The Test

Carrie's hand was still wrapped around your dick, but her grip had gone still. Her eyes weren't on you anymore. They'd drifted to the dildo on the bed, and they stayed there, fixed, like she was reading something written on its surface.

The lamplight caught the curve of her shoulder, the way her back muscles shifted as she held herself above you. Her breathing had changed too — slower, deeper, like she was testing the weight of an idea.

"I made that bigger without trying," she said. Almost to herself. The words came out soft, wondering, like she was confirming something she'd suspected all along.

You watched her hand move on your dick, a slow, automatic stroke, but her attention was still on the dildo. The thing lay there on the sheets, thicker than your wrist, that same obscene shape you'd watched her ride earlier. It had grown in her hand. You'd seen it happen.

"Carrie?"

Her head turned. Her smile widened, slow and knowing, and something in her eyes shifted — that same hunger you'd seen when she'd first stood over you, measuring you with her gaze.

"Let's see what I can do when I'm actually trying."

She crawled off you. The loss of her weight was immediate — the cool air where her thighs had been, the sudden absence of her heat against your hip. The mattress shifted as she moved across it, and you watched her go, the way her back muscles rolled under her skin, the way her ass swayed with each hand-and-knee step.

She reached the dildo and picked it up. It looked smaller in her hand now. She weighed it like it was nothing, gave it a little toss, caught it, and turned back to you.

"Put this next to yours," she said, pressing it into your palm.

Your fingers barely wrapped around it. The silicone was warm from the room, smooth and heavy, and your grip couldn't quite close. You held it up beside your dick, and the comparison was almost laughable. Ten inches of thick, veined rubber lying just above your pelvis, dwarfing your six inches like a tree towering over a sapling.

Carrie's smile widened. She watched you hold it there, watched the way your dick twitched next to it, and there was something in her eyes you couldn't quite name.

"You look good like that," she said. "Small."

The word landed somewhere in your chest. You should have felt insulted. Instead, you felt your dick throb against the dildo's shaft, and Carrie saw it, and her smile grew even wider.

"Get ready," she said, and she swung a leg over you, straddling your torso. Her knees braced on either side of your chest, and she hovered there, her cunt directly above the tip of the dildo. You could see everything — the slick shine of her folds, the way they parted slightly as she shifted her weight, the faint tremor in her thighs.

"I'm going to come over this huge cock," she said, looking down at you with that hungry, knowing smile. "And I want you to watch. I want you to see if it grows next to yours."

You held the dildo steady, both hands wrapped around its base now, the tip pointing up toward her. She reached down and gripped your wrists, positioning you, adjusting the angle until the head of the dildo was just barely pressing against her entrance.

"Hold it right there," she said. "Don't move."

You nodded. You couldn't have spoken if you'd wanted to.

She lowered herself, just an inch. The tip of the dildo parted her folds, and you watched it disappear inside her — that first stretch, the way her lips gripped around the silicone, the slick sound of her wetness. She let out a low, shuddering breath.

"Fuck," she whispered. "That's good."

She sank down another inch. Then another. The dildo disappeared into her inch by inch, and you could feel the weight of it in your hands, the way her body pulled at it, the way she took it deeper and deeper.

Your dick was pressed against the underside of the dildo, trapped between the silicone and your own stomach. Every inch of her descent rubbed it, and you could feel yourself leaking, a thin smear of pre-cum against the warm rubber.

Carrie's head fell back. Her hands found your wrists and squeezed, and she rode the dildo slowly, a lazy roll of her hips that made the whole thing shift inside her.

"Look at me," she said, and you did. Her eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown wide, and she was looking down at you like you were the one underneath her. Like you were the one inside her.

"You like this?" she asked. "Watching me take something this big while your dick rubs against it?"

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your dick twitched against the dildo, and Carrie laughed — a low, pleased sound.

"I'll take that as a yes."

She picked up the pace. Her hips began to move in a steady rhythm, rising and falling, and the dildo slid in and out of her with a wet, obscene sound. You could feel the weight of her in your hands, the way she pulled at the base with every lift, the way she pushed down hard with every stroke.

"Fuck," she breathed. "I'm so full."

Your hands were shaking. You could feel the strain in your arms, holding the dildo steady as she rode it, and your dick was aching, hard as it had ever been, pressed against the underside of the thing that was filling her in a way you know you never could.

"You feel that?" she asked, and her voice was different now — lower, rougher. "You feel how big this is inside me? How much I can take?"

She reached down and grabbed your hand — the one that wasn't holding the dildo — and pressed it against her stomach. You could feel it through the skin. The faint shape of the dildo, pressing outward from inside her.

"That's how you'd feel inside me," she said. "If you were this big."

Your mouth went dry. She held your hand there for a moment, letting you feel it, then released you and gripped the base of the dildo herself, taking some of the weight.

"Now hold it," she said. "And don't let go. I want to feel you there when I come."

She started riding harder. The rhythm was faster now, desperate, and you could hear it in her breathing — the short, sharp gasps, the way she moaned with every downward stroke. Her thighs were trembling, and you could see the tension building in her stomach, the way her abs clenched with every roll of her hips.

"You want me to come?" she asked. "You want to watch me come all over this huge thing while you just lie there holding it?"

"Yes," you managed. "Please."

Carrie smiled, and it was that same possessive, delighted smile you'd seen when she'd first measured herself. She reached down and pressed her fingers against her clit, rubbing in tight circles as she rode.

"Tell me you want it," she said. "Tell me you want to watch me come."

"I want to watch you come."

"Tell me you want to feel it grow in your hands."

Your breath caught. Your dick throbbed against the dildo, and you felt a surge of something — fear, excitement, want — all tangled together.

You were confused, horny and confused, how had the girl you fell in love with have become this? Why was she treating you this way? But maybe most of all, why were you beginning to like it?

"I want to feel it grow," you said.

Carrie's smile widened, and she leaned forward, bracing her hands on your chest. Her face was right above yours now, her breath hot on your skin, and she looked down at you with those dark, hungry eyes.

"Good boy."

She rode harder. Her hips slammed down on the dildo, and you could feel the force of it in your arms, the way the base pressed against your grip. Her fingers were moving faster on her clit, and her moans were getting louder, higher, more desperate.

"Fuck," she gasped. "Fuck, I'm gonna—"

She froze. Her whole body went rigid above you, and you felt it — the first wave of her orgasm, the way her cunt clenched around the dildo, the way her thighs shook against your sides. A low, shuddering moan tore out of her throat, and she started to come.

Her juices spilled out around the dildo, hot and slick, running down the shaft and over your hands. She was moaning, gasping, riding through it, and you felt the dildo pulse in your grip.

At first you thought it was just her — the clench of her muscles, the way she was moving. But then you felt it again. A pulse. A swell.

The dildo was growing.

You felt it happen in real time — the silicone thickening under your fingers, the length pressing deeper into her as it expanded. Carrie's eyes flew open, and she felt it too, and a new moan tore out of her throat as the dildo stretched her further.

"Oh god," she gasped. "Oh god, it's—"

It kept growing. You could feel it — the weight in your hands increasing, the girth expanding until your fingers were stretched wide around it. Carrie was still coming, her whole body shuddering, and she rode the growing dildo, taking it deeper, wider, until she collapsed forward onto you, her chest heaving.

The dildo pulsed one last time, then stilled. It rested in your hands, heavier than before, thicker than before, and you could feel the difference even without looking at it.

Carrie lay on top of you for a long moment, breathing hard. Her hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, and her skin was flushed, and she was smiling.

She pushed herself up, looked down at the dildo in your hands, and her smile widened into something almost reverent.

"Look at that," she whispered. "I did that."

She reached down and wrapped her fingers around the base, lifting it out of herself with a wet, slick sound. It was bigger now — noticeably bigger, thicker, longer. She held it up in front of her face, turning it in the lamplight, and her eyes glittered.

"I made it grow," she said. "On purpose."

She looked at you, and there was something new in her eyes. Something calculating. Something hungry.

"Imagine what I could do to a person."

Her gaze drifted toward the door. Toward the hall. Toward Jake's room, where the man who'd made her grow in the first place was probably still lying on his bed, waiting.

Her smile turned slow. Possessive.

You watched her hold the grown dildo in her hand, her eyes fixed on the door, and you knew — whatever she was planning, it wasn't finished. Not even close.

She turned the dildo over in her hands one more time, feeling the new weight of it, the heft that hadn't been there an hour ago. Her thumb traced the ridge of a vein that had appeared during her orgasm, and she watched her own finger move like she was discovering a new country.

"You know what this means," she said, and her voice had that low, intense quality you'd learned to listen for. The one that meant she was already three steps ahead of you.

"What?" you asked, still flat on your back, still holding the ghost-weight of the dildo in your palms.

She looked down at you, and her smile was different now. Slower. More certain. Like she'd just solved a puzzle she'd been working on for days.

"I don't need to swallow anyone’s cum to make things grow anymore," she said. "I just need my own."

The words hung in the warm air of the bedroom. You felt your dick twitch against your thigh, betraying you, and Carrie noticed. Of course she noticed. She missed nothing now.

"Imagine it," she said, and she wasn't talking to you anymore. Not really. She was talking to herself, testing the shape of the idea in her mouth. "I could touch anything. Anything at all. And if I wanted it bigger, I could just..."

She trailed off, her eyes drifting back toward the door. Toward the hall. Toward Jake's room.

The dildo rested against her palm, and she curled her fingers around it, feeling the thickness of it, the way her hand couldn't quite close around it anymore.

"He has no idea," she whispered. "He thinks he's the one with the power."

You watched her face in the lamplight, the way her pupils had gone wide and dark, the way her lips parted slightly around the thought she wasn't saying. She was picturing something. Something that made her breath come a little faster, made her thighs press together where she knelt.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked, and your voice came out smaller than you'd intended.

Carrie's eyes snapped back to you. For a moment, she looked almost surprised to find you there, like she'd forgotten you were still lying beneath her. Then the smile returned, slow and knowing, and she reached down and wrapped her hand around your dick again, giving it a single, deliberate stroke.

"I'm thinking about how much bigger I'm going to get," she said. "And how many things are going to grow with me."