The sterile medical chamber throbbed with a new kind of energy. The sterile scent of disinfectant, once comforting in its familiarity, was now a forgotten ghost overpowered by a musky aroma that sent shivers down both Tempest and Penelope's spines. Its source was unmistakable – the pulsating weapon grasped firmly in Penelope's hand.
Her movements had morphed into a hypnotic dance, her hand gliding rhythmically up and down the length of the alien appendage. With each stroke, the translucent liquid at its tip grew larger, its heady fragrance intensifying, igniting a primal yearning within them both. "What is this nectar, Penelope?" Tempest stammered, her voice a mere whisper.
Her body thrummed with an unfamiliar current, a cocktail of desire and trepidation that defied definition. Drawn by an invisible force, she leaned closer, her face hovering inches from the weapon's tip. The scent danced in her nostrils, mingling with the heat radiating off its surface and sending shivers down her spine.
"I-I don't know," Penelope replied, her voice tight, laced with a strange cocktail of apprehension and a yearning she couldn't place. Mirroring Tempest's actions, she too leaned in, her primal instincts urging her forward. Their faces framed the weapon on either side, its form a stark contrast to the smooth skin surrounding it.
It pulsed with an undeniable life of its own, a rhythm that resonated deep within their cores. Emboldened by a surge of curiosity, Tempest reached out a hand. Her fingertips brushed against Penelope's, sending a jolt of electricity sparking through their connected forms. As one, they grasped the weapon, their hands meeting in a silent communion over this alien object.
The pulsing quickened beneath their touch, a rhythm that echoed in the very marrow of their bones. "What power!" Tempest exclaimed, her eyes widening in awe. She could feel a potent energy coursing through the weapon, a raw vitality that pulsed through the strange blue veins that seemed to course along its surface. It was exhilarating, a primal force that resonated deep within her soul.
Penelope, however, felt something different. Unlike Tempest, a warrior born and bred, she was a Dryad, a being intrinsically connected to the essence of life. Yet, in her confusion, she had momentarily forgotten the very core of her being – the life force that coursed through all living things.
As she pressed her face closer to the tip of the weapon, a wave of pure, unadulterated life energy washed over her. It was unlike anything she had ever encountered - potent, invigorating, and strangely alluring. Unlike the destructive energies she associated with weapons, this energy pulsed with life, a primal force that resonated with the very essence of her being.
"There's so much energy," she breathed, her voice thick with disbelief. "But it's not destructive… it's filled with life!" The revelation struck her with the force of a thunderbolt. How could a weapon radiate such an abundance of life force? In all her years in Eden, she had never encountered such a potent life energy – not even the Ice Queen, with all her power, could rival this.
Driven by an instinct she couldn't explain, a combination of her Dryad nature and the strange allure of the weapon, Penelope did the unthinkable. She opened her mouth, her tongue a pink serpent seeking forbidden fruit. "Penelope!" Tempest called out in warning, but the words were lost in the rush of sensation. The moment the translucent liquid touched her taste buds, the world exploded.
A kaleidoscope of colors flooded her vision, her body tingling with a sensation that defied description. It was as if every cell in her being was awakening from a deep slumber, bathed in a warmth that was both pleasurable and terrifying. Her face contorted in a mixture of ecstasy and confusion. Tempest, ever vigilant, couldn't help but notice the rapturous expression twisting Penelope's features.
It sent a tremor of unease through her. The prophecy she had heard just a short while ago echoed in her mind – "…happiness that their expressions will twist…" Could this be real? This strange liquid, emanating from this… weapon… could it truly possess such power to melt a woman into a puddle of pure bliss? The warrior spirit within her roared in defiance.
This man, regardless of his unconventional nature, couldn't be the prophesied "The Feminist." No, the very prophecy itself was simply too ludicrous. But still, a seed of doubt had been planted. Determined to prove her own theory, Tempest ignored the voice of caution whispering within her. She mimicked Penelope's actions, her tongue flicking out to touch the tip of the weapon.
The translucent liquid coated her tongue, a slippery sensation that sent a shiver down her spine. The taste… oh goddess, the taste! It was unlike anything she had ever encountered. It was a revelation. A symphony of sweetness and primal essence that ignited a yearning buried deep within, a desire she never knew existed.
Their faces, etched with trepidation moments ago, now contorted in a delicious mix of pleasure and something akin to a primal hunger. As the initial wave of euphoria receded, a silent plea hung heavy in the air. There wasn't enough! Their tongues darted out, colliding together on the tip, enveloping the weapon. A desperate ballet for the last precious drops began and ended just as quickly.
"Penelope!" Tempest gasped, urgency lacing her voice. "Make it flow again! More of that...essence!" In this altered state, Penelope's mind raced. A memory flickered - the rhythmic caress of her hand against the appendage coinciding with the emergence of the liquid. With newfound determination, she grasped the weapon with renewed vigor, her hand mimicking the previous rhythm.
Tempest, craving another taste of that blissful oblivion, readily followed suit. Their hands, now a synchronized unit, stroked the pulsating flesh in a mesmerizing dance. Desire glazed Tempest's eyes as she leaned closer, determined to be the sole beneficiary of the next wave. She contorted her face, her mouth engulfing the weapon's tip in a desperate attempt to capture every drop.
A triumphant grin spread across her face as she envisioned the ecstasy solely for herself. But alas, the magical liquid remained frustratingly absent. A minute dragged by, an eternity in her heightened state. Despite her valiant efforts, her mouth wrapped greedily around the tip, no further liquid emerged. Then, a wave of unexpected pleasure washed over her.
Even a mere kiss of the weapon's tip brought a surge of happiness. Her hand fell away, replaced by the insistent press of her lips, a frantic search for every remaining trace. Penelope, torn between the desire for more and the fear of disturbing Kiba, watched Tempest in growing bewilderment. Her initial clumsiness had vanished, replaced by an almost practiced movement.
Instead of a frantic up-and-down, her mouth now mimicked a gentle wave, tracing a path along the length of the member. A glistening trail of saliva dripped from Tempest's lips, tracing a path down one of the blue veins, and landing with a soft plop on the smooth skin of Kiba's balls. Penelope's eyes widened in disbelief. This was uncharted territory.
Suddenly, her grip on the weapon tightened, an internal pressure building, a sensation akin to a volcano on the verge of eruption. Then, with a surge that sent a tremor through her entire arm, a white, sticky liquid erupted from the base of the member, spewing directly into Tempest's surprised mouth. A guttural gag escaped Tempest as she was momentarily overwhelmed.
But a moment later, a look of pure, glazed-over bliss replaced the initial shock. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, seemed to stare into another realm. Acting on primal instinct, Penelope reacted before she could overthink. With one hand, she grabbed Tempest by her hair, a surprisingly effective yank that pulled Tempest's face away from the weapon's tip.
The moment the seal was broken, Penelope didn't hesitate. She dropped to her knees, her mouth closing around the tip in a desperate attempt to capture every last drop of the new liquid. A wave of ecstasy unlike anything she'd experienced with the earlier liquid washed over her. It was potent, raw, a surge of life force that resonated deep within her core.
As she swallowed, a few stray droplets escaped her lips, dribbling down her chin. Tempest, momentarily disoriented, didn't miss her chance. With the reflexes of a seasoned warrior, she lunged forward, her tongue darting out to lick the escaping liquid from Penelope's chin.
Just then, the heavy oak door creaked open, revealing Circe, her face a mask of concern as she entered with the vial of freshly prepared healing concoction. But the sight that greeted her froze her in her tracks.
"What in the name of Mother Trinity is going here!?" Two of Eden's most trusted warriors, normally paragons of decorum and discipline, were sprawled on the floor, their faces buried in the most unexpected and anatomically improbable location - Kiba's crotch. The glass vial slipped from Circe's grasp, shattering on the stone floor with a resounding clang.
The noise seemed muted, however, as the two women were completely oblivious to the commotion, lost in their own world of primal exploration.