Chapter 21: Cleansing
The steam clung to Ellie’s skin like a second sheath. She stood under the scalding spray, head bowed, water sluicing in rivers down the new, heavy slopes of her breasts. Her hands, slick with soap, cupped their full weight, thumbs circling nipples that were perpetually pebbled and sensitive now. A low sigh escaped her.
She soaped her stomach, washing away the streaks of Mark’s cum and her own, the evidence of what they’d done. Her fingers trailed lower, through the coarse auburn curls.
Her cunt felt loose, wonderfully used, the lips swollen and parted. She touched herself there, a gentle probe, and a shiver ran through her. The memory of that deep, internal pocket The Hummingbird had carved behind her cervix made her clench instinctively around nothing. She was made for more.
Then her fingers found her cock.
It was soft, a thick, warm weight against her palm. As she wrapped her hand around it, she felt a familiar, responding thrum deep in her core, an echo of The Hummingbird’s power. She began to stroke, slowly at first, just feeling the new reality of it. The skin was incredibly soft, sliding over the rigid core beneath. In a handful of heartbeats, it swelled, thickening, lengthening, filling her fist until her fingers couldn’t meet.
She looked down. It stood out from her body, rigid and veined, the head flushed a deep purple-red. The hot water beat directly on the sensitive tip, and she gasped, her hips jerking. It was bigger. Definitely bigger than it had been when she’d lain with Mark. Maybe even bigger than his now.
The thought was a bolt of pure, filthy lightning.
She leaned back against the cold tile, one hand bracing herself, the other working her cock in a fast, tight rhythm. The slap of her wet fist against her body was loud in the tiled space. She pictured Mark, the look on his face if he saw this. If he knelt and took it in his mouth. If he presented his ass to her, begging for it.
“Fuck,” she hissed, the word swallowed by the steam.
Her orgasm built quickly, a tight coil in the root of her cock. She was a stranger to herself, and it was the most exhilarating feeling she’d ever known. With a choked cry, she came. Thick, opalescent strands shot across the shower wall, mixing with the streaming water. Her knees buckled, but she held herself up, panting.
It didn’t soften. The damn thing stayed hard, throbbing with a persistent, needy ache.
She kept stroking, slower now, a maddening tease. She imagined Mark’s cock, not as it was, but transformed. Swollen and massive, as long and thick as The Hummingbird could get, splitting her open, filling that deep pocket until she screamed. The fantasy was so vivid she could almost feel the stretch.
She came again with a guttural groan, another, smaller burst of cum joining the mess on the tiles.
The water was starting to run cold.
Ellie heard Mark yelp from her bedroom, a sharp, startled sound that cut through the hum of the plumbing.
Her head snapped up. Every muscle tightened. The pleasurable haze evaporated, replaced by a spike of alarm. She turned off the shower, the sudden silence ringing in her ears.
She didn’t bother with a towel.
Dripping, she pushed the foggy glass door aside and stepped onto the bathmat. Water pooled around her feet. Her cock, still fully erect and glistening, bobbed with the movement, a last bead of cum welling at the slit and dripping onto the floor.
She moved quickly, silently, out of the bathroom and into the dim hallway, her heart hammering against her ribs. The bedroom door was ajar. Violet moonlight from the window painted a stripe across the rumpled bed.
Violet moonlight from the window painted a stripe across the rumpled bed. Mark was on his knees beside it, his back to her, body rigid. His hands were clenched white-knuckled on the disheveled sheets. A low, pained groan rattled in his chest.
Ellie’s breath hitched. The humid scent of their spent sex still hung in the air, but under it was something new, a sharp, electric tang. And there was the hum, deeper now, a vibration she felt in her teeth.
“Mark?” Her voice was a dry whisper.
He jerked at the sound, trying to look over his shoulder. His face was a mask of stunned agony. “Ellie. God. It just… it happened so fast.”
He was naked, the muscles of his back corded with strain. And there, between the tense curves of his ass, The Hummingbird was lodged. Only the ornate, flared base was visible, the rest of its length buried deep inside him. Its silver veins pulsed with a sickly light, and the whole device throbbed obscenely with each beat of his heart.
“It was just lying there,” he gasped, his words rushing out. “It was humming, this low, insistent sound. I just… I reached for it. Curious, you know? Just to touch it.”
He shuddered violently, a fresh wave of tension seizing him. The Hummingbird’s hum pitched higher, more eager, as Ellie took a step closer. Her own cock, still hard and neglected, gave a sympathetic throb.
“My fingers barely brushed it,” Mark choked out. “And then it… it moved. It was like it was liquid one second and hard the next. The next thing I knew, it was… fucking hell, Ellie, it was inside me. It pushed right in.”
The visual was simultaneously horrifying and electrifying. The artifact was not small. It was fully erect, a thick, carved intrusion violating him. A thin trickle of blood, stark in the moonlight, traced a path down his inner thigh. The base pressed firmly against his roseate hole, stretched wide and straining around the girth.
Ellie moved without thinking, driven by a morbid, hungry fascination. She knelt on the mattress behind him, her wet skin meeting the damp sheets. The hum intensified, vibrating up through her knees. She placed a shaking hand on the small of his back, feeling the feverish heat of his skin.
“It’s okay,” she heard herself say, her voice strange and thick.
“It’s not okay,” he gritted out, but he didn’t pull away. His body was accepting it, even in its panic. “It’s… it’s fucking alive. It feels like it’s… growing.”
As if on command, The Hummingbird gave a subtle, twisting pulse. Mark cried out, his head falling forward. The base seemed to swell slightly, stretching him further. Ellie’s mouth watered. A dark, possessive thrill shot through her. It had chosen him. It was in him, just as its influence was in her.
Her other hand, of its own volition, wrapped around her own aching cock. She gave it a slow, slick stroke, her eyes fixed on the junction where the artifact disappeared into his body.
“Does it hurt?” she breathed.
“Yes. No. Fuck, I don’t know.” He panted, pushing back against it almost imperceptibly. “It’s full. It’s so deep. It’s… oh god, it’s vibrating again.”
A new, more vigorous tremor began within The Hummingbird, a busy, insistent internal motion. Mark’s entire body shook with it. A broken, pleasurable sound escaped his lips, contradicting his fear.
Ellie leaned closer, her nipple brushing his sweat-slicked spine. She could smell his panic, his sweat, and the coppery hint of blood. Her fingers trailed from his back down to the clenched curve of his ass, tracing the rim of flesh stretched taut around the intrusion.
“It wants you,” she murmured, her lips against his shoulder blade. Her intellectual curiosity was gone, burned away by a predatory need. “It showed me what I wanted. Now it’s showing you.”
She pressed her finger against the stretched edge, alongside the vibrating base. Mark jolted as if electrocuted. “Ellie, what are you—”
“Shhh,” she soothed, her voice a dark caress. She began to move her hand on her own cock in earnest now, a rough, fast pace. “Let it. Watch what it does.”
She took the base of The Hummingbird, her fingers curling around it just above his flesh. It was warm, almost hot. She didn’t pull. She pushed, gently, adding the pressure of her hand to its slow, inexorable invasion.
Mark screamed, a raw sound torn from his throat. His body arched, bowing backward, impaling himself further. The Hummingbird slid another inch into him, and its vibrations shifted, becoming a deep, rotating grind inside his channel.
“Fuck! Fuck, it’s moving!” His words dissolved into incoherent groans. His own cock, which had been soft and spent, was now fully erect, bobbing heavily beneath him, leaking pre-come onto the sheets.
Ellie watched, mesmerized, as the artifact worked him. She imagined what he must be feeling: the unbearable stretch, the unnatural deep prodding, the relentless mechanical stimulation against his prostate. Her own orgasm built, a tsunami fueled by voyeuristic power and shared violation.