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Morphtalk by the Blog Dog

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Commissioned by Seinfeld 1999

Blogisode 4 Continued:

Mmm, oh yeah, that's much better. Of course, now my butt is really sore, and leaking cum all over the place. But it's a good sort of sore. Chuck's not that long as humans go, but he's sooo thick, and he knows just how to use that juicy cockmeat of his to make me squeal like a puppy. Right now, he's in the next room calling four or five of his human guyfriends to see if they'd like a slice of hot dobie pie for their Saturday brunch.

I'm going to have to get my collar and leash.

Still, I've got some time before the other guys show up, and Chuck's pretty sated for the time being, and he's gonna be busy anyway, cleaning up the place, getting it presentable for a human-on-slutty dobiemorph gangbang. Time enough to finish up what I was saying about some of the miracle of morph pheromones, and more especially how they work on humans.

My researcher friend was probably the very first professional scientist to actually notice this phenomenon, at least in an official capacity - the phenomenon of how morph pheromones so aggressively reshape the minds of everyone they come in contact with. They don't seem to work on creatures that are too distantly related, like normal animals, but they work on humans. Let me repeat that: morph pheromones work on humans.

What I've just said is almost over the top to a biologist. You see, humans just don't have all those neuroreceptors like other animals. It's like the species are dead to whole realms of information that other species use so commonly and so frequently, they take them for granted. There's some basic research saying that humans have pheromones, and they do...something, but nothing even vaguely approaching the power and potency of pheromones in other animals.

But morph pheromones work on humans. Not only do they work, they work powerfully well, especially the pheromones involved with mating, and the longer a human spends around a morph, the more effective they are on future exposures, as the human's brain chemistry and even physiology adjusts to become more receptive. My researcher friend ended up on the cusp of some of the most serious research into morph pheromones and their effects on humans, thanks to her involvement with pheromone studies between morphs. How she was the one to find out firsthand just how extensive the effect of morph pheromones are on humans, well...let's just say that she's got some serious and very personal experience. By that, I mean she's about seven months expecting as I write this blogisode.

It all started, as most of these serendipitous scientific accidents usually do, quite innocently enough. Well, as innocently as a study involving large amounts of hardcore sex can be, that is. My researcher friend was on the late shift, after her three test subjects got off work and finished their classes at the local university, and could be available to take part in the study. Being on that shift, however, meant that she regularly worked alone. Normally, this wasn't really a problem, since all she had to do was record data. She didn't even have to look into the room where the three morphs were having their fun...unless she wanted to, of course.

At first, she'd scrupulously avoided peeking, even a little bit. Every evening for a whole week, the skunk and the fox would show up, sometimes with their wolverine girlfriend in tow, and my friend would spend the bare minimum interaction necessary to get them settled into the chamber, and then would promptly retreat to the observation room, where she would begin making and taking notes.

Naturally, foxes being what they are (they've got quite a reputation, even among we morphs, believe me), it was the fox who seemed to make it a personal project to break the ice with my friend. At first it was just a word here, a short conversation there, but after a while she was actually willing to share a drink with the three of them afterward - coffee for her, milk for them. My friend had recently been through a bad breakup before the entire research project began, so it made good sense that she was hesitant and uncomfortable around such a heavily-sexed trio, besides the fact that the ones having all the sex weren't even human, but that fox knew just what to say and how to say it.

After the fox broke the ice, it was only a matter of time before my friend started to get to know the shyer members of the trio. As long as the wolverine girl was around, my friend actually felt safe from the dangers inherent to being on the rebound, since there was, of course, another woman there, someone who could keep the attention of the two attractive males she was spending time around off of her. And she did find them attractive, in that way humans always seem to be attracted to creatures that aren't human, but in whom they can recognize a connection all the same. Since one of the earliest pieces of sculpture ever found is of a humanoid lion, I suppose it only makes sense that humans would have an inherent weakness for morphs.

The wolverine was a really nice girl, completely unlike what my friend thought wolverines were supposed to be like. Physically, of course, she was exactly what a wolverine is supposed to be like: a broad-shouldered powerhouse of solid muscle. Despite being so powerfully-built, and having breasts that were a bit small (probably due to how much muscle mass she had), the wolvie was quite feminine in appearance. My friend described her as being built like some of the women weightlifters she'd seen on television at the Olympics, all sweet and cute, right before they grunt-lift a five-hundred pound barbell.

Of course, the fox was the one who demanded the most attention: foxes always do. They've got a well-deserved reputation for being showoffs, smart to a fault, charming in every way, and almost impossible to resist when they decide they want to get you into bed. This one was slender and moved with all the grace expected of his kind. More, actually, since he was ex-military, and knew exactly how to carry himself at all times, with that special sort of confidence that comes from knowing you can handle yourself when the tough times come.

It was the skunk, though, that really caught my friend off guard, and left her completely open to her eventual - perhaps inevitable - seduction. He was a taller male, tall enough that most women, and a fair number of men, would have to tilt their heads up to look him in the eyes. Despite being tall and modestly muscular - certainly enough to be very easy on the eyes - the skunkie had a sweet shyness about him, the sort of little-boy-lost manner that makes it hard for a girl not to want to just grab and cuddle him. It didn't hurt that he was as soft-furred and fluffy as any skunk, making it just so easy to lose yourself in a hug. Mephimorphs don't smell bad, not like real skunks. Actually, they tend to smell pretty nice, since I've yet to meet one that didn't take personal grooming seriously, since they know all about the stinky stereotype, and work actively to counter it. Being the curious sort, my friend just had to get nice and close to this skunkboy to find out for sure if skunkmorphs really did stink, and when she found that he didn't, she found herself getting steadily closer to him, emotionally as well as physically, over the course of the six-week study. Unlike the dangerously seductive foxboy, the skunk was sweet as well as charming, disarmingly honest and open about his feelings, and gave off this strong sense that he'd never hurt anybody, ever, for any reason. Like the fox and the wolverine, he was ex-military, which is where they'd all met, actually, but he'd been assigned to his squad as a medic, so he'd been able to avoid having to do any shooting.

After the second week, my researcher friend found herself sometimes spending her days off with her three subjects, just hanging out, sometimes playing sports, or going out to movies or other events. Raised in vats as they were - all three morphs were first gen - her three subjects-cum-friends felt almost perpetually culture-starved, and since they'd reached a financially safe point, they regularly took it upon themselves to go to museums, plays, art galleries, movies...just about anything where they could soak in all the things they'd never experienced, the stuff that a human takes for granted growing up.

After the third week, my friend was watching when her three new friends were having sex in the chamber. They knew it, too, and they made sure to put on a show for her every time. Well, the fox did, at least at first, but after a short while, the wolvie and the skunk started to really get into it as well. Despite herself, my friend found herself actually monitoring her friends less and less, and instead spending most of her time just watching them. Watching, and masturbating.

It all got to be a habit for her: going to work, watching her friends undress right there in front of her (they'd started that pretty quickly) while they exchanged a few pleasantries, before she'd hurry into her observation room with all the eagerness of a blushing bride on her honeymoon. And then she'd watch them have sex.

Up until that point in her life, my friend admits that she'd never thought much about male-on-male sex. Actually, she'd thought it was pretty gross. But watching that gorgeous skunkboy on all-fours, watching his beautiful face as the fox entered him from behind, giving him a good, hard, almost savage plowing was enough to change her mind on the subject. It was even hotter for her when it was the skunk doing the plowing, his face taking on this almost beatific look as he just savored the moment, taking his time, not rushing or anything, not like the overeager fox.

The wolvie was in the middle most of the time, and not just in sex positions, but in personality as well. She wasn't some repressed sexual timebomb, waiting to go off, but at the same time she wasn't a passive lover by any means. Actually, she was the one who pushed the threesome to try out new positions, new acts, more often than not, even more than the fox, who was supposed to be the adventurous one. My friend could tell just how much the two morphboys respected her by how they made love to her, changing their efforts to suit what she needed most that day.

Early in the fourth week, my friend made her big mistake, the one that led to her discovery of morph pheromone effects on humans. The mistake wasn't entirely her fault, though. She was playing with herself, and had even brought one of the toys normally reserved for use in the chamber to help herself out, and was pretty deep into it, since the threesome in the chamber were about as deep. At least, that was what was going on until, quite suddenly, the fox stood up and went to the door of the chamber. It wasn't locked or anything, so he just walked right out, and before too long, my friend heard the door to the observation room open. She only just turned in time to see the fox standing there, wearing nothing but a smile and a very slick, wet erection.

Next thing my friend knew, she was being bent over her equipment bench, her skirt hiked up to her waist, her panties...well, she'd lost them somewhere along the line already, so they didn't matter. And that fox...he was pounding her, good and hard and fast, like there was no tomorrow, and he just didn't care! She couldn't tell me much about that first time with a morph, because it was too intense for her; so intense, in fact, that most of it was lost in a haze of raw, overpowering pleasure. She'd never cum so hard in her life, said my friend. Well, until what happened next.

Leaving a hefty load of foxcum in my friend's cunny, the fox didn't stop the debauchery there. Instead, he helped my cum-dazed friend out of her clothes, then hoisted her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her with him into the viewing chamber, sealing the door behind them. By that point, the skunk and the wolvie had been watching through the window my friend had been using to watch them for so long, and they were hot and ready for her the moment the fox set her down on the soft cushions in the middle of the room.

The moment her back touched the cushions, my friend said all three of those morphs were all over her. First they kissed her, and she said it was strange, but also intensely arousing, even when she kissed the wolvie - that was the first girl she'd kissed, besides her mother of course, and she doesn't regret it one bit even now. All three of them were all over her, their hands and soft fur stroking against her smooth skin, setting her nerves on fire. Then they began to lick and to suck on each little nibble of tasty humanflesh, and my friend couldn't find the willpower to resist, no matter how unprofessional she knew she was being: she was contaminating the experiment! But it didn't matter, and she didn't care, not when she was watching the beautiful brown eyes of her skunkfriend as he watched her, his cute blunt muzzle buried in the middle of her juicy muff, his tongue delving into her innermost depths until she couldn't hold back the screams.

Everything else that happened to my friend, according to her, was a blur. She remembers a few scenes, though, some of them that just stuck out to her through the haze of multiple orgasms. One where she was on her knees, her hip touching that of the wolviegirl, both of them bobbing their heads on a juicy morphcock. The boys traded places a few times, that much she remembers, because she kept recalling the difference in taste between the fox's smooth pink penis, and the skunk's veiny black one, to say nothing of the difference in thickness.

Difference indeed! She got a firsthand introduction to how much thickness can matter when she was double-teamed by both morphboys, the skunk filling her cunny, while the fox, who'd already enjoyed that hole, deflowered her anus after the wolverine carefully oiled her up with some of the lubricant the researchers had provided.

That was just the start, though - morphboys are insatiable, and that's nothing compared to us femmes! My friend soon found herself on all-fours, head down, bottom up, as the skunk claimed her buns nice and slow and gentle. At the same time, she buried her own mouth in the muff of the wolviegirl, doing to her furry friend what the skunk had done to her just a short while ago.

Then taken from both ends, lying on her back, spitroasted by fox in her quim and skunk in her mouth, while the wolviegirl gnawed on her nipples until she was ready to scream again around her fat, juicy mouthful of hard skunkcock.

Somehow the wolviegirl twisted herself around when the boys came, squishing her cunny against my friend's, tribbing her, grinding hard and fast. My friend, of course, couldn't resist even if she'd wanted to - the cute wolverine girl was just too strong! Not that she'd have resisted by that point, of course: she'd cum so many times by then, she might as well have been drunk. Except being drunk didn't involve so many mind-blowing orgasms.

Hours later - and it was many, many hours, something my friend confirmed when she checked the data clocks while sorting through all the data that had been dumped into her station - my friend stumbled out of the viewing chamber, about as disheveled as she could be, and about as far from being able to care about it as was possible. The way she told it, she felt like she'd just had a marathon of sex, and if her three friends hadn't been there to hold her up, she'd never have been able to even walk the short distance to the laboratory's bathroom to clean herself up. She didn't do too much, even with the wolviegirl there to help her out; just enough to make it back home, with her friends in tow.

As I understand it, my friend's now in a committed relationship. At least as committed as morphs ever get, anyway. She tells me she's never felt so loved and appreciated, like there aren't any limits or lies to get in the way. Of course, she had a close call at her work, since interfering with an experiment in the way she did is generally considered unethical at best. However, that fox, fiend that he was, knew just how to put some spin on the story. He was the one who noticed the data collected, which included not just morph pheromones, but human ones as well. All it took was an astute observation like that, and suddenly whole new realms of potential research opened up, as did several grant proposals that are looking very lucrative indeed.

I guess you can see for yourself, then, that pheromones are one of the keys to morph relationships, with humans as well as other morphs. Don't go thinking it's the end-all and be-all of our relationships, though - pheromones can't make people love each other, and they can't create a satisfying relationship. The sex might be satisfying, especially if you're both good at it (as most morphs are thanks to our cultural emphasis on training our kids early), but if there's no emotional foundation, even someone with all the legendary sex powers of the Kama Sutra won't be good enough to hold those bonds.

Guess I'm going to end this blogisode here: I just heard the doorbell, and it sounds like Chuck's talking with some of our mutual friends. Hmm, and some of them sound female! This should prove to be a very interesting weekend indeed.