Storm and Stone

A woman becomes a gargoyle to join her lover. Explicit.

Sheets disperse into stippled splashes against the granite facade. The door to the stairs slams open, slammed by the wind which whirls around the rooftop. Her feet cut splashes into the water that pools on the roof. The rain swirls and soaks her from every angle.

A crack of lightning throws shadows against the bared fangs, wrinkled snout and hunched muscle of one of the stone gargoyles that sit on the outcroppings along the edge of the roof. It throws her off balance. She topples forward, arms spread wide, reaching and grasping and holding tight to the stone beast.

Stone eyes blink, stone sinew shifts. A head with glowing eyes turns to look at the woman grasping its neck, and astonishment writ in monstrous form stretches the gargoyle's jaw.

"Of course I came," the woman says, close so that the rain won't rip her words away.

The water streams down along the dark granite and gives the beast's dark granite hide an obsidian gloss. An avalanche rumbles in the gargoyle's breast.

The lips that meet the woman's are hard, thick, parted by fangs in a jutting underbite. They are entirely unfit for kissing, but she doesn't care. She parts her lips, allowing the stone tongue into her mouth, hands cradling the narrow muzzle. The gargoyle's excitement overflows and her kiss bubbles over into frantic lapping, like a twelve-foot dog.

A cry of pain splits the storm in two. Granite talons cup the woman's chin and lift her head. Above her thickening brow are two dark spurs, thick and stony, slowly curling.

"Don't worry!" she insists.

The stone muscle moves smoothly around her; the gargoyle descends from her perch to the rooftop. Her tail winds around the woman's waist. She feels the beast's cold stone chest rising and falling as she is bent over, kneeling, crouching, then on all fours. The water chills her fingers and her legs, but she bears the cold burning with a faintest whimper. The beast's front claws touch the ground in front of her hands, spread wider. The gargoyle hunches over her and lets the rain pelt her impassive hide.

Her fingers dig into the ground. They no longer feel the chilling water. Dark granite skin washes over them and they twist, they pull, they grow into talons. Her cry of pain snaps back into her throat as a thunderclap whips her ears.

The gargoyle's breath smells of wet stone and clay; deep, musty earth. It blows along the woman's neck as the beast tries her best to comfort her. She knows how painful this can be.

The woman's feet slip; the gargoyle's tail tightens its grip. The woman's heels heels are soaked, ruined by the water, so there's nothing lost when they tear. The feet that burst free make her front talons look like toothpicks. Vicious granite claws score grooves into the stone. Sinew stretches, pushing back from her gnarled toes, stretching her feet. Her heels leave the ground. Tears of pain mix with the rain that runs down her face.

"Do something," the woman begs.

The beast only knows one way to help soothe her pain. Her jagged claws rip into her clothes, granite against velvet. The woman trembles with a sudden chill. Goosebumps dot her body, everywhere but the stone skin which creeps steadily along her arms and legs.

The gargoyle's tail curls, looped over itself. The dripping wet stone slides against a patch of rough hair, across the woman's clit, slithering into her, firm and writhing and sleek.

Her talons splash into the water, pawing at the ground. Following the stone hide, her muscles bulge; they ache to stretch, filling out taut and coiled and immensely heavy.

The acrid smell of pain floods the woman's sinuses just as the tail enters her. The bones in her face become molten glass, scalding hot and moving and flowing as if fluid. The pain drives her thoughts inward. So many things matter so little now; they fall away, scorched to nothing by pain.

The tail inside of her brings her hips to move, regular and instinctive. Her nose crests, it leads forward, drawing with it her snout. Her nostrils flatten against her new muzzle, reptilian slits on a canine form. Her teeth ache to the bone. She peels back graying, thickening lips while her teeth become fangs. Her canines throb as she stretches her jaw. They grow and they curl and they become massive fangs jutting from her jaw.

Her thickened, growing frame leans back against the gargoyle's tail. Her stone maw snaps open and she gives a roar to challenge the rumble of thunder. Speech passes beyond her means, stripped from her mind in the crucible of pain.

Her hips rock more insistently; she can feel something there, pushing and pressing and bulging. Massive arms tense, thick shoulders bristle, and her talons crack the stone beneath them with a sudden slam. She is growing her own tail. Each new vertebra brings with it a jolt, a snap, a bristling pain. Muscle grows to thicken the tail and it twitches back and forth, still a stranger to her body.

Cold stone flesh and bulky muscle surge toward her torso from both ends, from head and arms and legs and the growing radius around where the gargoyle's tail plunges into her. Her eyes are reduced to a dim yellow light underneath the heavy brow that supports wickedly curled horns. Spittle flies from the tip of her pointed tongue as she roars.

The gargoyle can't hold the changing woman underneath her, but she doesn't need her protection any more. The last lightning strike was minutes ago and the rain and wind have grown more gentle. The stone beast tips over onto her side, still holding onto the woman, still moving her tail, lifting her eyes to the sky. In the cracks between the rainclouds, purpling sky shows through. Dawn is minutes away.

The woman squirms. She lashes out with her tail and strikes at the ground with her claws and thrashes her head. She grasps a shred of her former self, remembering in a sense who she is, but the rest of her identity is swept away in tides of feral instinct. Her breasts vanish beneath the barreling muscle which surges across her torso. Her flanks surge, her back tightens, and her sides ripple.

Only one thing left, but the rain is thinning out to nothing, and the sky grows lavender-tinted with rose-streaked undersides of shrinking clouds.

The gargoyle's tail brings about a movement in the woman's body, a grinding, shifting, burning-stone, painful sensation. The transforming woman's climax matches the ripping of the wings from her back. Bones jam into new-grown flesh, stretching until it feels as if it's going to tear. Granite muscles bulge and shift along the tops of her wings. They shudder, aching when spread and aching when closed.

Dim awareness sits in the changed woman's skull. Her body is hers to control, but filled with instincts that are both new to her and which she has had all her life. The gargoyle growls, inarticulate, but conveying distress. She mounts one of the crenelations, crouching and glancing back at the newly formed gargoyle.

The new beast lumbers, claws scraping awkwardly on the ground, toward the other. She mounts the overhang beside her partner, shuffling her talons, trying to accommodate hands and feet and tail and wings all neatly together.

The light of dawn climbs through the skyline. The drenched city slowly warms, the puddles and pools of rainwater dissipating. The two dark granite gargoyles sit on their perches, inert and still. Between them, their tails wind together in a tight coil.

2 July, 2015