Chapter 2: The Unveiling
Victor didn't hesitate. The thin leather cord came loose with a single tug, and his charcoal trousers slid down his thighs, pooling at his ankles. He stepped out of them, bare now, and I stopped breathing.
Twelve inches. I'd read about sizes like that in the forbidden texts, but the ink had never prepared me for the reality of it. His cock stood thick and heavy against his stomach, veined with the same faint arcane stitching that traced his torso. The head was a deep gray, flushed darker at the tip, and his balls hung low and full, each one the size of an apple. They swayed gently as he shifted his weight.
My thighs pressed together all on their own. A hot pulse went through me, low and insistent, and I felt the dampness starting between my legs. I'd been wet since the moment he materialized, if I was being honest with myself.
"You said to reveal myself," Victor said, his voice flat but not displeased. "Is this acceptable?"
"Acceptable." I laughed, a little breathless. "Victor, this is beyond acceptable. This is a miracle."
He tilted his head, dark eyes watching me with that quiet, curious stillness. The glowing traceries along his chest pulsed once, like a heartbeat.
I turned to my nightstand and pulled out the lingerie I'd hidden there three nights ago. Black lace, mostly straps, barely enough fabric to count as clothing. I'd bought it the day I found the summoning tome, a private little bet with myself that the ritual would work. That I'd have someone worth wearing it for.
The bra unhooked in the back without trouble. The panties were a triangle of lace held together by string. I slipped them on quickly, feeling his gaze on my bare skin, and when I turned back to him, something flickered in his eyes. A spark of attention, of appraisal. He might have been stoic, but he wasn't dead.
"Now," I said, dropping to my knees in front of him. My silver pigtails brushed against his thighs as I settled on the cold floor. "Now I get to study you properly."
The smell of him hit me first. Ozone and old parchment, like the library archives after a storm. But underneath that was something muskier, more primal. A scent that made my mouth water.
I wrapped my hand around the base of his shaft. My fingers didn't meet, not even close. The skin was smooth, almost leathery, with faint ridges where the stitches ran. It was warm. Alive. I could feel the pulse of energy beneath the surface, like a current waiting to be tapped.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to the head. A small, experimental kiss. The taste was salt and copper, with a sweetness underneath, like honey mixed with ozone. I swallowed, my heart hammering.
His cock twitched against my cheek. I looked up and saw him watching me, expression unreadable, but the veins along his shaft were pulsing harder now.
"Do you like that?" I asked, dragging my tongue along the underside.
"Insofar as I can like anything," he answered. "The sensation is registered. It is not unpleasant."
"Not unpleasant." I laughed softly. "Guy, I'm about to blow your mind."
I took him in my mouth.
Just the head at first, letting my lips stretch around the fat circumference. He tasted stronger here, muskier, and I moaned as I swirled my tongue around the ridge. My hands worked the base, stroking what I couldn't fit. His cock was so thick that my jaw ached almost immediately, a dull, delicious burn that spread up to my temples.
Victor's hand settled on the back of my head. Not guiding me, just resting there. A silent acknowledgment. I took him deeper, inch by inch, my throat protesting and then relenting.
His cock swelled in my mouth.
It happened without warning. No strain, no flex, just a sudden pulse of energy that ran up his shaft like a live wire, and suddenly there was more of him. Thicker. The head pushed past my lips, spreading them wider, and the ridge ground against the roof of my mouth. I made a choked sound, my hands still wrapped around the base, but the girth between my fingers was growing too, the leathery skin stretching taut.
I pulled back far enough to breathe. A string of spit connected my lower lip to his swelling tip. "Holy shit, Victor. You can get bigger?"
"The energy you channeled in the binding lingers in my flesh," he said. "It seems to respond to stimulation."
"Respond to stimulation." I laughed, breathless and wet. "You're telling me my mouth makes you grow?"
"Evidently."
The evidence was still stretching. What had been twelve thick inches was now climbing past thirteen, the head darker, the veins along his shaft pulsing harder. The apples between his legs hung heavier, drawn up tight and full.
I leaned back in. I wanted to see how far he'd go.
The second time, I took him deeper. My jaw ached from the start, that dull burn spreading up to my temples, and when the swelling came again, it was worse. The tip of his cock nudged the back of my throat, and I had to fight the gag reflex, my eyes watering as I willed myself to relax. His hand on the back of my head stayed still, but I could feel his fingers trembling, just slightly. A crack in that stoic mask.
I worked my lips up and down what I could take, my hand stroking the rest, feeling the incremental pulse each time he swelled. It was like that current in his veins was a heartbeat. Every pump made him thicker in my mouth, made my throat strain around him, made me moan around his length because the pressure was overwhelming and filthy and I wanted more.
I pulled off to breathe again, gasping, my chin slick with spit. "Does it keep going? The swelling?"
"Yes," he said. "I believe it will continue until the energy is spent."
"Until I make you come."
"That is one possibility."
I looked at what I was working with. He was bigger now, maybe fifteen inches total, and the head was so swollen it looked ready to split. The scent of him was stronger, muskier, that honey-and-ozone sweetness now edged with something sharp. My hand barely wrapped halfway around his girth.
"Okay," I said. "Okay, let's find out."
I took a breath, braced my hands on his thighs, and went down again. This time I pushed past the gag, taking him past the back of my tongue, into my throat. The swell pulsed as I swallowed, and he grew again, stretching me from the inside, and I felt the strain in my jaw like a clamp that wouldn't release.
"Victor," I managed, my voice ragged as I pulled back just enough to speak, my lips still brushing his slick tip. "Does it feel good when I do that? When you swell?"
"Yes." A pause. The glow along his chest pulsed brighter. "Your throat is very warm."
I smiled, sticky and wrecked. "Then let's see how big you get before you come down my throat."
I had a plan now. A stupid, ambitious plan. I was going to make him swell until he couldn't hold back.
I swallowed him deeper.
Past the back of my tongue, past the point where my body said no, and down into my throat where the warmth of him was overwhelming. His hands landed on my head, both of them now, and I felt the tremble in his fingers turn into something harder. A grip.
The swelling came as soon as I had him fully seated. That pulse of energy ran through his shaft like a wave, and suddenly my throat was fuller, stretched wide around a girth I had no business fitting. I gagged, my eyes watering, spit leaking from the corners of my lips, but I held. I breathed through my nose in shallow gulps and held.
"Graves." His voice was strained. A first. "You're going to injure yourself."
I pulled off just enough to answer, my lips slick and swollen, my jaw aching. "Don't care."
I went back down.
This time I took him so deep that the head of his cock pressed against the entrance of my stomach, and I felt the pulse of him against my insides. He swelled again, thicker, and the strain in my throat turned into a burning stretch that made me dizzy. I moaned around him, a filthy, desperate sound, and the vibration of it made his hips jerk.
"More," I choked out when I surfaced for air, hardly a second's worth. "Give me more."
He gave me more.
The energy surged through him, stronger this time, and I felt the arcane stitching along his shaft glow hot against my tongue. He grew. Fourteen inches. Fifteen. The head was so thick now that my fingers couldn't circle it, and my throat accommodated him by sheer refusal to give up. I worked him with my hand and my mouth, my other hand cupping his massive balls, feeling them draw up tight against his body.
He was close. I could feel it in the way his cock pulsed, in the way his thighs trembled under my palms, in the way his chest glow flickered like a strobe.
"I'm going to come," he said, flat and strained. "Down your throat, if you keep this up."
I looked up at him, tears streaking my makeup, jaw wide around the base of his shaft. I nodded as much as I could with my mouth full.
He came.
The first surge hit the back of my throat before I could brace. Hot, thick, impossibly copious. I swallowed, and more came, flooding my mouth and throat faster than I could keep up. I swallowed again. Again. His cock pulsed with each wave, and each wave was bigger than the last, filling me until my throat bulged with the passage of it, until my stomach started to cramp from the sheer volume.
I pulled off with a wet gasp, and even then his cock kept pulsing, spilling thick ropes of cum across my face, my tits, the lace of my bra. I opened my mouth and caught what I could, swallowing greedily, but there was too much. It pooled in my cleavage, dripped down my chin, coated my fingers.
Finally, he stopped. His chest heaved, the glow dimming to a soft pulse. I looked down at myself, wrecked and dripping, my belly subtly distended from everything I'd swallowed.
"That," I said, licking my lips, "was the best mistake I've ever made."
He looked at me, something warm flickering in those dark eyes. "You're not finished."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
He reached down and pulled me to my feet. His cock was still hard, still swollen, already thickening again. "The energy isn't spent," he said. "It wants to build again. Higher, this time."
I stared at him. Then I laughed, raw and filthy and eager. "Then let's build."