Chapter 6: Try out
Natasha’s trembling hand finally bridged the gap. Her fingertips, calloused from a lifetime of gripping weapons, traced the warm, living skin of Wanda’s cock with a reverence usually reserved for sacred things. A shiver ran through her, part awe, part visceral, gut-deep hunger.
“It’s real,” she breathed, her voice barely audible over the hum of the vents. “It’s fucking real.” Her fingers curled around the base, her palm unable to close all the way due to the staggering girth. She felt the pulse of it, a strong, steady throb that echoed Wanda’s heartbeat. A bead of clear fluid leaked from the slit, and without thought, Natasha swept her thumb through it, bringing it to her own lips. The taste was pure Wanda—salt, sweetness, and that faint, electric tang of chaos magic. A low moan escaped her throat.
Wanda watched her, chest heaving, her own desire a coiled spring. She saw the conflict in Natasha’s eyes, the way the raw lust was momentarily clouded by something darker, a shadow passing behind her gaze.
“It won’t break, darling,” Wanda murmured, her voice thick. “It’s me. All me.”
Natasha nodded, her grip tightening slightly. She leaned forward, her breath hot against the swollen head. “I know.” She paused, her forehead resting against Wanda’s thigh. “It’s just… seeing it. Feeling it.” Her voice cracked. “It’s so fucking beautiful, mommy. And it’s yours.”
Then the shadow returned, deeper this time. Natasha’s shoulders tensed. She didn’t pull away, but her touch became almost painfully gentle.
“I haven’t… touched one since the Red Room,” she said, the words leaving her lips flat and heavy, like stones dropping into still water. “Not a real one. Not in twenty years.”
Wanda went very still. Her hand came up to cradle Natasha’s head, fingers threading through the red hair. “Tell me.”
“I hated it.” The words were a raw scrape, pulled from a place Natasha kept locked and flooded with acid. “They were gross. Their sweat, their breath, the way their bodies felt—all wrong. I was secretly gay, and it made it worse. Everything about them was repellent to me.” Her eyes, fixed on Wanda’s cock, glazed with memory. “It felt so wrong. Having them in my mouth, in my ass, between my lips. It was a transaction. Only they felt anything. I was a tool. I despise the image of their pathetic flesh.”
She looked up then, her eyes clearing, focusing on Wanda with an intensity that burned. “I love your cock, mommy. Because it’s my Wanda’s cock.”
A profound understanding settled in Wanda’s chest, warm and fierce. This was it. This was the unspoken reason the magic had surged with such specific purpose, why the fantasy had taken root so deeply. It wasn’t just about pleasure. It was an act of reclamation. She wanted to take every violation, every stolen and sour memory, and burn it away. She wanted to give it all back to Natasha, purified and transformed into this.
“Good girl,” Wanda whispered, her thumb stroking Natasha’s cheekbone. “Now, tell me honestly.” She shifted her hips, making her heavy cock slap against her stomach. “Is my cock bigger?”
A wild, teary laugh burst from Natasha’s lips. “Are you kidding?” Her hand stroked the immense length, her touch turning possessive again. “Mommy, it’s bigger than any of those pathetic little things could ever dream of being. You’re a fucking goddess. Look at it.”
“Then stop talking and worship it,” Wanda commanded, her voice dropping into the low, dominant register that made Natasha’s core clench instantly.
Natasha needed no further permission. She leaned in, her tongue darting out to lap the gathered wetness from the broad head. The taste flooded her senses, and she moaned openly, wantonly. She swirled her tongue around the corona, then took the fat, plum-shaped head into her mouth.
It was a stretch. An immediate, delicious burn along her lips. She relaxed her jaw, letting her saliva mix with Wanda’s essence, and sank down, her nose pressing into the coarse, dark curls at the base. She could only manage about half the length, her eyes watering slightly. She looked up at Wanda, her gaze worshipping.
Wanda’s head was thrown back, a ragged gasp torn from her. “Fuck, Nat. Just like that.” She could feel the wet, hot suction, the skillful swirl of Natasha’s tongue along her sensitive underside. The sensation was utterly alien and profoundly hers. It was Natasha, her Natasha, taking her in completely. The power of it, the intimacy, was dizzying.
Natasha pulled off with a wet pop, gasping for air. A string of saliva connected her lips to the glistening shaft. “I want it everywhere, mommy,” she panted, her voice wrecked. “I want you to ruin me with it.”
Wanda’s eyes glowed faintly crimson. “On your back. Now.”
Natasha scrambled onto the black silk sheets, lying back with her legs spread, her cunt already glistening and swollen. Wanda moved between her legs, her magically wrought cock standing thick and proud. She leaned down, kissing Natasha deeply, tasting herself on her lover’s tongue.
“This is yours,” Wanda growled against her lips. “Only yours. I’m taking it all back for you.”
She positioned the blunt head at Natasha’s entrance, nudging gently. Natasha hissed, her back arching off the bed. “Yes, please, mommy, please.”
Wanda pushed forward.
The stretch was immense, brutal in its perfection. Natasha cried out, a sound of pure, shocking pleasure-pain as her body yielded, inch by impossible inch. Wanda watched, mesmerized, as her own flesh disappeared into Natasha’s tight, wet heat. She could feel every clenching ripple, every pulse of Natasha’s frantic heartbeat around her.
“Oh, god, Wanda… fuck…” Natasha babbled, her hands clawing at the sheets. “So big… you’re splitting me open…”
Wanda bottomed out, their bodies flush, the full, daunting length of her buried to the root inside Natasha. She stayed there, trembling with the effort of control, letting Natasha adjust. She could feel Natasha’s walls fluttering around her, a rapid, involuntary spasm of overwhelming sensation.
“Mine,” Wanda breathed, the word a possessive snarl. She began to move, a slow, deliberate drag out until just the head remained, then a deep, crushing thrust back in.
Natasha screamed. It was a raw, unfiltered sound of ecstasy, torn from a place long silenced. Each thrust was a re-writing of history. Every deep, penetrating drive was an erasure of a ghost. Wanda set a punishing, rhythmic pace, her hips slamming forward with a power that jolted Natasha up the bed. The room filled with the wet, obscene sounds of their joining, the slap of skin, and Natasha’s shattered, continuous moans.
“Is this better than theirs?” Wanda grunted, her own pleasure coiling tight, a strange, dual sensation centering in her cock and radiating from her core.
“So much better, mommy, so much fucking better!” Natasha sobbed, her legs hooking around Wanda’s back, heels digging in. “You’re everywhere… I can feel you in my throat…”
Wanda shifted her angle, and Natasha’s words dissolved into a guttural shriek. The new angle hit something profound, a deep, internal trigger that sent Natasha careening over the edge without warning. Her body seized, clamping down on Wanda like a vice, her cunt milking the thick shaft in pulsating waves. Her orgasm was violent, a full-body convulsion that left her choking on air.
Wanda didn’t stop. She drove into the clenching, fluttering heat, chasing her own peak. The sight of Natasha utterly undone, the feel of her coming apart on her cock—her cock—was too much. The tension snapped.
She slammed home one final time, burying herself to the hilt as her own climax ripped through her. It was a different kind of release, a torrent of sensation that seemed to originate from the cock itself, a hot, endless flood that pumped deep into Natasha’s core. Wanda’s cry was a raw, guttural sound of conquest and completion.
She collapsed forward, catching herself on her arms, still buried inside Natasha who whimpered at the fullness. They were both sweating, breathing in ragged, shattered gulps.
Slowly, tenderly, Wanda withdrew. As she did, the crimson glow returned, and the magnificent cock began to recede, shrinking, softening, reshaping back into the soft, familiar folds of her own body. The transformation was gentle, seamless.
When it was done, Wanda gathered the trembling Natasha into her arms, holding her close, peppering her damp forehead with kisses. The room was silent except for their slowing breaths.
Natasha nuzzled into Wanda’s neck. “You got your answer?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Wanda smiled into her hair. “I did. It’s the only one that matters.” She held her tighter, the ghost of the act still vibrating in the air between them, a promise reclaimed and a future rewritten.