Beach Episode Lewd! August 2020 Patron Reward

Hey everyone! We're working through the backlog, no worries. Please enjoy this actually heartwarming and uh, crotchwarming lewd! 

... look it makes your heart and your junk get a boner, what can I say?

================

“I hate the beach.”

Catherine grumbled quietly as she stepped down into the damp, clumping brown-gray sand. Her nose wrinkled as the salty, algal stink of a hot sea washed over her. The water was a shade of green typically reserved for moss, particularly ugly color swatches, and cartoon vomit. The depths were the green of a bog, and as the sun caught the cresting waves just right it took on the shade of sickly urine.

 

“You hate everything,” Jasmine snickered as she stepped past Cat  down off the boardwalk stairs and onto the sand. “You’ve hated everything since we shared a dorm room. You even hated my cornbread recipe. Nobody hates my cornbread.” The jape was supposed to make her feel better, deflate some of the tension that had been building since they’d climbed in the shuttle together this morning. Cat, Jasmine, and her boyfriend Chet made plans ages ago to head down to the coast for a day of fun in the sun. It would have been more awkward to refuse than to come along, but that wasn’t helping her now.

Cat scowled at her longtime friend and former dorm-mate, bristling with quiet indignation. “Don’t hate everything. Didn’t hate the cornbread either . . . just hated how much weight I gained from your cooking.” She mumbled quietly to herself as Jasmine staked out a spot on the filthy, driftwood strewn beach with a towel and a basket of assorted ‘fun supplies.’ Chet was right behind her, openly snapping pictures of his significant other with his phone. Her swimsuit was . . . revealing, to say the least.

Unconsciously, she tugged at the zipper of her wet-suit that covered her from ankle to the neck, pulling it just a bit more firmly against the stop at her throat. She had lost the weight since then, and a few other things along the way. Hence the wet-suit. And gloves. And swim boots. And blackout sunglasses.

She bit down on the tip of her tongue, a little sting running through it as she tried not to think about the eyes on her, running across the thin and puckered pink lines of surgical scars still visible around the edges of her face, behind her ears. She did her best to cover them up. Cover the fact that her head was studded with doll-like plugs of raven colored hair, grafted from the follicles of a donor that her mother had picked out. The wet-suit couldn’t hide her curves, which she hoped was shapely enough to pass as normal human female, but at the very least it hid the plastic-textured synth-grafts that made up 96% of her dermis and epidermis. Her fingernails were an inert polycarbonate, a thermoplastic variant of the same material that made up her artificial corneas. 

Catherine bit down harder, inhaling sharply through a nose that only functioned because of extensive stem-cell transplants. Of course it had to be the beach, the one place where it’s expected you put your body on display for everyone.

Jasmine didn’t know about the accident. The lawsuit. The settlement. Nobody here knew about the year of reconstructive surgery and physical therapy it had taken to get back to where she was today. Cat let her shoulders droop slightly, trying to force her body to relax. Her roommate had commented on her iris’s. Brown when they had roomed together, now a pale white-grey, like hard-pack snow over black shale stones. “Just some light body-modification,” she’d lied.

She had every reason to. It would have brought down the mood, prompted painful and personal questions about how extensive the surgery had been, and just been an unpleasant conversation for the shuttle ride. Cat nodded subtly to herself. It had been the right thing to do, to lie.

“What are you waiting for? Come on! Get out of that stuffy suit and get some sun!” Jasmine’s was, as always excitable, and even the frankly horrible beach conditions hadn’t been enough to quash her jubilant spirit. Catherine could only roll her eyes behind her shades below the brow of her sun-hat, beads of perspiration already forming on her brow. “No thanks, I’m going for a swim!” She called back, trying to mimic her host’s enthusiasm but with little luck. The idea repulsed her, but it would keep her from expiring of heat stroke.

Foam washed over her boots, then around her calves, and finally up across her chest as she waded further and further out. She’d discarded her hat on the shore, and was still wearing her sunglasses. The glare off the murk green sea was incredible for something so similar to bilge-slime, she mused to herself. It wasn’t cool, by any measure, but it wasn’t hot. As she bobbed in the waves, she made out Jasmine and Chet on shore. Jasmine was building a sandcastle, and Chet was breaking out the cooler. 

It struck her how dumb it was that she was even here. A petty dick-measuring contest that had motivated her to accept the invite. They both wanted to show the other how well they’d done for themselves after college, how big they’d made it. Jasmine with her admittedly handsome boyfriend, her day-trips to the beach, and fancy job that she had not shut up about on the entire ride down. Cat had . . . maybe stretched the truth about the source of her wealth, claiming clever money management rather than massive liability payout, but to be fair she’d done a good job of making sure that it had lasted, even grown some. There were cracks in both their stories, though. The beach was, for one, clearly not the primo destination it had been advertised as, and Chet had made some jokes that could pass for flirting to her when Jasmine wasn’t around.

She sighed, dipping beneath the waves to cool her face and immediately regretting it as the stink clung to her hair upon surfacing. 

“Excuse me!” A voice boomed out. Catherine turned, and nearly bumped head-on into the snout of a broad-headed, gold-eyed, sea-serpent.

She juddered backwards away from the massive, gold eyed water monster with a quiet yelp. The monster, in turn, recoiled with similar (if slightly less arm flailing) intensity.

“Apologies.” It reared up slowly, nearly 4 feet of it standing out of water that was too deep for her to touch bottom. “I did not mean to startle you. I’m here for the body-surfing lessons.” With every deep, baritone note of his speech the water rippled around him visibly. Her translator kicked his speech over fluidly, picking up on the formalized dialect of Jornissian that would indicate his intentions to address a superior, or an instructor.

Her heart still pounding from the shock, she still managed to settle herself somewhat, and gather her wits. “I . . . am not an instructor. I’m just here at the beach with some friends.” She was no expert in Jornissian body language, but she recognized embarrassment when she saw it. “Ah. I apologize. I assumed, what with the extensive protective clothing . . .”

It was endearing, in a strangely childish way, to watch the massive thing stumble over itself. Like a child that had just called a teacher “mom.” Cat couldn’t help but smile.

“I can see how I might seem that way. I could help you look for your instructor, if you’d like.” The words left her mouth before she realized what they were, and yet again she found herself volunteering for something she hadn’t entirely set her heart on. Still, the way the Jornissian perked up sent a little pulse of warmth through her that she couldn’t quite place.

“I’d like that very much.”

==========

Their combined search proved less than successful. They had combed the beach, scanned the waves, and even made a brief venture up onto the boardwalk to get a better view. They had learned from a local that the “body surf” lessons that Dru’ss’prens had been looking for were a seasonal affair, and that season wouldn’t be starting for another 3 weeks or so. Cat had wasted an hour with the intimidatingly large Jornissian away from her ‘friends’ and had thoroughly enjoyed almost every minute of it. She’d discarded her gloves and boots along the way, the heat being simply too much to endure wearing rubberized gloves and boots. She’d even inched the zipper around her throat down a few inches to let her wet-suit breathe better when she took intermittent dips along the trek to cool off. 

Dru’ss’prens was a singularly absurd character, as far as she could tell. To start, she’d never seen a Jornissian of his raw proportions. Sea monster wasn’t as inaccurate and overstated a description as she’d initially thought. He had to be at least 15 meters long, and easily one and a half meters wide by her eyes. His moving along in the water was far easier than moving along the beach, and he had a ponderously slow but purposeful way about himself, in speech and manner. An anaconda among a species of giant serpents.

He’d seemed quite flustered about the case of mistaken identity, and the misreading of the lesson advertisement. They’d continued to chat idly beneath an old pier, out of the sun and at the edge of the waves. “I want to apologize for startling you, and taking you away from your friends on a fruitless errand.” Her translator paused several times during each sentence of his, as the glacial, growling tones he uttered were far slower than any human enunciation.

Catherine smiled in response. “No trouble. Besides, I think I prefer your company to theirs. Less judgmental.”

He nodded slowly, and she could feel the air shift as his head bobbed. The broad, blunt shape was easily the size and weight of a small sedan. “I am glad. I do not wish to have caused you trouble.” He paused, looking out over the sea again, his murky green and black scales almost mirroring the color of the sea.

She found that she quite liked the pattern on him though, here, sun dappled in the shade of a decaying pier. “So . . . what are you going to do instead of body-surfing? No offense, but . . . I don’t know if the waves here would be big enough for you anyway.” She nudged his side, or at least a spot somewhere on his tremendous body.

A low, rumbling note of concession emitted from him. “There is very little suited to my size in this, or any other place.” Again, it took nearly 15 seconds for him to speak the simple sentence.

A little pang of sympathy shot through her. It was clear there was something unusual about him. Maybe he was from an unusual colony, or had a glandular disorder or something. Either way, he had big snake problems. She bit her lip, wondering if it would be inappropriate to ask, but seeing as he brought it up . . .

“Yeah, you are definitely the largest Jornissian I’ve ever seen.”

 

She could feel his rumbling sigh through the sand, and even though the sound was too deep for her to hear it, she could feel the pressure of it in her chest. Maybe she hit a nerve-

“I likely the largest of my kin.” His voice was still just as weighty, but softer this time. It took him several minutes to elaborate, and explain, but Catherine was happy to sit and listen to it. It was unusual feeling a conversation rather than just listening to it. “I was unusual among my clutch, in that I did not cease growing until much, much later in life. Even now, I do not believe I have fully stopped. It has been problematic for my health, at times. Hence my desire to spend more time in the sea. That is not to say there are not benefits. For instance, people are rarely rude to me.”

 

Catherine blinked, in silent confusion for a moment. “Was . . . that a joke?” Her brow furrowed, as she looked up at the inscrutable anaconda. 

“Yes.”

She snickered, giggled, and found that his deadly serious gaze made the delivery all the funnier. She began laughing, truly laughing, something that she hadn’t done in months, until she was doubled over. It was just so stupid. Not only the deadpan delivery, but she was stuck with the comical image of him, wearing the apron of some boutique coffee house getting screamed at by a 40-something woman furious that her cappuccino wasn’t hot enough.

 

And then . . . just quietly lowering the tip of his tail onto her and squishing her still protesting and gesticulating form into the linoleum flooring. “Next customer, please.” He’d drone in his baritone voice, and someone would awkwardly step around the still squirming and cursing figure on the floor below.

She held her sides, flopped over in the sands, still giggling at the thought. “Are you alright?” Dru’ss’prens intoned, clearly concerned. “It wasn’t that funny.”

With a happy sigh she pushed herself upright. “Yeah, just . . . funny mental image. I can’t imagine anyone talking trash to a Jornissian, let alone one bigger than my freshman dorm.”

He blinked with that same tectonic slowness that characterizes anything with such mass. “I wasn’t aware humans could have scales.”

Her heart dropped like a stone, and her gaze snapped down to her wetsuit. The zipper had slid down a few inches in her side-splitting laughter, and revealed just a hint of her flesh above the collar bone. Scaley, off white synthetic grafts hung on a thin web of pink scar tissue. The polymer plates, though entirely bio-compatible, did indeed have the appearance of scales. With an uncoordinated series of jerks she yanked the zipper of her wet-suit up to conceal her disfigurement, but it was clearly too late.

“I- uhh . . . w-well . . .” She stuttered and stammered anxiously, looking away from Dru’ss’prens as her face turned bright pink with embarrassment.

The Jornissian blinked slowly, staring at her, waiting for her to compose herself.

She fiddled nervously with the zipper, unable to meet his intense gaze for several minutes. That didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest though, and his silent persistence eventually prized speech from her once more.

“. . . There was an accident at one of the university labs. Improperly stored refrigerant or something, I don’t know, I try not to think about it. Something broke, and there was all this white fog, and everything hurt and I couldn’t see and I-” Her voice faltered, and she bit down on her tongue again. An old habit, a way of centering herself when she was overwhelmed. “It burned me. Pretty badly. Blinded too. The company that installed the tank compensated me well. I had good doctors, they fixed my vision, but there’s only so much anyone can do.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, even in the sweltering heat she felt a stinging chill run through her again. “And I’m not sitting here feeling sorry for myself either!” She added, sharply, before he could say anything. “It’s just hard to look at. I should know, I have to do it often enough.”

Several minutes passed in silence. It grew from tense, to awkward, to almost . . . comforting, in Catherine’s mind. She wasn’t being judged or scorned or coddled or pitied, she was being accepted, and her words being weighed. Finally, Dru’ss’prens began to speak a response to her.

“There is nothing to be gained by hating the things about ourselves we cannot change. Hide, deny, or hate, to reject what we are is to wound our spirit in addition to whatever affliction ails the body.” His voice thrummed through the sand, and made little streams of dust tremble from the collapsing pier above. “You speak of how vile these waters are. My nose is keener, and I say with certainty it smells wonderful. You say the sea is a garish and sickly color, but it draws to my memory the lush undergrowth I would hide in as a younger, smaller being. You speak of how hard you are to look at, but I find your scales to be beautiful.” His massive body ground across the sand, coiling up around her in what she slowly realized was his best approximation of a hug. It was more like having the furniture re-arrange itself around her than a hug, if she had to be honest. Her entire body vibrated as he brought his voice low. “Be kind to yourself.”

Cat exhaled slowly, wrapped in silent thought. The words were vaguely familiar, or at least the sentiments were, but they hit entirely different when growled out by the little cousin of Jörmungandr. His massive form was cool to the touch, chilled to the temperature of the sea. She could feel the pulse and thrum of his massive heart through his heavy scales, and each breath of his seemed to last a full minute in and out again. She felt something gently rest atop her head . . . that blotted out the sun. It was his hand, and he was gently giving her head pats. “There . . . there. Take the time you need.”

==========

She had spent some time like that, nestled in Dru’ss’prens’s coils. It was strangely calming. It was like the world had been replaced by something friendly, slow, and sage. Even now, as she leaned against him by the crackling fire, she felt quite a bit more at ease. His presence had been intimidating when she had first brought him back to meet with Jasmine and Chet, but they adjusted readily enough. Not like they had a choice. What were they going to do, run him off? She chuffed audibly at the notion.

She shifted, digging a bit against her coiled friend. The sun had gone down, and Chet had started a respectably sized fire for them to sit around. They chatted and share a few drinks as the moon rose over the waves. There was nothing heavier than a wine cooler, but still enough to act as a social lubricant. Talk went down all of the old familiar pathways about work and old friends and how things had changed over the years. As conversation wound down, and the drinks ran out, Chet began to guide Jasmine away to go on a moonlit swim. Somewhat fatigued from their constant babble, Cat was more than happy to see them go.

“You can see out there in the dark, right?” She asked the hefty serpent standing in for a back rest. He rumbled quietly, and she took it as an affirmative. He’d been relatively tight lipped throughout the evening, preferring to lay still and doze in the warm sun while the small things went about their fretful and noisy business. He cracked a single eye.

“They seem to have abandoned their swim-wear.”

The buzz she had been cultivating evaporated almost instantly as she bristled with mixed indignation and embarrassment by proxy. “Y-you can tell?” 

Dru’ss’prens nodded subtly. “It is not so difficult. You are all very warm without clothes.”

“Maybe we should go for a walk . . . somewhere further down the beach. Away from them.” She squinted into the dark, and sure enough, in the dim glow cast by the fire light, she was fairly certain she could make out Jasmine’s top cast into the sand. “Definitely going for a walk.” She stood and turned on her heel, moving away from the fire with no small amount of haste. Dru’ss’prens fell in beside her, his tremendous frame leaving a veritable trench down the beach as he slithered alongside. “Sorry you had to heat-see that.” She apologized, quietly.

The hoodless Jornissian cocked his head from side to side in the rough approximation of a human shrug. “It matters not. I haven’t had clothes on this entire time.” 

Cat froze, open mouthed. He was absolutely right. It was like he was a cognitive blind spot. His extreme size had thrown her for such a loop that she never really noticed. He was always coiled in such a fashion that it never seemed immodest, and with the sheer size of his frame it seemed ludicrous to even imagine clothes on him at all. Her jaw worked itself without her knowledge several times. There was a broad chested, heavily muscled, well spoken, fastidiously kind, and entirely nude snake-man that she had been casually entangled with for several hours now.

“Have I said something to offend?”

Catherine swallowed hard. “Ahh . . . no. I just . . . hadn’t realized you were naked.” 

He furrowed his brow. “Does this bother you?”

She took a moment to look him up and down. His chiseled figure was robust in ways that hearkened back to the kind of sculptures she’d seen outside the temples of Greece and in history museums. Larger than life, a monolithic work, he was a god-idol wrought in serpentine flesh. If he had arrived on Earth a thousand years ago, he’d have been worshiped as a deity. She swallowed hard.

“No. Nope. It’s fine.” She turned a darker shade of pink, and it wasn’t from the sun she’d been getting all day.

She continued to stare, in silence, watching as the distant firelight accentuated every scale, every slab of muscle that built up a body that could have shorn the support pylons of the old pier off at the waterline.

“Your face is getting warmer. Am I distressing you somehow?” His head cocked to the side.

She bit her lip and looked away. “N-nope. Not distressed.” Her heart was beating faster, and her mind raced with certain . . . thoughts . . . that came to her unbidden. Was it the wine coolers? Was it the heat of the sun? Was it something else entirely? Would he even . . . did he even . . . 

A massive hand came to rest gently on her shoulder. “. . . would you like to go for a swim as well?” The deep bass rumble of his voice sent a literal shiver through her body, but the subtle implication hit her like a lightning bolt.

“Well . . . I suppose.” She murmured, quietly.

Dru’ss’prens passed her and moved down the beach toward the crashing waves with little more than a subtle nod.

“Definitely the wine coolers.” She mumbled to herself, staring at his wide and muscle knotted back.

She took the zipper on the front of her wet suit between two fingers, and gingerly tugged it down across her chest and toward her hip. The cool air of the night rushed in, and made her gasp a little. Far from the miserably muggy experience it had been all day, that felt practically liberating. The squeezing confines that had pressed down on her ample chest were no more, and she could breathe deeply and freely once again. As the zipper passed her hip, she felt a shiver of perverse trepidation at what she was doing. Stripping down, to waltz into the ocean, with a Jornissian that she’d met earlier in the day. Yet, for all of the wrong in that, it most certainly felt like it was absolutely the right decision. 

She slipped out of her self imposed neoprene prison one limb at a time, neatly folding it into a pile. She didn’t want to look down at herself, but she couldn’t help it.

It would be disingenuous to say that she liked what she saw, but for the first time in recent memory she wasn’t repulsed by it. Moonlight glimmered off a thousand little rhomboid scales implanted across her seared flesh. Flexing and shifting like a full-body snakeskin suit, the milky white implants bridged the gap between synthetic replacement and skin graft. From the nape of her neck down, she was clad in these little scales, only the faintest hint of raw pink visible when she reached or stretched.

A thunderous crash snapped her head around, and in the moonlight she could make out the frame of her massive serpentine about-to-be-lover plowing through the waves, sending spray at least as high as the pier they had once taken shelter under.

She chewed her lip, and squirmed. Power like that was . . . definitely hot. Intimidating, but hot. So, without any more hesitation, she stepped into the waves.

It felt incredible. The water was warm without being hot, and the way it flowed over and around her bared flesh was frightfully sensuous. She could feel the thin fingers of current caressing every little gap between her “scales” and it was enough to make her breath hitch. Dru’ss’prens rose up from the depths to meet her in the shallows, streams of water cascading off his mountainous form. A low, bass rumble echoed out from deep in his chest, and she felt the surface of the water deform in ripples around him. 

“H-hi.” She stammered, meekly, as she pressed her bare body against his. A trio of delayed drumbeats pounded out of his chest. Laughter, as he took her in his arms and pulled her into the sea. She barely had time to yelp in surprise before she was being hauled along beneath the surface, eyes shut tight and face pressed firmly against his abs as they coursed through the shallows together. He put to shame even the petty experiences she’d had on boats, this is what it meant to swim. His whole body flexed and heaved and struggled against the surf, and for how sluggish and careful his movements had been on shore, he was now the complete opposite. Powerful, lightning fast, and with wild abandon they thrashed through the waves together, her bare body pressed to his. The finally breached again, and she gasped for air, indefatigable grin on her face.

“Y-you know-” She stammered, fingers daintily clawing at him to find some form of handhold. “-when you said we were going swimming . . . I thought we were going to-” Her words were cut off as something gently brushed against her calf . . . and prodded her in the rear.

She let out a gentle yelp of mixed surprise and excitement. “Is that-” Her eyes went wide as she trailed off once again. His head inclined subtly, and her gaze flashed between his seemingly luminous gold eyes and the murky waters beneath. She couldn’t see precisely what was below but was more than willing to guess based on feel alone. His hands left her, and she suddenly found something to stand on beneath the waves. A coil of his, serving as a little platform for her to stand on in the deep. 

He nodded his head again, as if imploring her to continue what she had started moments ago. More than happy to oblige, she reached out into the dark waters, fingers trailing down his abs and heavy scales toward his lower regions. She bumped into it by accident, and almost mistook it for another coil of his at first. As she tried to wrap her hands around it she discovered, with no small dismay, that she nearly couldn’t.

“Thaaaaat is not going to fit.” Cat murmured to herself, not even thinking about who might hear. Another bass rumble, definitely laughter, emanated from her scaled partner, who planted a gentle kiss on top of her forehead. “Not inside, no.”

Patiently, and gently, he guided her to a seated position, legs wrapped around his frightfully large member. She could feel the base if it, pulsing, eagerly twitching as it ground against her nethers. Nearly two feet higher up, the tip barely poked above the waves. The hot, turgid flesh pressed into the space between her breasts, and she wrapped her arms around him to try and at least simulate the sensation of being inside something. He pulled back, and thrust, once, rocking her body and sending a wave out cascading behind her.

It was both terrifying and exhilarating. With one hand, he had used her entire body like a toy, but at the same time had been gentle and concerned enough to press against her in just the right spots. She couldn’t help but let out a crooning moan, and an indistinct string of encouraging expletives.

Needing no further encouragement, the seas began to churn white and frothy with the frightful force of their combined joining. Catherine had been through orbital re-entry less turbulent than this, but it wasn’t just how he touched her that mattered. The churning of the sea, the press of his firm but gentle hands, all of it mingled together into a full sensory experience. The crash of the sea and the tickle of foam between her legs and across her most intimate places mingled with the heady feeling that this is what it must feel like to make love to a god of the sea. She panted, she screamed, and she howled with pleasure as he took her in ways that she didn’t dream possible. As magnificent as his tool was against her, it was nothing to the feeling of his serpentine tongue in her.

Inverted, held above the water with contemptuous ease, she found her lips barely kissing the broad, drooling opening of his member. The thick strands of his excitement filled her head with an overwhelmingly virile musk, and her legs quivered and clamped down against the sides of his head as his tongue curled and seemed to knot up inside her depths. She lapped at his member wetly, crudely, dumbly even, as she felt a her body clench and spasm with her first climax of the night.

Many more followed, and they blended one into the other, all save the last one. Laid out across his chest, her ankles in each of his powerful hands, they struggled jointly to fit his fat tip into her. She had never been one to choose her partners based on size, but had she the senses to consider it, perhaps smaller would have been easier. Lubrication and desire were both abundant, as was the orgasm-drunk courage required to attempt the feat. The pressure between her legs built, and her body strained against this impossible intrusion, but her pride would not permit her to leave such a virile and generous lover unsatisfied. On the third rolling thrust, his head sunk into her, and she saw stars. To call it painful would be an understatement, but to say she didn’t welcome it would be a lie. His thrusts were short, eager, and carefully considered.

The next several minutes became even hazier than the ones to proceed them, climax rolling into climax with such frequency that she couldn’t have screamed her own name, let alone his. 

His peak was sudden, and absolute. Hot, thick, and seemingly endless, she felt him paint her depths with potent spurts of his lust for her. He let out a tremendous, bellowing cry of satisfaction that curled her toes from the vibration alone, and left her ears ringing slightly. His effluence gushed out of her as he popped free of her confines, the noticeable bloat in her abdomen fading as gouts of seed spewed from her overstimulated sex.

She drifted with him, both their bodies heaving as they sought to catch their breath.

“. . . do you think Jasmine heard that?” Catherine finally managed to weakly mumble.

Dru’ss’prens stared into her eyes, a single brow raising in a sign of incredulity. “You are very loud. I am also very loud. Yes. She heard.”

The thrum of his chest as he spoke made her sigh with satisfaction. “Good. Now get us back to shore. Don’t think I can feel my legs.”