Chapter 7: Taken by Inches
The blunt pressure against my slick entrance was immense. Terrifying. My breath hitched, sharp and high in my tightening throat. Tiffany didn’t push. She held perfectly still, the swollen head of her cock a burning brand against impossibly soft, yielding flesh. I could feel the pulse in her straining shaft thudding against me. Against it. The grinding in my pelvis was a dull roar now, a bone-deep ache demanding surrender.
"Easy, Bear," Tiffany breathed, her voice strained, eyes locked on where we were joined. Her thumbs dug into the newly pliant flesh of my hips. "Just let go. Let it take you."
I tried to shake my head, but my body betrayed me. My hips tilted forward a fraction, seeking. A silent plea. My new nerves screamed – violation and a terrifying, deep-rooted need. The slickness between us was obscene, easing the way.
She pushed. Just an inch. Slow, relentless. The stretch was immediate, profound. My eyes flew wide. A gasp tore out of me, thin and ragged. It should have been agony. Should have felt like tearing. Instead, the thick invasion filled the hollow ache, pressing directly against the core of the grinding pressure. The sensation was overwhelming – a hot, stretching fullness that momentarily silenced the deeper pain. I felt myself opening, yielding, the strange new muscles inside me fluttering wildly around the intruding heat.
"Oh god, Eric," Tiffany groaned, her knuckles white where she gripped me. "You're... you're swallowing me. So fucking hot." Her voice was thick with awe and raw lust. She pushed deeper. Another inch. The drag was slick, wet, impossibly intimate. The fluttering intensified, a greedy clenching deep inside that had nothing to do with my conscious mind. My cock, still heavy against her stomach, twitched and pulsed uselessly. My back arched involuntarily, thrusting my hips forward, taking more of her. The grinding sensation… shifted. Lessened. Replaced by that resonant throb, a deep internal pulse that echoed the stretch.
I whimpered. It wasn't pain. It was too much sensation. Too much change. Her thickness stretched me wider, filling a space I hadn't known existed until it demanded to be filled. Inch after obscene inch disappeared inside my changing body. My knees trembled violently. I clutched her shoulders, fingers digging in, anchoring myself against the tidal wave of alien pleasure and horror. The mirror across the room was fogged, but the distorted reflection showed the impossible arch of my back, the desperate clutch of my hands, the way her body pressed into mine.
"Look at you," Tiffany murmured, her breath hot on my neck. She pushed again, finally burying herself to the hilt. A deep, guttural groan escaped her as my new flesh clenched tight around her buried cock. "Taking every inch. Fuck, Bear. Your body knows exactly what it wants now." She stayed deep, grinding the base of her shaft against the swollen nub above our joining point. Sparks exploded behind my eyelids. A sharp cry escaped me, pure sensation obliterating thought.
The grinding ache flared again, sharp and insistent, deep beneath the fullness. It felt different now. Less like bone, more like… movement. Like something shifting position inside my abdomen. A low moan of both relief and terror vibrated in my chest. The deep internal pulse quickened, throbbing in time with the relentless pressure of her cock inside me. "Tiff," I gasped, my voice trembling, unfamiliar. "Something… something else is moving. Inside."
Her eyes, dark with arousal, snapped to mine. Fascination warred with concern for a microsecond before the hunger won. "Where?" she breathed, her hips beginning a slow, shallow roll. The drag inside me was exquisite torture. "Show me."
My free hand, trembling violently, slid down from her shoulder, over the curve of my softening belly, pressing low. Below my navel. Deep inside. "Here," I choked out, pushing against the spot where the grinding pressure seemed to originate, beneath the weight of her cock. "It… it feels like… settling."
Tiffany watched my hand, then looked back at my face, her expression alight with a terrifying, scientific curiosity mixed with lust. Her rolling hips paused. She pressed her own hand over mine, pushing firmly against my lower belly. "Right there?" she asked, her voice husky. She pressed harder, massaging the spot through the flesh. The internal movement intensified. The grinding ache surged, sharp and sickening, then abruptly… eased. A sigh of pure, involuntary relief shuddered through me. My body went slack against hers, the new muscles deep inside fluttering wildly around her shaft.
"Holy shit," Tiffany breathed, her eyes wide. "Did that… help? Did it stop the grinding?"
"Y-yes," I stammered, the word thick with disbelief. "For… for a second. It moved." The relief was intoxicating, a momentary respite from the relentless internal earthquake. My hips pressed back against her hand, seeking that pressure, that relief, again. The fluttering inside me grew more insistent, a rhythmic pulse around her buried cock. The sheer wrongness of it – finding comfort in her intrusion, in her hand pressing where my organs were rearranging – warred with the undeniable cessation of agony.
Tiffany’s grin was triumphant, predatory. She resumed the slow, deep roll of her hips. The thick slide inside me reignited the conflicting sensations – the shocking fullness, the alien pleasure coiling tight, the echo of that deep internal pulse. "See?" she murmured, leaning close, her lips brushing my ear. "Told you pressure helps. Your body’s figuring it out. Making room." She punctuated her words with another firm press on my lower belly. The grinding ache flared briefly, then subsided again, replaced by that strange internal movement. Another sigh escaped me, mingling with a soft moan as her cock dragged against sensitive, newly formed nerves deep inside. "Feels good when it stops hurting, doesn't it?" she teased, her voice light, playful, terrifyingly casual amidst the horror. "Feels good to be… filled?" Her thumb found that treacherous nub again, rubbing firm circles.
I couldn't answer. My head fell back against the cold tile wall beside the sink. My body was a traitorous landscape of conflicting responses. The pleasure built, undeniable, coiling tighter with each slow thrust, each press against my belly. The grinding pain came in waves, lessening each time she pressed, each time her cock shifted deep inside me. My hips began to move with hers, not just yielding, but seeking. Seeking the friction, the pressure, the blessed relief from the internal shifting. Seeking the oblivion promised by the building heat. The steam wrapped around us, thick with the scent of our sweat, her perfume, and the raw, intimate musk of my changing body. Eric was dissolving. Something else was taking hold, moaning softly as Tiffany claimed it, inch by terrifying, necessary inch. Her next thrust was deeper, harder, hitting a spot that shattered my vision into white light. My back arched off the wall. The grinding ache vanished completely for one blissful, terrifying second, replaced only by pure, pulsing heat. My new pussy clenched like a fist, greedy and demanding. Tiffany hissed, her rhythm faltering. "Fuck, Bear! That's it! Don't stop!" The momentum of her hips surged, driving us both towards the next impossible wave.
The momentum of her hips surged, driving us both towards the next impossible wave. That deep thrust struck something raw and electric inside me, a cluster of nerves igniting like a live wire dumped in water. My vision whited out. A broken, guttural cry tore from my throat, louder than the slap of wet skin against skin. The grinding ache, the shifting bones, the terror – all vaporized under the sheer, blinding intensity of pure sensation. My hips snapped back against hers, hard, desperate for more pressure, more friction, more of that obliterating heat.
Tiffany gasped, her rhythm stuttering. "Holy shit, Bear!" Her voice was ragged, thick with shock and fierce arousal. Her hand flew from my belly to the edge of the sink, bracing herself as I writhed against her, taking her deeper with each frantic roll of my hips. "Just like that! Christ, don't stop!"
I couldn't stop. The pleasure was a runaway train, a force of nature ripping through the fragile remnants of my old self. My hands, which had been clinging to her shoulders like lifelines, moved of their own accord. One slid down, trembling, over the curve of my own unfamiliar breast. The skin was hypersensitive, soft and yielding. My fingers brushed a nipple, already tight and hard, and a jolt of pure, unexpected lightning zinged straight down my spine to where Tiffany was buried deep. I gasped, arching harder. My other hand, almost shyly, drifted lower, fingertips brushing the swollen, heavy length of my own cock, still pressed against Tiffany's sweat-slicked abdomen. It pulsed thickly under my touch, a counterpoint to the relentless throb deep inside my new passage.
"Fuck," I breathed, the word escaping in a stunned exhale. I couldn't believe it. The sheer wrongness of my body – the breasts, the cock, the slick, greedy pussy swallowing my wife's cock – should have been horrifying. It was horrifying. But the sensations... they were undeniable, overwhelming, flooding every synapse. Tiffany's thickness stretching me open felt incredible. My nipple under my own fingers, tight and aching, sent shivers through me. The weight of my own erection, heavy and hot against my palm, felt perversely good. I squeezed my breast gently, experimentally, feeling the soft flesh give, the nipple pebble harder. My thumb rubbed over it, sending fresh sparks cascading through me.
"Look at you," Tiffany groaned, her eyes wide and dark, fixed on my hands. Her hips found their rhythm again, deep and demanding, driving into me with renewed force. "Playing with yourself. My god, Eric. You're loving this." There was awe in her voice, a predatory delight. "Show me. Show me how much."
The command, the approval in her voice, unlocked something. Shame flickered, distant and small, drowned instantly by another surge of pleasure as her cockhead ground against that perfect spot inside. My fingers tightened on my breast, kneading the soft flesh, pinching the nipple roughly. A sharp cry escaped me, but it was pure need. My other hand wrapped more firmly around the base of my own cock, the heat and heft of it startlingly real. I gave it a slow, deliberate stroke, the sensation jarringly familiar yet alien amidst everything else. The dual stimulation – her thrusts deep inside, my hand on my tit, my hand on my cock – was too much. Ecstasy coiled, tight and impossible, low in my belly.
"Tiff," I gasped, my voice high and broken. My hips pistoned, meeting her thrust for thrust now, chasing the peak only she could drive me towards. "It feels... god, it feels so... I can't..." Words failed. My fingers twisted my nipple harder. My hand pumped my cock faster, the slide slick with sweat and pre-come. The sensations merged, a riot of pleasure centered on the core of my transformation. The mirror was a blur of fog and movement, reflecting nothing recognizable, only the frantic coupling.
"Let go," Tiffany urged, her voice strained, her thrusts becoming frantic, losing their rhythm. She was close too. "Come on, Bear. Show me how good my cock feels inside your sweet little pussy. Come for me. Show me what your body can do now!"
Her filthy words, the possessive claim, the relentless invasion, the feel of my own hands exploring my changed flesh – it shattered the last resistance. The coil snapped. White-hot pleasure detonated, radiating out from my core in searing waves. My back arched impossibly off the sink. A ragged scream tore from my throat, raw and primal. My new muscles clenched like a vice around Tiffany's cock, pulsing uncontrollably.
My own cock jerked violently in my hand, spilling thick, hot streaks across my belly and Tiffany's skin. Stars burst behind my eyelids as the convulsions wracked me, wave after wave of impossible, terrifying bliss. Tiffany shouted, a guttural sound of triumph, her hips slamming flush against mine as she buried herself deep and held there, shuddering, her cock pulsing hot within me. We collapsed against the sink, gasping, trembling, slick with sweat and come and the evidence of my impossible metamorphosis. Steam curled around our tangled forms. My hands fell away from my own body, limp. The grinding ache was utterly gone, replaced by a deep, sated throb and the lingering echo of a pleasure I couldn't comprehend. My legs felt weak, trembling. I stared at the fogged mirror, fascinated by the flushed, slack-jawed woman leaning heavily against Tiffany, a stranger but also me.
The steam felt heavy, thick as cold fog, clinging to my skin. Tiffany’s arms tightened around my waist, holding my trembling weight against her. "Whoa there, Bear," she murmured, her voice rough but warm against my damp hair. "Easy. Gotcha." Her cock, still buried deep inside me, pulsed faintly, a reminder of the impossible intimacy. My own cock lay spent and sticky against my belly, a confusing counterpoint to the slick, stretched feeling lower down.
My reflection in the fogged mirror swam. The face staring back was softer, the jawline less defined, lips fuller and parted. My beard felt… wrong. Coarse and out of place on that increasingly unfamiliar visage. I touched my cheek. The skin was smooth, flushed. Terrifyingly delicate. "Tiff," I rasped, my voice hitting a higher register I couldn’t control. "My face..."
"I know," she breathed, turning me slightly to face the glass more fully. Her fingers traced the line of my jaw, her touch gentle, almost reverent. "It’s… changing fast now. Faster than mine did." She pressed a soft kiss to the top of my shoulder. "Look at you. Christ, Bear. You’re… stunning."
Stunning? Horror warred with a traitorous flicker of something else. Pride? Acceptance? My gaze dropped from the blurry face to the body pressed against hers. Wide hips flared from a startlingly narrower waist. My breasts felt heavy, full, nipples still tight and sensitive. The curve of my belly was softer, rounder. And between my legs… the ache was receding, replaced by a profound, deep throb where she filled me. The grinding agony was blessedly absent. "The… the grinding," I managed. "It stopped. When you…" I trailed off, unable to voice it.
"When I filled you up?" Tiffany finished, a playful, smug edge to her voice. She gave a tiny, deliberate roll of her hips. The movement sent a fresh jolt of sensation through my core, making me gasp and clench reflexively around her shaft. "Told you pressure helped. Your insides were just… rearranging." She chuckled, low and warm. "Needed something solid to brace against. Guess I volunteered."
A shaky laugh escaped me, surprising us both. It sounded too light, too feminine. I cleared my throat, trying to force my old timbre back. It cracked. "Solid is… one word for it." The sheer absurdity of the situation – discussing my internal rearrangement while impaled on my wife’s unexpected equipment – hit me. The laughter bubbled up again, tinged with hysteria. "Jesus, Tiff. What is happening?"
"Magic?" she offered, shrugging against my back. Her hand slid down to cradle my lower belly again, fingers splaying protectively over the spot where the grinding pain had been worst. "Weird, bonkers magic. But," her thumb rubbed a slow circle, "it feels like it’s settling now. You feel… different. Softer. Smoother." Her other hand drifted up, cupping one heavy breast, her thumb brushing my nipple. Sparks flew. I arched into her touch with a little gasp. "And so fucking responsive everywhere."
I couldn't deny it. My body felt like a live wire, hypersensitive, every touch amplified. The cool air on my damp skin, the pressure of her hand on my belly, the heat of her palm on my breast, the constant, thick presence buried deep inside me. It was overwhelming. Terrifying. And undeniably… alive. My cock gave a feeble twitch against my belly, utterly ignored by the rest of my screaming nerves. "Too much," I whispered, leaning my head back against her shoulder, seeking the solid familiarity of her presence even as she was the source of the change. "Feels like I’m made of exposed nerves."
"Just means you’re waking up," she murmured, nuzzling my neck. Her tongue traced the shell of my ear, sending fresh shivers cascading down my spine. "All those new parts getting online. Feeling everything." Her hips shifted subtly, a slow, deep grind that made my breath catch. "Gotta say, Bear, this new configuration? It’s… wow." Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Fits perfectly."
The intimacy, the casual acceptance in her voice, the sheer physical reality of her claiming me so completely – it unraveled another layer of resistance. The fear was still there, cold and sharp, but it was tangled now with a burgeoning curiosity, a dazed exhaustion, and that persistent, low thrum of pleasure radiating from my core. I looked back at the mirror. The fog had cleared slightly near the top. The reflection was clearer now. The eyes staring back were wide, framed by longer, darker lashes. My cheekbones seemed higher. The beard looked like a strange, misplaced shadow. I reached up, trembling fingers tracing the unfamiliar planes. The face was undeniably… female. Mine. But not.
A wave of dizziness washed over me, sharp and sudden. Not pain. Just a profound disorientation. "Tiff…" My voice was thin, lost. "I need… I need to see. Properly." I tried to pull away, to turn fully towards the mirror, but her cock slid deeper with the movement, making me gasp and clutch the sink edge. "Please. Let me go."
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her grip tightening protectively. Then, slowly, she withdrew. The sensation of her thick shaft sliding out was profound, leaving me feeling startlingly empty and exposed. Cool air kissed my newly sensitized folds. A slick trickle ran down my inner thigh. Tiffany steadied me as I wobbled on suddenly weak legs, her hands warm on my hips. "Okay, Bear," she said softly. "Okay. Look."
I turned fully, bracing myself against the cold porcelain sink. The steam had thinned further. The reflection was clear. Utterly, devastatingly clear.
A stranger stared back.
Longer, dark hair clung damply to a face that was mine, yet completely alien. Soft, high cheekbones. Fuller lips, naturally rosy. Eyes wide, lashes dark and thick, filled with abject terror. My beard was gone, replaced by smooth, pale skin. My neck was slender. My shoulders seemed narrower, sloping. And below…
The changes were stark. Breasts, full and heavy, crowned with tight, dark nipples. A narrow waist flaring into distinctly feminine hips. The neat triangle of dark hair above my cock – which looked incongruously large against my softening frame – and the slick glisten lower down, where my body had opened for her. The smooth curve of my belly. The unfamiliar shape of my thighs. It wasn't just parts added. My entire structure had shifted, softened, reconfigured.
It wasn't Eric looking back.
It was someone else. Someone delicate. Someone female.