Stay Hydrated 2

Morning brought with it revelations, and complications.

As the unseasonal spring blizzard finally blew itself out and communication services became restored, everyone at the corporate retreat finally realized their situation the night before was not quite unique. In a montage of video calls, social media posts, online articles and other forms of updates, people realized that what would be known as The Event had affected more people than just their small Swiss vacation. No one was without friends or relatives who had changed, and everyone was struggling with the fallout in one way or another.

The company president and owner decided that everyone agreed to go home from the retreat early. After a quick survey, it was found that this was mostly true, but there were challenges getting home.

Transportation was going to be an issue. Buses and other large vehicles were suddenly in high demand for people who no longer fit comfortably in cars, and the problem was compounded by the fact that many professional drivers or pilots could no longer drive anymore, though there were already clips of people without human legs trying with varying success. In the same manner, airplanes already notorious for having little room for large passengers fared no better with larger, heavier, and more varied body types. Several flights, including the one that had been booked for everyone at the retreat, ended up cancelled due ‘unanticipated logistical issues’.

Finally, there was the fact that they had to find a way to get everyone off a post blizzard mountain safely.

Naturally, the CEO stepped up to decide that it was Gavin’s problem to fix.

After hours on the phone and the internet, and many failed attempts to book flights overseas, Gavin did manage to find some vans for rent, and the flight problem was solved by booking the entire team on a transatlantic cruise, where they did not intend to take the return trip.

“... which brings us to our… other issue.” Gavin announced to the room of fellow employees he had gathered.

The cabin where Gavin had gathered everyone was identical to every other cabin rented - except the owner’s cabin, of course - and Gavin addressed the room from the balcony, with everyone else arranged downstairs. 

Well, almost everyone. The CEO had declined to attend the meeting, and the subjects of Gavin’s current discussion were trapped in their own cabin, leaving the rest of the team in the room below. 

Most of the company gave Gina a wide berth, especially his former lover (whom Gina would occasionally stare at with large, soulful bovine eyes), with two exceptions. The finance director, Chuck, seemed to be perfectly fine with his transformed coworker. As well, the human resource lead, Diane - who was literally wrapped around Chuck in her new form as a furry, bat-human hybrid - was also at ease for fairly obvious reasons.

“We have some concerns at the moment that Anne and Dalia may not handle the current weather well,” Gavin announced, noting as he did so that some people began muttering at the mention of two absent employees.

“What do you mean by ‘concerns’?” Sergei, the shipping manager, asked quickly. 

“Dalia seemed physically repelled by a brief breeze from this weather, and I suspect she’s now potentially cold-blooded,” Gavin explained, “and well… no one is even remotely sure how Anne’s biology works, so exposing her to extreme weather seems unnecessarily dangerous, for the moment. This is a challenge, because it will be difficult to clear the site’s roads, so to meet the vans that will start our journey home will require a bit of a trek.”

“Can’t we just, give them some extra coats and, like, a whole lot of hand warmers or something?” Clint suggested in tones that led Gavin to believe Clint was still recovering from self-inflicted illness. 

Gavin carefully shook his head no, “I fear that will be insufficient. Even if we had a large supply of hand warmers.”

“We’re not going to just… leave them here, are we?” Gina asked in his new, much deeper voice, casting a brief look across the room as he added, “They’re still people too, you know.”

Charles, the hiring manager, (who used to be called Chuck, before the finance director was hired and everyone agreed was more a Chuck than Charles) did not even glance anywhere near Gina and merely frowned, saying nothing.

“All options to bring Dalia and Anne home will be explored,” Gavin announced, “though, if they decide to stay here until the weather approaches a safer temperature for them, that will be up to them. For the time being, my best suggestion is that several volunteers carry them to the vans.”

“They can’t walk?” Clint asked.

“Did you bring a boot big enough for an Anaconda?” Sergei replied, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Clint glared, but didn’t respond.

Gavin shifted, and gently tugged at his mustache, “That… is part of the problem. The other part is that, to ensure she is warm enough, the volunteers will need to… ah, get very close to Dalia to help maintain her body’s temperature.”

The room was silent for a few moments as people digested this thought. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of cloth tearing as Sergei began dramatically ripping his shirt off.

“Sergei’s body has been waiting for this moment!”

“Why is he suddenly talking with a Russian accent?” Charles asked.

“Because Russian accent was also waiting for this moment.”

More than a few people gave the eccentric shipping manager room and suspicious stares. Gavin cocked a questioning eyebrow at Clint, who scowled, started to shake his head no, but stopped as a look of uncertainty crossed his face before shrugging helplessly. Gavin sighed.

“I appreciate you volunteering Sergei. Though, due to her… extra bodied nature, I’d prefer a few volunteers working in tandem. I suspect this would work best with roughly four bodies to provide adequate heat.”

“I’ll help,” Gina announced, raising his hand, “I’ve got no prejudices against any transformed folk.”

Charles stepped forward, his face stormy, “For fuck’s sake Gina, I am not a racist!”

The entire room was treated to a mighty minotaur snort, one that managed to convey mythic levels of contempt and disdain. Charles’ face twitched with annoyance, yet he still refused to look his former lover in her eyes.

“I’ll gladly help, but, I think I should talk to her beforehand,” Charles stated in hard tones, with only a brief, withering glance at Gina, “After all, everyone should be sure they’re comfortable being so close.”

Gavin glanced at Diane, feeling the potential inter-personnel disaster brewing within the room. Except Diane apparently didn’t see, or care, about whatever was brewing in the room. Though, judging from the way Diane’s ears twitched, and occasionally turned upon her head, she clearly heard everything being said.

Gavin sighed slightly, his only expression of disappointment at the situation. Though his shrewd eyes noted that Diane’s ears twitched as he did so.

“That would seem reasonable,” Gavin conceded, after some thought. “Whatever helps people achieve peace of mind. But if anyone else feels like volunteering, please feel to mention it privately. I am not here to shame people for not stepping up, even though I thank everyone for doing it.”

“Moving on though, there are other tasks that need discussing.”

_______

“... and then we simply wrap blankets around each volunteer either carrying you on their back or carrying your tail to keep the body heat inside.”

Dalia, seated at three seats at each end of a small coffee table, looked at the shockingly crude stick figure drawings Gavin had provided to explain his plan. Understanding the plan was actually very easy, as Dalia had already considered something similar, but she did find it hard to believe that a man who demonstrated such confidence and competence like Mr. Colmes would be so tragically bad at simple art.

“I mean,” Dalia looked at Gavin, “it’s not that complicated, just, awkward. And it kind of sucks I’ll be stuck in here…”

Her body closest to Gavin leaned in close to whisper, “... with Anne…”

“ …and next to nothing to do but fu…uuuu…tz around on my phone.” Dalia finished.

Gavin glanced briefly at the whispering head, then back to the center one. 

“I… I beg your pardon,” Gavin leaned back, trying to shift his perspective to see all of Dalia, “but… for the sake of propriety you see, is there a specific set of eyes I’d be best making contact with when talking to you?”

Dalia took on a look of thoughtful discomfort, and began explaining with her left most body, “Not really, though…I think I understand what you mean. I’m all me, at the same time. I don’t seem to really have, like, a dominant head.”

Far right leaned in to speak, “Actually, it feels more… right when I actively use each of my, well, selves.”

In fact, Dalia found it oddly thrilling to divert Gavin’s attention back and forth between her ‘selves’. At the same time, Dalia felt it best to not mention the strange exhilaration she got from ping-ponging someone’s attention back and forth amongst herself.

“I guess it’s just the hydra version of being fidgety,” her center announced, before shrugging all her shoulders in unison.

“Ah… how fascinating.” Gavin acknowledged in polite tones, and then leaned forward to refill his tea.

“Let me get that for you, sir!” Dalia suddenly announced, center body leaning in to pour the director some tea.

Her center’s eyes, on the pot and cup, didn’t notice Gavin’s gaze linger in the depths of the cleavage she exposed as she leaned in to pour the tea. Left and right absolutely did see though.

“Sugar?” Offered Dalia from Gavin’s left.

“Cream?” Purred Dalia from his right.

“Ahh…” Gavin breathed a moment, fingers fumbling for reassurance at the ends of his beloved facial hair, “three please. Ah. Three sugars. Just a splash of cream.”

Even Dalia didn’t notice herself curling her tail around the back of Gavin’s chair, but her instincts practically hummed in pleasure at the sense that she had the man surrounded and off balance. 

All six eyes locked upon him. She could taste his unease and disquiet in the air, feel the slight shifting of his body in the chair with her tail. Dalia smiled broadly, a display of friendly smiles that nevertheless revealed the addition of fangs in her mouths. As Gavin took the teacup and she felt herself tense as instinct prepared her to pounce…

“Mr. Colmes. I’m sure we have better tea than whatever no name brand the chalet stocks.”

At no other time in Dalia’s life did she find she hated Anne more than when the busybody slime surprised her at that moment. Her entire form sprang up and spun in alarm to face the intruder, her left torso missing Gavin by a hair’s breadth.

“Anne!” Dalia hissed, “... I thought you were still sleeping.”

Anne, at the bottom of the stairs and dressed in snowpants as well as an unzipped parka (both made of materials she had discovered to be more resistant to her corrosive properties), had a broad smile plastered across her face, but at the same time was glaring daggers at Dalia, “I’m glad I woke up, I’d hate to ignore a guest.”

Gavin, who would normally address the sudden tension in the room between the two ladies, found himself taking a deep, steadying breath as he regained his composure, followed by a slow, calming exhale through his nose.

“Well, you weren’t really ignoring him,” Dalia pointed out, interposing herself between Anne and Gavin, “as he’s here to talk to me. About my problem.”

Anne slowly stalked forward, literally oozing with a mixture of confidence and disdain, “And which, of all your problems, was he here to help with?”

There was a thump on the floor as Dalia’s tail lashed in momentary anger, “Getting out of this cabin, and getting back home. His willingness to help is quite touching.”

“Really?” Anne paused, then began to walk determinedly towards the director, “well I have no doubt that Mr. Colmes is able to solve this problem with ease, isn’t that right?”

Anne moved to walk around Dalia, but Dalia carefully shifted to continue to be between Anna and Gavin, the hydra’s eyes narrow above thin, forced smiles, “He has a plan, actually. A very reasonable one.”

“Then there’s nothing left to talk about!” Anne purred, posing confidently in front of Dalia with a triumphant smirk, “which is very fortunate, as I was hoping to discuss other matters with Mr Colmes, if you’d excuse us.”

Dalia paused for a moment, during which the director cleared his throat in a polite, attention getting manner. Anne tried to side-step Dalia again, and yet again Dalia shifted to be in the way.

“Actually, I do want to talk to Anne about our concerns for her as well,” Gavin announced, in tones Dalia was sure had a touch of apology and regret.

Anne’s smirk grew, her form and nature allowing it to expand just a bit wider and more smug than human features would have allowed, “You see? Slither along then.”

Dalia’s mind desperately sought for a polite, reasonable way to deny Anne. Then she considered some less polite, less reasonable means. But under the director's patient, proper, and polite watch, Dalia eventually realized she could stand in Anne’s way no longer.

“I’ll just… make myself lunch then,” Dalia conceded, at least finding a meager excuse to keep an eye on her semi-solid nemesis.

Dalia probably would have been happier if she just went back to her room. She spent a lot of time in the kitchen ‘making lunch’ but really doing next to nothing. At one point she found herself simultaneously peeling potatoes and whipping egg whites into a creamy froth, while one body always seemed to be just casually waiting while she watched Anne and Gavin out of the corner of an eye.

Part of Dalia knew this wasn’t normal for her. She wasn’t normally this agressive, or possessive. Whatever was going on between Anne and Gavin was absolutely none of her business. Still some primal part of her mind had decided Gavin was hers, and that Anne was a threat to him.

Which was ridiculous, as Gavin a superior, a coworker, and easily thirty years older than her. Logically Dalia had no reason to feel so attached. But she did.

At least hating Anne made perfect sense. Anne was a bitch.

Dalia needed time to clear her thoughts, get herself figured out. Sighing, Dalia pulled the culinary abomination she had whipped up in her distraction out of the oven… a meringue-topped potato skin, apparently… and silently retreated up the difficult climb to the bedroom.

Which, of course, served to remind her of the third most hated thing in the cabin, behind a certain coworker, and the stairs: the cabin’s exceptionally small bed. It had failed to house her newer self, and now right when Dalia felt the need to do a proper dramatic flop on the covers, it seemed rudely insufficient for that as well.

Dalia scowled at the bed, then simply coiled her tail up, ripped the sheets, pillows and blankets off the mattress, and lay on her backs in that. It seemed good and proper for being an upset snake woman, and she quickly pulled out her phone for some proper, upset doom scrolling.

Except. She only had one phone to occupy her attention. 

Dalia knew the saying about idle hands quite well, and now she had extras. And extra heads. And extra… other things. The ‘H’ in adhd, for her, should probably have stood for hydra as the phone and it’s frustratingly slow internet was proving insufficient distraction. 

Just before Anne had interrupted, Dalia had a sense that she was about to… achieve something, for lack of a better phrase. She wasn’t quite horny… well, she was, but it was more than just being hot and bothered. Things were leading up to… to achieving a type of victory, of conquest. The remembered sensation called out with tingling nerves and bubbling excitement, fluttering through Dalia with a quivering need.

The idle wanderings on her phone’s internet became more… specific. Dalia spotted her luggage across the room.

An old memory, of a grumpy aunt Mareen lecturing Dalia about how, “Proper ladies do not do that sort of thing. Especially not when she has company over!”

Buuuuut… Mareen ended up so desperate she married a balding loser who lost their mortgage at the casino. Twice. So Dalia decided sometimes a girl just had to take the edge off before she made bad decisions. She’d just have to be quiet about it.

Right and center Dalia were already tossing aside skirts as left Dalia began rummaging through her suitcase. Idle hands indeed found their purpose as playthings, as Dalia withdrew a pringles can from her carry on luggage. From the can was pulled Dalia's favorite vibrator, wrapped in a towel to keep it secret and safe.

Her singular vibrator. Dalia frowned down at her trio of glistening, eager pussies. Past Dalia hadn’t seen a reason to pack more, much to current Dalia’s disappointment. She randomly imagined herself, dressed like the three musketeers, dildos in right hands raised up and crossed in the air above her. That thought passed quickly in the light of more immediate desires. 

The vibrator was turned on with a familiar and encouraging haptic buzz, and Dalia began to eagerly direct it to its intended purpose within her, meanwhile experiencing a strange voyeuristic glee as she watched herself doing it. Until Dalia really noticed herself, one torso about to please itself, the other two just… watching.

As a realization bloomed, she momentarily withdrew her buzzing purple pleasure stick. She had fallen into old habits, she realized, from time as a creature with a human body. But now, she was so much more.

Dalia casually lifted the end of her tail, and eyed its tip appraisingly, stroking it with one hand to assess its polished but textured nature approvingly. Excited by the possibility, Center Dalia eagerly licked her lips with her forked, purple tongue… and froze in almost reverent awe as an epiphany continued to blossom in her.

Dalia opened her mouth wider, and instinctively flexed and squeezed a series of muscles that went all the way to her chest. The forked organ within her maw began to slide forth from her lips like a living, glistening ribbon, dropping swiftly ever downwards past her collar, past ribs, and onwards.

The vibrator slid from Dalia’s hand, forgotten, hitting the floor with a rubbery, rattling thump, momentarily panicking the awestruck hydra. Center slurped up her tongue as Right dove after the lost toy.

For brief moments, the only thing Dalia heard was the sound of her beating hearts, her excited breathing, and the still ongoing buzzing. Eyes focused on the vibrator, and it was turned off with inhuman speed. Dalia couldn’t hear Anne or Mr. Colmes talking. Did they hear her drop it? Were they listening now?

Anne’s voice, tone whiny but her words too muffled to make out, finally broke the silence. But it didn’t get any closer. Dalia quickly reassured herself that her antics and privacy were secure. Still Dalia quickly assured herself that her room was locked.

Once again, Dalia let her tongue slip forth, twisting and writhing in the air as she explored her control and dexterity. A quavering excitement blossomed inside her, a significant depth below her hearts, as her eager imagination flooded with detailed dreams of the erotic possibilities.

Right Dalia slowly lowered her body down, face drifting towards her center sex. Excitement and carnal need began to fog Dalia’s thoughts, even as her pussies became simultaneously soaked. Her center hands reached down to part herself in anticipation of the writing, serpentine purple experience she was about to give herself.

_______

Gavin didn’t note the random thumping from the room above at first, distracted as he was by the impossibly frustrating conversation with Anne. Despite all his efforts to keep the topic on track about her problems, and solutions, she inevitably would steer the conversation towards other irrelevant topics.

But then the ruckus became louder and more frequent. He nearly spat out his tea as he suddenly, during on of Anne’s brief and infrequent pauses, heard a very distinct and recognizable moan through the ceiling.

____

Dalia had wondered whether each individual vagina she possessed was as functionally capable as her singular human one used to be. As she began to explore her own clit and dripping depths with the incredible length of her tongue, a part of her became very confident that each individual part of her was more than able to bring her to climax.

But that theory was not properly tested that day. Dalia quickly fell back, and eagerly involved all her limbs in her new exploration of self. Fingers found their way to breasts to tug and pinch at nipples passionately, other hands put the vibrator to enthusiastic use. Quick as a striking serpent, Dalia’s tail put itself to use as well, diving into and pounding her final eager cunt. 

Soon she found herself an eagerly writhing mass on the floor, her concerns about the opinions of others lost in euphoria. Her excitement was quickly stoked by her own solo orgy, soliciting gasps and moans, crescendoing with a single high pitched cry as orgasm erupted through her body.

Eruption being a sadly literal statement, as Dalia literally found herself face to lips as she discovered that she was quite the enthusiastic squirter. It was lucky Dalia had naturally closed her eyes as she climaxed, but due to the nature of her activities her jaw was distinctly open. The gushing of her own fluids into her face and mouth was a shocking enough experience to drag her, very suddenly, back to reality. 

Dalia froze, dripping, and put a discarded t-shirt to emergency use as a towel to clean off her face. Still foggy with the fading glow of her ecstasy, Dalia found herself peering about the room, at the tangled mess of her own body, and the glistening puddles she had left on the floor.

“Oh sweet god,” Dalia breathed in awe, “... I’ve been missing out my entire life.”