Chapter 47: Jealous
Evie’s lips parted, and the broad, spongy head of Clare’s cock pushed into her mouth. It was too much, immediately. It stretched her jaws wide, a dull ache blooming at the hinges. The taste was stark, salt and skin and something profoundly, biologically Clare, but underscored by a faint, electric bitterness that hadn’t been there before. She gagged, her eyes watering.
“Relax your throat,” Clare murmured, her voice a strained vibration above her. Clare’s hand, gentle but implacable, cupped the back of Evie’s head. Not forcing, but guiding. Presenting the reality.
Evie sucked in a sharp breath through her nose and tried to obey. She focused on the weight on her tongue, the pulsing heat of it. She managed to take another inch, the fat tip nudging the back of her throat. Her own saliva spilled down her chin.
From the bed, Sophie watched, her fingers still working slowly inside herself. “Look at her,” Sophie sighed, her voice languid and mean. “She’s trying so hard. Like a good little girlfriend.”
Clare ignored her. Her world had narrowed to two points of blinding sensation: the wet, tight, struggling heat of Evie’s mouth on one cock, and the aching, empty throb of the other, standing untouched and desperate in the cool air. The duality was maddening. It felt like she was split in two, each half screaming for its own satisfaction.
“Stop,” Clare said, the word cracking out.
Evie pulled back with a wet, ragged gasp, strings of saliva and precum connecting her lips to the glistening head. She looked up, confused, hurt flashing in her eyes. “Did I—?”
“Stand up,” Clare ordered. She took a half-step back, her twin cocks bobbing heavily.
“Fuck me,” Clare breathed, the command stripping away all pretense. It wasn't a question. It was a need, a correction. She needed to be the one filled, stretched, overtaken. She needed to own Evie’s change by taking it inside her.
She turned, bracing her hands on the disheveled bed next to Sophie’s hip. She presented herself to Evie, looking back over her shoulder. The sight was obscene: her own twin members hung down between her thighs, but behind them, her sex glistened, open and wanting. “Now, Evie. Do it.”
Evie stumbled forward, her own newfound weight unfamiliar between her legs. She positioned herself, the broad head of her cock nudging against Clare’s entrance. It was already slick, dripping from the aftermath of Sophie. It slid in with a shocking, slick ease. The first few inches were a hot, tight glide.
Clare dropped her head, a guttural moan tearing from her throat. “Yes. God, yes.” It was good, so good, the solid, singular pressure a relief from the chaotic dual need. But as Evie pushed deeper, a dark, hungry thought uncoiled in Clare’s mind. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what Sophie had taken. She wanted that impossible, splitting fullness.
“Deeper,” Clare grunted, pushing back against Evie. “Fucking give it to me.”
Clare felt the head of Evie’s cock punch deep, past a familiar internal ridge. It was her own cervix, yielding once more, letting the invader into a space never meant for intrusion. A white-hot spark of pain laced through the pleasure, making her cry out. Her twin cocks jerked, spitting clear fluid onto the rumpled sheets below.
Evie drove forward, her hips slapping against Clare’s ass. She buried herself to the hilt, her body pressed flush against Clare’s back. She was fully sheathed, Clare’s cunt stretched taut around her impressive girth.
“You’re in so deep,” Sophie whispered, her eyes fixed on where their bodies joined. She reached out a limp hand and stroked the length of one of Clare’s dangling cocks.
Clare’s eyes screwed shut. The sensation was immense, overwhelming. Evie was panting behind her, small, choked sounds of effort and awe. She could feel Evie trembling inside her, feel the frantic pulse of her cock.
A jealous, ravenous void opened inside Clare. She wanted that feeling again, she wanted Evie’s transformation to be as monstrous, as excessive, as hers.
“I can feel you,” Evie whimpered, her hands clutching Clare’s hips. “I can feel all of you. You’re swallowing me, Clare.” She began to move, slow, grinding thrusts that made Clare’s vision swim.
Clare took it, riding the wave of each deep penetration, each brush against her deepest walls. Her own cocks ached, neglected. The pleasure was towering, a skyscraper of sensation, but it was incomplete. A solitary spire where she craved a pair.
“Harder,” Clare demanded, her voice ragged. “Make it bigger. I want to feel you in my throat, Evie. I want you to ruin me worse than she is.”
Evie’s rhythm faltered, a sob of overwhelmed desire hitching in her chest. She obeyed, driving into Clare with a force that shook the bedframe. Each thrust was a claim, an apology, a desperate prayer.
She came with a shattered cry, her internal muscles clamping in fierce, rhythmic waves around Evie’s cock, her own twin members erupting in long, spent ropes onto the sheets below. But even in the throes of it, the craving remained, sharper than any orgasm.
It wasn't enough.
It wasn’t enough.
The words hung in the thick air, a verdict. Clare’s orgasm had been a seismic shudder, a physical concession, but her mind remained a frantic, unsatisfied thing. She stayed braced against the bed, her body still impaled, feeling Evie’s cock twitch inside her as it began to soften. The retreating sensitivity was a fresh agony.
“More,” Clare breathed, the sound raw against the sheets. She pushed back, refusing to let Evie slip out. “You felt what I did to her. You saw. I want that.”
Evie’s hands trembled on Clare’s hips. The demand was a cold splash of reality. Her own transformation had been a desperate, secret gamble to bridge a gap she couldn’t name, a solution forged in fear and isolation. Seeing Clare now, mutated and magnificent and still ravenous, illuminated a terrifying truth: the gap was a chasm, and it was growing.
“I don’t… I don’t know how,” Evie whispered.
“You fucking figured it out before,” Clare snarled, the lawyer’s impatience slicing through the post-coital haze. She glanced at Sophie, who was watching with a lazy, knowing smile. “When you were in her. You got bigger for her. Now do it for me.”
The memory was a dark pulse in Evie’s gut—the surge of power, the feel of Sophie’s internal walls yielding to new, aggressive inches. It had been instinct then, a predatory response to conquest. This was different. This was a performance, an examination. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
She closed her eyes, trying to shut out Sophie’s gaze, Clare’s impatience, the absurdity of the moment. She focused on the connection between their bodies, on the heat and the wet clutch of Clare around her. She thought of the injection, the strange, oily serum that had pooled in her veins. She willed it to move, to gather, to build.
A deep, uncomfortable pressure swelled at the base of her cock, a feeling like tendons being tuned past their limit. Inside Clare, a subtle, inexorable expansion began. It was a slow inflation, millimeter by agonizing millimeter, the already-strained flesh of Clare’s passage protesting then accepting the new girth with a wet, yielding sigh.
“Yes,” Clare hissed, her head dropping forward. “That’s it. Fuck, that’s it. Don’t stop.”
Evie pushed, mentally straining. The pressure built, a weird, internal tearing sensation that was more alarming than pleasurable. She felt her cock thicken further, the veins standing in stark relief under the skin. She was certain she must be distorting Clare’s very shape, bulging her abdomen.
But Clare wanted length. She wanted depth.
Gritting her teeth, Evie imagined root and cable, a relentless extension. The growth was slower now, a creeping advance. She felt new inches forge themselves inside Clare’s depths, a blunt, relentless probe seeking territory that had no right to exist. It was pushing past where her cervix had been, a tight, muscular ring now conquered and forced wide, into a space that felt impossibly soft, impossibly deep.
Clare’s moan was a continuous, broken sound. Her knuckles were white on the sheets. “Deeper. Christ, Evie, I can feel you in my gut.”
Evie guessed her cock was displacing organs, snaking up behind Clare’s navel, maybe higher. The image was clinical and grotesque. How could a body adapt to this? Clare’s was, in a way, stretching, accommodating the invader with a brutal plasticity. A fine sheen of sweat coated Evie’s back. She was panting, the effort metaphysical, draining.
“It’s not like with me, is it?” Sophie murmured from the bed, her voice a sly scratch in the dimness. She rolled onto her side, propping her head on a hand. “You’re trying so hard. It’s cute.”
“Shut up,” Clare gasped, but the taunt had landed. Evie’s focus shattered. The growth stalled. She was huge, thicker and longer than any human possibility, a monstrous approximation of anatomy, but it was a straining, static burn. It wasn't the effortless, terrifying dual invasion Clare had wielded.
A sob ripped from Evie’s throat. She was buried to the hilt, a hilt that was now obscenely wider, in a lover who was still demanding more. She was a tool, and she was failing. “I can’t,” she wept, the admission soaked in humiliation. “I’m trying. It won’t go.”
Clare was silent for a long moment, her breath coming in harsh gusts. The sensation inside her was monumental, a fullness that pressed on her diaphragm, that made her feel skewered and packed. It was magnificent. And still, a hollow jealousy for Sophie’s experience gnawed at its edges.
Finally, Clare pushed herself upright, forcing Evie’s cock to slide from her with a wet, vulgar noise that echoed in the quiet room. She turned, her twin cocks swaying, and looked at Evie’s deflating, still-immense member, then at Evie’s devastated face.
She cupped Evie’s cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear. Her touch was gentle, but her eyes were distant, calculating a new variable. “You will,” Clare said, her voice low and certain, as she looks up at Sophie, eyeing Sophie's transformed vagina.
“You will,” Clare said, her voice low and certain. Her thumb stroked Evie’s tear-streaked cheek, but her gaze had lifted and locked onto Sophie, who still lounged on the ruined sheets.
Sophie’s posture was one of indolent satisfaction, but the focus of Clare’s attention was lower. Between Sophie’s parted thighs, the landscape had altered. Minutes ago, it had been a well-used, gaping entrance. Now, it was something else entirely. The labia, swollen and darkened to a deep burgundy, seemed to have thickened into pronounced, ruffled folds that glistened with a pearlescent wetness. The opening itself was no longer a simple, stretched circle. It appeared almost complex, a series of subtle internal ridges visible in the lamplight, and it pulsed with a slow, autonomous rhythm, like a second heart. A thin, silvery fluid seeped from it, different from the earlier mess, smelling of ozone and deep earth.
It was healing. Transforming. Adapting specifically to what had been done to it.
“Look at that,” Clare breathed, her legal mind clicking over, analyzing evidence. Her own horror at her body momentarily eclipsed by this new data point. “Look at what you’ve done, Sophie. Or what it’s doing to you.”
Sophie smiled, a lazy stretch of her lips. She slid a hand down her stomach, her fingers not entering, but tracing the new, elaborate topography of her own sex. “It feels incredible,” she sighed. “Like it’s remembering you. Like it’s getting ready for you again.” She let her head loll towards Evie, her eyes glinting. “You worked so hard, sweetie. You got so big. And it was really something.” Her tone pivoted, needle-sharp. “But it’s not the same, is it? You have to think about it. You have to force it. For Clare, it just is. For me now…” She pushed two fingers inside herself, her back arching off the bed with a sharp gasp. “For me, it’s just waiting.”
The words were a surgical strike. Evie flinched as if slapped. Her own cock, still thick and semi-hard, seemed a crude prosthetic in comparison to this narrative of seamless, organic evolution. The insecurity she’d injected herself to silence roared back, now a thousand times amplified.
Clare dropped her hand from Evie’s face. The gentle moment was gone, incinerated by a hotter, more urgent curiosity. She moved towards the bed, her twin cocks swinging heavily. She needed to see. She needed to understand. This wasn't just fucking anymore; it was a chaotic experiment, and Sophie’s body was presenting compelling, rapid results.
“Show me,” Clare commanded, her voice all advocate, no lover.
Sophie’s smile was a slow, deliberate curve as she spread her legs wider, an obscene invitation framed by the rumpled linen. “It’s all yours, counselor. Inspect the evidence.”
Clare knelt on the mattress, the springs groaning. The clinical distance she’d sought evaporated the moment her fingertips made contact. The outer flesh was fever-hot and unnaturally smooth, like leather left in the sun. As she applied the gentlest pressure, the entire structure responded. It wasn't a passive touch; it was an interaction.
Sophie’s vagina seemed to bloom open, the ruffled, burgundy folds parting with a soft, wet sound to reveal the interior. The passage itself was a labyrinth of glistening, deep-pink ridges. But it was the constellation of tissue above it that stole Clare’s breath. A dozen distinct, hard nubs of flesh emerged from the slick hood, each one a clitoris. They varied wildly—tiny, sharp points like thorn tips alongside fuller, thumb-sized bulbs, each one rigid and flushed a furious red. A clear, viscous fluid welled from their tips and from the deep channel below, dripping steadily onto the sheet.
“Christ,” Clare whispered, her professional detachment incinerated by a surge of pure, wanton hunger. Her own twin cocks twitched, thickening again with a rush of blood that was a painful delight. The sight was wrong, a biological impossibility, and it was the most arousing thing she had ever seen. It was a engine built for a specific, brutal kind of pleasure.
Her hands moved of their own accord, one wrapping around the base of her left cock, guiding its broad head towards that impossible entrance. The other hand reached to touch, to feel the texture of those multiple, needy clits.
“Uh-uh,” Sophie chided, her hand snapping out to encircle Clare’s wrist. Her grip was surprisingly strong. “You already had your turn. You already rewired me.” She tilted her head, her sly gaze cutting past Clare’s shoulder to where Evie stood, a silent, trembling witness. “I think it’s the little mouse’s turn for an upgrade, don’t you?”
Clare froze, her cockhead a hot, damp brand against Sophie’s inner thigh. The logic was perverse and irresistible. Evie’s transformation had been hesitant, a forced exertion. Sophie’s was a generous, welcoming mutation. Clare looked from Sophie’s complex, dripping sex to Evie’s pale, shocked face. Jealousy and a dark, nurturing urge warred within her.
“She’s right,” Clare said, the words leaving her like a confession. She released herself and turned on the bed, her gaze pinning Evie. “You struggled. You had to think. That’s not how this works.” She held a hand out, not in comfort, but in summons. “Come here. What she has… it’s a gift. It’s what you need.”
Evie’s feet seemed glued to the floor. The sight of Sophie’s body was a cosmic horror and a fascination that coiled hot in her belly. “I don’t understand,” she stammered.
“You don’t have to,” Sophie purred, lifting her hips. A fresh trickle of that silvery fluid traced a path down her cleft. “You just have to fuck me. Right here. Right into this.” She tapped a finger against the central, weeping opening below her cluster of clits. “I’m built for it now. I can take anything. I can make anything.”
The promise was a siren’s call, echoing Evie’s deepest, most shameful yearning: to be enough, to be powerful, to be the source of pleasure rather than its anxious supplicant. Clare’s extended hand was a bridge to that promise.
Evie moved, each step a surrender. She climbed onto the bed, her own substantial cock bouncing heavily. She positioned herself between Sophie’s splayed thighs, the head nudging against that fascinating, wet complexity. The heat coming off Sophie was immense.
“Do it,” Clare ordered, kneeling beside them, her own cocks in her fists, her blue eyes blazing. “Don’t think. Just take her.”
Evie pushed forward. The entrance, for all its new intricacy, offered no resistance. It was a silken, welcoming vice, sucking the first several inches of her inside with a single, smooth swallow. The sensation was astronomically different from Clare. It wasn’t just tight; it was active. The ridged walls seemed to ripple and knead her length, each ridge applying a unique, milking pressure.
“Oh, god,” Evie choked, her hips driving forward of their own volition.
“Yeah,” Sophie hissed, her back arching. Her dozens of clits stood out, straining, dripping. “That’s it. Give it to me. Let me see what you’ve got.”
Evie bottomed out, her pelvis grinding against Sophie’s, her cock buried to the root in that incredible, gripping heat. She was fully sheathed, and the sensation was overwhelming, a feedback loop of pleasure that began to short-circuit her thoughts. She started to move, a slow, deep rhythm.
Sophie’s hands flew to her own breasts, pinching her nipples hard. “Faster. Come on, designer girl. Fuck me.”
Evie obeyed, her thrusts becoming harder, sharper. The sound was obscenely wet, a rhythmic, squelching cadence that filled the room. With each drive forward, Sophie’s body seemed to accept more, to demand more. Evie felt a familiar, yet intensifying, pressure building at her core—not the strained, forced growth from before, but something smoother, something being pulled from her by the relentless, intelligent suction of Sophie’s cunt.
She felt her cock begin to expand inside the embrace, a thick, swelling dilation that made Sophie scream, a raw sound of pure satisfaction. New, subtle ridges formed along Evie’s shaft, engaging perfectly with the internal topography of Sophie’s passage. It was a lock finding its key.
“Yes! There!” Sophie shrieked, one hand leaving her breast to claw at Evie’s back. “More! Thicker!”
Thicker!” Sophie’s command was a guttural rasp, her body arching like a drawn bow.
Inside her, Evie’s cock swelled in response, a brutal expansion that made the wet, ridged walls stretch taut. The growth was effortless now, a symbiotic reaction to the demanding, intelligent clutch of Sophie’s transformed sex. Veins bulged along the shaft, pumping obscene amounts of blood into the hardening flesh.
Evie cried out, the sensation of being used for this purpose both terrifying and electrifying. She pistoned her hips, the squelching sounds growing louder, more liquid.
Clare watched, her own twin cocks throbbing in her fists. Her breath hitched. It was working. Sophie’s body was pulling the change from Evie, sculpting it. But a sharp, specific envy cut through her awe. This wasn't what she had pictured. This was Sophie’s design, not hers.
“Wait,” Clare heard herself say, the word tentative, almost drowned out by the slapping of skin.
Evie didn’t stop, lost in the rhythm. Sophie’s eyelids fluttered, a smirk playing on her lips as another internal ridge seemed to form around Evie’s girth.
“Stop!” Clare’s voice cracked, sharper now.
The urgency in it made Evie freeze, buried to the hilt, her body trembling with arrested motion. She looked over, dazed, her glasses fogged. Sophie exhaled a frustrated groan, her internal muscles pulsing angrily around the embedded cock.
“What?” Evie panted.
Clare’s gaze was fixed on the junction of their bodies, on the obscene fullness. Her own memories of being split open by two lengths were a brand on her mind. “It’s… it’s getting thicker,” Clare said, the timidity in her voice foreign, strange even to her. She swallowed. “I don’t… I don’t want it thicker for me.”
Sophie’s head lolled to the side. Her eyes, glazed with pleasure, found Clare’s. “No?” she murmured, her voice a taunt.
“I want it longer.” The admission left Clare in a rush, laid bare. It wasn't about filling a space. It was about reaching a depth, a territory Sophie had conquered first. A deeper penetration than any single member could provide. “Like you had.”
A slow, understanding smile spread across Sophie’s swollen lips. She looked from Clare’s desperate face down to where Evie was still hilt-deep inside her. She gave a slight, conspiratorial roll of her hips, making Evie gasp.
“You want her to fuck you into next week,” Sophie said, her tone casually obscene. “You want to feel her in your spleen.” She reached down and patted Evie’s sweat-slick flank. “Okay, counselor. You’re the client.”
She turned her attention back to Evie, her expression shifting to one of intense, wicked focus. “You heard her, pinkie. Stop thinking about girth. Think about reach. Think about tunneling. I’ll handle the rest.”
Sophie’s body seemed to clench down, a peristaltic wave traveling the length of Evie’s shaft. It was a direct, physical instruction. The pressure at Evie’s base shifted, the sensation of expansion sliding, redistributing along a new axis.
Inside Sophie, Evie felt a terrifying, thrilling elongation begin. It was a slow, steady creep, the already-deep penetration becoming profound. She wasn't just in Sophie’s womb; she was beyond it, the head of her cock a blunt explorer forging through impossibly soft, yielding tissue. Sophie’s breathing changed, becoming sharp, rhythmic pants, her eyes wide with a mix of pain and transcendent pleasure.
“There,” Sophie whispered, her voice strained. “That’s the path. I’m making it for you. Remember this feeling.”
Evie stared, mesmerized by the intense concentration on Sophie’s face. This was alchemy. Her own cock was the raw material, and Sophie’s rewritten body was the crucible, the mold. The power dynamic had invisibly, completely flipped.
Clare watched, her mouth dry. She saw the focused tension in Sophie’s frame, saw Evie’s awestruck expression. A low, hungry sound escaped her. She could almost visualize it: the relentless, single-minded lengthening, a spear being honed.
After a long minute, Sophie’s body relaxed with a shuddering sigh. A fresh gush of that silvery fluid seeped out around Evie’s root. “There,” Sophie said, her voice ragged but triumphant. She looked at Clare, a dark promise in her eyes. “I’ll make her cock exactly how you like it. Long. Needy. A fucking depth charge.”
She grinned, wincing slightly as another internal spasm traveled through her.