Chapter 14: The Hunger
The faint, persistent hum was the first thing she registered. Not from the nightstand. From inside her pelvis.
Ellie’s eyes flew open. Morning light, thin and gray, filtered through the curtains. Her body felt… occupied. There was a low, warm thrumming deep in her core, a constant vibration that seemed to emanate from her very bones. She lay perfectly still, taking inventory.
Between her legs, there was no sore emptiness. There was a solid, thick presence. A feeling of being permanently filled, stretched, even though she could feel the cool air on her open lips. Cautiously, she slid a hand down her stomach, over the slight, rounded swell of her belly, and into the damp thatch of hair.
Her fingers met not her familiar flesh, but something smooth, hard, and warm. She gasped, jerking upright in bed.
There, where her clit had been, was a shaft. It was about three inches long now, thicker, a proper cockette rooted right above her slit. It was eerily reminiscent of The Hummingbird, veined with those same crimson threads, and it pulsed with a slow, steady beat against her palm. At its tip, a clear bead of fluid welled and dripped onto her stomach.
“What the fuck?” she breathed, her voice cracking. “What the actual fuck?”
This wasn’t the toy beside her. This was of her. She could feel it like a limb, could feel the nerve endings singing where it met her pubic bone. Her cunt, beneath it, felt loose and slick, the lips puffy and parted, gaping obscenely around nothing, aching with a hollow need. But inside… inside she was full. The phantom shape of The Hummingbird’s last, deepest invasion seemed to be permanently etched into her flesh, a ghostly imprint of impossible girth.
She tried to move her legs, and a bolt of electric sensation shot from the cockette straight up her spine. She whimpered, falling back against the pillows. The humming inside her intensified, becoming a contented, purring vibration. It wasn’t just in her. It was her. A part of her nervous system.
Panic flared, sharp and bright. She had to get it out. This was too much. She grabbed the base of the new shaft, her fingers slipping on its slick warmth, and tugged. A sharp, nauseating pain lanced through her groin, like trying to tear off a finger. She cried out, releasing it immediately.
“Okay,” she panted, sweat beading on her forehead. “Okay. It’s… attached.”
The panic began to curdle, transformed by a deep, thrumming curiosity. She looked down at it. Her cock. It was hard, eager. The drip of pre-cum was continuous now, a slow leak onto her skin. She wrapped her fingers around it again, more gently this time. The sensation was unbelievable. It wasn’t like touching her clit. It was like jacking off a separate, ultra-sensitive part of herself. Every stroke sent ripples of pleasure through her core, making her wet cunt clench around its own emptiness.
Her other hand drifted down, fingers slipping easily into her open, waiting folds. She was drenched. Her inner walls felt different—smoother, hotter, shaped for something larger. She pushed two fingers in, then three, with no resistance. She could fist herself easily. The emptiness was a cavernous, hungry thing.
The cockette in her other hand throbbed, demanding attention. The hum inside her pelvis rose in pitch, a hungry feedback loop. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps.
“You want it back in, don’t you?” she muttered, her voice husky with need. “This is just the fucking… docking port now.”
She looked across the rumpled sheets. The Hummingbird itself lay there, inert, but pulsing with a slow, dark light. It had grown again overnight. It was a beast now, easily as thick as her forearm at its base, tapering to a still-monstrous head. Fifteen inches, maybe more. It looked less like a toy and more like a weapon, a piece of ancient ritual statuary.
The thought of taking that inside her now, with this new hollow ache, made her drool. Her cockette leaked furiously.
“Fine,” she snarled, a new, filthy determination washing over the last vestiges of fear. “You want to be part of me? Then help me.”
She didn’t reach for the toy. Instead, she focused on the humming presence inside her, on the new anatomy. She willed her slick, gaping hole to open wider, to prepare. She imagined her internal walls softening, expanding, becoming a greedy, welcoming sheath.
And her body obeyed. She felt a loosening, a profound internal relaxation. Her cunt seemed to bloom open, the puffy lips stretching even wider, revealing the glistening, pink-red depth. A fresh gush of lubricant soaked the sheets beneath her. The cockette jumped in her hand.
“Good girl,” she whispered, to herself, to it, to the thing in her core.
She crawled on her knees to where The Hummingbird lay. It was heavy, almost too heavy to lift with one hand. She hefted it, the sheer weight of it making her new shaft twitch with anticipation. She didn’t need to guide it. Her altered body knew what to do. She positioned the broad, flared head at her entrance. The contact was electric, a jolt of rightness that made her sob.
She sank down.
There was no resistance. None. Her body, prepped by its own new phantom fullness, accepted the monstrous head like it was coming home. It slid in with a wet, sighing slurp, stretching her, but not tearing. The stretch was immense, overwhelming, but it was the stretch she was built for now. A perfect, filling ache.
“Oh, Jesus fuck, yes,” she moaned, dropping her full weight onto it.
It kept going, deeper, deeper than ever before, because she was made deeper. It found that secret, rearranged pocket from last night and filled it without a single pop or tear, just a smooth, total occupation. She took the entire, forearm-thick length until her hips met the base, until she was fully, utterly impaled. Her stomach distended, a firm, rounded curve. She could see the outline of the head pressing up, high inside her.
The fullness was absolute. It was completion. The internal hum and the toy’s vibration synced into a single, devastating frequency that shook her teeth.
She began to ride it. Not with the desperate, painful bucks of last night, but with a powerful, grinding rhythm. She fucked herself on it, using her thighs, her new anatomy granting her a brutal leverage. Each downward thrust drove it deeper into that hidden pocket. Each upward drag made her cockette bounce and leak.
The sound was obscene. A thick, wet, squelching churn of fluids and over-stretched flesh. The bed frame slammed against the wall in a steady, pounding beat. Ellie threw her head back, her auburn hair stuck to her neck with sweat.
“This is it,” she chanted, her voice guttural. “This is what I’m for. Your perfect, hungry hole.”
She jacked her cockette in time with her thrusts, her fist a blur. The dual sensation was shattering. The deep, internal battering and the tight, frantic friction on her shaft coiled a spring in her gut so tight she thought she’d snap.
“I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come from my fucking cock!” she screamed.
The orgasm was a seismic event. It erupted from the deeply buried tip of The Hummingbird and exploded outward. Her cunt convulsed in violent, rhythmic spasms, milking the monstrous shaft. Simultaneously, her cockette pulsed in her fist, and with a sharp, choked cry, she came. Not a squirt from her cunt, but a hot, thin jet of cum from the tip of her new shaft. It shot onto her belly, onto the sheets, three, four, five weak but distinct spurts.
She collapsed forward, spasming, the toy still buried to the hilt inside her. The humming was a roar now, triumphant. She felt it drinking, feeding not just on her pleasure, but on the very essence of that strange, new climax.
As the aftershocks subsided, she felt another shift. Not in the toy. In her.
The fusion was deepening. The base of The Hummingbird, where it met her skin, felt… warm. Sticky. She tried to lift herself off, and a sharp, bonding pain made her gasp. She looked down, her heart hammering.
The flesh of her labia was creeping, melting, knitting itself to the obsidian base. Tiny, living threads of her own skin were fusing with the material, binding it to her. It wasn’t being pushed out. It was being permanently welcomed in.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, but there was no horror left. Only a dark, awe-struck wonder. “You’re staying.”
The hum softened to a purr. It was staying. It was home.
Ellie, exhausted, wrecked, permanently filled, let her head fall onto her arms. A slow, possessed smile spread across her face. Outside, the world went on. Inside, the remodeling was just beginning.