Ivy's breathing quickened, each stroke of her leg-arms coaxing more heat, more slick, more of that dizzying pressure that gathered low in her belly and pulsed like a warning. Her two pairs of balls throbbed harder than her lengths - but both pairs ached for release.
A release Ivy was content to hold off on reaching for just a little while longer.
Her cocks rubbed harder now, slick shafts sliding and grinding into each other with every jerk of her hands. It was obscene—loud, wet, hot—and the sounds filled the room in a way that would have made her toes curl.
But she didn't have toes anymore.
Instead, her fingers did, her grip curling tighter around the heads of her dicks. Further splurts of gushing pre-cum coated her hands, and in under a second their sliding and rubbing had slicked up both shafts.
She groaned.
Her fingers wrapped even tighter around both shafts. The angle wasn’t perfect, but her grip was confident. She knew what her body liked now, what rhythm made her shudder, what pressure made both shafts leak like broken faucets. And they were leaking. Copious amounts of pre.
She could feel it smearing across her stomach and dripping down her thighs, the shiny fluid coating every surface, every nook and cranny.
“Shit… shit, shit,” she gasped, eyes fluttering open just long enough to see the mess she was making.
Worth it.
The two heads bumped together again—she squeezed slightly when they did—and she practically whimpered.
It was surreal sometimes. How these two thick, girthy cocks, side by side where her vulva used to be, could send such shivering heat through her. Indescribably more pleasurable.
She didn’t want to love them at first. They were obscene. Terrifying. She had shut herself away, for weeks attempting to find a way to wrangle in the twin beasts, and the heat they emanated which seeped into her mind and loins.
It turned out to be quite simple. The way to wrangle the pleasure was to give in to it.
The first time Ivy had embraced her vulgar change was in her bathtub as she wept. But as she had reached that first mind-breaking climax, followed quickly by another, calm and peace had, in an instant, replaced her self-hatred and fear. And all that was left was a warm sense of content.
The testosterone, the pleasure, the sensation, the *need* - they had all changed her for the better.
Mornings like this made her feel powerful. Desirable. Real.
Lost in thought, Ivy's right hand shifted.
While her left hand's fingers had been stretched, rubbing the base of both cocks as she thrust and grinded against her other palm, her right fingers had slipped downwards ever so slightly.
Both dicks' urethras momentarily swallowed a finger.
She let her head fall back, hair fanned out on the pillow, head and mouth slack as the first wave hit her.
“Oh fuuu—”
Her whole body locked, cocks throbbing violently in her hands. The climax tore through her in waves—deep, rolling, waves. The tension and the stress evaporated from her body as they were purged, from head to toe, via cum, out and across the room.
Her dual shafts jerked against each other, both spurting in tandem, thick ropes splashing onto her breasts, her belly, the sheets, the floor. She kept stroking them through it, panting, thighs twitching, lip bit, back arched into the mattress.
She squealed in delight. The mess was ridiculous. And, again, she didn’t care.
Her hands slowed eventually, light strokes turning into soft touches. Each cock twitched as she let go, muscles relaxing as the rest of the tension drained out of her like steam from a kettle.
For a while, Ivy just lay there—arm-legs splayed, soaked blanket halfway on the floor. Her breath came in soft huffs, heart slowing.
The room smelled like sweat and sex. The sunlight had shifted, now painting a golden line across her ribcage.
“God,” she muttered, laughing lazily. “You two always win.”
She used a towel nearby to clean up the worst of the mess—wiping her stomach, her shafts, the headboard, somehow. She’d learned to keep towels everywhere. It was just part of her morning routine now. Like brushing her teeth, or… attempting to pee.
She chuckled as she sat up—half-sore, half-satisfied.
A warm sense of content.
With the stiffness gone, her body finally cooperated. She waddled, balance a little unsteady, on her arm-legs to the bathroom, cocks swaying freely as she went. The toilet was still a weird experience—she’d had to replace the seat with something wider—but at least now she could relieve herself without both of them screaming for attention.
As she emptied her bladder with dual streams into the bowl, Ivy sighed contentedly.
“See?” she muttered to her own reflection in the mirror. “All that fuss, just to pee in peace.”
She stared at herself for a beat. Naked, flushed, and quite wild-haired. Two softening cocks dangling against her thighs. Nice, pear-shaped butt. No arms at her shoulders—just bare skin and muscle. And two long, graceful arms for legs, bent outwards as if she was an ostrich.
Her fingers tapped on the floor.
She smiled.
There was a time when she couldn’t look in the mirror without crying.
Now?
Someone bigger than all her guy friends.
She washed up, slapped on fresh boxers, and tugged on a flowy skirt that didn’t even try to hide anything anymore. The flaccid, softened dicks dangled, along with their balls, almost sleepily beneath.
It was Wednesday. Just another sleepy morning in Copper Spring.
To be honest, every day was a "lazy" day for Ivy. She looked forward, in fact, to each new morning.
For as long as there were Two Tents in her blanket, that day was bound to start off well.