Chapter 4: The Transformation Fuck
The rasp of his zipper cut through the humid air, sharp as a gasp. Josh froze, staring down at the gaping denim, the strained fabric of his briefs beneath. His mother’s flushed face, inches away, held a terrifying mixture of anguish and raw, desperate hunger. Her breath hitched, hot and moist against his throat.
"Mom—" The word emerged thin, reedy. Wrong. His own voice was betraying him, climbing higher with every panicked syllable.
Sarah didn’t hesitate. Her hand, slick with her own sweat and the strange, musky scent clinging to them both, plunged into the opening. Her fingers, trembling but determined, fumbled past the waistband of his briefs. They closed around him.
Heat. Immediate, shocking heat engulfed him. Josh cried out, a sound that dissolved into a choked whimper halfway through. His hips bucked forward of their own volition, thrusting his trapped cock deeper into her hot grasp. The sensation was a lightning bolt, grounding him in the horrifying present even as the world tilted. He felt swollen, impossibly sensitive, every nerve ending screaming under her touch.
"Need you… baby…" Sarah gasped, her voice thick, slurred. Her lips, Josh noticed with a fresh wave of dread, looked even fuller than moments before, pouting obscenely, glistening and dark. "Need you inside… Mommy’s so empty… burns…"
She tried to tug him closer, towards the damp junction of her thighs, her other hand still clamped on his wrist, pinning his palm hard against her enormous, leaking breast. The ache in Josh’s own chest flared, a deep, insistent throb that echoed the frantic pulse between his legs. He felt the unfamiliar dampness spread further under his t-shirt, cool against his overheated skin. Breastmilk, his mind supplied, hysterical. I’m leaking milk.
His gaze darted down. Beneath the stretched cotton of her top, Sarah’s other breast heaved, the areola dark and swollen, a bead of pearly fluid welling at the tip. His trapped hand moved, fingers instinctively kneading the impossibly soft, heavy flesh. Her responding moan was guttural, primal. Her hips ground up against the empty air, seeking.
"Fuck…" she panted, her engorged lips brushing his jaw. "Fuck mommy’s fat tits, baby! Please! Rub them… use them…" Her grip on his cock tightened, pumping clumsily, desperately. "Need to feel you… feel you come on them…"
The crude demand, the endearment twisted into something obscene, sent another jolt through him. Shame warred with a terrifying surge of answering lust, amplified tenfold by the virus humming in his blood. His own breasts – breasts! – jiggled with the frantic motion, the tender, swollen mounds beneath his shirt slapping softly against the overheated swell of hers each time her body arched or his hips jerked. The sensation was bizarre, alien – soft flesh colliding, the ache intensifying with each impact.
He tried to pull his hand away from her breast, a last gasp of resistance. "Can't… shouldn't…" His voice cracked, pitching upwards again, sounding fragile. Feminine.
Sarah’s eyes snapped to his, wide and wild. "You can," she hissed, her grip tightening painfully on his cock. A fresh wave of pearly fluid leaked from her nipple, slicking his trapped fingers. Her other hand abandoned his wrist, instead grabbing a handful of her own swollen breast, squeezing it obscenely towards his face. The sweet-musky scent intensified. "Look! See what you did? What you're doing?" She thrust the engorged nipple towards his mouth. "Suck it, baby. Make it better. Make me better."
Panic and horror threatened to choke him. But beneath it, the virus pulsed, insistent, rewiring his responses. The heat of her skin, the heady scent, the unbearable ache in his own changing body – it was a siren song he was losing the will to resist. His gaze fixed on the glistening tip of her nipple, so close. His cock throbbed violently in her grasp, demanding release. Her plump, distorted lips parted in a silent plea.
The fan whirred, a futile counterpoint to the harsh sounds of their breathing, the slick slide of skin on skin, the wet smack as his altered chest met hers again. His resolve, already fractured, felt like it was crumbling to dust. He leaned forward, just an inch, drawn by a craving he couldn't name, couldn't fight. The tip of his nose brushed the heated skin of her breast.
Sarah whimpered, a sound of pure need. Her hand on his cock twisted, squeezed. Stars exploded behind his eyes.
"Yessss…" she breathed, the word distorted by her swollen lips. "That's my baby… take it…"
His mouth opened. A fraction. Close enough to feel the radiating heat. Close enough to smell the sweet, alien milk. The ache in his own swollen chest sharpened, a sudden, fierce tugging sensation deep within, mirroring the desperate pull he felt lower down. His hips stuttered forward again, helpless. The end was a yawning chasm, and he was falling.