Chapter 20: The Final Transformation
The world had narrowed to sensation: the wet, ragged heat of Mark’s mouth devouring her cunt, and the searing, electric vibration of The Hummingbird pressed against the full length of her new cock.
It was seven inches of rigid, throbbing flesh, a veined impossibility that lay heavy on her stomach, weeping a clear bead from its tip. Each time Mark’s tongue delved deep or circled her vaginal opening or engorged labia, her cock would twitch violently, slapping wetly against her skin.
“That’s it,” Ellie gasped, her voice shattered. “Don’t stop. Swallow it all.”
Mark groaned his assent into her, the sound vibrating through her sensitive folds. He was drowning in her, drinking down the silken gushes that came with each of her relentless contractions. His hands gripped the backs of her thighs, his fingers leaving bruises, anchoring them both.
With a trembling focus, Ellie angled the humming artifact. She pressed its humming, wicked curve along the underside of her shaft, from root to tip.
The effect was instantaneous.
A white-hot wire of pleasure, sharper and more specific than anything before, lanced up her spine. Her back arched off the bed, a silent scream stretching her mouth. Her cock jerked, and a thick rope of cum, clearer than Mark’s but just as copious, shot across her own chest, joining the mess already there.
The orgasm didn’t fade. It plateaued.
The Hummingbird hummed, a sound that was inside her skull now. It fed the sensation, sustained it. As Mark’s tongue flicked and probed, the artifact seemed to learn, its vibrations shifting frequency to match the rhythm of his worship.
Another spurt jetted from her. Then another.
“Fuck, Ellie, you’re a fountain,” Mark managed to rasp, coming up for a gasping breath, his face gleaming. He didn’t sound horrified anymore. He sounded awed. Drunk on her.
She ground her cunt against his mouth, demanding more, while her hand worked The Hummingbird up and down her sensitive cock in short, slick strokes.
The dual stimulation was madness. The pleasure from her cock was bright, singular, a blinding flare. The pleasure from her cunt, administered by Mark’s devoted tongue, was deep, resonating, a rolling thunder. They met in the core of her, merging into a continuous, shuddering release.
Her hips began to piston, fucking both his face and her own fist. The room smelled of sex and lightning. The violet light through the window seemed to pulse in time with The Hummingbird.
Mark met her frantic rhythm, his tongue spearing, his lips sucking. He reached up, his broad hand covering one of her breasts, kneading the flesh, pinching a nipple until she cried out. The pain was a punctuation, a grounding spike in the whirlwind.
She looked down, the sight surreally erotic. Mark, her friend, buried between her legs, utterly consumed. And her own body, transformed, a glistening, cum-stained altar to this new hunger. Her cock, slick with her own spend and the artifact’s strange energy, looked alien and powerfully her own.
A new, more aggressive pulse came from The Hummingbird. The vibrations intensified, becoming almost punishing. The silvery veins beneath its surface flashed.
Ellie’s breath hitched. The sensation building wasn’t just pleasure. It was a demand.
“Mark,” she choked out. “I need… I need you inside. Now. Fuck me. While I’m like this.”
He pulled back, his eyes dark, his lips swollen. He was still hard, his own cock angry and red. He understood the unspoken part: fuck her while she held the thing, while it vibrated against them both.
He moved over her without a word, his body shadowing hers. He positioned himself, the head of his cock nudging her dripping, well-used entrance. She was so open, so loose from his mouth and her own climaxes, he slid in with one smooth, devastating thrust.
The fullness was sublime. Different. He was a blunt, human reality inside her, stretching her in a familiar way. She whimpered, wrapping her legs high around his waist.
He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust pushed her cock, and The Hummingbird still pressed against it, tighter into her own stomach.
“Touch it,” she begged, her voice raw. “Touch me there.”
Mark’s hand slid between them, his fingers wrapping around her cock. He shuddered as he felt it, the heat, the unnatural throb. He began to stroke her in time with his thrusts, his fist a tight, calloused contrast to the artifact’s hum.
Ellie shattered. Again.
This climax was a convulsion, a seizure of pleasure that ripped a guttural scream from her throat. Her cunt clamped around Mark’s driving cock in rapid, milking pulses. Her own cock erupted in his hand, jet after jet of fluid soaking his fist and their grinding stomachs.
The Hummingbird’s hum became a shriek, a pitch only she could hear.
Mark lost his rhythm, his control incinerated by the feel of her climax. “Christ! Ellie!” He hammered into her, his own release triggered by the violent clenching of her channel. He came with a broken shout, burying himself to the hilt, pumping his own seed into the mixed mess inside her.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the fading, angry hum of the artifact.
Slowly, carefully, Ellie’s grip on The Hummingbird loosened. It fell to the sheets with a dull thud, its light dimming to a faint, sullen glow.
Mark collapsed beside her, spent. He turned his head on the pillow, his eyes searching her face. He saw the exhaustion, the bliss, and something else—a distant, haunted look, as if part of her had gone somewhere he couldn’t follow.
He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw, then down her neck to the sticky, pearlescent evidence on her chest. His touch was tender, an attempt to bridge the gap.
“Talk to me,” he whispered.
Ellie looked at the ceiling, her body still humming with aftershocks. The weight of her own cock was a constant, thrilling, terrifying reminder. She felt Mark’s cum beginning to leak out of her, a warm trickle. She felt utterly claimed, and utterly, dangerously free.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said, her voice hollow. “It feels… good. Right. But it’s like I’m borrowing this. From it.” She glanced at The Hummingbird. It seemed to pulse once, slowly, in the gloom.