Chapter 20: Female Orgasm
The velvet crushed against Ash’s… against her… cheek. The scent of Emma’s arousal – his arousal? – was overwhelming, thick and sweet and utterly alien flooding his nostrils. He tried to breathe, but the air felt wrong, thinner somehow. His lungs were smaller. The weight on his chest was immense, unfamiliar breasts pressing heavily against the cool sheets with each ragged inhale. His own harsh panting sounded strange, high and breathy. Not his voice. Emma’s voice.
Before he could grasp the impossible reality, hands closed around his new waist. Large, strong hands he vaguely recognized. His hands. They gripped hard, possessive, anchoring him… her… them. Then, the blunt, hard heat of his own cock slid effortlessly into the wet, welcoming heat between his thighs.
Ash gasped. Or Emma’s body gasped. A sharp, startled sound that dissolved instantly into a low, guttural moan of pure, shocking sensation. It wasn't pain. It was… overwhelming. A deep, filling pressure, stretching and claiming the tight channel that was suddenly his. Pleasure, immediate and intense, radiated outwards in concentric waves, centered on that intimate joining. It flooded his nervous system, a dizzying cascade that short-circuited coherent thought. The confusion, the terror of displacement, was momentarily drowned in a tide of raw, invasive feeling.
Instinct, primal and undeniable, took over. Ash pushed his hips back, arching the unfamiliar spine, seeking more of that deep, grinding pressure. The moan that escaped Emma’s lips now was lower, needier, a sound of pure, desperate want he’d never imagined making. It vibrated against the pillow.
He needed to see. Needed to understand. Fighting the drugging haze of pleasure, Ash shoved upwards on trembling arms. The movement shifted the angle; the cock inside him hit something that made stars explode behind his eyes. He cried out, a high-pitched whimper, collapsing briefly onto his forearms before pushing up again, shaky but determined.
He felt it then, the undeniable drag and sway of Emma’s large breasts as he lifted his torso. Heavy, sensitive, pulling against the smooth skin with gravity he’d never considered. He looked down. Pale skin, flushed pink. The swell of cleavage. His cleavage. The sight was surreal, detached, yet intimately connected to the throbbing sensitivity he felt there.
Twisting his neck, Ash looked behind him. Over the smooth curve of a shoulder that was now his, he saw him. Ash Lee. His own lean body, black hair messy, sweat gleaming on the defined muscles of his back and chest. His face… it wore an expression Ash had never seen on it before. A predatory focus, a mixture of triumph and intense, almost clinical concentration. His own black eyes, usually warm, were sharp and calculating as they watched the body they’d just vacated.
His own hips were pistoning, driving his thick cock deep into the body Ash now inhabited with hard, rhythmic strokes. The sight was obscene, impossible. Ash watched himself fucking himself.
"Fuck," Ash breathed, the word coming out in Emma’s voice, thin and trembling. The dual reality – the visual horror and the relentless physical pleasure – collided violently inside his skull. He felt slickness pooling, the wet slide as his own cock pulled almost entirely out before slamming back in, filling him again. The pressure built, coiling unbearably low in his borrowed belly, a knot of bright, terrifying sensation.
"Feel good, Ash?" The voice was his own, deep and familiar, but the cadence, the inflection… it was pure Emma. Playful, cruel. "Or should I call you… Emma now?" His former body leaned forward, the muscular chest pressing against Ash’s back. One hand slid up from his waist, roughly palming the heavy breast Ash now possessed, fingers pinching the stiff pink nipple. The jolt of sensation was electric, searing, directly connected to the deep thrusting inside him.
Ash cried out, a choked, wordless sound. The coil snapped. Pleasure detonated, not localized, but erupting through his entire being. It tore through his core, radiating outwards in blinding, uncontrollable waves. His back arched violently, every muscle seizing. The orgasm ripped through Emma’s body – his body – a tsunami of sensation that was utterly alien and devastatingly powerful. He trembled, convulsed, whimpering high, keening sounds he couldn't stop as the climax washed over him, draining his strength, leaving him shaking and weak against the velvet, utterly subsumed by the foreign ecstasy.
His own body, still inside him, didn’t stop. Emma, inhabiting Ash’s form with unnerving ease, kept fucking him. Harder, deeper, chasing her own peak within his stolen flesh. The relentless motion dragged Ash through the lingering tremors of his own climax, a confusing mix of oversensitivity and renewed, unwanted sparks of pleasure. He was helpless, pinned, reduced to panting breaths and stifled moans as his former self used his new body with ruthless efficiency.
"See?" Emma’s voice, coming from Ash’s mouth, was thick with exertion and something like dark amusement. Grunts punctuated her words as she pistoned into him. "Told you… you’d like it… in the end." A final, powerful thrust, deep and grinding. Ash felt his body convulse again internally, clenching reflexively around the invading hardness. A low groan escaped the lips of his former body, his own face contorting in a familiar expression of male release.
Then, stillness. Heavy breathing filled the opulent room. The scent of sex hung thick in the air. Ash felt the cock within him soften, slip out. The sudden emptiness was profound, almost a shock after the intense fullness. He lay limp, collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent, drenched in sweat that wasn’t quite his own, trapped in a cage of soft, desirable skin that felt like a grotesque costume.
His own body – Emma – rolled off, landing beside him on the vast expanse of velvet. Ash turned his head slightly, his new blonde hair sticking to his damp forehead. He stared at the face that had been his for twenty-nine years. Those black eyes met his new blue ones. They held a cold satisfaction, a glint of victory that cut through Ash’s disorientation like ice.
Ash tried to find his voice. Emma’s voice. It felt fragile, untrustworthy. "Who…" he rasped, the sound alien to his own ears. "Who… are you?"
A slow, wide grin spread across Ash’s former face. It was Emma’s grin, utterly confident and chillingly playful. She reached out with Ash’s hand, calloused fingers that felt so familiar yet belonged to someone else now, and traced a line down the curve of the cheek Ash currently wore. Her touch was possessive. Terrifying.
"Who am I?" she chuckled, the sound deep and disturbingly masculine now. "Right now? I’m you, baby. And you?" Her grin widened, showing Ash’s own white teeth. "You’re about to find out exactly who Emma Louise really is. Lesson one starts now." Her fingers tightened slightly, a warning disguised as a caress. "And trust me… this is just the beginning."