For a while, Christine basked in the afterglow of both a male and female orgasm, not really thinking about her predicament. But it wasn't long before cold, cruel reality set in again. This must be that 'post-nut clarity' men can get, she thought to herself. But she had no better of a handle on the situation than before. Just when she was starting to come to terms with being an inanimate object, the rules of her reality were all rewritten once again. Now she was back to being a living, breathing thing, but that "thing" was a strange merger of man, woman, and leopard - and the man in the mix was her own boss, which just made it that much weirder. And oh, right, he was still in there, a passenger in the hybrid body they now shared.
"Clark?", she said softly, not quite sure how best to communicate with a man who was inside your own brain. "What are we going to do now?"
< Huh? > The sound of his voice in Christine's mind was slurred, like that of a man who had just been shaken from a peaceful nap. < Oh, uh, I guess I should take you off now? Or, I mean, you should let me out of here? Unless you want to keep... > The disembodied string of words trailed off. Then another sentence passed through their shared brain, which felt as though it could have come from either one of them. I don't want to deprive you of control... any longer than I have to...
Christine, still the one who was actually in control, felt a pang of guilt just as Clark did. To think that her own life, as it was right now, forced her to take over someone else's body just didn't sit right with her. Maybe, she thought, it was better to be a lifeless object than to put a similar fate on another person. She reluctantly reached to her backside to undo the zipper that would let Clark out and make her inanimate again. But all that she felt was her own coat of fur.
Right. Christine nearly slapped herself in the face when she realized - which probably would have hurt a lot, given her new sharp claws. She wasn't a costume anymore, nor was she inside of one. She was alive, which meant there was no zipper, which meant... uh-oh.
"Clark, I... think we might be stuck like this," Christine said. She knew, internally, that he already understood it as well as she did, but she felt the need to speak it out loud anyway. "I don't know what to do!"
The first response Christine got to that was a pulsing feeling from her nether regions. That feline penis, still covered in a white glaze that hadn't been cleaned up, was starting to push out of its sheath again, throbbing with desire. Watching it rear its ugly head, Christine was equal parts aroused and disgusted.
"Clark, is that you?", she said flatly. "Are you doing that?" The follow-up to that didn't need to be said: Are you seriously turned on by this right now?
< N-no! > Clark mentally stammered out. < That's not me! I'm a m-man, I can't get it up that quickly after I cum! > He wanted to hold his tongue and avoid saying the next thing that came to mind, but it was her mind and he couldn't stop the thought from coming out. < It must be you... >
"Me?", Christine whispered, knowing that muttering under her breath wouldn't stop her from being heard anymore. Her instinctive response was the same as Clark's - to deny that there was anything arousing about being stuck like this, maybe permanently. But underneath that growing erection, there was a sensation much more familiar to Christine: the feeling of a slick, wet pussy aching to be filled. She spread her furry legs a bit, her paw pads clenching with anticipation, but then felt something cool between her legs. Looking down, she saw the congealing white liquid that was starting to drip down into the waiting opening below. Christine dimly wondered if this body could get itself pregnant.
Okay, maybe she was getting turned on by the idea of getting to stay like this. Probably both of them were. She wasn't sure how to tell the difference anymore. Every feeling she had seemed to be mirrored in Clark somehow. Then another disembodied thought rolled through their mind. I look good like this, it said, and I feel even better. Why would I want it to end?
"I", Christine mumbled, a bit numb. Who was "I" now? The words came in a mental voice that sounded neither male nor female, but firmly in between. It sounded a lot like what came out of Christine's muzzle now when she tried to speak.
Christine, or Clark, or whatever they were going to call the combination of the two, couldn't resist anymore. They grabbed their messy penis with one forepaw and plunged into their leaking vagina with the other. But a sense of dread still lurked in the back of their merging mind. Were they going to be stuck together like this for the rest of their lives - or life? And if there was no way back, how much longer would it take before there was no Clark anymore, and no Christine, but just one lust-filled leopard-creature?