Chapter 35: Public Encounter
The coffee shop was a trap of normalcy. The smell of ground beans and steamed milk, the soft clatter of ceramic, the murmur of polite conversations about weekend plans and work deadlines—it all felt like a thin veneer painted over the raw, screaming truth of her body. Ellie kept her cardigan wrapped tightly around herself, but the buttons strained. The soft cotton of her bra, once comfortably snug, now cut into the soft flesh beneath her breasts, which hung heavy and low, their weight a constant, aching presence.
She hadn’t been able to fit into a single blouse this morning. The one she wore now was a stretched-out jersey that dipped dangerously low, the shadow between her breasts a deep, obvious valley. Every slight movement made them sway, a jiggle that felt obscenely public. She’d caught the barista, a young man with a lip ring, staring not at her face but at the desperate plunge of her neckline, his mouth slightly agape as he handed over her latte. She’d taken it with a trembling hand, her face burning.
Finding a corner table was a strategic retreat. She sat with her back to the wall, cradling the warm cup like a shield. The library opened in an hour. She just needed to compose herself, to stitch the old Ellie—the one who worried about Dewey decimals and overdue fines—over this new, swollen creature she’d become.
“Well, don’t you look like you’ve been busy.”
The voice, smooth and familiar, came from her left. Ellie looked up, startled.
Mona stood beside the table, holding a small espresso cup. She was dressed in a simple black dress, her long dark hair loose around her shoulders. Her gaze wasn’t on Ellie’s face. It was fixed, with open, calculating interest, on the straining fabric over Ellie’s chest.
“Mona,” Ellie breathed, her voice too high. “I… I didn’t know you came here.”
“I don’t,” Mona said, her smile knowing. She pulled out the chair opposite without asking and sat down, her eyes never leaving Ellie’s breasts. “Usually, it’s too busy. But I had a feeling I might find a friend here.” Finally, her eyes flicked up to meet Ellie’s. They were bright with amusement and something hungrier. “My god, Ellie. What have you been doing? Those are… impressive.”
Ellie’s instinct was to cross her arms, to hide. Instead, she felt a traitorous spike of pride. A flush that wasn’t entirely shame warmed her skin. “It’s… it’s a long story.”
“I bet it is.” Mona took a sip of her espresso, her movements elegant. “I always knew you had a secret life under those cardigans. But this?” She gave a low, appreciative whistle. “This is next level. You look like a fucking fertility goddess someone tried to stuff into a librarian’s costume.”
The crude compliment landed squarely in the pit of Ellie’s stomach, stirring something. She took a gulp of her latte, the heat scraping her throat.
“So,” Mona leaned forward, her voice dropping to a confidential purr. “If the top half has gotten such an… upgrade… I have to ask. Did the fun stop there? Or has the renovation spread south?”
Ellie almost choked. She set the cup down with a clatter. The directness was a shock, but not an entirely unpleasant one. It cut through the pretense, speaking the language her body now understood. Her pussy, still loose and sensitive from the night before, gave a soft, empty throb. She felt her clit—no, her cock—stir faintly against the seam of her trousers.
“Mona, I…” she started, then stopped. What was there to say? Denial was laughable. She shifted in her seat, and the movement pressed her growing erection against the denim. A faint gasp escaped her.
Mona’s eyes narrowed, sharp as a hunter’s. She’d heard it. Seen the slight, awkward adjustment of Ellie’s hips. “Oh, honey,” she breathed, her smile widening. “You have been busy. Don’t be shy. We’re all adults here. What’s the damage?”
The word “damage” resonated. It was damage. A glorious, terrifying wrecking of her old self. Ellie found her voice, shaky but honest. “It’s… different. Everything’s… different.”
“Different how?” Mona’s foot touched Ellie’s under the small table. A point of contact that sent a jolt up her leg. “Bigger?”
Ellie nodded, her eyes locked on Mona’s. The hum of the coffee shop faded, replaced by the thunderous pulse in her own ears. “Yeah. Bigger.”
“Show me.”
Two words. A command. Ellie’s mouth went dry. “Here? We can’t…”
“Not here.” Mona’s gaze swept the room, then landed on a hallway beside the restrooms marked ‘Staff Only.’ “There’s a storage room. I saw the door propped open when I came in. Follow me. Slowly. Casually.”
Mona stood, leaving her empty cup on the table. She walked toward the hallway, not looking back. Ellie sat frozen for a three-count, her heart hammering against her ribs. This was insane. Reckless. Public.
She stood. Her breasts swayed heavily, and her hard cock pressed insistently against her zipper. She followed.
The hallway was narrow, lit by a single flickering fluorescent tube. Mona was already at the end, pushing a door open wider. It was a small storage room, shelves crammed with sacks of coffee beans, paper cups, and cleaning supplies. The air smelled of dust and disinfectant.
Mona turned as Ellie entered, then closed the door softly behind them. The lock clicked into place.
In the dim, utilitarian light, Mona’s expression shifted from amused curiosity to raw avarice. “Okay,” she said, her voice no longer a purr but a knife’s edge. “Let’s see.”
Ellie’s hands were trembling as she fumbled with the buttons of her cardigan. She got them open, revealing the strained, thin fabric of the jersey beneath. Her nipples, hard and desperate, were clearly outlined against the material.
“Take it off,” Mona said.
Ellie obeyed. She pulled the jersey over her head, the movement making her massive tits bounce free. The cool air of the storage room pebbled her flesh. She stood there, topless, her breathing shallow.
Mona didn’t touch her. She just looked, her eyes roaming over the full, heavy curves, the dark, swollen areolas. “Jesus Christ,” Mona muttered. “They’re magnificent. And they’re still growing, aren’t they? I can feel it from here. A heat coming off them.” She finally stepped closer. “Can I?”
Ellie nodded, words failing her.
Mona’s hands were cool and dry. They cupped Ellie’s breasts, weighing them, her thumbs brushing over the nipples. A shiver wracked Ellie’s body. It wasn’t the electric, overwhelming charge of The Hummingbird or Mark’s rough possession. This was slower, more deliberate. Appreciative.
“Now,” Mona whispered, her hands still kneading the soft flesh, “let’s see the main event.”
Mona’s hands slid down Ellie’s quivering stomach, the cool tips of her fingers tracing the tense line of muscle beneath soft skin. They stopped at the waistband of Ellie’s trousers, the denim stretched taut over a prominent, rigid bulge. “Someone’s eager,” Mona murmured, her voice a mix of admiration and sly assessment.
Ellie’s breath hitched as Mona’s fingers found the button. It gave way with a soft ping, shooting off to vanish among the coffee sacks. The zipper groaned in protest, a metal tooth catching briefly before yielding. “They’re… tight,” Ellie managed, her face burning as Mona hooked her thumbs into the fabric.
“No shit,” Mona laughed, a short, breathy sound. She tugged. The strained denim practically popped open, the sound sharp in the dusty room, releasing the thick, hard length of Ellie’s cock. It sprang free, slapping against her lower belly, already fully erect and gleaming with a bead of moisture at the tip.
Mona leaned back on her heels, her eyes wide. “Well, hello again,” she said, her gaze traveling the eight inches of flushed, veined flesh. She reached out, wrapping her fingers around the base, feeling its heat and weight. “It’s a handsome piece, Ellie. Solid.” Her thumb swiped over the slick head, spreading the pre-cum. “But I gotta say, I’m a little disappointed. From the state of your tits, I thought it might have… outpaced itself. But it’s the same impressive handful you had in your apartment.”
Ellie whimpered, the direct comparison to her previous, more contained self sending a jolt through her. “It’s… it’s enough,” she whispered, though the words felt hollow even to her.
“Oh, it’s more than enough... for now,” Mona assured her, her tone shifting from appraisal to hunger. Her other hand slid between Ellie’s splayed thighs, her fingers probing through the coarse curls. They dipped lower, seeking not Ellie’s cock but the entrance beneath it. Mona’s fingers met no resistance, sliding effortlessly into the wet, open heat of Ellie’s pussy. They sank in to the knuckles, then deeper, exploring the cavernous space. Mona’s eyebrows shot up. “Christ, you’re empty in here,” she breathed, her fingers moving in a loose, shallow curl. “Gaping wide open and dripping. But where’s your little friend? That buzzing little fellow isn’t stuffed up this hungry cunt where it belongs.”
Before Ellie could formulate an answer—an answer that would involve Mark, and possession, and betrayal—Mona bent her head. She took the head of Ellie’s cock into her mouth without ceremony, her lips stretching into a tight, warm ring. The shock of wet heat was instantaneous, a direct line to Ellie’s spine. Mona sucked hard, her tongue flattening against the sensitive underside.
Ellie cried out, her hands flying to the shelves behind her for support. Mona’s mouth was expert, a relentless, filthy rhythm. She deep-throated half the length, her nose pressing into Ellie’s pubic bone, then pulled back with a obscene, slick pop. “Tastes like regret and cheap coffee,” Mona gasped, grinning wickedly before diving back down. She hollowed her cheeks, applying brutal suction, her hand still working inside Ellie’s loose, slippery hole.
The dual assault was overwhelming. The raw, physical pleasure of Mona’s mouth on her cock warred with the emotional vertigo of that empty, gaping space inside her. It ached for fullness, for the specific, shaping pressure of The Hummingbird, but all it had was Mona’s clever, probing fingers.
Mona unzipped her own dress, letting it pool at her feet.
She stood naked now, skin pale in the gloom, her own body slender and unmarked by the magic that had rewritten Ellie’s. Without a word, Mona turned. She bent forward, placing her palms flat on a sack of dark roast beans. The position arched her back, presenting the pale curve of her ass, the dark seam of her sex between her thighs.
"Come on, Ellie," Mona said, her voice muffled against the burlap. "Stop thinking. Just fuck me. Let's see what your equipment can do."
The invitation was crude and absolute. Ellie stared at the offered cleft, her cock throbbing in the cool air. Her mind flashed to Mark, to the brutal reshaping he’d performed, to the way The Hummingbird had hummed in agreement. This was different. This was her choice. She stepped forward, the concrete floor gritty under her feet. She guided the slick head of her cock to Mona’s entrance, finding it surprisingly tight, a neat, resistant knot of flesh.
She pushed.
Mona gasped, a sharp, shocked inhalation. The head of Ellie’s cock stretched the vaginal ring wide, sinking into a clenching, hot interior that felt nothing like her own ruined channel. "Fuck, fuck, okay," Mona hissed, her knuckles whitening on the coffee sack. "You're thick. God, you're really fucking thick."
Ellie pushed deeper, a slow, relentless invasion. The tightness was overwhelming, a velvet vice that squeezed her entire length as she fed more of herself inside. She watched, mesmerized, as her flesh disappeared into Mona’s body, stretching the other woman to a foreign shape. Mona was panting, short, ragged breaths that fogged the burlap.
"More," Mona grunted, pushing back against her. "Don't be a pussy. Give it all to me."
Ellie obeyed, rocking her hips forward until her pelvis met Mona’s ass with a soft smack. She was buried to the hilt, her cock fully engulfed in that gripping, agonizingly tight heat. Mona felt incredible—a pristine, narrow tunnel untouched by magic or monstrous cocks, and now Ellie was the one defiling it. The power of that thought, dark and intoxicating, surged through her.
She began to move. Short, testing strokes at first, each one pulling a wet, sucking sound from Mona’s stretched pussy. Then longer, harder drives, her hips slapping against Mona’s ass in a steady, punishing rhythm. The storage room filled with the sounds of their bodies: skin on skin, ragged breathing, the rustle of the bean sack.
"Oh, Christ, right there," Mona moaned, pushing back to meet each thrust. "Your fucking dick... it’s so deep." Her own hand snaked between her legs, fingers frantically rubbing her clit. "It's like you're punching my fucking ovaries."
The filthy praise lit a fuse in Ellie. She grabbed Mona’s hips, her fingers digging into the soft flesh, and fucked her harder. The pace became brutal, animal. Each slam drove Mona forward, her breasts crushed against the rough sack. Ellie’s large tits swung heavily with the force of her movements, a sweaty, pendulous counter-rhythm.
It felt too good, this raw, possessive act. It was a distraction from the hollow ache The Hummingbird had left, from the betrayal. Here, she was the one in control, the one with the devastating gift. She focused on the feeling of Mona’s cunt clinging to her, milking her, trying to accommodate her girth.
After a particularly deep thrust, Mona cried out, her body seizing. Her pussy clenched in a series of violent spasms around Ellie’s cock, drenching her with wet heat. Mona slumped forward, trembling, her climax wracking through her.
Ellie didn’t stop. The tight, fluttering grip only spurred her on. She kept pounding, her own orgasm building like a storm at the base of her spine. She was using Mona now, just a vessel for her own release, a way to prove she still existed as something other than a receptacle.
"Wait," Mona gasped, her voice strained. She reached a hand back, groping blindly, her fingers wrapping around Ellie’s thigh. "Wait, stop for a second."
Reluctantly, Ellie stilled, buried deep inside the quivering woman. She was panting, sweat dripping from her chin onto Mona’s back.
Mona turned her head, her cheek pressed against the beans. Her eyes were glassy with pleasure but sharp with a new, urgent curiosity. "This feels... fucking amazing, don't get me wrong," she breathed. "But you feel it, right?"
She paused, licking her lips.
"Can you make it bigger?"
The question hung in the dust-filled air.
Ellie went very still. The humming in her blood, the phantom pulse she associated with The Hummingbird, seemed to quiet, listening. A cold, sharp panic slithered up from her gut. It’s at home. The thought was a scream inside her skull. It’s on my nightstand, dark and silent. I left it. She had wanted one hour of not being its creature, one cup of coffee in a world that made sense.
Now, Mona was asking for the impossible, and she would fail. The disappointment on Mona’s face would be a mirror reflecting her own inadequacy, a proof that without the toy, she was just a freak with bizarre anatomy and no power to back it up.
“I… I don’t have it with me,” Ellie stammered, the admission tasting like ash. Her cock, still buried to the hilt in Mona’s clutching warmth, felt suddenly ordinary, a mere tool. “The thing that… makes it happen. It’s not here.”
Mona twisted her head further, her expression unreadable for a heartbeat. Then a sly smile touched her lips, cruel and knowing. “So it’s the toy that does it? Not you?” She tightened her internal muscles around Ellie’s shaft, a slow, mocking pulse. “That’s a pity. I really wanted to feel you stretch me wider. Not that there is anything inadequate about what you have now...”
The words were a taunt, a challenge that landed on the raw, open nerve of Ellie’s fear. She felt a flush of shame so hot it prickled behind her eyes. She was about to pull out, to retreat into the humiliation, when a deep, visceral twitch traveled the length of her cock.
It was an involuntary spasm, a jump of live-wire nerves.
It was followed by a low, aching throb that originated not from any toy, but from the very core of her own transformed pelvis. The flesh in Mona’s grasp seemed to grow denser, heavier. Ellie gasped, her eyes widening. She looked down.
Where her cock met Mona’s body, the base appeared to swell, just a fraction. The veins standing out on the shaft grew more prominent, the skin stretching tauter over the burgeoning girth. It wasn’t the dramatic, shocking growth Mark had forced with The Hummingbird’s help. This was subtler, an organic response, as if her body itself had heard the request and was grimly attempting to comply.
“Oh, fuck,” Mona breathed, her mocking smile vanishing into a mask of rapt astonishment. She pushed back, a slow, experimental grind, and her breath hitched. “Yes. Oh, yes, Ellie. Do you feel that? It’s getting bigger. It’s thickening up inside me. You’re doing it.”
Ellie couldn’t speak. She could only feel. The transformation was both terrifying and exhilarating. It was hers. The connection to The Hummingbird wasn’t severed; it was woven into her now, a latent potential thrumming in her marrow. Mona’s desire, her filthy challenge, had tapped into it.
Fueled by shock and a surging, possessive pride, Ellie began to move again. She pulled back until just the newly thickened head remained caught in Mona’s stretched ring, then slammed forward. The sensation was entirely new. The increased girth met a fiercer resistance, a delicious, burning tightness that Mona vocalized as a strangled cry.
“God, yes! Fuck me with it! Fuck me with your big, growing cock!” Mona chanted, her voice raw. Her hands scrambled against the burlap for purchase.
Ellie set a punishing rhythm. Each thrust was a claim. The storage room filled with the wet, meaty sound of penetration, the slap of skin, the rustle of shifting beans. Ellie’s mind emptied of everything but the feedback loop between them: the feel of Mona’s cunt straining to accommodate her, the hungry, approving sounds Mona made, and the slow, steady, impossible expansion of her own flesh within that hot, tight sheath.
She felt fuller, more powerful with each drive. Her balls, though absent, seemed to ache with a phantom need to breed. She leaned over Mona’s back, her massive breasts crushing against Mona’s spine, and fucked her with a focused, brutal intensity. This was no longer about panic or proving herself. It was about conquest. It was about the pure, primal fact of her changing body and its ability to rewrite the geometry of another woman’s pleasure.
“I’m gonna come,” Mona whimpered, her body tightening. “I’m gonna come on your monster dick, you beautiful fucking witch.”
The declaration pushed Ellie over the edge. The orgasm ripped through her, a raw, silent convulsion that locked her joints. Her cock, now unmistakably larger than it had been minutes before, jerked and pulsed, pumping a torrent of release deep into Mona’s clamping depths. Mona screamed, a muffled sound against the sack, her own climax triggered by the flooding heat and the final, stretching fraction of an inch Ellie’s body had granted her.
They collapsed together, a tangled, sweaty heap against the coffee beans. Ellie’s softened cock, still impressively thick, slipped out with a wet, sucking pop, followed by a slow trickle of their combined fluids down Mona’s thigh. The air reeked of sex, sweat, and dark roast.
For a long minute, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing.
She thought of Mark, of the predatory gleam in his eye when he realized he could direct the toy’s power. A cold knot tightened in her stomach. If the power was in her now, what did that make her? And more importantly, what would he do when he found out she no longer needed the toy in her hand to change?