Chapter 4: Showerroom Showdown
Steam poured in heavy clouds, swallowing the high ceiling's recessed neon lights and leaving the tiled walls slick and beaded. Tanya's moan hit the fog and dissolved, a reedy sound against the consistent roar of the central showerhead and the wet, rhythmic smack of flesh. Each of Rex's thrusts bounced her deeper into the accumulating puddle around their feet, her own new weight driven higher up the slick wall only to be caught and plummeted again by his next piston-drive inside her. "Tell 'er, Tanya," Rex growled over his shoulder, voice cutting clean through the din.
Across the foggy expanse, kneeling on the clammy tiles with her own leash looped to a bench leg, Brandi's ruined bra barely contained her own breasts, which were so heavy the shoulder straps dug purple trenches into her skin, her loose nipples now leaking thin milky streaks. Her wrists were raw and pink. "It's happening all over again," she whispered into the choking steam, watching with wide eyes.
Tanya's sweat-slick back arched off the wall, hands scrabbling uselessly for purchase against the mirror but now sobbed, her fair skin flushed a deep, mottled red as a visible tremor began rolling from her rounded shoulders down her formidable, drug-spilled hips, a shudder rivaling Brandi's own chemical sunrise earlier that same evening. Each new inch of ravaging thickness he forced Tanya to claim rippled straight through Brandi’s bested frame—an echo miles away that still penetrated, somehow both empathy and agonizingly intrusive rivalry—proving their connection lay completely underneath obvious biology.
"This isn’t the CurvaMax... It's you," Tanya choked, her yell hoarse and fragmented like tree branches snapping as yet another of Rex’s pillagers drove the air within her from her lungs halfway into his foreign possession, her widening eyes searching the camera reflection only to finally skim down to locate Brandi wearing just her scrape of torn bra and set-in collar poised there on metallic bleachers with saliva drying at a corner of her.
The recognition in Tanya’s shattered gaze, the raw admission that it was him and not just the powder that remade them, ignited something in Brandi’s core. Her own leaking breasts felt suddenly lighter, the collar’s weight a welcome anchor rather than a chain. The jealousy curdled, transformed into a desperate, hungry solidarity. She needed to touch, to be part of the current of transformation.
“Let me,” Brandi heard herself say, her voice clear and startling in the steam. She didn't wait for Rex’s permission. Her fingers, nimble despite their trembling, worked at the simple knot tethering her leash to the bench. The leather slithered free with a soft hiss. She rose, her new hips rolling with a deliberate, unstable grace, and moved through the mist toward the slick, shuddering tableau.
Rex watched her approach, a low grunt of approval vibrating through his chest as he maintained his relentless rhythm against Tanya. Brandi’s hands, cool from the tiles, slid over the heat of his sweat-slicked lower back, feeling the monstrous cords of muscle working beneath his skin. She pressed her swollen body against him, her leaking nipples dragging across the defined ridges of his latissimus.
Her mouth found the salty juncture of Tanya’s neck and shoulder, tasting sweat and steam and the other woman’s sharp, shared desperation. Tanya’s head lolled back, a broken sigh escaping her as Brandi’s hands came around to cup the unbelievable, jiggling weight of Tanya’s drug-enhanced breasts, supporting them, joining their burdens. “Yes,” Tanya whimpered, the competition dissolving into a confluence of need.
Brandi’s other hand drifted down, past Rex’s pounding hips, her fingers finding the slick, swollen evidence of Tanya’s surrender. She smeared it, mixing their shared reverence, then brought her wet fingers to her own mouth, her eyes locked on Rex’s profile. She suckled them clean, the taste electric and final. This was her place. Not watching. Belonging.
Belonging meant tasting the evidence of his claim on her lips, salt and surrender. Her own wetness joined the mix, an uncontrollable seepage that painted her inner thighs. She pressed her forehead against Rex’s heaving back, feeling the immense machinery of him work, and inhaled his scent through the steam.
“He’s… he’s bigger again today,” Brandi breathed into his skin, her voice hushed and worshipful. The words were not an observation but a prayer. “Yesterday in my room… it was a lot. But now…” Her babbling trailed into a moan as her hands slid over his latissimus dorsi, feeling the new, impossible density. “It’s thicker. It’s heavier. It’s growing inside her right now.”
Tanya’s body clenched around him, a violent, confirming spasm. “God, yes,” Tanya sobbed, her head knocking back against the tile. The affirmation from both sides seemed to galvanize Rex. A deep, approving rumble vibrated from his chest into Brandi’s cheek. “You finally noticed,” he grunted, not breaking his punishing rhythm.
He pulled almost completely out of Tanya, letting her slump against the wall, her body glistening and used. “Kneel,” he commanded Brandi, his voice leaving no space for thought. She slid down instantly, the cool tile a shock against her knees. Tanya, dazed and leaking, mirrored her, their bodies forming a wet, devoted bracket at his feet.
He looked down at them, his Scepter standing imperiously between their faces, glistening with the proof of Tanya’s transformation. “Prove you understand the scale,” he said, his tone casual, conversational even. “Both of you. Show me you know what you’re meant for.”
Brandi didn’t hesitate. Her mouth, her newly plumped lips, stretched wide as she took him first, her tongue flattening against the terrifying, pronounced vein. Tanya followed, her own lips sealing around the base, their noses almost touching. The shared act was a silent, wet communion. They worked in a shaky, uncoordinated tandem, their eyes meeting over the slick, demanding flesh, a mutual understanding passing between them in the steam. This was their function now, their shared worship of a force that was actively, daily, outgrowing the world.
This was their function now, their shared worship of a force that was actively, daily, outgrowing the world. Their tongues, tentative at first, found a synchronicity in the slick heat, Brandi lavishing the broad crown while Tanya traced the pulsing vein along the underside with a devout focus. “It tastes different than yesterday,” Brandi murmured, her lips pausing, her breath hot against the skin. “Denser. Like the muscle in his arms.” Tanya nodded, her cheek brushing Brandi’s, a drop of perspiration mingling with the steam. “It’s the pump,” she whispered reverently, her hand joining Brandi’s to stroke the formidable base they could no longer fully encircle. “I can feel it feeding.” A clear, viscous pearl welled from the tip, catching the distorted neon glow. Brandi watched it form, her hunger a palpable ache in her jaw. “Look,” she breathed, catching it on her thumb before it could fall, showing Tanya the glistening string stretching between her skin and him. She brought her thumb to her mouth, then to Tanya’s, sharing the salty, primal flavor. “He’s ready,” Tanya said, her voice hushed with awe. Another thick droplet followed the first, a slow leak that painted a slick trail down the shaft. They both moved to capture it, their mouths meeting briefly over the weeping slit, a messy, desperate communion. Their hands roamed the straining skin, mapping every new ridge and throbbing artery as if memorizing a sacred text. “Do you feel how it jumps?” Brandi asked, her words slurred by the flesh filling her mouth. Tanya could only moan in affirmation, her own mouth too occupied, her eyes rolling back as another pulse rewarded their devotion. The steam thickened around their kneeling forms, a private chapel built from sweat, salt, and leaking proof. Rex looked down, his shadow engulfing them, a low grunt his only benediction. Their worship was complete, a circuit of hunger and fulfillment sealed by his silent, towering authority. The air itself seemed to bow under the weight of what was to come.
The air itself seemed to bow under the weight of what was to come. “Enough,” Rex stated. His voice, flat and final, severed their worship. A thick, pearlescent bead had formed and quivered at his tip while they worked, ignored in their fervor. “Clean that up,” he commanded, gesturing with a slight tilt of his hips.
Brandi and Tanya both lunged, their heads colliding softly in the steam. Their lips met around the weeping slit in a clumsy, shared hunger. They drank from him, a simultaneous, deep pull that drew the taste of salt and raw power onto their tongues. They swallowed together, the warm spill hitting the back of their throats in unison.
A shared, shaky exhale passed between them, their foreheads now touching. The intimacy of the act, performed under his direction, felt more binding than any vow. “Good,” he said, the single word a gavel falling. He stepped back, his shadow receding from them, the Scepter glistening wetly between them. “On the bench, Brandi. Hands behind you.”
She scrambled to obey, her heavy breasts swinging as she positioned herself on the cold, wet metal bench where her leash had been tied. The posture pulled her shoulders back, forcing her massive chest forward into a flawless, jutting arch. Tanya remained on the tiles, watching, her hands trembling against her own new curves. “You watch,” Rex told her, not looking back. “This is your lesson, too.”
He positioned himself before Brandi, his hands rough on her inner thighs, pushing them wider. “You took the drug to fit,” he reminded her, lining himself up. The broad crown nudged against her, a familiar, terrifying pressure. “Now prove it fits.” He didn’t thrust. He leaned his weight forward, an inexorable, gradual press.
Brandi’s mouth fell open in a silent scream as he began to enter, the stretch more profound than yesterday, a searing burn of incredible fullness. Her eyes, wide and watering, found Tanya’s across the room. Tanya’s own hand had slipped between her legs, fingers moving in frantic mimicry of the penetration she witnessed. The stretch deepened, a slow, millimeter-by-millimeter conquest of internal geography. He paused, buried to the hilt, and Brandi felt her very bones groan in adjustment.
He held there, a statue of conquest, and smiled. The stretch was staggering, a hot, impossible tautness that made her gasp for air that wouldn't come. "Every fucking time," Rex muttered, his voice thick with a dark wonder, watching her face contort. "It's like you've never taken it before." He enjoyed how Brandi stretched around him, the specific, searing resistance of her body memorizing his new geometry.
Her internal muscles fluttered in a frantic, failing rebellion against the intrusion. He shifted his hips an inch, a cruel, tiny withdrawal, and she cried out, her fingernails scraping the bench. "It's bigger," she sobbed, the truth a helpless confession. "I can feel every...ridge." A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, a sound of pure, gratified arrogance.
He began to move, a slow, deliberate drag that scraped nerves she didn't know she had. Each withdrawal was a fleeting, terrifying emptiness. Each return was a deeper, more profound invasion. Across the tiles, Tanya's frantic fingers stilled, her own body clenching in sympathetic, painful awe.
"You took the CurvaMax to be a perfect sheath," he grunted, his pace methodical, unhurried. "So be perfect." His thrusts deepened, the wet, smacking sound echoing off the tiles. Her vision blurred at the edges, the world narrowing to the feeling of being split open and the triumphant gleam in his eyes watching it happen.
Her vision blurred at the edges, the world narrowing to the feeling of being split open and the triumphant gleam in his eyes watching it happen. A whimper escaped Tanya from the floor, her own body aching in sympathy. “Please,” Tanya breathed, the word swallowed by the steam.
Rex’s head turned, his rhythm never faltering within Brandi. “You got something to say?” he grunted.
“I can’t just watch,” Tanya pleaded, crawling forward on her knees, her widened hips shifting her balance with each movement. Her hand reached out, not for him, but to curl around Brandi’s shaking ankle in a gesture of desperate solidarity. “Let me in.”
He stopped, the sudden stillness within Brandi more profound than the motion. He looked from one woman to the other, a slow, calculating smile spreading. “You want in?” he said, his voice a low thrum. He withdrew from Brandi with a slick, terrible sound, leaving her gasping and hollow on the bench. His hand snaked out, grabbing a fistful of Tanya’s damp hair, not roughly, but with absolute ownership.
He guided her face to Brandi’s weeping core. “Get her ready for me again,” he commanded, his other hand pinning Brandi’s thigh open. “Show me you understand the hierarchy.” Tanya hesitated for only a heartbeat, her eyes meeting Brandi’s desperate gaze. Then she lowered her mouth, her tongue finding the swollen, overstretched flesh with a surgeon’s precision. Brandi cried out, a sharp, shattered sound of shocked relief, her back bowing off the cold metal.
“Good,” Rex muttered, watching Tanya work, his hand still tangled in her hair. He leaned over, his mouth near Tanya’s ear. “Now keep her ready while I take my turn with you.” He pulled Tanya up by her hair, turning her, and bent her over the same wet bench beside Brandi. He positioned himself behind Tanya, one hand splayed on the small of her back. He pushed into her with a single, deep claim, making her gasp against Brandi’s hip.
Brandi, trembling, reached out and laced her fingers with Tanya’s. Their hands clenched, a white-knuckled pact sealed on the slick metal. Rex began to move, his thrusts into Tanya jostling the entire bench, each drive vibrating through Brandi’s own oversensitive flesh beside them. The three were connected now, a circuit of sweat-slick skin and shared, shuddering breaths.
The three were connected now, a circuit of sweat-slick skin and shared, shuddering breaths. Rex’s rhythm against Tanya vibrated through the bench’s metal frame, buzzing up into Brandi’s spine. “You two clenching hands is cute,” Rex grunted, his voice thick and close. He watched their interlaced fingers with a detached amusement, each of his drives breaking Tanya’s grip for a second before she clawed it back. Brandi turned her head, her cheek cold against the metal, and saw the profound stretch on Tanya’s face, the silent, open-mouthed scream of adjustment she knew intimately. “It’s bigger,” Tanya finally gasped, her words forced out by a particularly deep plunge. “Definitely bigger.” The clinical confirmation, coupled with the rattling bench, broke something in Brandi. A bolt of pure, competitive need shot through her, overwriting the sore, stretched feeling he’d left behind. He wasn’t done with her. He couldn’t be. “My turn,” Brandi moaned, her own voice foreign and ragged. “Please, Rex, I need it back. I’m still so empty.” She tugged his wrist, the one not braced on Tanya’s back, guiding his broad hand towards her own dripping heat. “I made myself fit, you said I was perfect. Use me,” she begged, the words tumbling out in a raw, frantic stream. “Don’t stop with her, I need more, give me more.”
Rex’s head snapped toward her, his eyes glinting with a dark, predatory light. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” he grunted, his rhythm into Tanya never breaking.
He withdrew from Tanya with a slick, obscene sound and turned, his hands gripping Brandi’s hips and yanking her to the very edge of the bench. “You want more?” He didn’t wait for her answer.
He drove back into her, and the breath was punched from her lungs. This wasn't the gradual, cruel press from before; this was a claiming. He leaned his full weight forward, pinning her.
His mouth found her ear. “You feel that, Brandi? Every fucking inch.” He pulled out and slammed home again, harder. “That’s what you asked for.”
Tanya whimpered beside them, her own body rocking with the force of his motions. Brandi could only nod, her vision sparking at the edges. “Yes,” she hissed.
“Louder.”
“YES!”
HE DOUBLES DOWN. His hands left her hips and clamped onto the back of the bench, his arms caging her. His thrusts became shorter, faster, a relentless piston. The metal frame shrieked in protest.
Each impact jarred her teeth, rattled her bones. She was a doll being shaken apart. Tanya’s fingers dug into her arm, holding on.
“You’re taking all of it,” he commanded, his voice a raw scrape in the steamy air. Brandi’s cries fragmented into gasps. The world dissolved into the smell of sex and chlorine, the sound of slapping skin, the blinding sensation of being filled beyond capacity.
“Both of you,” he growled, his head swinging toward Tanya. “Now.” He didn’t stop.