Tutty The Fruity
patreon
Prompt: Clara Wants Kids!
🕑 Added 2023-11-01 02:16:00 +0000 UTCSummary: Clara the Shapeshifter, yearning to start a family of her own, explores the intricacies of her own, elasticine, hypermalleable body. Two monthly prompts stitched together for whiteglint.
---
After spending much of her adult life as a shapeshifting super spy, Clara found her current life circumstances rather ironic. Given her forever youthful, vibrant, healthy body, even Clara herself hadn't an inkling of however long she had been chained to her station as a morphing murderer of men. Decades, it felt like; a woman of her age would certainly have wrinkles, if not for her formless, blemishless skin. She did not age like other women, after all.
She knew little beyond seduction, murder, infiltration, espionage. So when she had fallen for a big strong man, escaped from her captors to some remote island, and carved out a secret identity for herself, the skills she had honed as a shapeshifting seductress didn't really apply anymore. Normal was a concept that eluded her.
Clara was, at least, smitten with the idea of settling into a quieter, more intimate home life. She was old enough to recall fondly the time when the model house wife was in vogue, a model to aspire to for all women. Though the concept itself was dated at this point, Clara, despite all the world-hopping she did as a contract killer, was very sheltered in her ways, and took to the part with great enthusiasm.
...Maybe not necessarily with great aplomb though. Old habits die hard, and Clara did have incredible superpowers that she couldn't just turn off. Though the ideal housewife, in her recollection, worked dutifully while blending in with the furniture, the way in which she performed her chores around the house was certainly eye-catching.
Clara adored her skimpy miniskirt/apron combos. Despite being a shapeshifter, Clara always seemed to stand at a solid 6'7; Dean made a point of trying to get her clothing that protected her modesty a bit more, but Clara didn't really have a sense of modesty to begin with. She rather hoped to get a rise out of the man, showing a little bit of cleavage whenever she bent over to polish the floor, or letting her top ride up her spin as she stretched to clean the ceiling fan, showing the full curvature of her behind. Despite her best efforts, Dean was forever stone-faced.
There was one day where Clara finally got a reaction out of Dean; the day she admitted that she wanted a kid.
It started out innocently enough. Dean mixed up Friday movie night with a Disney movie one week, when Clara dropped rather innocently that she'd never seen a Disney movie; one cozy viewing of Bambi later, Clara wondered aloud why they hadn't watched anything like this before, it was very pretty; Dean shrugged and mentioned that they were mostly for kids.
Clara joshed at the time that, if they had a bunch of kids, they could plough through more movies. Dean humoured the thought, but didn't commit much past that.
Some time passed, and the seed of Clara's idle fantasy blossomed into a soft yearning. She had come in the past few years, settling into a routine of relative normalcy—she'd even been introduced to the in-laws, after all. She had the perfect hubby... maybe it was time to go for kids, start a nursery, start a proper family.
But fantasies gave way to the reality of her situation. Clara was an incredible woman, with powers beyond reckoning, but she couldn't call herself human. Her earliest memories were in a test tube, subject to all manner of black science. She wasn't sure if she was warped beyond recognition from a human subject, or simply conjured up in some foul concoction and given life, training, and a name. Any documentation on her existence was long gone to the shady secret government sector that created her and set her loose.
She was a shapeshifter, and for this purpose, it was a mixed blessing. She could manipulate her body in all sorts of ways, make herself an inhuman weapon, slip into places no mortal could wander, but the human body was a complex machine all on its own, capable of functions her mind couldn't begin to wrap her mind around.
In her assassin training, sex ed amounted to tips and tricks to seduce anyone and anything; anything else was just a mystery to her. This would explain why Clara tended to wander the house with Barbie anatomy, her crotch smoothed over so she wouldn't have to think about it. She had doubts she could conceive a child...
But she was too stubborn to throw in the tower before ever truly trying. She was determined to learn human anatomy, shape herself to emulate the supple human form and, perhaps, carry Dean's child. If she was going to reshape her body to carry a child, she'd have to learn all the ins and outs.
One day, Dean had walked in on her hitting the books rather hard... several books at once, actually. Her head had produced multiple faces, each one one side, eyes trained on a different text book, held aloft by a different set of hands. The strange visual reminded Dean of the Hindu god Brahma, but he kept that little quip to himself. His careful attention to detail spotted the books that she was pouring over: a sex ed book open to a page on anatomy, a self-help book on ovulation... the Kamasutra?
"Good evening..." Dean made himself known, closing the door behind him.
"Hello honey~" Clara greeted him in a sing-song voice, the expression of the face facing Dean rising up to smile at him. "How was work?"
"Charming. It's wedding season, so everyone wants a specialty wedding cake." Dean explained matter of factly. "What are those books you got there? And why are you naked?"
"Hmmmmmm..." Clara tilted her head. "Noooo, I'll make you work for the answer. Do you see anything different about me?"
"...Apart from the multiple faces and limbs?" Dean tilted his head. "Seems too obvious."
"I'll give you a hint~" Clara spun in her seat, her faces swivelling as if on a turnstyle to face Dean. Her multiple faces smushed together, fusing back into a single, playful look as she uncrossed her legs.
Creeeeeeeeeeeak... her body began to morph and stretch, her hips specifically rising and moving forward on their own; they swayed back and forth like a rising snake, or a hula dancer. As her legs remained grounded, her ankles twisting together repeatedly, she revealed her lower body to Dean.
"Do you see now??" Clara smirked, her torso stretching to bring her hips across the room and into Dean's face. His nose scrunched; Clara's scent whiffed of a sexy musk.
"...You're showing me your vagina." Dean was initially unperturbed, but, reading Clara's expression, the realization was dawning on him. "Oh. You made yourself a-"
"I made a vagina, Dean." She beamed with pride, her head stretching across the room to purr in his ear. "Look, there's the labia. And there's the vulva. I didn't add pubic hair, because I know you like smooth-"
"Is this the clitoris?"
Clara squeaked as Dean pressed a finger against her swollen, quivering clit, sending an electric shock against her body, she immediately collapsed to the floor in a writhing pile of limbs.
"HEY! Ask before you go touching my finely tuned machinery!" Clara's body swivelled up upon a wobbly neck, her cheeks flushed and pouty; this got a smirk out of Dean.
"Got it all working down there then? Looks like it." Dean began to undress himself with practiced efficiency. "Are we taking a stab at it tonight?"
"Ooooooh, we're gonna take so many stabs at it tonight." Clara liquified, before reforming rapidly in front of him. She massaged her vulva with two fingers, stroking it like an obedient puppy. "I figured out a couple tricks... but I won't spoil the surpriiiiise~"
Clara wasted no time, scooping Dean up in her arms and tossing him like a doll over to the sofa; her hands never left his side, her arms merely arced across the room, tensing as they retracted and pulled her over to him. Her form jiggled as she landed on top of him, a hungry look in her eyes as she prepared to ride him.
Her whole body trembled in anticipation as she lowered herself, her legs growing floppier as they slipped underneath the sofa and over the backrest, looped around, and knotted behind her as she pressed closer. Her vaginal lips quivered, crawling forward to wrap possessively around his swollen cock, shifting as if to bring it deeper within herself.
"Go as deep as you can, hun... I can take it~" Clara growled.
Dean wasted no time, gripping for Clara's shoulders as he pulled her in closer. His analytical mind noticed that Clara's body seemed more solid than usual. Usually it wasn't long until she was rendered into a sopping-wet, unrecognizable mass on the floor, but today she wasn't quite as spineless. Among the other bones her body had...
Dean, being ever the professional, decided not to say these thoughts aloud and kill the mood; he was content to rail the shit out of her. Clara was ravished, yet her red flushed body yearned for more, to be groped and squeezed and manhandled all over. Her vagina seemed to have a mind of its own, her lips moving independent of her hips to stroke his cock, jacking him off while exciting herself as well.
She pressed her hand to his chest, her fingers stretching to noodly lengths as they grew wildly, twisting around his body, tensing in rhythm as she squeezed repeatedly. They curled around his nipples, looped around his biceps and muscles, tickling and exciting him as she bend over to nip at his neck, her body tensing for the anticipation of the release...
"NNNNGH! Haaaagh...!~"
Clara swooned, her eyelids fluttering as Dean came squarely inside of her. The folds of her vagina, practically vacuum-sealed around his nine-inch cock, still kissed him all over, pumping him for all he was worth.
"Ready for another round??" Clara licked her lips, feeling every bit of Dean's essence trickling deeper inside of her.
"Just for fun then." Dean muttered. "That should be more than enough. You're ovulating, aren't you?"
"Something like that. Let me just... mmmmm... mwah..." Clara's body shuddered, a cold sweat gripping her body as her lower body twisted and wrenched. Her tongue lolled a good foot from her mouth, her cheeks flushing as her labia folds relaxed, then tightened once more.
Dean eyed her with a flash of concern. "What was that about?"
"I ovulated again...~" Clara's smile curled into an excited grin. I made an egg, and accelerated it to maturity, and released it from my ovary, into my-"
"A-another one?" Dean blinked. As he observed her, Clara let out a sharp gasp, her body shaking as she tensed up, and relaxed.
"And there's another... and another... oooooh, three moooooore~" Clara was getting off on her own body's enhanced reproductivity, before her eyes turned to Dean.
"I want lots of kids, Dean. That's why I learned about the human body; to make it better, to become the perfect wife for you, my beloved~" Clara purred as her seemingly prehensile vagina went back to work, stroking and kissing and jerking him off. Dean smirked, getting erect once again, finding his second wind.
"Are you gonna carry the kids all at once?" Dean grunted, thrusting into her.
"I'll make room~" Clara swooned, her body rocking. "I want to see how beautiful my body becomes... carrying half a dozen children at once~"
Dean was sure that Clara was crazy enough to try it; her elasticine body had practically no limits. Even with the sex-charged pheromones filling the room, Dean was weighing the risks of it all. He, again, reminded himself not to get distracted about the unbuilt nursery, and back to the pressing matter of banging the fuck out of his voluptuous, horny wife.
As Clara's body continued to ovulate and shudder, she cackled with glee as she held Dean close, with no intent to release him until she was satisfied. Until he was wrung dry of his seed, until she was plump with fertilized eggs, and until all strength had abandoned the both of them. And considering their backgrounds, they were both strong, determined, and very stubborn.
It was the middle of the night when fatigue had finally grabbed the both of them and when Clara, fecund with life, released a fucked-unconscious Dean, and oozed to the floor in a heaping pile of herself. She stroked herself with a deformed, tentacle-like hand, her gently protruding belly that, even now, expanded with life. A gentle smile crossed her lips, a dreamy thought occupying her head as she dozed off, head resting on the sofa cushions as she drifted to sleep.
She was going to be a mommy.
