Chapter 32: Growing Hunger
The red pill was a speck of damning candy in Carol’s palm. She stared at it, her chest heaving, the sweat cooling on her skin. Eleanor watched from the couch, her own body a landscape of aftermath—aching, soaked, profoundly open.
“You’re sure?” Eleanor’s voice was scraped raw.
“It wasn’t enough,” Carol said, not looking at her. Her gaze was fixed on the tiny tablet. “Fucking you… it was incredible. I felt everything. But this…” She wrapped her fingers around her stiffened, three-inch length, giving it a rough, frustrated tug. “It’s a fucking joke. It teases. It gets me right to the edge and leaves me hanging. I need it to be real.”
Mark shifted from where he leaned against the wall, his renewed erection obvious. “Babe, what you just... What just happened was—”
“Was me borrowing a feeling,” Carol snapped, cutting him off. Her eyes, when they finally met Eleanor’s, were haunted and hungry. “I want it... I want the thing itself. Give it to me.”
Eleanor’s hand trembled as she reached out, not with a pill bottle, but to close Carol’s fingers around the one she already held. It was a gesture of collusion. “Then take it.”
Carol didn’t hesitate. She popped the pill onto her tongue, dry-swallowed with a grimace. For a moment, nothing happened. The fridge hummed. The tick of the watch on the medical chart was a metronome in the silent room.
Then Carol gasped.
It wasn’t a sound of pain, but of shocking, intense sensation. She doubled over, her hands flying to her groin. “Oh, God. Oh, fuck.”
Carol’s whisper shredded into a groan. Veins, like dark wires, surface in vivid relief beneath the skin. “It… it aches,” she gritted out, her knuckles white around the base. “It’s so hard it fucking hurts. I need… I need it squeezed. I need pressure.”
Mark pushed off the wall, understanding dawning. “That’s it. That’s the blue pill feeling. Like my cock was in a cast-iron pipe, just… needing to be crushed.” He knelt beside her, not touching, just watching the desperate throb of her new flesh. “You need a cunt.”
Carol’s wild eyes found Eleanor, still splayed on the couch, her modified pussy glistening, a complex, dark bloom of flesh. Without a word, Carol stumbled forward, her jeans hobbling her ankles. She didn’t bother with finesse. She grabbed Eleanor’s thighs, yanking her hips to the couch’s edge, and mounted her in one brutal, driving motion.
The slick, engorged head of Carol’s cock speared into Eleanor’s soaked opening. Carol cried out—a sharp, ragged sound of profound relief. “Yes. Oh, God, yes. That’s it.” She braced her hands on the cushions, her body bowing as she began to fuck, short, frantic thrusts. “Your greedy fucking hole. It’s squeezing me. Just like that.”
Eleanor gasped, her back arching. The stretch was different now, more substantial, the ache deeper. She could feel every desperate pulse of Carol’s shaft inside her. It wasn’t just hard; it was alive, a frantic, throbbing presence. “Carol… wait.”
“I can’t wait,” Carol panted, her rhythm becoming harder, more possessive. Her hips pistoned, the slap of skin filling the room. “It needs this.” She drilled deeper, her own body trembling with the effort.
Then Eleanor felt it. A distinct, impossible twitch, a swell that pushed against her inner walls. It wasn’t her imagination. The cock inside her was expanding, thickening, crowding her in a way it hadn’t moments before. “It’s… it’s getting bigger,” she breathed, her own shock laced with a dark, curling thrill.
“I can feel it.” Eleanor reached down, her fingers finding where their bodies joined, feeling the undeniable increase in girth stretching her labia wide. “It’s growing. Right now. Inside me.” She looked up, meeting Carol’s wide, stunned eyes. A filthy, encouraging smile touched her lips. “Don’t stop. Give it what it wants. Let it get fat in here.”
Carol’s expression morphed into raw, feral need. She lowered her weight onto Eleanor, crushing her into the couch, and resumed fucking with a renewed, savage intensity. Each drive home was a claim. “You feel that?” Carol grunted into her ear, her breath hot. “You feel my dick getting bigger in your lawyer pussy?”
“Yes,” Eleanor moaned, her legs wrapping around Carol’s waist, pulling her deeper. The sensation was overwhelming—a living, thickening intrusion that stretched her beautifully, brutally open. Her own elaborate inner folds clutched and rippled around the enlarging shaft, trying to accommodate it. “More. Fuck, Carol, let it get huge. Fill me up with it.”
Carol obeyed, her movements becoming less rhythmic, more like primal spasms. A low, continuous groan vibrated from her chest. With each thrust, Eleanor felt a fresh, hot pulse of expansion. The length increased, too, the head punching deeper into uncharted territory, touching a spot that made white light flash behind Eleanor’s eyelids.
“It’s so deep,” Eleanor choked out, her nails scoring Carol’s back. “I can feel it in my fucking stomach.” The weight of it, the relentless, mushrooming pressure, was obliterating every coherent thought. Her body, designed by the pills for this very excess, convulsed in a series of rippling, pre-orgasmic flutters.
Carol’s thrusts became slower, labored, forced to accommodate the new, substantial girth. Each withdrawal made a wet, sucking sound; each re-entry was a victory of flesh over flesh. Eleanor was split open on it, her cunt a slick, straining sheath molded to the shape of Carol’s transformation. “You’re making it grow,” Carol accused, her voice thick with bliss. “Your hungry, dripping fuck-hole is milking it bigger.”
“Do it,” Eleanor begged, her head thrashing side to side. “Come in me. Flood me. I want to feel your cock pulse.” The command was the final trigger.
Carol’s body locked, a strangled shout tearing from her throat as she buried herself to the absolute hilt, now a full, thick five inches and still uncomfortably hard. Eleanor felt the first jet, hot and surprisingly voluminous, spurt against her deepest inner walls. Then another. And another. Carol’s cock bucked inside her with each eruption, the orgasm wracking her frame.
It was too much. The intense, rhythmic clenching around the massive shaft, the sheer filthy spectacle of it, pushed Eleanor over her own edge. Her climax was a silent, breathless implosion, her cunt gripping and milking the throbbing cock in frantic, possessive waves, her own release adding to the slick mess between them.
For a long moment, Carol collapsed, spent, her weight a crushing, welcome anchor. The cock inside Eleanor began, finally, to soften, but it remained a significant, spent weight. Carol shifted, and it slipped out with a soft, wet plop, followed by a gush of mingled fluids.
Eleanor looked down, between her own spread, trembling thighs. Carol’s cock, slick and shiny, lay against her thigh. It was undeniably, permanently larger. Thicker. A real, defined shaft. Carol looked at it, then at Eleanor, her expression dazed, triumphant, and terrified.
“It didn’t go all the way back,” she whispered.