Chapter 34: The Return
The door to Carol’s apartment was unlocked.
Eleanor shoved it open, the rage from her frantic search still a live wire under her skin, mixed with the residual, slippery ache from David. The sight that greeted her wasn’t the friendly, sage-green living room she remembered. It was a dim, charged arena.
Carol’s purse gaped open on the coffee table, the orange prescription bottle visible inside, next to a sweating glass of water. But Eleanor’s eyes snatched past it, drawn to the movement on the couch.
Mark was on his hands and knees, naked, his back a taut arc. His ass was in the air, trembling. And behind him, kneeling, was Carol. But not the Carol she knew. Her friend’s red hair was plastered to her neck with sweat. Her face was a mask of furious concentration. And between her thighs, jutting from her own smooth skin, was a thick, angry-looking protrusion—a swollen, veiny clitoris that had grown into a rigid, cock-like shaft. It was buried to what looked like its base in Mark’s ass.
“Oh, fuck,” Mark grunted, his voice muffled by the couch cushion.
Carol’s hips snapped forward in a sharp, brutal thrust. “Take it, you greedy bastard,” she hissed, her voice lower, rougher than Eleanor had ever heard it.
Eleanor stood frozen in the doorway, the scent of sweat and lube and something musky filling her nostrils. Her own cunt, never quiet, gave a sympathetic, gushing pulse. The sight was incomprehensible and yet utterly, devastatingly logical. This was where the pills led. This raw, mechanical fucking.
The floorboard under her foot creaked.
Carol’s head whipped around. Her eyes, wide and glazed, focused on Eleanor. There was no shock, only a wild, defiant heat. She didn’t stop moving. Her hips kept pumping, that strange flesh-and-blood cock plunging in and out of her husband with a wet, rhythmic slap. “Ellie,” Carol breathed, the word a challenge. “You’re just in time.”
Mark tried to look back, his face flushed and confused. “Wha—?”
“Shut up,” Carol snarled, slapping his flank hard, leaving a red handprint. She maintained eye contact with Eleanor as she fucked him. “She came for her pills. Didn’t you?”
Eleanor found her voice, rough and unused. “You took them.”
“I borrowed them,” Carol corrected, her thrusts becoming slower, more deliberate, a display. “The blue one. And the red. Needed to see… what would happen.” A grimace of pleasure twisted her features. “Turns out, a lot.”
Eleanor’s gaze dropped to the bottle in the open purse. Her salvation. Her damnation. She took a step into the room. The air was electric, humming with the same unnatural energy that filled her bedroom. She was acutely aware of her own body—the heavy drag of her enlarged breasts, the constant, slick seepage between her legs, the new folds of her labia rubbing together with every step.
She was acutely aware of her own body—the heavy drag of her enlarged breasts, the constant, slick seepage between her legs, the new folds of her labia rubbing together with every step. Her eyes, however, were locked on the bottle. Then they flicked to Mark, to the cock hanging heavy and flushed between his legs. It was different. Thicker. Longer. A dense, veined weight that hadn’t been there during their clumsy, giggling threesome. It had gained at least an inch, maybe two. The proof of the pill’s potency swung there, glistening.
“See something you like?” Carol’s voice was a taunt. She stopped moving, her own hips still flush against Mark’s ass. Then, with a deliberate, theatrical slowness, she began to pull out.
It wasn’t a simple withdrawal. It was a revelation. The fleshy shaft that emerged from Carol’s body, slick with lube and whatever fluids Mark’s body produced, was monstrous. It wasn’t the small, hard nub Eleanor had sucked on just a day ago. This was a serious piece of anatomy, a thick, veined pillar of erect tissue as big around as Carol’s own forearm. It was longer than the absurd silicone strap-on Eleanor had bought, the one now undoubtedly discarded in some closet. A fat pearl of clear pre-cum beaded at its broad, purplish tip and dripped onto the couch cushion.
Eleanor’s breath left her in a shuddering rush. Her cunt, that endlessly weeping, complicated wound, convulsed. A fresh, hot gush of fluid soaked through her cotton panties and trickled down her inner thigh. The sheer, impossible size of it called to the new, hollow depth of her. Her body seemed to yawn open, aching to be filled by that specific, terrifying thing.
“Jesus, Carol,” Mark groaned, collapsing forward onto his elbows. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes wide. “It’s… it got bigger again. I felt it. It’s fucking bigger.”
“I know,” Carol said, her tone one of cool, clinical pride. She stood up, that impossible cock jutting straight out from her mound, swaying slightly with her movement. She stroked it slowly, her fist barely closing around the girth.
Eleanor couldn’t speak. Her mouth was dry even as the rest of her was drenched. She took another step toward the coffee table, toward her pills. Her movements felt jerky, alien.
“They’re mine,” Eleanor finally managed, her voice thin.
“Everything’s yours until you share it, Ellie,” Carol said, not moving from her spot. “You shared the experience. You shared your husband’s little blue pills.” She took a step closer, her cock leading the way like a divining rod. The musky, salty smell of it mixed with the ozone-tang in the air. “Why not share the real chemistry?”
“You stole them.”
“I accelerated the process.” Carol was right in front of her now. Eleanor could see every pulsing vein, every subtle throb. “You were hoarding them. Using them for… what? To keep David hard so he could fuck your new, hungry cunt? That’s small thinking.” Her hand, the one not wrapped around her own shaft, reached out and cupped Eleanor’s breast through her shirt, thumb rubbing a hard nipple. “Look at you. You’re built for more now. You need more.”
Eleanor flinched but didn’t pull away. The contact sent a jolt straight to her groin. She was shamefully, outrageously wet. She could feel the slickness cooling on her skin.
“Give me my pills, Carol.”
She leaned in, her breath hot on Eleanor’s ear. “You saw it. You want this inside you, don't you? That deep, complicated mess you’ve become wants to be split open by it.”
It was the truth. A filthy, undeniable truth. Eleanor’s defiance crumbled into pure, rampant need. Her hand, of its own volition, reached out and wrapped around Carol’s shaft. The heat was shocking. The skin was silken and taut over a core of iron. A fresh bead of pre-cum smeared across her palm.
“Fuck,” Eleanor whispered.
“That’s the idea,” Carol murmured. She took Eleanor’s wrist and guided her hand in a slow, firm stroke.
The heat of it pulsed against Eleanor’s palm, a second heartbeat. Carol’s grip on her wrist was unyielding, forcing a rhythm that was both alien and deeply familiar. “See what you missed by being so careful?” Carol breathed, her other hand still kneading Eleanor’s breast.
“You want this,” Carol stated flatly, pulling Eleanor’s hand away suddenly. The loss of contact was a shock. Carol turned, her movements deliberate, and retrieved the orange vial from the gaping purse on the table. The pills rattled inside like tiny, toxic seeds. She didn’t hand over the bottle.
Instead, Carol popped the cap with her thumb. She shook three pills into her own palm: a white one, a red one, and a blue one. They looked innocuous, like cheap candy. She held them out to Eleanor.
Eleanor stared at the pills. The metallic tang in the air seemed to coalesce around them. She thought of David, functionally unchanged. She thought of Mark, now hung heavier between his legs. She looked at Carol, at the brutal, beautiful transformation she’d wrought upon herself.
“What will it do to me?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“What do you want it to do?” Carol countered, pushing her palm closer. “You’re already a dripping, gaping mess.”
From the couch, Mark watched, silently stroking his own enlarged cock, his eyes glazed with a mix of exhaustion and fascination.
Eleanor’s hesitation evaporated, burned away by the relentless ache in her groin and a darker, deeper curiosity. She snatched the pills from Carol’s hand. Without water, without ceremony, she tipped them into her mouth and swallowed. They stuck for a moment in her dry throat, a bitter, chalky knot, before going down.
A collective stillness filled the room. Carol’s stroking hand slowed. “Good girl,” she purred.
A tingling began in Eleanor’s fingertips, a fizzy, electric sensation that raced up her arms. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was anticipation made physical. Her nipples tightened into painful points, scraping against her bra. Between her legs, a fresh, profound flood of warmth erupted, not just wetness but a feeling of internal shifting, of plush tissue awakening further.
“On your back,” Carol commanded, pointing to the floor in front of the couch. “Let’s watch it happen. Let’s get you ready.”
Eleanor obeyed, lowering herself to the rough carpet. The fibers scratched her shoulders. She spread her legs, hiking up her skirt, pulling her soaked panties to the side. The air hit her exposed sex, and she gasped. It felt enormous, a slick, heated blossom unfurling. She was so open she could feel the inner air currents.
Carol knelt between her thighs, her monstrous cock bobbing. She didn’t touch Eleanor with it yet.
Instead, Carol leaned forward, her red hair a curtain that brushed Eleanor’s trembling thighs. Her gaze was analytical, like a scientist observing a specimen. “Look at this,” she murmured, not to Eleanor, but to Mark, who had shifted on the couch to watch. “See how it’s still changing? The new folds are darker. More defined.”
Her touch, when it came, was not with the monstrous cock but with her hand. She used her thumb to spread Eleanor’s outer lips wider, exposing the glistening, complicated interior to the cool air. Eleanor jerked, a shudder wracking her frame. The sensation was unbearably direct. Carol traced a single, slow path around the outermost rim, collecting the slickness that pooled there.
“Please,” Eleanor gasped, the word torn from her.
“Please what?” Carol’s voice was a low taunt. She smeared the gathered wetness over Eleanor’s swollen clit, circling it with a brutal, precise pressure that made Eleanor’s hips buck off the carpet.
“Don’t just… don’t fucking tease.”
Carol’s green eyes locked onto hers. A faint, cruel smile touched her lips. “You took the pills, Ellie. The whole cocktail. We should observe.” Her hand moved down again, fingers slick. “Let’s see what that new depth feels like.”
The new, intricate folds of Eleanor’s labia seemed to part and then cling, a wet, warm suction that pulled Carol’s finger deep inside without resistance. The internal muscles, transformed and hyper-aware, rippled in a slow, peristaltic wave, milking the digit, demanding more. Eleanor cried out, her head thrashing back against the carpet. The feeling was obscenely intimate, a deep, internal caress that echoed the chemical fire now spreading through her veins.
“Fuck,” Carol breathed, her clinical detachment cracking. She could feel the raw, hungry pull of it. She crooked her finger, exploring the shocking, velvety expanse.
“Don’t tease, don’t tease, please Carol, I need it, I need that, not your finger, give me that cock, give me that fucking thing!” Eleanor babbled, her eyes wide and fixated on the shaft that jutted from Carol’s body. It was indeed pulsing, a visible, slow throb that made the veined surface ripple. A fresh string of clear fluid leaked from the slit and dripped onto Eleanor’s stomach, hot and shocking. It looked heavier, more engorged than it had just minutes ago, as if watching Eleanor’s desperation was fueling its growth.