Squeak

by Vera Valentine

Speaking of incompatible, I wasn’t a fan of the way the redhead was currently eyeing my boyfriend.

Being able to turn into balloon animals at will wasn’t much of a superpower, all told, but it saved us a great deal on rent.

I made short work of his zipper and groaned as the heady scent of powdered sugar and latex sweetened the room. We were creatures of the carnival down to our cores, and Seb’s arousal was a balmy night on the midway, a handful of bright balloons and the funnel-cake booth all colliding in the senses. My tongue swept up the tempting bud of his balloon tie-knot, the playful little wrinkled ring that was quickly melting into his latex-wrapped cock. If I caught it before the shift completed, I got to take advantage of its hypersensitivity, and who could possibly turn that down?

his end unknotting with a snap on my tongue before hot, thin jets of funnel cake icing flowed out to soothe the sting.

“Come for me, sweet little flower, let me taste you. It’ll make it easier to take me.”

“Poppy, you’re safe, but we really need to talk.” He tilted his hips and nodded downwards, where his entire pelvic region - still locked into my own - had gone a deep royal purple. And translucent. I screamed.

I looked at Poppy - she was probably scared out of her mind. Bites like that told me Keane had knotted her, which could only mean one thing. She was an actual tulpamancer, an omega to our alpha natures. And, more importantly, she was now mated, however unintentionally, to Keane.

“Keane, purr for her. Your omega is distressed, Alpha. Do what you know you need to.”

With deft fingers, and several assurances nothing hurt, she’d twisted Kean’s shaft into a temporary row of small, round bubbles instead of the thick column that both she and I were so fond of.

It was a strange and beautiful happily ever after, and we made it our solemn mission - even after the heat ended - to find out all the ways that two balloons and an open-minded, mostly-human woman could twist themselves up in pleasure.