Chapter 18: Salt and Tequila
with Ross
The low throb inside Evonleigh’s breasts was a constant counterpoint to the sleek synth-jazz filtering through the Icon Corp facility's bar. Each beat felt like a deep, internal pulse, a reminder of the serum pumping into her ducts, forcibly stretching tissue, ballooning the heavy, tender weight strapped against her ribcage. She sat rigidly on a chrome stool, clad in a deliberately oversized, thick-knit grey sweater that draped loosely over her front. Beneath it, the discreet inflation harness hummed, a network of tubes and pulsating pads pressing cold suction cups firmly onto her aching nipples, hidden but inescapable.
Aurelian slid a frosty daiquiri towards her, the glass sweating onto the polished chrome counter. His hazel eyes, sharp and amused, tracked her discomfort. "Strawberry. Thought you could use the sugar. Looking a little tense, Evie." He took a slow sip of his own bourbon, the ice clinking. "Day two’s always a bitch. The swelling really kicks in."
Evonleigh’s fingers trembled as she reached for the drink. The movement shifted the harness, intensifying the deep suction pulling relentlessly at her nipples. She inhaled sharply, the sound tight and strained. "Feels like… like they’re trying to crawl out of my skin," she whispered, her voice still slightly raw from yesterday’s brutal throat-fucking. The phantom taste of his cum seemed to linger.
"Growth, sweetheart. Necessary discomfort." Aurelian’s gaze lingered on the exaggerated swell beneath her sweater. It was already more pronounced than yesterday, a distinct, unnatural roundness distorting the knit fabric’s drape. "Think of the end result. Those heavy, swaying fuck-weights you fantasized about? Getting closer every hour." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Ross was pleased with the clitoral sensitivity data, by the way. Said you practically vibrated off the table."
Heat flooded Evonleigh’s cheeks. She remembered the blue light drilling into her clit, the terrifyingly amplified sensation syncing with the violation on the holographic screen. She fumbled with the straw, her sore lips protesting as she sucked the cold, sweet slush. The cold was jarring against the internal thrumming heat in her chest. "
The cold slush hit her raw throat, a sharp contrast to the deep, rhythmic throb radiating from her chest, each pulse echoing the harness’s relentless suction. Aurelian’s gaze, sharp as a scalpel, dissected her discomfort. "Taste good?" He leaned closer, the scent of bourbon and something metallic clinging to him. "Looks like the swelling’s pushing against that sweater already, Evie. Can’t hide those beautiful growth curves forever."
His hand, large and warm, landed casually on her shoulder, then slid downwards, fingers tracing the pronounced swell beneath the thick wool. Evonleigh flinched, a gasp catching in her throat as his thumb pressed deliberately over where a suction cup pulsed. "Fuck! Aurelian, don’t! It’s… it’s too much." The ache was a deep, hot pressure, a constant stretching sensation deep inside the tissue. "They feel like they’re going to split open."
"They won’t," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the synth-jazz hum. "Trust the tech. Trust Ross." His thumb remained, applying firm, circular pressure right over the nipple shield. A jolt, sharp and electric despite the padding, shot straight down to her untouched cunt, making her clench hard on nothing. She whimpered, the sound weak. "Feel that? That’s the serum working. That’s your new nerve endings waking up, craving more." He lifted his other hand, tracing the outline of her other swollen breast, his eyes fixed on her wide, startled green ones. "Imagine how sensitive they’ll be when they’re heavy, hanging full, just like Misato’s. Big enough to fill both my hands and then some."
He suddenly cupped the lower curve firmly through the sweater, lifting the unnatural, tender weight. The harness shifted, pulling the suction cups tighter, stretching the nipple flesh obscenely within their cold confines. Evonleigh cried out, arching her back instinctively, pain twisting into a spike of unwanted, shocking pleasure that bloomed hot in her pelvis. "Shhh," Aurelian soothed, his other hand sliding around the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her short black hair. "Let it feel good. Embrace the stretch. You wanted this. You begged for these huge, jiggling fuck-tits." His grip tightened, pulling her face towards his. "Open that pretty mouth."
His lips covered hers, hot and demanding, his tongue immediately thrusting past her sore lips. It wasn’t tender; it was claiming, tasting the strawberry daiquiri and her startled breath. He kissed her deeply, possessively, his hand still kneading the swollen mound under her sweater, the harness humming its mechanical rhythm against his palm. She felt trapped, dizzy, the deep ache in her breasts mingling with the invasive heat of his kiss. He sucked her lower lip, biting just enough to sting. "Mmm, you taste like desperation and expensive serums," he breathed against her mouth, pulling back slightly. His hazel eyes were dark, predatory. "You’re already getting addicted to this, aren’t you? The pull? The stretch? Knowing you’re changing into something fuckable?"
He didn’t wait for an answer. His hand slipped beneath the heavy sweater hem, finding bare skin over her ribs, shockingly warm against the cool air. He slid upwards, fingers encountering the hard edge of the inflation harness strapped tight around her torso, then the softer, incredibly tender swell of her lower breast. Evonleigh froze, breath hitching. His fingers traced the inflamed curve, avoiding the nipple shield but pressing into the hot, tight flesh pushing against the harness straps. "So fucking tight already," he groaned, the sound vibrating against her neck as he leaned in to lick the sensitive skin below her ear. "Like overripe fruit ready to burst. Ross is gonna make them obscene. Heavy. Dripping." His fingers pinched the swollen flesh hard, right beside the harness strap.
White-hot pain lanced through her, followed instantly by a molten rush of wetness between her legs. She moaned into his shoulder, a sound she barely recognized as her own. Aurelian chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. He pulled back, forcing her to look at him. "See? Your cunt’s dripping, virgin or not. Your body knows what it needs." He kept one hand possessively cupping the swollen mound under her sweater, the other tilting her chin up. "Think about them hanging free. Think about the weight. Think about my cock sliding between them." He kissed her again, open-mouthed and filthy, tongue delving deep while his thumb found the edge of the suction cup through the fabric and pressed hard against the swollen, stretched nipple ringed inside it. She convulsed, a strangled scream muffled by his mouth, her hips bucking involuntarily against the stool. The harness whined slightly, adjusting pressure.
He broke the kiss, leaving her panting, lips swollen and wet, her vision swimming. "That’s just a taste, Evie," he murmured, watching her dazed expression with intense satisfaction. He signaled the bartender smoothly. "Time for your next micro-adjustment. Ross wants feedback on the duct dilation." He stood, pulling her up. She swayed, the new, unnatural weight shifting heavily in the harness, a constant, demanding presence. "Let’s go see how much further we can stretch your needy little tits today." His hand stayed low on her back, guiding her unsteady steps away from the bar’s false comfort, towards the sterile blue glow of the labs where the true transformation awaited.