Later that evening...

I heard the door open just after sunset.

I was already curled up in bed, still naked under one of his hoodies, legs tucked underneath me, body warm and buzzing from the slow changes all day. I hadn’t done much—just explored, touched, breathed—but somehow I felt charged. Submissive. Needy. Barely hanging on.

His footsteps were slow, steady, casual. I peeked down the hall and saw him step out of his shoes, sling his bag down, and stretch. Hoodie tight across his chest, sweatpants hanging low. When he looked toward the bedroom and saw me watching, his whole body changed.

He didn’t say a word.

He walked straight to me, eyes locked, and pulled the hoodie up and over my head in one motion. His hands were firm, fast. I gasped as the cool air hit my bare skin, nipples instantly tightening, every nerve in my body lighting up.

“Been waiting all day for this?” he asked, voice low, rough from the day.

I nodded, already breathless.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I’ve been waiting. I need you.”

“Show me.”

I laid back, legs parting instinctively, and he didn’t waste time. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me down the bed, flipped me onto my stomach, and yanked my hips up into the air. My chest pressed into the mattress, and I moaned before he even touched me.

He didn’t go slow.

He spat in his hand, rubbed his cock once, and then shoved inside me in one rough, perfect thrust. I cried out—high and helpless—my fingers clutching the sheets, legs trembling instantly. He didn’t stop. Just started using me.

The rhythm was deep. Relentless. His hips slapped against my ass again and again, the stretch just right, just on the edge of too much. My whole body was already sensitive from the changes—the magic, the softness, the way my nerves were rewiring for pleasure.

Every thrust hit deeper.

Every inch felt hotter.

He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back, and growled, “This is what you’re made for now, isn’t it?”

I whimpered. Nodded. “Yes… yes, please, keep using me.”

He slammed harder.

My cock—small, aching, untouched—leaked onto the sheets without even being stroked. I was moaning like I couldn’t stop, like I didn’t even care if the neighbors heard. I was wet, open, fully his.

He pinned my wrists above my head and leaned into me, voice in my ear.

“You’re changing for me. You feel it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I cried. “I feel it everywhere. It’s all for you.”

When I came, it wasn’t even a choice. My body locked up, shook, and released in hard, twitching pulses while he kept going. I felt the heat building again—his pace savage, focused, wrecking me from the inside.

And then he finished.

Deep. Growling. Filling me full all over again.

He collapsed over me, holding me tight, keeping me in place while we both breathed like we’d run miles.

“Sleep like this,” he whispered. “Plugged up with me. Let it soak in.”

And I did.

In the middle of the night, I stirred.

My body felt warm—but more than that, different. My chest ached slightly. My hips tingled. Something inside was shifting again, magic humming under my skin like a soft pulse.

My ass felt fuller. Rounder.

And my chest…

When I brushed it lightly in my sleep, I moaned. Something soft and heavy moved under my palm.

I didn’t wake up.

But the changes kept going.

And by morning, I’d be even closer to what he wanted me to be.