A buried deep potential...

"C'mon, Elena, it's just a wastepaper basket." Victor nudged the dented metal cylinder with his toe, watching it wobble near the radiator. "Why'd you have to kick it halfway across the room?" He bent to retrieve it, fingers brushing cold flakes of dried mud from its rim, remnants from last week's hiking trip they'd abandoned mid-argument. The cheap metal felt flimsy, a pathetic symbol for whatever this was.

Elena didn't move from the doorway, arms folded tight enough to wrinkle her blouse. Her gaze tracked him like a security camera detached, unblinking. "Why did you say that, Victor?" Her voice was flat, devoid of the earlier fury, which somehow made it worse. "That thing about Camille? That vile little story you spun?"

Victor froze mid-crouch, the wastebasket hovering awkwardly above the floorboards. He straightened slowly, the cheap metal cylinder dangling from his fingers. "What story?" The denial tasted sour, automatic. He saw her nostrils flare, the only crack in her icy facade.

Elena let out a sharp, humorless chuckle that scraped the air like sandpaper. "Don't pretend I'm stupid, Victor." Her voice was low, venomous, each word meticulously placed. "I know everything about you fucking that whore." The resentment thickened the air, cloying and suffocating. "Doing this... with the person I thought was my best friend." Her knuckles bleached white against her folded arms. "You absolute bastard."

Victor gulped. That fucking hag couldn't know anything concrete...Camille was smarter than that. "Bullshit," he spat, forcing his shoulders back. "Absolute fucking bullshit, Elena." He dropped the wastebasket; it clanged against the radiator, echoing sharply in the sudden silence. His palms felt slick against his thighs. "You're paranoid. Seeing ghosts everywhere." He tried to inject scorn into his voice, but it wavered, betraying the frantic drumbeat in his chest. Was there a receipt? A text he'd forgotten to delete? No, impossible. He'd been meticulous.

Elena shook her head, a slow, reptilian movement of utter repulsion. The disgust radiating from her wasn't anger anymore; it was colder, deeper, a fundamental rejection of his existence. "Paranoid?" Her voice was a low rasp, scraping the air like gravel. "Oh, Victor. You poor, predictable bastard." With deliberate, almost ceremonial slowness, she pulled her phone from her blazer pocket. Her thumb tapped twice, the screen flaring to life, bathing her face in a sickly blue glow. "This," she hissed, thrusting the device towards him, "is paranoid?"

The screen held a nightmare Victor couldn't blink away. Grainy, dimly lit footage, unmistakably Camille's bedroom: the hexagonal prism lamp shade he’d always mocked was starkly visible. And there he was, tangled in Camille's sheets, his own face contorted in familiar exertion. The angle was low, hidden, probably from a dresser corner. The audio was muffled grunts and rhythmic thumping against a headboard. Victor's blood turned to tetrachloride ice in his veins. His jaw unhinged, a silent gasp escaping his dry throat. His eyes, wide and unblinking, scanned the damning pixels; the curve of Camille's shoulder, the specific pattern on his discarded shirt. Proof. Concrete, undeniable proof.

"THIS ISN'T PARANOIA!" Elena's voice ripped through the room, sharp as shattered glass, while the video continued its relentless playback as Victor's own choked breaths a grotesque soundtrack. His mind raced, a frantic insect trapped against hot glass.

"How?" The question screamed inside his skull. Who planted this poison in her hands? Camille swore she’d deleted everything. That cheap motel room? He’d scanned it himself, paranoid after… "No. Impossible angles. Unless… "His gaze snapped to the hexagonal lamp shade in the footage: its distinctive, mocked silhouette. A tiny, dark smudge near its base, almost invisible unless you knew to look.

A lens. Cold dread pooled in his stomach. Camille.

She filmed it. Not some hidden stalker. She orchestrated this. But why give it to Elena? To destroy him? To claim Elena for herself? The betrayal was a physical blow, leaving him breathless and utterly exposed.

"Don't pretend," Elena hissed, her knuckles pressing hard against the phone's casing. The video kept playing as Victor's own grunts filling the charged silence. "I tracked that treacherous bitch down yesterday. Cornered her at that pretentious little gallery she runs." A muscle twitched near Elena's eye. "Asked her nicely. Then not so nicely." She leaned forward, the phone's glow carving shadows under her cheekbones. "Took three slaps before she cracked. Sobbed like a child while admitting everything. How you begged her. How you planned it." Elena's smile was razor-thin. "So I gave her something to remember me by. A little... artistic critique." She mimed a swift, brutal motion crack with her free hand.

"Right across her lying mouth. Broke two teeth, I think. Symmetry's overrated anyway."

Victor gulped. The metallic tang of panic flooded his mouth, thick and choking. Words dissolved before they formed: denials, excuses, pleas, all useless ash against the glaring truth on that screen. He was utterly exposed, pinned like a specimen beneath Elena’s glacial stare. His jaw worked soundlessly, a fishplate gasping on dry land.

There was nothing to say...Nothing could be said.

"You fucking bastard," Elena breathed, the words thick with disgust yet strangely intimate. Her delicate finger jabbed towards his groin. "This?" A harsh, humorless laugh escaped her. "This disgusting thing? You think it’s worth destroying everything?" She took a step closer, the scent of her perfume—jasmine and something violently sharp—cutting through the panic sweat clinging to him. Her eyes, dark pools of fury, locked onto his lips, then flickered down again with pure revulsion. Victor stood paralyzed, breath trapped in his lungs. Why was she focusing there? Why this terrifying proximity?

Another step. The heat radiating from her body was oppressive. She stopped inches away, her gaze tracing the trembling line of his mouth. The silence stretched, thick with the muffled grunts still leaking from her phone screen. Then, without warning, she closed the distance. Her lips pressed against his...not a kiss of passion, but something soft, chillingly deliberate. It was brief, feather-light, yet it seared Victor like a brand. He recoiled instinctively, stumbling back against the radiator, the cold metal biting through his shirt. Speechless. Utterly bewildered. Was this madness? Some cruel trick?

And then, without warning and all of a sudden, Elena's hand darted into her blazer pocket—not for her phone this time, but for something smaller, colder. Victor saw the glint of stainless steel in the blue light from the screen still playing their ruin. A syringe, capped, filled with something clear and viscous. His paralysis shattered into pure animal panic. He lurched sideways, but she was too close, her free hand clamping onto his bicep like a vise.

"No—" The word choked in his throat as the needle plunged through his shirt sleeve, biting deep into the meat of his upper arm. Elena’s thumb slammed the plunger home in one brutal, practiced motion. The cold burn flooded his vein, sharp as shattered glass spreading under his skin. He gasped, a ragged, wet sound, shock freezing him more completely than her accusations ever could. His vision swam...the hexagonal lamp shade in the video blurred into a kaleidoscope of betrayal.

"W-WHAT THE FUCK?" Victor's voice tore from his throat, raw and ragged, more a startled animal cry than words. His eyes bulged, fixated on the syringe Elena withdrew from his arm. The puncture burned like a frozen brand, instantly spreading a strange, tingling numbness up his shoulder and down his spine. It wasn't pain, not exactly. It felt like static electricity injected directly into his bloodstream, fizzing under his skin, making his muscles twitch involuntarily. He gaped at Elena, disbelief warring with the terrifying physical invasion. His fingers flexed uselessly; he couldn't feel the radiator he leaned against anymore. "What... what did you do you crazy bitch?" The panic was pure, primal, drowning out the muffled sounds of his own betrayal still playing on her phone screen.

Elena grinned mirthlessly, the syringe dangling from her fingers like a spent stinger. "Relax, Victor," she purred, her voice unnervingly calm against the frantic drumming of his heart. "It's just a little cocktail. Something... appropriate." She watched, fascinated, as his legs buckled beneath him, sending him crashing to his knees on the cold floorboards. He clutched at his arm, the numbness spreading like spilled ink, making his fingers feel thick and alien. "The kind of thing a fucking bastard like you deserves." Her grin widened, predatory and devoid of warmth.

"F-Fcuck y-you I...I..UGHHH!" Victor's protest dissolved into a wet gurgle as the chemical tide surged through him. His knees slammed onto the hardwood, jarring his teeth. Every nerve screamed...not pain, but a grotesque, electric hum that vibrated his bones. His legs felt like jellyfish tentacles, useless and quivering beneath him. He tried to crawl, fingers scrabbling at the floorboards like a broken crab, but his muscles betrayed him in violent, involuntary spasms. "S-stop...pl-plea—" The plea choked off as a shuddering wave of pure, unearned pleasure crashed over him, so intense it blurred his vision. His cock hardened painfully against his zipper, diamond-hard and throbbing in time with the electric pulses frying his synapses.

Elena crouched beside him, a predator examining twitching prey. She tapped the empty syringe against his flushed cheek. "Relax, Victor," she murmured, her voice honey-sweet poison dripping over jagged ice. "It’s just a little neurotropic cocktail. Designed for goners like you." Her grin widened, showing too many teeth. "Think of it as...earmarking you. Standard candles burn brightest before they gutter out." She watched, fascinated, as his hips bucked helplessly against the floor, driven by the drug's cruel imperative. "This," she hissed, leaning closer, her breath hot on his ear, "isn't punishment. It's preparation. The beginning of your new life."

"M-My wh-what? I d-don't know w-what are y-you...OOOOOHHHHHHHHH!" Victor's confused stammer dissolved into a guttural roar as his body arched impossibly backward, spine cracking against the radiator pipe. His hips pistoned upward in violent, involuntary thrusts, shredding his zipper as his cock erupted in thick, viscous ropes that painted stripes across his own shirt, the radiator, and the dented wastebasket Elena had kicked earlier. Each pulse wasn't pleasure...it was agony transformed into ecstatic violation, synapses screaming under chemical assault. Cum sprayed in obscene arcs, pooling hot and sticky between his splayed legs, soaking into the floorboards as his body convulsed like a landed fish, the sticky remnants of his forced release cooling into a tacky mess beneath him.

But the drug wasn't done...not by a long shot.

The electric hum in his veins intensified, morphing into a searing, transformative fire that rewired him from the inside out.

His guttural grunts, once deep and masculine, began to shift, cracking like brittle glass under pressure. They rose in pitch, higher and higher, until they escaped his throat as feminine whimpers: soft, breathy moans that sounded like a girl lost in ecstasy, needy and unashamed.

Elena knelt closer, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight as she traced a fingernail along his trembling jawline. "Oh, listen to that, Victor," she cooed, her voice a sultry purr laced with mockery. "Your big, tough growls are turning into such pretty little squeals. Like a slutty kitten in heat. How fitting...soon you'll be mewling for cock instead of barking orders." She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear, as his facial features began to soften and reshape. The rugged lines of his jaw receded, smoothing into a delicate, heart-shaped contour, while his neck slenderized, the Adam's apple dissolving like melting ice, leaving behind a graceful, swan-like curve.

Victor's eyes widened in horror...or was it lust? The drug blurred the lines, flooding his system with waves of involuntary arousal. His irises adopted a hazy, horny glaze, lashes lengthening into thick, fluttering fans that batted involuntarily. His eyebrows thinned and arched elegantly, framing eyes that now sparkled with a submissive, pleading hunger.

"W-what's... happening?" he gasped, but his voice cracked mid-sentence, emerging higher, softer, like silk over gravel.

Elena chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down his spine. She cupped his changing face in her hands, thumbs brushing over his nose as it shrank, turning small and cute, upturned like a doll's. "Look at you, getting all dolled up for me. That big, brutish schnoz of yours is turning into something adorable and perfect for burying in a pillow while you get fucked from behind." Her fingers trailed to his lips, which plumped and softened into lush, cocksucker curves, glistening as if begging to wrap around something thick and hard. She pressed her thumb against them, forcing them apart. "These? Oh, honey, these are made for sucking now. No more lying with that mouth...unless it's around a dick."

As she spoke, Victor's hair exploded in a cascade of growth, strands lengthening and lightening into lustrous blonde waves that spilled across the floor like liquid gold, framing his feminizing face in a halo of sensuality. The fresh, floral, and intoxicating scent filled the air, mingling with the musky remnants of his earlier climax. He thrashed weakly, but Elena pinned his shoulders down with surprising strength, her body hovering over his like a predator savoring the kill.

The changes rippled downward, his torso reshaping with audible cracks and pops of bone, like fireworks in his skeleton. Fat and muscle redistributed, his broad frame slimming dramatically, ribs contracting inward to form a lithe, hourglass silhouette. But his chest expanded outward, swelling into a perky set of breasts, the skin stretching taut over burgeoning mounds. Nipples thickened and hardened into sensitive peaks, areolas darkening and widening into inviting, dusky circles that pulsed with each orgasmic wave crashing through him. Victor arched his back, a high-pitched moan escaping his new lips as pleasure-pain radiated from the budding tits, making them jiggle with every convulsion.

Elena licked her lips, reaching down to squeeze one emerging breast roughly, rolling the nipple between her fingers until Victor whimpered. "Mmm, feel that? Your flat chest is blowing up like balloons at a whore's party. Perky little C-cups already, and still growing. Bet you'd love a big hand or mouth on these, wouldn't you? No more hiding behind shirts; these are meant to be shown off, bounced, and bitten." She pinched harder, drawing a gasp that bordered on ecstasy, the drug amplifying every touch into electric bliss.

His arms narrowed next, bulk melting away into slim, feminine lines, muscles softening into elegant curves. Hands transformed before his eyes as the calluses vanishing, fingers slenderizing, nails elongating into polished, manicured tips that gleamed like they were fresh from a salon, perfect for wrapping around a throbbing shaft or scratching down a lover's back. Victor tried to push her away, but his new hands felt dainty, weak, more suited for caressing than fighting.

"S-stop... please..." he/she begged, voice now fully feminine, a sultry alto that dripped with unintended seduction.

"Why stop now?" Elena teased, grabbing one of his hands and pressing it to her thigh, forcing those new fingers to feel the warmth of her skin. "These pretty paws aren't for punching anymore, they're for stroking, gripping, milking. Imagine them around a fat cock, Victoria. Doesn't that sound delicious?" She released him, watching as his height diminished a couple of inches, bones compressing with wet pops, making his frame even more petite and vulnerable.

The waist cinched inward dramatically, belly flattening into a smooth, taut expanse that begged to be kissed or licked. Hips flared outward with a grinding shift, filling out into sexy, smooth curves that screamed fertility and desire. Victor's thighs thickened with soft, feminine fat, calves elongating into graceful, girlish lines that promised to wrap around a partner's waist. And his ass reshaped with a vengeance, rounding, tightening, lifting into a heart-shaped derriere that jiggled enticingly with each spasm. It was the kind of ass that turned heads, begged to be smacked, groped, and pounded relentlessly.

Elena slapped it hard, the crack echoing through the room, leaving a red handprint on the pale, new skin. "Fuck, look at this booty blooming! From your saggy man-ass to this juicy, fuckable peach. Everyone's gonna want a piece to slap it, squeeze it, bury themselves deep. You're built for breeding now, aren't you?" She ground her palm against it, kneading the flesh as Victor moaned, hips bucking involuntarily, the drug turning humiliation into hot, liquid need.

But the core of it all...the last bastion of his manhood...shrank away last.

His cock, still semi-hard from the earlier torment, twitched and deflated inch by inch, turning smaller, softer, pinker, until it was nothing but a tiny clit, throbbing with oversensitive hunger. Balls receded inward, leaving smooth folds that parted wetly, forming a slick, inviting pussy. Internally, the prostate reshaped into a womb, balls transforming into ovaries, seminal vesicles into fallopian tubes, urethra reforming...all of it crafting a new, feminine, fertile reproductive system, primed and aching for penetration.

Victoria felt the void form, a deep, empty craving that pulsed with each heartbeat. "N-no... oh god..." she whimpered, fingers instinctively reaching down to touch the new slit, slick with arousal, sending jolts of pleasure up her spine.

Elena watched, transfixed, then slipped a finger inside the fresh pussy, curling it against the sensitive walls. "There it goes, your pathetic dick vanishing into this perfect little cunt. Wet already, huh? Fertile and ready to be filled. No more spraying your mess; now you'll take it, beg for it, get knocked up like the bitch you are." She pumped her finger slowly, drawing out obscene, squelching sounds, until Victoria's body arched in another wave of forced ecstasy.

"OOOOHHH!" Victoria moaned, the sound high and feminine, echoing off the walls as stars burst behind her eyes. The overload hit like a tidal wave, pleasure crashing into exhaustion, and she slumped nearly unconscious on the floor, chest heaving, new breasts rising and falling with ragged breaths. Her clothes hung awkwardly now: too tight over the swollen tits and curvaceous ass, too loose everywhere else, riding up to expose the glistening folds of her new sex.

Elena stood, wiping her hand on her blazer with a satisfied smirk, towering over the transformed figure. "Welcome to your new life... Victoria." She nudged the limp form with her toe, eliciting a weak moan. "Much better than Victor the Bastard, don't you think?" Her laugh was sharp, like breaking glass. "Now, let’s get rid of these rags." She grabbed the collar of Victoria’s oversized shirt and ripped it downward. Buttons pinged against the radiator like tiny bullets. The cheap fabric tore easily, exposing Victoria’s trembling shoulders and the swell of her new breasts beneath a sweat-soaked undershirt.

"OOOHHH" A moan escaped Victoria's lips, high and breathy like silk tearing. Elena ripped the shirt open completely, buttons scattering like hail against the radiator. Beneath, Victoria’s sweat-soaked undershirt clung obscenely to her new curves—the swell of pert C-cups, the dip of her cinched waist, the flare of hips already begging to be gripped. Elena grabbed the hem and yanked upward. The fabric resisted for a second against Victoria’s trembling arms, then surrendered with a sharp rip, exposing smooth, flushed skin and tight pink nipples pebbled in the cool air. Victoria instinctively curled inward, trying to shield herself, but Elena slapped her hands away.

"Such a horny bitch," Elena murmured, her voice thick with contemptuous amusement. "Can't fight the urges of that new body, can you?" Victoria whimpered, her hips bucking involuntarily against the floorboards as Elena's fingers dug into the waistband of her denims. The cheap polyester tore like wet paper under Elena's sharp tug, ripping down to the knees in one brutal motion. Cool air rushed over Victoria's bare thighs, her smooth mound, the slick folds of her new pussy glistening under the blue phone-light still playing her betrayal. She tried to clamp her legs shut, but Elena drove a knee between them, forcing her open. "Look at you," Elena hissed, tracing a fingernail along Victoria's swollen labia, drawing a shuddering gasp. "Dripping already. Just born and already desperate to be filled." Her fingers plunged inward without warning, curling deep into Victoria's tight, wet heat.

"N-NO N-NO I...I..oOOOHH GODDD!" Victoria's protest dissolved into a high-pitched wail, thin as ripped silk, utterly drowned by the tsunami of sensation crashing through her transformed body. Elena's fingers weren't just inside her; they were pistons of fire, curling and scraping with reckless abandon against walls hypersensitive and newly formed. Fear, confusion, the horrifying reality of her changed flesh...it all vaporized under the sheer, overwhelming onslaught of pleasure. It wasn't choice; it was biological imperative. Her hips arched violently off the floorboards, grinding against Elena's invading hand, chasing the brutal friction. Her own traitorous moans, feminine and needy, filled the air, louder than the muffled grunts still leaking from the phone screen nearby. She couldn't stop them anymore; her voice belonged to the drug, to the fingers, to this writhing, wet thing she'd become.

"This," Elena breathed, her fingers pistoning deep inside Victoria's slick heat, "is who you are now." Her thumb pressed hard against Victoria's throbbing clit, grinding circles that sent electric shocks up her spine. "A horny bitch in heat. Obsessed with cock." Victoria's hips bucked wildly, her blonde hair fanning across the floorboards like spilled gold. She couldn't stop the high-pitched whines escaping her new lips...thin, desperate sounds that echoed the muffled grunts of Victor's betrayal still playing on the forgotten phone nearby. Every thrust of Elena's hand rewired her, the drug amplifying sensation until thought dissolved into pure, animal need. "Feel it?" Elena hissed, curling her fingers against a spot that made Victoria see stars. "That emptiness? That ache? It's screaming to be filled. Ruined."

"OOOOOOOOOOHHHH" A sound ripped from Victoria's throat...not a scream, but a high-pitched, keening cry, thin and sharp as shattered crystal. It echoed off the radiator pipes and the dented wastebasket, bouncing back in mocking harmony with her own muffled betrayal still playing on Elena's discarded phone. Her transformed body arched impossibly off the floorboards, spine bowing like a drawn bowstring. Every muscle locked in ecstatic agony as Elena's relentless fingers plunged deeper, scissoring inside her hypersensitive new cunt. The climax wasn't a wave; it was a dam bursting. Hot fluid gushed from Victoria's core in a torrent, soaking Elena's wrist, flooding the floorboards beneath her splayed thighs with a sudden, pungent slickness that smelled of salt and crushed oleaster blossoms. Her hips pistoned wildly, grinding against Elena's hand, each convulsion spraying another pulse of sticky release across her own trembling belly and Elena's forearm.

"Perfect," Elena breathed, standing tall as Victoria shuddered beneath her, hips still twitching in the fading waves of forced ecstasy. Sweat plastered blonde strands to her flushed cheeks, her new breasts heaving against the cold floorboards. Elena watched the aftershocks ripple through the transformed body, the tremors in the slender thighs, the involuntary clench of the slick cunt still leaking fluids onto the wood. A cruel smile touched Elena’s lips as she turned, retrieving a sleek, black nylon bag from beside the radiator where it had lain unnoticed. She unzipped it with a sharp rasp, the sound cutting through Victoria’s ragged gasps.

"You're a mess," Elena murmured, her voice thick with disgusted satisfaction as she watched Victoria shudder through the aftershocks. The blonde trembled against the sticky floorboards, hips still twitching weakly, her new breasts rising and falling with ragged breaths. Elena nudged the nylon bag toward her with a polished boot toe. "But this? This is for slutty girls like you."

Victoria whimpered, trying to curl away, but her body betrayed her, a fresh wave of aching emptiness pulsed deep in her slick cunt, making her thighs clench. Her eyes, hazy and submissive, flickered toward the bag. Elena knelt, unzipping it with a sound like tearing silk. Inside, folded impossibly small, lay sheer black lace: a nightie designed to showcase, not conceal.

"A slutty girl like you needs to wear this," Elena murmured, unfolding the sheer black lace nightie. The fabric pooled in her hands like liquid shadow. She grinned, sharp as broken glass. "Put it on." Victoria stared at the garment, trembling fingers brushing against cool nylon mesh. Every nerve screamed no, but the chemical firestorm beneath her skin screamed louder...a desperate, molten ache pooling between her thighs. Obedience wasn't a choice; it was biology. She fumbled with the straps, clumsy with her new slender fingers, the lace catching on her hardened nipples. The nightie settled against her skin, whisper-thin and utterly indecent. It clung to her perky breasts, plunged low to frame her cleavage, and ended high on her thighs, barely covering the slickness glistening between her legs. The lace felt like spiderwebs against her hypersensitive flesh, amplifying every tremor.

"Move. Onto the bed," Elena commanded, pointing to the rumpled duvet. Victoria crawled, the movement awkward on unsteady limbs, her new hips swaying unintentionally with each shift. The lace rode up, exposing the full curve of her ass. She collapsed onto the mattress, gasping. Without intending to, she landed sprawled on her back, one knee bent slightly outward, an arm flung loosely above her head. The pose wasn't calculated seduction; it was exhaustion mixed with the drug's lingering tremors. Yet it was devastatingly sensual: the sheer fabric revealing the dark shadow of her trimmed pubis, the hard peaks of her nipples pressing against the lace, the vulnerable arch of her throat exposed. Her blonde hair spilled across the pillowcase like tangled gold.

Elena’s phone camera clicked, the harsh flash momentarily blinding Victoria. "Look at you," Elena murmured, circling the bed like a photographer framing a shot. "Such a horny little thing." Another click captured Victoria flinching, her eyes wide with residual terror and involuntary arousal. "Can't even pretend to be modest, can you? That new body screams for attention." She leaned in, zooming the lens on Victoria’s glistening folds, clearly visible through the flimsy lace. "Perfect. I always knew you had potential... buried deep." She giggled, a sharp, brittle sound like ice cracking, as she snapped another photo. "Oh, Victor... no, Victoria. My sexy little toy." She got closer, her breath hot against Victoria’s ear. "This is your payback. Every lie, every sneer... paid in full."

Victoria couldn't fight the tidal wave anymore. Every nerve screamed with raw, chemical hunger...a desperate ache deep in her slick core that drowned terror in liquid fire. Resistance felt like trying to hold back a tsunami with bare hands. She was Elena's toy now, her body a traitorous instrument tuned only to pleasure. The sheer lace scraped like sandpaper against hypersensitive skin, yet each rasp sent fresh sparks through her trembling thighs. Her hips rocked involuntarily against the mattress, seeking friction where the nightie rode high, exposing the glistening swell of her labia. Rational thought evaporated...only the pulsing void mattered.