The cabin aroma was one of sweat, roasted beans, and something unspeakably dirty.
Outside smelled like fresh air, the morning dew, and pine needles - the epitome of a golden dawn.
Inside the kitchen, it smelled like Sex and Breakfast.
Cal and Ren were bare-chested, glistening slightly from post-coffee play, standing in the kitchen in nothing but thin aprons tied around their waists—aprons that didn’t cover much and revealed plenty.
They giggled and fumbled, bumping hips and legs together, using toes and thighs to crack eggs, open the fridge, flip bread into the pan. Working like a well-oiled, armless machine. Legs bracing against counters, bare feet gripping utensils and ingredients. Every so often, one of them would lean in and whisper something filthy about that “creamer” in the other’s mug, and both would end up red-faced and semi-hard all over again.
Ren reached between his thighs to press himself against Cal’s leg as he poured pancake batter onto the griddle with his foot.
“I should drizzle something warm over you next,” he murmured.
Cal bit his lip. “You already did, babe. It tasted good.”
They laughed, cheek to cheek.
Caught up in their frolicking, the two failed to notice the hulking shape that very awkwardly ambled it's way to the screen door of the enclosed porch. With much difficulty, it opened the door. A light knock on the floor surprised the femboys.
It was more like a clumsy thud.
Then a sliding, dragging clump-thump-clump-thump sound as it reached the door of the cabin.
Both femboys froze.
Cal whispered, “Did we order something?”
Ren shrugged. “I didn’t even know we could.”
The door creaked open.
And in trudged Ari.
Her presence filled the cabin in an instant.
Not with noise—though her movements were anything but subtle—her transformation, compared to the two, had been quite severe.
She was hunched over, her broad, soft-shouldered body seemingly walking on stilts as she dragged herself in awkwardly on her four massive arms. She had two arms per each shoulder, and they were, for lack of a better word, "gorilla-like" - they were huge and muscular, and probably 5 feet long, her hands' palms slapping against the floor as she moved closer. However, they weren't hairy, and were femininely smooth. The skin along her limbs shimmered faintly with sweat, dirt smudged in ways that showed she'd been doing some yardwork.
Her long, strong fingers curled against the floor as she tried to back out the moment she realized she wasn’t alone.
But Ren’s voice stopped her.
“Ari?”
Her cyclopean central eye widened, the brilliant iris darting from Ren to Cal. The two smaller eyes on her cheeks blinked frantically - she didn't have the typical "third eye" transformation.
Her lips were, fully, pillowy, and a lot larger than the two remembered. They trembled, worrying Cal and Ren, but they glistened with a natural, inviting softness, plush enough to draw their eyes immediately. Very kissable . . .
Her glossy lips parted—her voice was delicate.
“I— I thought you two were out— I just— I was gonna grab my—”
Her eyes glistened.
Her two leg-stubs trembled. These were all that remained of her legs, or her thighs, for that matter, and at each of their ends was a pair of large lips. Ari could only speak and breathe with her facial mouth, so these were exclusively used for drinking and eating. Their long, thick tongues emerged from their pursed, lip-ringed mouths. After hanging for a second lazily, they slithered forward instinctively, tasting the air.
And her massive, veiny tentacle between her thighs, bound tightly with a stocking, twitched once—almost lurching towards the femboys before she wrangled the penis with an arm. She whimpered.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll go.”
Cal stepped forward.
“No. Stay.”
He didn’t need hands. His tone was enough.
Ren joined him, walking across the cabin and reaching out with his leg to brush Ari’s nearest arm gently.
“We were just makin’ breakfast. You hungry?”
Ari shook her head frantically, backing up until her tentacle slapped the floor with a fleshy sound.
“You don’t have to pretend I’m normal. I’m not.”
Cal smiled, slow and soft. “We’re two dick-having, apron-wearing armless sluts who made coffee with our toes, Ren moaned into my cup, and I drank it.”
Ren added, “If anyone’s not allowed to judge, it’s us.”
Ari choked on a laugh—then just choked. Her shoulders quaked, her breath hitched. Her enormous eye blinked rapidly, leaking hot tears. The eyes on her cheeks closed tight.
Her voice cracked. “I’m so tired of being disgusting.”
She didn’t get to say more.
Ren stepped in first, nestling close. He used his shoulder to press gently against her chest.
Then Cal came behind, using his chin to rest against the top of her arm.
It wasn’t a hug—none of them had the limbs for that.
But it was comfort.
And she broke.
Huge, body-shaking sobs poured out of her, her glossy lips trembling, voice muffled. Her cheek-eyes leaked tears in streams. The mouths on her thighs opened and closed mindlessly, and her cock twitched again, just as out of control as the rest of her. She cried with her whole body.
And the boys stayed there.
Held in their own strange, tender way.
Letting her fall apart, messy and shaking and grotesquely real, without ever once pulling away.
Eventually, they managed to seat her in a chair at the tiny kitchen table.
Cal helped flip pancakes with a leg while Ren sliced fruit between his toes.
Ari’s massive eye stayed low, her cheeks stained and eyes red. But her lips now curled into something fragile—a smile.
“Y’all really eat with your feet?” she asked, voice hoarse.
Cal grinned. “You eat with your legs. At least mine don’t talk back.”
Ari snorted. “You wish they didn’t.”
They all laughed, soft and slow, like the tension was melting with the butter in the pan.
The table filled with steam and smells. Syrup and strawberries. Coffee and connection.
And for the first time in a long time, Ari didn’t feel like a monster.