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And he began pumping rapidly, back and forth, out of control, forgetting her rules, fixated solely on the nerves of his cock and the delightful combination of soap and sinew.
Almost imperceptibly, her body began to lower, and her hands braked him slower. Before he knew it, she stood in a partial squat, gripping his pelvis in frustrating stillness. Her head bent forward, and their foreheads touched. Eyes locked, and she spoke breathily into his mouth:
"Can you feel your glans pressing against my labia?"
It took him a second to fathom what she said, so improbable it seemed. Then he felt her warmth and sensed her slickness on his tip. He sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes bugged out. It wasn't possible! She would never...
Then with near-microscopic movements, she shifted his body side to side, then up and down, and around in a circle, sliding the helmet of his engorged member along the edges of her swollen folds. Tantalizing him with the ultimate tease.
Tom twitched and shook. His breath caught and unintelligible gurgles emanated from his throat.
"Do you think you're ready, little rabbit?" she whispered.
And beyond his control Tom's hips began to flutter - fucking like a rabbit - his minuscule thrusts just barely dipping into her hot juices and back out. Still not inside. Yet closer to Eden than he ever imagined.
"Would you last more than a second?" she challenged as water streamed down her face and into his mouth. "Could you cope with the constant cravings of addiction? Or would my pussy drive you fucking insane?"
Her mouth abruptly mashed into his. Her long tongue slithered in, twisting and turning around every corner, then diving down his throat. Without thinking he turned his head to the side and sucked it down even further, spiraling his tongue around it, intent to please her, automatically recalling his training under the table at Homecoming - this time with a new appendage.
With growing desperation, he yanked on her traps and bucked his hips, simultaneously trying to pull her tongue deeper above and shove his tiny manhood into her sanctum below. But her sturdy arms held him in place, his hips practically vibrating, torturously on the brink. Her tongue slowly retracted.
"Do you really think you can fuck me?" she snarled in challenge. "Did you not feel what happened to your finger?"
His digit suddenly throbbed where he grasped at her shoulder.
"Can you even imagine...your hard little penne, boiling in my honeypot, crushing in my quim...until it's softer and flatter than a ribbon of pappardelle...nothing but a useless...wet...noodle."
The imagery pierced into Tom's brain and a wave of fear shot down his spine to his groin. And his cock began to soften.
"And then my snatch would snip you right off..." she grunted as her body tensed, "...and consume you whole, a tiny palette cleanser - an amuse-bouche - before the main course of real man-meat."
She dove forward into his mouth again, this time sucking out his tongue and mashing it to the roof of her mouth. Her teeth bit down sharply at its root, then let go. He pulled back in horror, and his dick immediately withered and turtled below.
"Nooo...you little pussy...you're not gonna fuck me," she hissed. "I'm gonna fuck you."
And to Tom's shock he felt something pressing into him, identical to when her finger poked his inverted penis in the bath. Except now both her hands were behind his back.
"That's right, I know you can feel it, my little Doubting Thomas," she said in a deep husky voice before continuing in recitation, "Reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing."
She pulled his pelvis hard into hers, and he felt the object get bigger.
"Holy Jesus! I don't believe it!" Tom exclaimed in reaction, then startled again as he realized she spoke the word of the Gospel, comparing his incredulity at her massive clitoris with an apostle questioning the Resurrection.
"Yes, my little skeptic. That's my She-cock in your boy-hole, growing and expanding, showing you who's bigger, getting ready to take you..."
"Oh m-m-my G-god," Tom sputtered out between haphazard breaths.
"That's Goddess to you," Sophie snapped.
Then she flicked her hips forward and Tom felt a sharp jab on his flaccid prick. He closed his eyes and without thinking called out:
"Oh, Sophie!"
"That's it, baby!" she cried, stabbing him again. "Say my name! My whole name!
"Sophie Vandenberg!"
"Yes!"
"Sophie Vandenberg!"
"Do you remember what it means?"
"Wisdom from the mountain, Goddess," Tom responded immediately between her thrusts.
"You know I never told you my middle name," she said slyly.
Her gyrations paused and he looked at Her with anticipation.
"Svetlana," she said dramatically, causing Tom's eyes to widen with curiosity. "My mother is Russian. It means light or luminescence. Sophie Svetlana Vandenberg."
Then she swung her hips sharply and penetrated him even deeper.
"Sophie Svetlana Vandenberg!" he cried.
"That's right, Thomas Levi Gilmore Douglas," she responded quickly, with a flourish. "I bet you have no idea what your name means."
Tom felt her enter him again and he sighed loudly, then shook his head no, unable to speak as her thrusts quickened.
"Thomas is twin. Uh! Levi is joined in harmony. Uh! Gilmore is great servant. Uh! Douglas is dark stream. Uh!"
She spoke so fast and fucked so hard he could barely comprehend.
"Twin joined in harmony, great servant of the dark stream," Sophie spoke in a clipped cadence. "Part of your name holds promise, little one, but the remainder is a curse. You were baptized into obscurity, destined to be mired in darkness. Ordained to be fatally plunged into the abyss. Doomed without me!"
Tom listened and heard nothing but absolute Truth. She was right. She had to be right. She was always right.
"And what destroys darkness, Thomas?" she implored.
"The light, Goddess!" he answered with certainty, then shouted out with sudden recognition, "Svetlana!"
Her thrusts abruptly stopped, and her eyes pierced into him.
"How often do you think of me, in darkness and in light?"
The answer came to him immediately.
"24 hours a day, Goddess!"
"How many letters in my name?!" Sophie cried.
Tom thought for a second and his head cocked to the side in surprise.
"24!"
"How many letters in your name?!"
The answer came to him faster, as if his mind were gaining momentum.
"24!"
"Do you know my birthday?"
"No, Miss."
Her lips curled up deviously.
"April 24, 2002," she stated, watching his eyes closely as they widened. Then she continued in a sly voice, "And what might your birthday be, Thomas?"
"April 24, 1978," he gasped.
Her smile broadened as his layers of recognition set in: the repetition of her number; the impossible coincidence of their birthdates. Then the subtraction calculation hit him, and his head began to spin.
"No fucking way..." he whispered, suddenly awestruck.
"Yes, little one. 24 years to the day," she said with momentous bearing. "Numbers never lie. Mathematics is the purest form of Truth. We are mirror images. Twins in time. Astrologically and numerologically aligned. Eternally destined for each other."
The shower stall whirled out of control as her words overwhelmed him. His head grew light, uplifted by the revelation of fate, spellbound in the thrall of serendipity.
"I know you can feel it deep in your soul. That I am the answer to your suffering. Born on your 24th birthday, joined in your 42nd year. The yin to quell your yang," she asserted dramatically, then she spoke with a timbre of incantation, "My light is the cure for your darkness. My wisdom is the cure for your ignorance. Beg me to cure you, Thomas Levi!"
He registered the outrageousness of her claims: her implausible leap from coincidence to destiny; her fantastical profession of mystical healing powers; the absurd size of her She-cock; the sheer impossibility of it all.
Yet high in her powerful arms, in the grip of her powerful mind, he felt helpless to question. His brain was steeped in Her Promise, brought to a boil of desperate need for her radiant medicine. He had never wanted anything more in his life.
"Please cure me with your wisdom and light, Goddess!" Tom groveled passionately. "I need your She-cock inside me! Fuck me! Fuck my boy-hole! Fill me with your luminescence!"
Sophie's crotch began slamming into him rhythmically, like a bass drum. Her body vibrated and her voice box hummed.
He could sense her piercing him, injecting him with her light. Warmth emanated from his groin.
She suddenly dipped her head and planted her lips at the top of his chest, near his heart. And she started slurping and sucking.
Tom envisioned the dark stream flowing out of his ventricles and into her mouth, then swallowed and digested in the phosphorescence of her soul. And the warmth spread.
She twisted and writhed around his chest, vacuuming his flesh, harder than before, tugging and sliding without reprieve as her thrusts below quickened.
He felt her taking every last drop of his impurities as her giant clit sent blast after blast of her luminescence into him, filling his dark voids, rising and shining throughout him. In ecstasy, he tipped his head back and envisioned himself a birthing star. Emerging from nebular darkness. Glowing with Hope.
Swooning again, orgasming under Sophie's Power.
His skin tugged and fell from her lips with a slurp. One hand pressed his pelvis into hers, the other held his head so their noses touched. He breathed in small spurts, still coming down from his girly climax.
"Thomas Levi Hope Vandenberg," Sophie chanted into his mouth. "Twin joined in harmony, Hope from the mountain. My mountain. A more perfect name cannot be spoken. Purged of the darkness. A reborn child of the Light. My child. My twin. A little part of Me."
Tom's body shook as if in a Pentecostal trance:
He could feel their bond. He knew their oneness. He was a part of Her. And She was everything.
"How many letters in your new name?"
The aftershocks of his orgy finally ebbed, and the answer flashed before him.
"24," he said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
Tom's analytical mind shifted into overdrive: There was no coincidence in its repetition. Its appearance was statistically significant, biologically important, genetically essential. A numerical constant as immutable as e or pi. The Law of Vandenberg. The Sophie Constant:
S = 24
A mathematical function flashed in his PhD economist brain, an academic breakthrough of epic proportions, a nerdgasm if there ever was one:
H = S * t
The new equation of his life.
Strikingly simple, yet fundamental. A golden ratio built on the Sophie Constant. As Hope he was 24 times Tom, his former self. A new being - forever multiplied by Sophie. Smarter, surer, stronger, sexier...more capable in every way. Forever changed. Forever better. Forever Hers.
"And how many pairs of chromosomes in the human genome?"
He almost spoke, then caught himself and reconsidered his answer.
"Twenty...three?"
"Correct," Sophie responded. "In a normal human, that is."
Tom looked into her dark pupils with wonder.
"You are the XY that my DNA needed. Because in spite of my brilliance and beauty and strength, you had the one thing that I lacked. And now you're part of me, an elevated human, perfect in every way. And together, we can do anything."
Tom's breath reaccelerated into short bursts, and he felt an ember warming in his crotch, unlimited potential waiting to be unleashed. Tears streamed from his eyes, washed away by the shower.
"You are my 24th chromosome pair Thomas Levi Hope Vandenberg," Sophie announced. "In your Rebirth, I absorbed your manhood, and in return I gave you a part of Me. Leaving us permanently connected and deliciously in between. Uniquely intersexual. That's why you can feel so much more. And why I can do so much more."
Her hips gyrated below, stabbing him even more deeply inside, lewdly making her point.
"You're one 24th of me now, Hope. The tiny male fraction that completes me. And you're now one 24th of your former self. The rest of you...is Me."
Tom shuddered with simultaneous awe and doubt. He desperately wanted to believe, but her pseudoscience took the game too far. And in a split second his mind raced with conflicting thoughts.
In the shrinking lucid part of his brain her claim seemed preposterous. Inane! Total bullshit! Part of a devious psychological deception by a brilliant manipulatrix. A twisted hoax of epic proportions. The mindfuck of all mindfucks!
He let his thoughts play through the conspiracy: Her sexual offerings had softened his mind, weakening his resistance, hypnotizing him into blind submission. Making him want her phallus to be bigger than his - so badly that he willed himself to feel it. Rendering him a defenseless automaton susceptible to contrived stories of shared destiny and genetic realignment; a mindless follower, proud to comply with her every command. Hers unconditionally, to control and use.
But to what end? Why would she want or need him? Was he just the freakish object of her macabre entertainment? A personal challenge to see how far she could go exploiting and brainwashing a man? Or was there something yet to be revealed, something more important, something truly substantial?
"I can feel the old you in there Doubting, Thomas. Dubious of my size. Challenging our shared Truth. Questioning my motives," Sophie purred accusingly in his mouth, gliding deftly into his thoughts like a roadster merging into traffic.
To his surprise, she tipped her head to the side and kissed him needfully, as if his skepticism turned her on; as if his spark of resistance gave her the challenge she craved: the thrill of the chase.
Yet deep inside he knew he was no challenge at all, that he had always fallen to her without a fight. That he had chosen to cheat on his wife and commit his life to Sophie without so much as a flicker of resistance, in complete absence of rectitude or self-control.
Rather, his momentary doubt was simply a source of entertainment for her, his acquiescence having long been ordained. She was like a cat letting a mouse run away only to catch it again. Or an orca tossing a seal high in the air. Playing with her food - because she could.
She broke the kiss.
"Have I not shown you miracle after miracle, little one?" Sophie exuded while stabbing him again in the crotch. "Has anything I have said or promised not come to bear? Have I not taken you to places beyond your capacity to imagine?"
He listened, wanting desperately to refute her words. But his skepticism ran into a wall.
He knew she was unequivocally right. She had always lived up to her word, even when the result seemed impossible. Her exceptional feats couldn't possibly be a figment of his imagination. The facts were the facts:
Her immaculate lactation was real.
Her otherworldly strength was real.
Her uncanny intelligence was real.
The ways she could read his thoughts and predict his behavior were real.
His temporary strokes of brilliance at her encouragement were real.
His body's extraordinary reactions to her touch and words were real.
Every feeling she gave him was more intense, more amazing, more real than he had ever felt before.
In his heart he knew there was no more wondrous and glorious place than her reality.
"Have I not shared sufficient proof of our shared destiny?" Sophie interrogated. "Is it just dumb luck that our bodies are perfectly proportional, that each of my breasts are 2.4 times the size of your head and my ass is 24 times the volume of yours? Is it just happenstance that I was born on your 24th birthday, on the 24th day of the 2nd year of the 4th month of the new millennium? That our names, new and old, have 24 letters. That we met in your 42nd year so that you could join with me as the final 24th of my genome...to become my twin, to become 24 times greater than your prior self?"
The evidence was too overwhelming for Tom to challenge. The number 24 was truly everywhere, crisscrossing their lives beyond coincidence. Beneath their physical and mental connections, it was clear that an inexplicable force in the cosmos had aligned their souls. That they had been on a collision course since the day She was born, that their lives and spirits were already intertwined and destined to be joined.
It was self-evident that she had been blessed with greatness. That her attributes and abilities far exceeded his. That giving his life to Her meant to share in and exalt in Her Greatness. That he was the final piece of a metaphysical puzzle. And that the greatest accomplishment he could ever attain, the deepest pride he could ever feel would follow from joining Her. And completing their prophecy of 24.
He could see the pathway laid out before him. Her reality on the verge of becoming his reality. If only he could blindly accept the incredible, the impossible...
"Have I not done enough to earn your unquestioning belief?" she implored perceptively, her words increasing in speed and urgency, her breaths so powerful in his mouth that he could barely exhale. "Can you not see that the virtue of Hope is hollow without the power of Faith? That your Faith in Me is all that matters - because I am all that matters. That Faith alone - sola fide - is the only path to Redemption? That I was put here on this earth in answer to your prayers? That you needed saving, and I came? That I am here to renew your rise, to lift you on my back and carry you up the Mountain?"
Her pupils shrank and her bright green irises filled the void, twisting and forming shapes like a kaleidoscope. Mesmerizing him in religious thrall as she spoke her final words:
"It is time for you to accept that I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. With Me all things are possible."
At her last words, Sophie hammered up, smacking her pelvis hard against his, nailing him with her engorged clit.
She turned her head and kissed him with boundless energy and passion, pressing and sucking, twisting and turning with such unrestrained force that he couldn't breathe.
Her hips pounded again. Then again. Faster.
He gasped as she slid away from his mouth and began licking all over his face: tonguing his eyes, biting his nose, lapping at his cheeks; slurping away the falling water as fast as it streamed down. As if her need for him were so desperate that she was torn between ravishing him and consuming him!
His entire body bounced and jolted on her thick loins, each thrust faster and more intense than the last. As if she meant to pierce him through and cleave him in half!
Tom was almost numb, physically and mentally overwhelmed by her onslaught. He could still feel, yet at a distance, like his body and mind were pulling apart, stretching away from each other like two ends of a giant rubber band...
With a sudden snap, he was floating, circling above the shower stall, watching in lurid fascination as a giant beauty - a mighty Aphrodite - despoiled a scrawny little man: enveloping him, fucking him, eating him...taking him. An omnipotent Goddess subsuming a helpless mortal.
