It called to you. A Siren song of warmth and pleasure. Her exposed bottom bent over the wooden cabinets that held her precious sake, her puckered mouth called your name between those snow white hills. Life had dragged you out of your mother’s womb but, where others were resigned to wallow in cold misery, you knew you belonged inside. Inside that beautifully warm woman. You needed to become Lamy.

        Quiet as a rat, you crept along the tatami mats of her apartment. Your goal lay above a rift under her legs. Fabric flowed off you, a bottle of industrial lube found your hands. A deep breath. Your hands shoot out into the warm embrace of a shrieking girl, but it’s too late. Your fingers slip in, then your arms spread her further, followed by your head and torso. The pressure is overwhelming in that dark boiling place but the ecstasy flashing in your mind gives you enough power to finish her off. Lamy stands up, her hands clawing at your legs; unfortunately for her this is exactly what you needed. With one last burst of strength a powerful kick fills Lamy’s body to the brim.

        She’s gone. You rule this body now. Her senses invade your own: better hearing, sharper eyesight, fatter tits. Her clothes fly off to let you inspect your prize, it's perfect. The tactile exploration of her body is interrupted by a pulse of emotion. You don’t know where it came from but it seems this body’s previous owner remains. The pulses get stronger the more you touch yourself, they scream at you but are helpless to do anything. You rub, pinch, and squeeze; flashes of pleasure followed by disgust ripple through you. The emotional echoes only increase your pleasure and soon enough an orgasm rips through you. You slam into the ground. Moans and gasps leave you shuddering. Your own pleasure mixes with Lamy’s reluctant ecstasy gushing into mind numbing joy.

        Sorry Lamy. There’s so much left to do. Just enjoy.