaghetti pile of her own making, she could feel her formless body touching itself and being touched a thousand times over, her noodle form writhing like a nest of snakes. They coiled and twisted around each other, stretching and growing in the process. Jolene had discovered that her godlike essence had, seemingly, no limits, after years of trying to reach them. She could grow, and grow, with no end in sight, allowing her overstretched form to consume the entire floor of her bedroom, clambering over the furniture, forcing its way through a small gap underneath her closed door; it was only when three such tendrils of her multiplicative, innumerable form shifted upwards to twisted at the door handle that her form began to spill out into the hallway and into other rooms proper.

Jolene had ascended beyond the limits of human form, and could make it into whatever she wanted. Still, her primal instinct had a habit of acting on its own regardless; within the mess of tentacles, she couldn't help herself from sprouting more erogenous zones, eager to be filled with dozens of gropping hands. As her form twisted and writhed, she felt herself shake and quake, multiple disparate orgasms rocking her entire body, her body releasing glossy, oozing fluid, the same colour as her bronze skin, before reabsorbing it all over again.

As an especially powerful orgasm rocked her, she felt a need to reconstitute her growing form; her limbs began to collect, twisting and braiding with each other to form muscular arms and legs. She slid down the stairwell, her torso and waist reform. Stretching over ten feet long, she cried ecstatically as the wooden steps pressed into her pliable form, warping the backs of her legs, her back and her ass. As she shifted, she rose up and down, letting them press deeper into her, threatening to rip her into multiple pieces. The impression of the stairs rippled through her elongated midriff and navel.

As she finally relaxed, and as her body finally sagged from the ebbing away of that pervasive sexual heat, she oozed down the stairs, her legs curling into spirals. She raised her boneless arms to coil around the handrails, staggering to her feed. She massaged her body, trying to press her claylike body back into shape. She shuddered, pressing her legs together until they formed one column.

Jolene fluttered her eyelashes with an irritated look in her eyes. Sure, her new abilities had their perks; her grocery bill was a lot smaller than it used to be, and she didn't need to shop a lot for new clothes, but the way her body constantly craved sexual stimulation was overbearing. She could barely get through the day without constantly touching herself... though it seemed the only thing that would ever satisfy her desires were those body-warping displays of bare hedonism.

It certainly limited her career prospects. She was able to work from home well enough, allowing her body to stretch and knead throughout the household off camera, but her workplace was asking people more and more to attend meetings with their cameras on. She spent most every day bare naked because she didn't have much other choice; even a simple bra proved to be a challenge, her bare-chest taking the cups of her undergarments as a challenge, as containers to escape the confines of, not to protect her own modesty. Nevermind the problems of actually going to an office in her condition. She had been working so hard to avoid going to the office, but she felt the timer ticking before her manager would have some frank words to say...

But, today was her day off, and she had other plans,

She staggered off to the kitchen regardless, stretching a limb towards the fridge. Though she had no need for food, she appreciated a nice, healthy breakfast... and she had some fresh avocado on hand for homemade avocado toast.

Preparing the avocado was a simple matter; she shifted her hand into a sharp, cutting blade and, with reckless abandon, sliced at the prepared avocado, without any regards to her own fingers; frequently she'd take her finger tops (and usually more than that), but putting them back together was no problem.

The egg she was frying was beginning to smoke, and she fretted that she was overcooking it. She twisted her torso in a perfect 180 to get a better look and lashed her free hand backwards to shift the pan away from the heat source. She felt flushed for a second and glanced to her hand, her mouth flattening with displeasure as her hand began to melt under the auxiliary heat. As droplets of liquid skin splashed into hot oil with a loud sizzle, she groaned. Her fingers pressed together into a flattened spatula and, with a flick of her boneless wrist, she scooped up the sunny-side-up egg and deposited it onto a piece of toast. With the avocado and a little S&P, she was set.

For all the changes Jolene's body experienced, she did appreciate her trips back to how it was before, simply enjoying a meal on her own. She wasn't human anymore, but she'd still rather live like one, even with the present challenges that came with her practically omnipotent new form. She had a long day ahead of her, like squeezing into form-fitting garments to hide her luscious, well-oiled skin, and trying not to draw attention in public. She hoped that, as she had gotten the oversexed nonsense out of the way as part of her morning routine, that her body would behave itself for her errands.

The idea of acting unseemly in public sent her into a bit of an anxious tizzy, and a cold sweat pervaded her form. As trickles of liquid ooze flowed down her curves and puddled around her scrunched toes, she tried to psyche herself up for the day ahead...