Elle giggled at his reaction. “. . . Wanna bet?”
His pulse quickened.
And so did hers.
After a shared dessert of Blueberry Muffin Bites, they went off - together, into the rain.
Though Jacob offered to be a gentleman and drive to his house, Elle opted to walk to a nearby motel she was planning on staying at - which would explain the Huddle House's strategic placement. The rain had stopped by the time they stepped outside, but Elle looked cold. She was shivering - or shaking. Jacob couldn't tell. Increasingly ragged breath, sweat too as she walked. Her face was red from blushing, and curiously, a vein or two stood out on her neck. Jacob started to ask her if she was feeling under the weather, but before he could finish she gripped his hand and arm tighter and drew him close, leaning her head onto his shoulder. They were the same, excited but nervous.
The walk wasn't long. A light drizzle had returned just as they had reached the awning, the pavement glistening under the glow of the streetlights. Jacob followed as Elle led the way, the weight of the night pressing around them, hearts pounding, breaths slowly quickening.
Whatever came next, Jacob had a feeling it would be something he wouldn’t forget.
Something worth the rain.
Before they entered the building, Elle pulled Jacob aside. Her face was contorted into a worried, concerned expression, and with the light of the room, quite red.
"Listen, you're a fantastic guy . . . but I don't want to scare you alright? Are you sure you want to do this? My transformation was pretty severe, I'm not joking. Forget the bet, this is serious. Don't do this if you're uncomfortable."
Jacob watched her carefully, the motel’s neon glow casting soft colors across her face. There was something rare in her expression—hesitation, maybe even vulnerability. She was giving him an out, a last chance to walk away if he wanted.
But he wasn’t going anywhere.
He exhaled, a slow, steady breath, then met her eyes with a quiet certainty. "Elle, I don’t scare that easy. And I don’t make bets I don’t intend to see through." His smirk softened into something more genuine. "But this isn’t about that. You don’t have to prove anything to me. If you’re worried about freaking me out, don’t be. If you want this—really want this—then I do too."
He paused, then chuckled lightly. "But if you’re just trying to let me off the hook, you should know by now—I’m stubborn as hell."
Jacob simply smiled and leaned forward to give her a peck on the forehead, before he turned to the motel clerk to ask for the best suite available. Elle's face lit up and she embraced him and laughed wholeheartedly.
The motel lobby was not exactly what Jacob expected—there was a flickering fluorescent light and a stained carpet, but a novelty vending machine hummed in the corner. The wall paint was vibrant and fresh - as well as the air from the air conditioner that was on in this weather for some reason. What he entirely didn’t expect was Bernice.
She perched behind the counter, moving with a practiced ease that suggested she’d long since mastered life in her new form. Her nametag gleamed under the dull light, the looping script spelling out Bernice—an old-fashioned name that didn’t match the woman before him. If the Fusion Wave hadn’t meddled, she’d probably be an elderly woman, but instead, she looked around thirty-five, with smooth, youthful skin and soft, curvy features.
Not that the Wave had left her untouched. Where her limbs should have been, her shoulders and hips tapered off into smooth stumps, leaving her without arms or legs. But in their place, three massive tentacle-like penises sprouted from her groin, swaying effortlessly as she moved. Clad in long, silky stockings, they curled and uncurled with precise control, letting her stand, balance, and even type on a modified keyboard at her desk. When she reached for the room key, one of them deftly plucked it from the hook and extended it toward Jacob with the same casual grace as a normal hand.
How in the hell she didn't have raging erections was beyond Jacob. Maybe the air conditioning had something to do with it . . .
Beneath her uniform, her body had another unexpected quirk—where soft, round buttocks should have been, the fabric stretched instead over a pair of plump, heavy breasts. The mutation was subtle, barely noticeable unless someone was paying close attention, and Bernice carried herself with a confidence that suggested she didn’t much care if they did.
Her expression remained polite but vaguely amused, as if she’d seen every kind of guest walk through these doors and knew exactly why they were here. With a smile that was just shy of teasing, she slid the key across the counter. “Enjoy your stay.”
Elle unlocked the door to the motel room, stepping inside first. Jacob followed, the scent of old fabric and faintly perfumed air filling his lungs as he took in the modest space. The bed was clean, the lighting fair. He turned to face Elle, who stood by the window.
She turned her head to the side to meet Jacob as he sat at the foot of the bed. Her eyes strayed downward, and she spoke quietly. "Here goes nothing . . ."
"Please, promise me you won't scream."