Well...[i]shit[/i]. [@Genni]

Bronte's bosoms smacked into [s]Elderis face [/s]the bed sheets and her knees dug into places where things should [b]NEVER [/b]be dug into. Morphing an arm up and out of the crowded bed, Elderi pulled himself slowly down to the other end. 

Bronte's body squashed up against him, the occasional squeak as his metallic form rubbed against her organic one reminding him crazy this was, he could do nothing but be internally apologetic [s]as well as stopping a part of him from shape shifting that usually shifted shape when attractive women were against him[/s].

As he reached the end of the bed he morphed into a polite [u]little red-leather topped stool [/u]and popped two small eyes out to replace two of the brass pins holding the embroidery to the wooden support. He couldn't risk going outside again. He would have to sit tight and wait, so sitting at the end of the bed he listened to the moans and groans of Bronte and was almost about to turn her on her back to give her air - when he heard the flush of a toilet and retracted his arm swiftly.