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Merc's Metamorphs

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Chapter 5: Torpedo

Since it was just the three of them in the motel room they didn't bother getting dressed after their shower. Frank sat at the base of the bed with his back braced against the mattress while Juan sat between his legs, laying back against his chest; it was a good angle for Frank to brush his boyfriend's hair. Chance, in the meantime, was splayed out on the mattress, collapsed atop the comforter and massaging Frank's shoulders. There was something graciously enjoyable in being pampered while pampering at the same time and it was one of Frank's favorite past times.

What it didn't do, however, was fulfil Frank's curiosity and he knew for a fact that Juan wanted to know details as much as he, thus he didn't bother holding back. Alright, Chance-- we're all settled in for the night so now's the time for that story."

Chance, as usual, had a slight barb to his defensiveness. "You want me to start with a 'Once Upon a Time' or no?"

Juan was perfectly happy to help apply the peer pressure. "Come on, Chance-y... you said you'd spill the tea."

The white boy wasn't without resistance. "No... YOU said I owe you two a story."

Frank wasn't about to let him off easy. "And then we set the expectation: shower first, and then story. We showered, and now you have to tell us why you got all frisky with dolphin-guy without running it by us first."

Letting out a long sigh, Chance gave his introduction. "It was back at M3."

The Memphis Metamorph Meet or M3 as it was more well-known was one of the largest Metamorph conventions in the United States. Originally created as an industry convention to introduce new or up-and-coming Metamorphs to potential squad mates, recruiters or employers, it had long-since become more of a celebration of all things Metamorph, and it wasn't at all uncommon to see Altered make their debuts as well.

While well-established Metamorph squads were the exception rather than the rule, their presence wasn't entirely uncommon... presuming they had a reason to be there. Frank smirked, remembering the reason that THEY had gone. Still brushing Juan's hair, he looked down at his boyfriend. "I can't believe you actually thought we could look into securing some military contracts there."

Juan shrugged. "There are a lot of bases in the area."

He wasn't wrong, exactly; if Frank could remember correctly almost all arms of the military were present in Memphis. Then again, he reminded himself, their presence alone didn't mean that they'd be sending talent scouts. "Can't win em all, I guess... anyway, Chance-- you were saying?"

Chance not only continued the talk, but also the shoulder massage. "A few of the bigger groups were there that year, including some freelancers like Torpedo."

Most Metamorphs only managed to stay in the game if they dedicated themselves to a specific cadre. It was common for them to either create a group such as Merc's Metamorphs, or else align themselves with a specific employer; Torpedo was part of the second group. Frank was obviously not the only one thinking of Torpedo's usual employer as Juan quickly interjected. "We weren't just working for N.A.L.E., were we?"

Chance blew a breath out between his half-closed lips, creating a motor-boat sound. "Shyeah, right... when was the last time The Enterprise were worried about arms dealers? Don't they usually FINANCE em?"

The North American Legendary Enterprise, usually abbreviated to N.A.L.E. or shorted to just 'The Enterprise' was well known for dealing in stolen weaponry, but not usually the nuclear kind. Frank was quick to point out the difference. "Conventional and cyber mostly-- very rarely biological... they don't go near Nuclear."

Juan snickered. "Rumors are that Adam's-Atom doesn't like dealing with anything nuclear and if doesn't sign off on it then it's a no-go."

N.A.L.E.'s acting leader, Adam's-Atom was one of the younger Legendaries, having only been around since the time of the Manhattan Project. If the rumors had even an ounce of truth to them, he was a normal twenty-something during the original nuclear tests. Scientists had been worried that a nuclear explosion could set the hydrogen in the atmosphere and set the Earth on fire and, presuming there was some fact to it, Adam's-Atom spontaneously gained Legendary status when he absorbed the excess energy which would have caused it to happen. As good an origin story as any but, if OTHER rumors were to have been true, Adam was living in Toronto at the time and was nowhere near the blast.

Frank decided to bring the topic back to the main purpose of the reminiscing. "Okay... so... M3..."

Chance bore down more powerfully in the massage; Frank winced but he didn't mind since he liked it rough. His boyfriend continued, both with the massage and the story. "It was after the initial introduction and the keynote speaker was on stage."

Frank immediately found a problem with the time frame. "Wait-- once the initial introduction was over the press had come in and was starting to do their rounds taking pictures. The three of us were together for practically the whole convention at that point."

He didn't have to turn around to know that Chance was wearing one of his patented slick smiles. "Right... and PRACTICALLY the whole time is NOT the whole time."

Juan craned his head back to try and address Chance. "Okay then... when PRECISELY was it you went off for your cetacean rendezvous then?"

Chance let out a sigh. It was theatrical, Frank could tell, as was his follow-up fiery objection. "I'd tell you if you both would stop interrupting me, Jesus! Did you want me to tell the story or not?"

When neither Frank or Juan objected, Chance continued. "So... it was after the welcoming speech. Like Frank said, the journalists came in cuz after the intro they started to show off the newest Metamorphs. Once they all got up on stage, as usual, the committee decided to hold the--"

Frank interjected. "The metal ceremony! After introducing the fresh meat they handed out the awards. THAT was when you slipped away, wasn't it?"

It had to have been, he reasoned. The review committee provided metals of achievement to one of three tip Metamorph teams each year and, considering Merc's Metamorphs came in at number five the prior year there was no way they were going to win it. Frank remembered being particularly bored, and spent most of his time whispering lewd comments to Bruiser. The Orca, in return, made kissy-sucky sounds with his blowhole to Merc, thus the two passed the time and entertained themselves in a thoroughly immature manner. Demon, Frank realized, was not with them.

Frank didn't have to see Chance to realize that the white guy was nodding behind him. "Right. And, since Torpedo doesn't tend to stick to a specific group he wasn't in the running either so he didn't really have a reason to hang around either. Seeing as we were almost late to the hotel and didn't get a chance to fool around for the prior two days I was kinda hard up and his flirt game was REALLY strong."

Juan's voice was full of chiding humor and he didn't even bother looking over his shoulder as he leveled his question at Chance. "REALLY strong, huh? Or were you just really that horny, Chance-y?"

As usual, Chance didn't rise to the bait. "Some of column A. Some of column B."

Frank, rather than poking fun, kept the conversation going. "Okay... and what about his 'flirt game' was 'REALLY strong'?"

Chance fidgeted on the bed behind Frank and his fingers worked with extra strength. "Well... you know how everyone always goes off on how unoriginal Torpedo's suit is? you know... all 'tuxedo diver' black-and-gray?"

Frank had, in fact, heard exactly that. In the realm of Legendary Heroes and Metamorphs most chose to stand out by making bold statements with their uniforms. Merc was an exception, of course, considering all of his 'unmentionables' were hidden within his scales and fur except when he was turned on. Demon wore a skimpy set of skin-tight short-shorts that were black and red along with similarly colored fingerless gloves, further reinforcing a 'brimstone' motif while Bruiser wore a similar set of shorts and gloves, though his were black and blue (not very original considering the hero name, but it worked).

Merc's Metamorphs had pretty tame outfits when compared to the rest of the Hero community so Frank knew what Chance was getting at. "Sure. He's one of the guys who goes by his record and not his 'ropa'."

Using the Spanish word for 'clothes' was purposeful; a well-placed alteration just felt right. Chance, however, didn't even slow a beat. "Except it's not a frickin' uniform, Frank! The guy walks around just like Merc!"

That statement got a rise out of Juan. "He's a Delphinus delphis!"

Chance, as usual, wasn't much for latin. "Spanish is hard enough, Juan-Juan... how about we skip the taxi-nomic stuff."

Frank could FEEL Juan's sour face despite not seeing it. "It's 'taxonomic', Chance, not 'taxi-nomic'. One deals with classification of species while the other... I dunno... deals with the income and expenses of New York transit."

The white boy took a moment to get the pun. "The what with New York-- oh-- Taxi-nomics... yeah... that's a stretch."

The friendly bickering between his boyfriends never failed to bring a smile to Frank's face but, honestly, he wanted to hear more. "So he walks around naked and everyone thinks he's wearing a wet suit as a uniform?"

He could feel Chance's nodding through his hands. "Yeah! His junk's a lot like yours when you're a Metamorph! It's all internal! Imagine my surprise when I realized what I was feeling when he took my hand and stuck one of my fingers right in there!"

Frank smirked. "NOW we're getting to the juicy stuff."

Juan let out a long sigh. "Chance... why in the heck would you be so surprised? You've seen me as a Metamorph. We're both cetaceans. We have genital slits. It's a real thing, you know. Get over it."

Chance let out a noncommittal grunt from his place behind Frank. "Guess I didn't think about it, y'know? Always kinda thought of him as a shark... and yeah, he only had one cock anyway, so I guess it makes sense."

Juan snickered. "I commend you on realizing that sharks are the ones with two sexual organs... and, f.y.i., they're called 'claspers'. Dolphin: genital slit. Shark: two claspers. It's not really all that hard to remember."

Chance grumbled. "Well of course YOU'D know... you're a veterinary major AND a marine mammal. Maybe I should start throwing you shade over your lack of knowledge about AJAX."

Juan purposefully dodged the bait, and did so masterfully. "Ajax? Isn't he an Eagle Metamorph? Why? Did you have sex with him too?"

Frank had to fight back a snicker when the statement got Chance riled up. "What? NO! AJAX. It means Asynchronous Java Script and--"

Once again it was up to Frank to bring the discussion back on topic. "Torpedo, Chance. You were telling us about Torpedo."

Chance huffed. "Fine. Juan... you done interrupting then?"

Juan nodded his agreement followed by a terse "Sure."

Grumbling, Chance added one more off-topic comment. "All the online fan of art has him with two frickin' cocks... I was just surprised was all."

Frank gave him a light elbow. "Moving on..."

Finally, Chance did. "Anyway, we went off into one of the back rooms between some of the staging equipment and he got my shorts down... that guy is a champion cock sucker... not only that, though, but he made sure I used all three holes!"

Juan, as usual, continued to press the attitude. "Oh... his blowhole too, huh?"

Chance groaned. "It doesn't fucking work like that and you know it!"

Frank completely lost it and fell away from between the two of them, holding his abdomen against his convulsing laughter. The three of them had indeed learned what could and couldn't be done with a blowhole, much to Juan's chagrin, and he couldn't deny that it was beyond hilarious. Juan, also smiling, climbed up onto the bed and gave the red-faced Chance a gentle kiss, patting him on the forearm. "I know, papi... I'm just playing. Sorry... go ahead and go on. I'm listening. Really."

The three of them settled back on the bed once Chance had calmed down and Frank's laughter had subsided. Once Frank had snuggled up on one side of Chance and Juan the other, the story continued. "Anyway, he ended up having me push it into his cock-opening-thing--"

Juan interjected "Genital slit."

Chance continued, ignoring the interruption. "He ended up riding me until his dick got too hard and they both came out-- at that point he insisted that I stick it in up under his tail... but not before he ate me out."

Frank let out a soft whistle. "Wow... I didn't know Torpedo licked ass."

Chance was all grins. "Like a flippin' master."

Juan, of course, had to call things into question. "You think he has lots of experience with sex stuff?"

Although Frank knew Juan was leading somewhere with the question, he offered his own insight. "Well, seeing as he's been with at least half a dozen Metamorphs, I figure he probably does, yeah. But, I mean, it's not like that's a whole lot, and since when have any of us been into slut-shaming anyway?"

Juan, grinned wickedly. "You know what'd be funny?"

Apparently Chance picked up the sardonicism as quickly as Frank had, and he asked warily "What KIND of funny?"

The animal science student smirked wider. "I wonder if he's, like, a closeted fifty year old investment banker or something."

The comment got Juan a pillow-to-the-face courtesy of Chance.

Frank, yet again, was forced to get the discussion back on track. "So it sounds like he ran you through the wringer... you guys had-- what... three, maybe four minutes to do your thing and you're saying that he ate you out AND you stuck it in three different holes in that amount of time?"

It was Chance's turn to laugh. "Guy used me like a dildo... major dom bottom. At first all I had to do was stand there then, before long, I was on my back and he was doing all the work. REALLY had a thing for my knot too."

At that point Frank had some major doubts; he knew how long it could take for Chance's knot to deflate once he got tied with someone, but Juan spoke his own objections first. "You're kidding. How'd you two separate so quick if you knotted him?"

Chance wrapped am arm around both of them and pulled them both close as he lowered his voice. "Knot fucked himself. In and out, the entire thing. Without. Even. Slowing."

Frank saw Juan's jaw fall slack and he imagined the same expression on his own face. "You're kidding."

Shaking his head, Chance let out a sigh. "Don't think I've ever experienced anything like it-- guy musta practiced on horses or something." He paused, and then gave them both another squeeze. "Still nothing compared to you two... he was just a nice distraction on an otherwise boring day."

Chance fell silent after that and the three lay on the too-small bed together, snuggled up close. Eventually Frank realized it was up to him one more time to try and get the last of the story. "So.....?"

Both his boyfriends looked his way and Chance questioned back. "So... what?"

Frank smirked. "Which hole did he have you finish in? He get you off while you were knot fucking?"

Chance chuckled. "Almost. Right when I was about to explode he pulled off and finished me with his hand... all over his face."

Juan let out a faint whistle, almost reminiscent of one in his Orca form. "Really? I didn't figure Torpedo for a 'facial' kind of guy."

Frank had to agree; all the rumors and his own limited knowledge of Torpedo suggested that he was more of the kind of bottom who wanted it inside him. He pressed just a little more for clarification. "Pretty balsey thing to do at a convention... clean up isn't exactly quick or easy when YOU'RE involved."

Chance smirked with smug glee. "So he learned... a'course, that also means it got all over me too."

Juan pressed for more info. "Then how did YOU get all cleaned up then?"

It was Chance's widest smile yet. "His tongue. Guy's a freaking cum vacuum."

The three of them shared a laugh at that. While Frank realized he probably could have pushed for more info, it was getting late and they'd had a long day. Besides, he reminded himself, he could always get more details later. Making the most of their time before morning, he reached over and turned off the lamp, snuggling up against both his boyfriends and, with determination and intimacy, they managed to all fit on the bed, and even found sleep.

* * * * *

Frank usually set his cell to 'do not disturb' during the weekend but the hectic return from the job the prior night plus Chance's story time meant that he was awakened earlier than he'd wanted. Glancing at the phone, at least it was good news. Juan, who'd also been awakened by the notification murmured quietly. "What's up, babe?"

Whispering quietly back to Juan, Frank got right to the point. "Funds are already in the account. Not bad at all."

Chance, who, up to that point, had, in all ways, looked as though he were still dead to the world spoke without opening his eyes. "That's strange-- financial institution processing systems don't normally do transfers over the weekend, and definitely not on Sundays. What's up with that?"

Frank chuckled, resting his head on the white boy's shoulder. "You actually objecting to getting money faster than expected, huh?"

Juan grunted, rolling out of bed. He trotted in all his naked glory across the room to the bathroom. "Either of you have any classwork due tomorrow? Even if we have this place til noon, we should consider getting a move on."

Frank nodded, giving Chance a gentle pat on his abdomen. "Right. Good point. Come on, Chance... we got more to worry about than overachieving bank transfers."

Chance rolled his eyes but gave in and the three of them spent the next quarter hour gathering up their meager personal effects; when traveling as Metamorphs they had to learn how to travel light. As usual, Juan was the first to be ready and he waited by the door; Frank joined him next, followed by Chance, who'd taken a little longer because he couldn't find his second sock. Despite the fact that they'd be spending the next part of their day as Metamorphs it was still important to leave nothing behind; any stray clue could potentially ruin their anonymity so every last article of clothing was critical to locate.

Ultimately they had everything they needed and, with a quick stop by the office to check out, the three of them were on their way. As with their arrival, the three went to the south side of town and, once the immediate area and any location within sight was clear of observers, the three ducked under cover and Frank activated his glove. The change had been frightening the first few times, and difficult too, but after so much practice it went smoothly and painlessly-- Merc had to admit that he'd learned to love the sensation.

While Demon and Bruiser gathered up their discarded belongings and packed them away into the single knapsack Merc would wear, the Kangacobra focused on manifesting the powers he'd need for the trip. The entire thing was done with well-practiced efficiency, practically by rote and they were on their way in no time. "Home, here we come."

The trip back to the university was easier on Merc since he'd tracked the path he took the first time; for some reason he hadn't completely figured out it was less strenuous on his body to use his movement-based powers to go places he'd been before. It had become something of a ritual for him; when they were traveling somewhere he'd take a few seconds between each 'hop' to look around so he could have at least a passing familiarity with the route. Needless to say, doing away with a few thousand 'pause for a second' stops meant that they made excellent time returning home.

The journey, which had originally taken them over an hour and forty minutes took barely an hour coming back. Just as they had arrived within city limits, Bruiser interrupted the usually silent trip. "Hey-- go for the park, not the university."

Merc trusted his group and he didn't bother questioning the request. Adjusting his direction, the Kangacobra plotted his next to power jumps and, despite it being in broad daylight, had no reservations at all about making a sudden appearance amidst a group of pedestrians before disappearing from that spot and appearing amidst a copse of trees in the city's park. Sunday was usually quiet in the park during the morning since plenty of people were at church, having family time or both; that weekend was no exception.

Once they had arrived at the spot indicated by Bruiser, Merc released his two team members. The Orca wasted no time heading to a section of churned earth, at which point he gestured to Demon. The Pit bull trotted over and stuck his arm down through the earth. When it came back out, the Dog had a grip of a pair of backpacks. Bruiser smirked. "After that whole debacle last week I figured we're better off having a back up plan."

With everyone gathered up around the bags, Bruiser distributed the clothing; Juan had a knack for organization and Merc was not surprised in the least when rummaging around in the containers revealed three shirts, three pairs of shorts, three sets of socks and three jockstraps. That last one gave the Kangacobra a moment of pause. "So... uh... something you wanna share with the group, Bruiser?"

The Orca made a sour face. "I KNOW it's a fetish but, in this case, it's what I was able to pick up on short notice. I got a few packs-- large for you and me and an XL for the puppy. Not like we have to wear em for long."

Demon snorted. "It's somethin', I guess, but we just as easily coulda gone without underwear... it's just til we get home anyway."

It was Bruiser's turn to snort (a remarkable sound through a blowhole). "You may have no trouble going 'commando', but I don't like letting 'the boys' hang free."

The Pitbull grinned, all teeth showing. "Probably cuz you got used to not having em when you're in Metamorp-- OW!"

The Dog's chiding earned him a thrown dirt clod to the side of the muzzle. Bruiser objected. "I HAVE them... and you KNOW I do. For the fiftieth time, they're just INTERNAL, you furry dickhead."

Merc rolled his eyes. "Enough arguing, girls-- you're both pretty. Anyway, clothes are clothes, and these'll be fine."

Before Bruiser and Demon could start their playful bickering again, Merc called upon the power of his glove to return them to their Human forms. He did so slowly at first, making sure that his team mates could feel the effect. Whenever they changed in a public place, Merc always kept his ears perked to make sure they were alone and the extra few seconds for the slow transition backward was the unspoken signal that Demon should also be mindful. They completed their shifting without event and the following minutes were spent quickly getting dressed, including jockstraps.

When it came time to put on their shoes, however, Chance paused. "Hey... I wondered what happened to these!"

Out of all of the idiosyncrasies of his childhood friend, one of the ones that always caught Frank as odd was Chance's tendency to NOT throw out his old shoes. Having only recently acquired a new pair, Chance had kept his prior footwear next to his trash can; apparently Juan had found them and repurposed them, giving them a new life. He, in fact, said as much. "They weren't doing any good sitting there in your room. I figured if they were sitting around, at least they could be put somewhere that they'll see some use."

Frank expected the 'told you so' from Chance, but that didn't lessen the blow. Glancing toward Frank, Chance grinned. "See? Now aren't you glad I didn't toss em?"

In response, Frank only shrugged, tying off his own shoe laces. "Or just keep several pair handy like I do? Juan, by the way, these are my nice set of sneakers... I use em for the gym and when I take a physical education elective... maybe go for the black ones with yellow accents in the future?"

Juan didn't hide his displeasure at his two boyfriends' pickiness. "Next time you can both pack your own damn bags... god-- I try to be helpful and you two just pick it all apart. Can I at least get a THANK YOU before you start whining?"

He had a point and Frank, exchanging glances with Chance, had been properly told-off. Approaching his boyfriend, Frank gave Juan a hug. "I get it. You're right, sorry. You went above and beyond, Juan, and I appreciate it. Thanks for thinking ahead, babe."

Chance was a little verbose, but just as apologetic. "Yeah-- I can be a jerk I guess. Thanks, Juan."

Quick to forgive, Juan was satisfied with the acknowledgement. Grabbing the bags, he quickly stuffed their meager uniforms into one and then put the half-filled backpack into the empty one, meaning that there was only one that needed to be carried. Hefting that up onto his back, Juan quickly slid his arm into each strap. "We should be back in time for lunch."

Frank was thinking the same thing, and had already started heading out of the park. He was far enough away from his boyfriends that he didn't quite hear Chance's comment, but he knew it had to do with how Juan was wearing the backpack. The retort was straight, and to the point. "I don't care what's 'cool' or not-- Wearing a backpack on just one shoulder can create lasting back problems."

Frank smiled to himself, chuckling; life was good. He maintained that positive outlook all the way back to the university. From there, the three of them returned to their residential building, and then took the stairs up to their floor. Down the hall and through the door, the three were finally able to relax and enjoy the last of their weekend. Work weekends always went fast in Frank's mind and, no matter how profitable they were, he always ended them just as tired as he was when they began.

That evening, as the three settled in for the night, they each separated to separate rooms so they could focus on catching up on any unfinished paperwork they'd have due in the morning. Just as Frank was finishing a report for his poly-sci class he was surprised by the sudden text notification from his cell. Having long-since grown accustomed to getting interrupted by his 'work phone' at all hours, he was surprised that it was his personal cell that was going off-- usually the only texts he got were from Chance, Juan, or his parents. Both his boyfriends were in the dorm with himm so, unless they were being cute there'd be no reason for a text. Was his mom or dad trying to reach him?

Picking it up, he saw that the text came from a number that wasn't in his contacts. A spam text, perhaps? Normally Frank would have just ignored it but, for a reason he couldn't explain, on that night, he decided to check it and, when he did, he froze. Frank took great care to keep his personal life separate from the one he led as a Metamorph... so why was Merc receiving a job offer on Frank's phone!?!