Chapter 38: The First Taste
The vinyl record skipped, a soft th-th-thump in the dim salt-lamp glow of Mona’s apartment. Ellie felt the hitch in the music like a hitch in her own breath. She’d come here to explain, to maybe find some anchor in a friend’s normalcy after the earth-shattering violence of Mark, after the terrifying ownership she’d felt holding The Hummingbird and reshaping him. Instead, the secret felt like a live wire under her skin, buzzing in time with the toy in her purse, which was currently emitting a low, sympathetic pulse against her hip.
Cassandra, Mona’s friend, leaned against the bookcase, a glass of red wine in hand. She hadn’t said much, just observed with sharp, curious eyes. She was the kind of woman who looked like she knew things, her red hair a fiery cascade, her low-cut top showcasing an impressive cleavage that seemed to dare you to look. Ellie had been trying not to look.
Cassandra's gaze wasn’t on Ellie’s face. It traveled down, over the new swell of her breasts, the subtle widening of her hips under her jeans, and lingered at her zipper.
Ellie felt it then, a treacherous thickening, a familiar ache. The Hummingbird’s pulse in her purse quickened. Her cock, the eight-inch truth hidden behind denim, stirred, filling, pressing insistently against the confining material. A faint, wet bloom of arousal darkened the front of her panties beneath the jeans.
Cassandra’s eyes widened. Not with shock, but with a hunter’s recognition. She set her wine glass down on a shelf with a deliberate click.
She set her wine glass down on a shelf with a deliberate click. “You look tense, Ellie,” Cassandra said, her voice a low, smooth contrail in the quiet room. “Why don’t you get comfortable?”
Ellie’s mouth was dry. The pulse from her purse was a second heartbeat between her legs. “I’m okay,” she managed, the words sounding brittle and false even to her.
Cassandra simply smiled, a knowing curve of her lips, and closed the distance between them. Her fingers went to the hem of her own black top. In one fluid motion, she pulled it up and over her head, tossing it aside. Her breasts were freed, lush and heavy, with nipples already peaked and dark against pale skin.
“See?” Cassandra murmured, her gaze locked on Ellie’s. “Comfortable.”
Ellie couldn’t look away. A deep, throbbing want, separate from The Hummingbird’s influence yet amplified by it, clenched low in her belly. Her own swollen breasts ached painfully against the constricting fabric of her bra and shirt.
“Your turn,” Cassandra said, her hands coming up to Ellie’s collar. Her fingers brushed the skin of Ellie’s collarbone, sending a jolt straight to her cock.
Ellie didn’t resist. She stood, paralyzed by need and a terrifying curiosity, as Cassandra’s deft fingers worked the buttons of her shirt. Each release felt like a surrender. The fabric parted, and the cool air of the apartment hit her heated skin.
Cassandra pushed the shirt from Ellie’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her breath caught audibly. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered, her eyes wide with genuine awe.
Ellie’s breasts, engorged and heavy from The Hummingbird’s changes, strained against the lace of her bra. The cups were clearly too small, her swollen flesh spilling over the top, the nipples hard and pushing visibly against the material. She felt exposed, monstrous, and utterly seen.
“You gorgeous thing,” Cassandra breathed, her earlier coolness dissolving into raw hunger. Her hands came up to cradle the weight of Ellie’s breasts, thumbs sweeping over the lace.
Ellie gasped, her back arching of its own accord. The touch was electric. From her purse on the floor, The Hummingbird’s hum escalated, a approving drone that vibrated up through the floorboards and into Ellie’s bones.
Cassandra’s fingers found the clasp at the back of the bra. With a flick, it came undone. The lace fell away, and Ellie’s breasts spilled free, full and heavy, the areolas darkened, the nipples taut and desperate for attention.
“Jesus Christ,” Cassandra muttered, leaning in to take one stiff peak into her mouth without preamble.
The wet, hot suction pulled a ragged moan from Ellie’s throat. Her hands flew to Cassandra’s red hair, tangling in the strands, holding her close. The sensation was blinding, a direct line of pleasure to her core and to that other, unfamiliar part of her—her cock, which now strained insistently, weeping a clear droplet onto the inside of her jeans.
Cassandra suckled hard, then switched to the other breast, her hand kneading the wet, abandoned one. She pulled back, her lips glistening. “I need to see all of you,” she said, her voice husky. “These pants have to go.”
Ellie could only nod, her mind white noise of desire. Cassandra’s hands went to the button of Ellie’s jeans, popping it open, dragging the zipper down. The sound was obscenely loud. Cassandra hooked her fingers in the waistband of both jeans and panties and pushed them down Ellie’s thighs in one rough, urgent motion.
They pooled around Ellie’s ankles. Her transformed body was fully exposed: the wider hips, the glistening, open lips of her cunt, and above it, standing rigid and proud from a thatch of auburn curls, her thick, eight-inch cock.
Cassandra stared for a long, silent moment. Then a fierce, possessive grin spread across her face. “Perfect,” she whispered.
She dropped to her knees, her face level with Ellie’s erection. The humid heat of her breath washed over the sensitive head. Ellie shuddered, her whole body trembling.
“It’s so fucking wet,” Cassandra observed, her eyes on the bead of pre-cum welling from the slit. She didn’t wait. She leaned forward and swiped her tongue flat across the tip, collecting the salty fluid.
The taste seemed to ignite something in Cassandra. She hummed appreciatively, her eyes locked on Ellie’s. But then her gaze drifted lower, past the throbbing shaft, to where Ellie’s labia, swollen and darkened, hung open in a loose, glistening slit. The transformation The Hummingbird had wrought was blatant there; her entrance was a soft, gaping pink flower, already dripping clear fluid onto her inner thighs.
“Fuck me,” Cassandra breathed, her voice thick with awe. “Look at that cunt. It’s begging for it.”
She didn’t touch Ellie’s cock again. Instead, she leaned down, her red hair brushing Ellie’s thighs, and blew a soft, warm stream of air directly onto the exposed, sensitive flesh of Ellie’s vulva. Ellie cried out, her knees buckling. Cassandra’s hands shot out to grip Ellie’s hips, holding her steady.
“Easy, girl,” Cassandra murmured, and then she buried her face between Ellie’s legs.
It wasn’t a tentative exploration. It was a claiming. Cassandra’s tongue was a broad, flat stroke that lapped from Ellie’s dripping entrance all the way up to the base of her cock, collecting the flood of arousal. She groaned against Ellie’s flesh, the vibration making Ellie’s vision swim. Then Cassandra’s mouth fastened over Ellie’s open cunt, her lips forming a seal, and she sucked hard.
The sensation was so profound, so utterly different from anything she’d felt with Mark or even The Hummingbird, that Ellie’s legs gave out completely. She would have crumpled to the floor if Cassandra hadn’t been holding her up, the woman’s strong arms the only anchor in a storm of sensation.
“Oh god, oh fuck,” Ellie sobbed, her fingers clawing at Cassandra’s scalp.
Cassandra pulled back for a second, her chin slick. “Tastes like lightning,” she grinned, wild and feral, and dove back in.
This time, her tongue speared deep into Ellie’s impossibly open channel, fucking into her with rapid, expert strokes. She found a rhythm that was merciless, her nose grinding against Ellie’s clit with each thrust. Ellie could only hang there, suspended, as the wet, slurping sounds filled the room, mingling with the skips of the vinyl and her own broken whimpers.
Cassandra adjusted her angle, and her tongue delved even deeper, probing a space that felt brand new, a sensitive, hidden pocket that made Ellie see white. Her body convulsed, a rush of fluid gushing from deep inside her, flooding Cassandra’s waiting mouth.
Cassandra gagged slightly from the volume, but she swallowed it greedily, her throat working. She came up for air, panting. “Again,” she demanded, her voice ragged. “Give me another.”
She sealed her mouth over Ellie’s core and sucked, hard, and Ellie’s body obeyed, another torrent of salty-sweet release pouring out of her. Cassandra drank it down, moaning with pleasure, her own hips grinding against nothing on the floor.
Across the room, Mona watched, her own breath coming fast. She saw the abandon on Ellie’s face, the absolute mastery in Cassandra’s posture. Her eyes fell to the small leather purse that had tumbled from Ellie’s shoulder when her clothes came off. It lay near the discarded shirt, vibrating faintly, emitting that peculiar, electric hum.
While Cassandra was lost in her feast, Mona moved. She padded silently across the floorboards, her slender form a shadow in the lamplight. She knelt, her fingers brushing the purse’s clasp. The moment she touched it, a jolt, like static shock but warmer, shot up her arm.
She opened the purse. Inside, nestled in the lining, was The Hummingbird.
It was more vibrant than she’d imagined, thrumming with a low power, its surface subtly shifting as if breathing. It was slightly warm, almost alive. Mona reached in and wrapped her fingers around it.
Cassandra felt Ellie’s body suddenly clench tight, then go limp. She pulled away, concerned for a second, but Ellie’s eyes were rolled back, a final tremor wracking her form. Her cock twitched violently against her stomach, spilling streaks of cum over her own skin without a hand ever touching it.
Cassandra sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, a look of profound satisfaction on her face. “There you go,” she cooed, her voice hoarse.
Ellie panted, boneless and wrecked, slowly collapsing to the floor. Her blurred vision cleared enough to see Mona, standing now by the bookshelf.
Mona was staring at the carved, humming object in her hand. Her expression was one of rapt, terrifying discovery. The toy’s pulse seemed to sync with the sudden, frantic beat of Ellie’s heart.
“Mona,” Ellie rasped, a spike of panic cutting through the afterglow.
Mona looked up. Her eyes, usually kind and a bit weary, held a new, sharp light. She wasn’t looking at Ellie the friend anymore. She was assessing the changed landscape of Ellie’s body, the wet evidence of Cassandra’s work, the power thrumming in her own palm.
“So this is it,” Mona said, her voice quiet but clear over the record’s persistent skip. She turned the dildo over, watching the light catch its grooves. “This is what’s been rewriting you.”
She took a step forward, her gaze fixed on Ellie’s gaping, used cunt, then flicked to her softening cock.
“Let’s see what it wants to do with me.”