Chapter 22: Pill Exchange
The break room’s single fluorescent bulb buzzed like an angry insect, its light a pale, sickly wash over the cracked linoleum. Eleanor sat on a rigid plastic chair, her knees pressed together, feeling the slow, maddening seep of wetness into the gusset of her underwear. It was a constant condition now, a humid awareness that followed her everywhere. Her new breasts strained against the silk of her blouse, the nipples painfully erect, scraping with every slight movement.
Carol leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her modest chest. Her red hair was a fiery cascade against the drab beige of the walls. She’d been quiet for a full minute, just watching Eleanor fidget.
“You’re different,” Carol said finally, her voice cutting through the hum. “Not just the….” She gestured vaguely at Eleanor’s breasts. “It’s something else. You’re vibrating. And you keep… adjusting yourself.”
Eleanor felt a hot flush creep up her neck. “It’s nothing. Just… warm in here.”
“I’ll say.” Carol crouched down in front of her, placing them at eye level. The scent of coffee grounds and vanilla body wash clung to her. Her gaze was unsettlingly direct. “You’re soaked, aren’t you? Right now.”
“Carol, don’t.”
“Let me see.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a calm, curious command. Eleanor’s breath hitched. The shame was there, a cold stone in her gut, but it was drowned out by the louder, pulsing need for acknowledgment, for someone to see this thing that had consumed her. Slowly, her movements stiff, Eleanor leaned back in the chair and spread her knees. The fabric of her skirt tightened across her thighs.
Carol’s eyes dropped. The pale gray cotton of Eleanor’s underwear was darkened in the center, a spreading patch of damp that gleamed under the fluorescent light. A slow, knowing smile touched Carol’s lips. “Jesus, El. You’re leaking.”
Before Eleanor could respond, Carol’s hand was there, fingers pressing firmly against the wet fabric. Eleanor jerked, a sharp gasp escaping her. The pressure was electric, a direct line to her throbbing clit. Carol rubbed slowly, her palm cupping Eleanor’s entire mound through the underwear, feeling the heat, the swollen folds beneath.
“Fuck,” Carol whispered, her own breath quickening. “It’s like a furnace down here.” Her fingers hooked into the waistband. “Take these off.”
Eleanor’s hands were trembling as she obeyed, lifting her hips, sliding the soaked underwear down her legs and letting them drop to the floor. The cool break room air kissed her exposed sex, making her flinch. She was utterly open, her cunt lips puffy and glistening, the new, intricate folds of her labia flushed a deep burgundy.
Carol didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Eleanor’s thighs, her grip firm, and pushed them wider. She leaned in, her nose almost touching Eleanor’s flesh, and inhaled deeply. “God, you smell incredible. Like salt and musk and… fuck, I don’t know. Candy.” Then she looked up, her green eyes blazing. “Lock the door.”
Eleanor stumbled to her feet, legs unsteady, and turned the cheap deadbolt with a click that echoed in the small room. When she turned back, Carol was already pulling her own shirt over her head, then shimmying out of her jeans. Her body was a landscape of lean muscle and pale skin decorated with fine-line tattoos. Her breasts were small, her nipples tight points.
“I want to taste it,” Carol said, her voice low and rough. “All of it.”
She pushed Eleanor back into the chair, knelt between her spread legs, and dove in.
There was no preamble, no gentle kissing. Carol’s tongue was a flat, demanding stroke from the tight furl of Eleanor’s asshole all the way up through the dripping slit to her clit. She lapped at the gathered wetness like it was nectar, moaning into Eleanor’s flesh.
“So fucking wet,” Carol muttered, her words vibrating against Eleanor’s clit. “You’re drowning.” She speared her tongue inside Eleanor’s cunt, fucking her with it, quick shallow thrusts that made Eleanor’s hips buck off the chair. Then she focused on Eleanor’s enlarged labia, sucking the thickened flesh into her mouth, tracing every new fold and crevice with the tip of her tongue.
Eleanor’s head fell back, a broken sound tearing from her throat. Her fingers tangled in Carol’s fiery hair, not guiding, just holding on. This wasn’t like David’s traumatized disinterest. This was voracious, a study in hunger. Carol was mapping her, learning the new geography of her body.
“You’ve got so much more to play with now,” Carol gasped, pulling back for a second. Her lips and chin were slick, shining. “These lips… I could suck on them for hours.” She demonstrated, drawing a large fold into her mouth, worrying it with her teeth until Eleanor cried out.
The orgasm built terrifyingly fast, a tsunami contained in skin. “Carol, I’m gonna… I’m gonna squirt.” Eleanor panted, her voice choked with warning and shame.
“Do it,” Carol growled against her. “Soak my fucking face.” She plunged two fingers deep into Eleanor’s cunt, curling them, and sealed her mouth over Eleanor’s clit, sucking hard.
It was the permission, the demand, that broke the last seal. Eleanor’s body arched, rigid. A guttural, snarling sound ripped from her chest, utterly unfamiliar. Her cunt convulsed, but not around Carol’s fingers—instead, a hot jet of fluid erupted, spraying over Carol’s chin, her neck, her chest. It wasn’t a trickle. It was a forceful burst, followed by another weaker pulse, drenching Carol’s skin and pooling on the linoleum between her knees.
Carol rode it out, her fingers still pumping inside Eleanor’s clenching channel until the tremors subsided into weak shudders.
Slowly, Carol pulled her fingers out. They made a wet, slick sound. She sat back on her heels, breathing hard, her torso gleaming. She looked at the glistening fluid on her fingers, then brought them to her mouth, sucking them clean with a deliberate, lewd pop. Her eyes never left Eleanor’s.
“That,” Carol said, her voice husky and full of awe, “was the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen in my life.”
Eleanor could only slump in the chair, utterly spent, her body humming with residual electricity and profound exhaustion.
Carol stood, fetched a roll of paper towels from the counter, and began casually wiping herself down. The mundane action in the aftermath of the obscene was surreal. She tossed a wad of towels to Eleanor, who numbly blotted between her legs.
“The pills did this,” Carol stated, pulling her jeans back on. It wasn’t a question.
Eleanor nodded, staring at the dark, damp spot on the floor.
Carol zipped her fly and buttoned her shirt. She walked over and knelt before Eleanor again, not to touch, but to look her directly in the eyes. Her expression was fierce, alight with a kind of greed.
“Give me one,” Carol said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t care about the side effects. I want to feel that. I want to be that wet, that hungry. I want to fucking explode like that.” She placed a hand on Eleanor’s still-trembling knee. Her touch was burning. “You owe me this. For everything. Give me one of those goddamn pills. I want to squirt like that too.”
Slowly, Eleanor nodded. The movement felt detached from her body, a puppet’s gesture.
“I have them.” Her voice was a scraped-out hollow. “The ones you asked about before.”
Carol’s hand tightened on her knee, nails biting. “The male equivalent?”
“They’re blue. Not the red ones I take.” Eleanor forced herself to meet Carol’s fever-bright gaze. “They don’t… change your body. Not like mine. At least, not David's, so far, anyway.” She swallowed, her throat dry. “They just make David's cock hard. Relentlessly hard. And he came over and over, stay ready. David… he hated it.”
A laugh burst from Carol, sharp and delighted. “Hated it? Jesus, El, that sounds like a fucking superpower.” Her eyes had gone wide, pupils swallowing the green. She leaned in closer, the smell of sex and sweat and Eleanor’s spent release still on her skin. “Do you have them? Here?”
“In my purse.”
“Give me one. Right now.” Carol’s demand was a hungry whisper.
“It’s not that simple,” Eleanor said, but the protest was weak, automatic. The part of her that was still a lawyer, still orderly, was being smothered by the wet, throbbing part Carol had just devoured. “They’re powerful. The comedown is… harsh. David said it felt like his spine was being pulled out through his dick.”
“I don’t care.” Carol stood, pacing the small space, a caged animal. “Look at what it did to you. You’re a fucking masterpiece now. All this…” She gestured wildly at Eleanor’s damp body. “And I want the other side of it. I want to feel what it’s like to not go soft. To just fuck and fuck.” She stopped, whirling back. “You have more than one, right?”
“A few.”
“Good.” Carol’s smile was all teeth. “Bring them. Tonight. My place.”
Eleanor blinked, the world tilting. “Tonight?”
“Mark’s working late,” Carol said, as if explaining a simple plan for dinner. “He’ll be home by ten. Come over at eight. Bring the blue pills.” She crouched again, her face inches from Eleanor’s. The intensity was staggering. “Remember how he fucked you while I used that giant strap-on on you? Remember how full you were?” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur. “Imagine that, but him… multiplied. Imagine him coming inside you, and just staying hard, staying huge, ready to go again before you’ve even caught your breath. Imagine me taking one too. What would that even feel like?”
A violent, helpless shudder wracked Eleanor. The image unspooled in her mind, vivid and crude. Mark’s ordinary, competent body transformed into an unyielding machine. Carol, insatiable, a mirror of her own new hunger but different, all aggressive demand. Her cunt, already swollen and oversensitive, gave a treacherous, interested pulse.
“That’s… dangerous,” Eleanor breathed, but it was just words.
She traced a finger along the inside of Eleanor’s thigh, collecting a fresh bead of moisture. “It’s just letting the animal out for a night. No one gets hurt.”
They both knew that was a lie. David was already hurt. Eleanor was a raw nerve in a reshaped body. This would wound something else, some final boundary.
Carol saw the capitulation in her eyes. “Eight o’clock. Don’t eat first.” She stood, final. “And El? Wear something you don’t mind getting ruined.”
She unlocked the door and slipped out, leaving Eleanor alone in the buzzing silence. The scent of their encounter hung thick in the air, a mix of spent lust and cleaning solution. Eleanor looked at the dark spot on the floor, at her discarded, soaked underwear lying like a shed skin. She fumbled for her purse, her fingers closing around the small, unlabeled bottle. The blue pills rattled inside, a tiny, ominous percussion.