**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a one shot story of an existing character of mine, Elastic Elsie, a college student who gets granted fantastic elastic abilities after being struck by a meteorite. There is a larger story that I intend to host online someday once it goes through some serious rewrites, but until now, enjoy this tidbit of Elsie and Evan's newly powered sex life.**
______________________
"Elsie, what the HELL are you doing?" Evan whispered, throwing vocal daggers at his girlfriend, who just stared at him, giggling, her cheeks burning as blush as her short ginger hair.
"Whatever do you mean, my dear?" she asked faux-innocently, before another giggle fit burst out of her, closing her eyes as the laughter shook her whole body, save for her right arm, which was disappearing suspiciously under the tablecloth.
Evan glared. The hand rubbing his shoe would usually be welcome, it would excite him even. But here? Tonight? They were at a Michelin star restaurant, completely booked with couples young and old, and one brashly loud table of young finance professionals who were seriously out of place. And in the midst of this fray, his beautiful, lovely, drunk girlfriend was playing rubberband under the table. Evan knew that under that tablecloth, there was a pale tube of flesh in the form of her arm, stretching six impossible feet long, from her shoulder down to his ankle.
A month ago, such an image would have seemed cartoonish at best. But since the meteorite incident that changed Elsie's life and body forever, Evan had learned to gleefully and readily roll with her newly rubberized form. Normally he'd welcome an advance so creative and unexpected, marveling at his girlfriend's freshly manifested superpower, surrendering himself to her body's every whim as she speedran through the bizarre (but no less enthralling) elastic lovemaking possibilities now open to them.
Tonight, though, they were at Amor Republique. There were a hundred potential witnesses.
"How much," he stated more calmly, his words measured and steely, "have you had to drink tonight?"
Her free hand came to her chin, and she adopted an over the top "thinking" expression.
"Hmmmm...." She mused, tapping her chin. "Let's count. One, two, three, four..."
As she counted, Evan felt the hand begin "walking" on its fingers up his shoe, as her arm continued its curving stretch.
He lowered his head and spoke softly. "Elsie..."
"Oh, aren't you keeping *count*?" She flourished, as her arm suddenly darted, and her fingers wrapped around his ankle. Evan jumped with surprise, his hand smacking up against the bottom of the table and causing all the glasses and silverware to clink. Heads turned.
His face quickly shifted to a nervous smile, and he laughed. He didn't know why that was his reflexive solution, but it seemed to placate the wandering eyes, and the natural self-absorbed order of the restaurant resumed. His smile faded as he looked back to Elsie.
"Seriously. Whatever this is, you can't do it here." Even as he said it, he felt her hand slide further up his ankle, her fingers beginning to disappear up into the leg of his chinos. His eyes widened. "Hey. No, no, nonono-"
"Hey! Yes!" She whispered aggressively back, her eyes casually darting from side to side. "It's my birthday! I'm having fun, and nobody can see, okay?" There was only a trace of a slur in her words, but it was enough for them to both know where she stood mentally. She brought her glass of wine back to her lips as she stared him down.
The freckled hand completely disappeared into the pants leg, traveling upwards.
Evan squirmed in his seat. "Elsie. This is a bad idea." he said, less convincingly than before. She shook her head softly as she placed the wine glass down, her hand halfway up his increasingly slim pant leg.
"You said we could do whatever I wanted today. I want to do this." She was smiling again.
"Yeah, I meant, go wherever you want to go, not str-" he began, before glancing around and lowering his voice. "...not stretching around underneath the table like some hormonal teen superhero!" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Listen. We can do this at home. You know that. We can do whatever you want. We can even do the, y'know... the 'Cat's Cradle' thing you thought of.
The words bounced off of her like any firmly thrown projectile might bounce off her springy skin. She could plainly see his resistance fading. It always did. She licked her lips, and gripped his calf.
"We're doing this." The words spilled out of her mouth slowly, lazily, hungrily. "Now."
Evan knew she was winning.
This is not a good idea. This is not a good idea.
He kept mentally repeating the phrase to himself as he felt the increasingly good idea creep up to the base of his kneecap.
She placed her free elbow on the table, and sat her chin into her palm. "I need you to straighten your leg out now, dear. Your pant leg is too tight on your knee for me to proceed."
Evan sat like a stone. He knew this was his last chance to resist. Neither one of them would be able to stop this train once he gave any sort of affirmative response. He pursed his lips as he pondered his next move. Stay strong, he thought. Just stay strong.
She squinted her eyes menacingly. "I will use this other hand if I have to."
He sat silently. His face burned crimson.
Then, he closed his eyes, and sighed.
He slowly extended his leg, straightening it out from its right angle bend and pushing it across the floor to its full extension, feeling her long arm bending bonelessly, and moving along with it.
She nodded, and the hand traveled more quickly. Evan was straining in his pants now. Her warm skin slithering up his leg and over his thigh had him twitching in his chair already. He brought one hand under the table to adjust himself, but Elsie suddenly gripped his thigh.
"Hey. I'll get it. Hands where I can see them." She purred. He slowly brought his hand back to the table.
He was under her thumb and he knew it.
So did she. Her smile was wicked and gentle all at once. She loosened her grip, and stretched her arm the remaining inches up his leg. She brushed something stiff, and Evan seemed to jolt. At least this time he didn't knock the table, she thought.
She wrapped her fingers around his cock, a little sweaty from the cotton boxers he'd dressed in, and gave it a firm squeeze, as if to signal her command of the area. She felt Evan's leg squirming, tugging her pants-ed arm along for the ride.
"No sudden movements now." she said, as she suddenly released his cock, and flipped her hand over inside his pants
The next part happened in a flash for Evan, and he somehow managed to keep from visibly shaking when her hand suddenly stretched and popped out of his waistband, his eyes bugging out as he saw the porcelain extremity wiggling in the air in his lap. He quickly scooted his chair further into the table, so that his chest was pressing against the wood.
"Jesus, Els-" he started, but she glared at him without any pause, a glare that screamed to shut the hell up. Probably best to keep quiet, he thought. And pray. He'd never prayed before, now seemed an okay time to start. If anybody saw any part of this, they'd be caught. Boned. Outed. Probably kicked out of the restaurant as well.
Beneath the table, Elsie's tentacle-like fingers went to work unbuckling her rock-hard man's belt and undoing his zipper. She was pinpoint precise as she spread her fingers to pry his fly open, and dove blindly into the gap in the front of his boxer briefs, summoning his cock through the front hole like a hunter grabbing a fish from the stream with his bare hands.
Evan's cock was now completely out in the nicest restaurant he'd ever stepped foot in.
His member now exposed to the comparatively cool air, he expected her to start going to town on him with her hand. But, to his surprise, her arm began slinking back down his pant leg. His eyes bugged out of his head as the hand completely removed itself from his vicinity, and Elsie promptly brought it up above the table holding a napkin from her lap, dabbing her mouth daintily.
"....you're fucking with me. What the hell are you doing." Evan whispered, all the frustration from earlier resurfacing. Elsie didn't answer, she just smiled as she placed her napkin on her plate of finished food. Suddenly she brought both arms to her side, and planted her palms on the base of the chair, before lifting her upper body off the seat. Her face subtly twisted into a look of concentration.
Evan stared in confusion, before he felt the soft patter of footsteps on the hardwood near his feet, and saw the lower part of Elsie's torso begin to pull against her end of the table, disappearing beneath the tablecloth. Just as he registered what she was doing, he felt both of her legs wrap around both of his, along with the front legs of the chair they rested against, essentially pinning his calves to the chair.
