Invisible Science By Mich Before we start off with what actually happened to both me and my girlfriend on, to use a cliche, that fateful night, let me tell you a little about my hometown. It's a very small town in Southern Idaho, and it was the first one use electricity generated from a nuclear power plant. The plant is just outside of town, and is really the only reason anyone not from my town comes to visit. As you probably know, nuclear power is considered one of the safest ways of getting power, and the chances of anything bad happening from nuclear power are, well, nil. Chernobyl and Three Mile Island are the two main examples people use when saying it is a bad idea, but those are two incidents out of more than fifty years of experience. Two incidents that occured early on in the history of nuclea power that have not been repeated. Nuclear power does not create zombies, turn people undead, mutate nearby farm animals, or cause lizards to rise from the ocean, 100 times larger than when they went in. Scientific studies prove that living near a nuclear power plant does nothing to effect your genes. However, before the day in question, I was always sceptical. Sure, I lived near there, and I had never known anyone to suddenly get cancer in an unexpected area, or anything like that, but you couldn't help wondering how much science really knows about. For example: we breathe air because it has oxygen, and our lungs take the oxygen from the air, allowing us to breathe. Scientists, and, as a result, ordinary people, know this. But what if that is just a by-product? What if there is really something in the air that we can't detect, that we have no way of knowing about, that actually allows us to live? There'd be no way to tell. We'd just be studying the effects of this invisible, unknowable thing, and wouldn't know the difference. I guess what I'm trying to say is, explainable things might just have a scientific explanation that we actually cannot explain. Do you follow? This all brings me back to me and my girlfriend. Beth and I met in college, on the east coast, far from my home. I was interested in the fact that her father had participated in the first studies of microwave power transmission back in the 70's. Probably as a result of my home town, I've always been interested in alternative energy sources. She stated that, despite the fact that no health concerns had cropped up with animals exposed to the microwave radiation, nor in their offspring, noone was interested in microwaves as a power source. We got to talking about how people are scared of alternative energy, and it all went downhill from there. I can guess what you imagine these two college kids look like, talking about power as if it is the most interesting subject on the face of the earth, but, to be honest, I've never pictured myself as much of a geek. I ran in track in high school, held my own in wrestling matches with my older brothers, and have had at least one attractive girlfriend a year since eighth grade. In other words, I've never considered myself anything other than average, or above-average, looking. Beth would probably say the same about herself. True, she had the glasses and the practical ponytail that normally was a dead givaway for a science nerd, but, other than that, she looked pretty normal, too. When she wasn't studying, she would let her dirty blonde brown hair fall around her shoulders, take off her glasses, and smile at you. The glasses were a bit a sticking point for her, though. I always thought they just made her look cuter. It's not like they were huge, or anything. Small, frameless ones, which she would raise an eyebrow over if she thought you were being too sarcastic. She didn't make a habit of wearing anything too popular, like those ugg boots, because she thought they were just ugly, but it wasn't like she didn't dress herself up. A touch of makeup was normal, low-slung jeans, and plain raglan-style shirts were her style. She was a little shorter than usual, around five-foot-two, but I like that, pretty thin, but not obsessively so. I guess the point I am trying to make is that she was quite the average girl. However, on the evening in question, she was giving me an above-average blowjob. It was the first time we had gone to third base, so to speak, so it was kind of a special occasion. I know that some people would consider dating for four months quite a while to wait for third base, and other people would say that it wasn't long enough, but she and I enjoyed taking it slow. We were both interested in each other for reasons outside of sex, and I guess we were trying to keep it that way. Needless to say, Beth, with her mouth around my dick, was pretty much looking at it for the first time, in an up-close and personal manner. I was trying not to get too into it, because I know how some girls can find that annoying, but, man, she was hitting me in all the right places. Without going into too much detail, it was great. Beth seemed to be enjoying herself, too, which was a rare occasion for me. As should be obvious from the amount of time it took us to get there, neither Beth nor I were nymphomaniacs. It's just that, when we were together, we couldn't help acting crazy, sometimes. And she was getting really into it. Moans kept coming from around my member, she was fondling my balls something crazy, and, when at last I came, she didn't spit it out or pull away or anything. She swallowed it all. "That," I said, "was the best BJ I've ever had." She at last removed her head from my crotch and smiled at me. "Thanks," she blushed. "I thought it was great, too." I attempted to reciprocate the favor, but Beth said she was too tired. I could guess why; she was covered in sweat from the whole act. So, instead, we cuddled for the night, falling asleep watching a romantic comedy. And I didn't think anything more of it. We didn't see much of each other for the next few days. As I recall, I had a few tests coincide that week, and she had something with her work. Nothing really unusual, though I would naturally pass her every once in a while, in a hall or outside, and we would wave and exchange greetings. It wasn't until the next weekend that we were actually able to spend itme together, watching a movie with our friends. We were sitting on the couch, Beth almost in my lap, and I was trying my best to combat a boner. You know how it is, though: the more you think about it, the less likely it will go away. Anyway, in my distracted state, I somehow brushed a hand against her right boob. It happens all the time, honestly, when you have your hand over your girlfriend's shoulder. It's just the perfect height, I guess. Anyway, after my hand barely touched her breast, Beth gave this strange shiver. It felt like one of excitement to me, but you never really know, do you? After all, they were looking a little swollen, and that could only mean one thing, with that time of the month coming around. "Sorry," I quickly muttered in her ear, expecting a backlash, but surprised when she blushed and shook her head. "They've been awfully sensitive lately." At this my battle was lost and my erection sprang to attention. It was a doozy; I knew from the feel of it that it would be no easy-to-hide boner. This was the real deal. Desperately I concentrated on the movie, but Beth's small, firm breasts kept popping into my mind. I imagined giving them a real feel, cupping one in my hand, tweaking a hard, small nipple-- Beth squealed and squirmed in my lap as I realized that I had acted out my fantasy and was now holding her right boob in my hand. Lucky for me the credits of the movie were rolling and my friends were getting up, gathering their things to go. My subconscious excapade had gone unnoticed. As my penis deflated in panic I jumped off the couch and got a flushed Beth her coat and purse. By now my friends had noticed something was up, but I rushed all of them out the door, waiting until they were gone to walk Beth to her car. She was quiet and preoccupied, picking at the collar of her shirt as I kissed her goodnight. "We'll have some alone time later this week, okay?" I half-promised half-requested, but she just nodded and drove off. I couldn't decide if she was embarrased or was just thinking of something else. However, as I drifted off to sleep, thanking God that I didn't have blue balls, I reflected on how her chest had felt under my hand. It definitely was swollen, at least enought to make her bra tight. *** "Landon, would you get that down for me?" Beth asked, pointing at the top shelf. I was helping her check the expiration dates on things at the grocer she worked for, but was working harder at not being distracted. Even now, with the simple act of raising her hand, her button-up shirt drew tighter against her massive busom, showing off the curves of her breasts' undersides, her prominant nipples poking almost through the fabric. The letter G floated through my mind like a dandelion puff. Beth's hovering hand came down on her hip and she gave me a sardonic look. "Honestly, can't you control yourself for five seconds?" she asked with a grin. I saw that she was looking at my crotch, and, following her gaze, I saw what looked like a cucumber outlined against my slacks. "No," I said, returning the grin, and instantly my pants were off, my huge member pointing the way to my girlfriend. I ripped off her shirt, bottons flying, at last revealing her perfect (and perfectly huge) melons. As her jeans dropped to the floor Beth gave a groan of relief. I entered her and we became a single note, a unified theme of pleasure. Her body wracked and spasmed and I could feel my orgasm rising to meet hers, building up to... to... I woke up from my dream just as it became a wet one. I saw the jizz darken the front of my pajama bottoms and then start squirting through, in between the threads. It felt like I was coming more than I had before, even from that first BJ from Beth, the week before. "A wet dream?" I asked myself. "This is the first one since middle school, boyo." I got out of bed and dropped the soaked pajamas to the floor, making a mental note to do the laundry the next day as I slipped into some boxer-briefs. "It must have been the brush with Beth's boob," I muttered, smiling at my aliteration. "It's just her period," I further explained to myself. "They don't swell up THAT much." My returning boner, though, uncomfortable in my tight briefs, told me that I wished it was otherwise. The next morning I decided to drop in on Beth at work, half as a joke at myself, half to prove myself wrong. Sure enough, when I walked in the front door and saw Beth manning the register, I was a little disappointed not to see her tits pulling her shirt apart. Nope, they were tucked away in the nice confines of her bra. Shaking my head at my childish hopes, I gathered up a few groceries and headed to her aisle. "Hey, babe," she said, eyes twinkling behind her glasses. "Are you free tonight?" "Of course," I responded. "That is, if you are." She smiled and gave me a faux come-hither wink. "You'll just have to come over and see, won't you?" I winked back, but not before see what happened to her shirt as she turned to wave goodbye. That turn momentarily tightened the fabric and I saw her chest clearly outlined by it, and, instead of her normal b-cups there all I saw was flesh slightly overflowing her cups. They ARE bigger, a voice in my head whispered, and the insta-boner I had been experiencing lately was back. I hurried back to my car, bag over my groin as I tried to think of anything but growing breasts. By the time I had gotten home my erection still hadn't subsided, so I did what any man would do: I fixed it myself. Squatting over the toilet I pumped my dick with both hands, anxious to get it over with. In a moment I was shooting my load right into the toilet bowl, or, at least, that was the plan, but instead my shots went awry. "Geeze," I said, mopping up the semen on the toilet back and the floor. "What has gotten into me lately?" It seemed I had a boner over everything, and it would only go away after I had came. My balls looked a little swollen themselves, from all of the work they had been put through. "Ah, well," I said. "It's not like it won't effect anything tonight at Beth's." Sure enough, when I pulled up in front of Beth's that night, in a nice shirt, with a case of beer in one hand, I could already feel a semi forming in my pants. Beth didn't help; when she answered the door she was wearing a sexy grey skirt with a matching button-up top, with the top buttons undone to show the cleavage that had definitely not been there a week before. Her hair was down. "I bought a new bra today," she said, by way of introduction. "Care to see it?" All I managed to get out was "All right" before we were making out on her couch. "It's," Beth said, "a," in between kisses, "C." "Your bra?" I asked, and she nodded. Unbuttoning her blouse I saw that it was black and lacy and left nothing to the imagination, fitting her bigger breasts perfectly. "It's just your period, right?" I asked as sexily as possible. She just smiled. "Does this feel like water retention?" she asked, unclasping her bra and bringing my hand up to her chest. I gave it a squeeze, then a pinch, and finally a lick before confirming that it did not, in fact, feel like water retention. Only after looking up did I realize that Beth was in heaven. "Don't stop," she breathed. "Don't stop what?" I asked rougishly. "This?" I nibbled her nipple softly and was rewarded with a low moan. Deftly I licked and sucked, never realizing how close Beth was to nipple-orgasming until I had pushed her over the edge. "Oh, wow," she said when she had come back down. "That feels so good. I never want it to stop." "Never want what to stop?" I asked jokingly. "The orgasms, or your boobs growing? Because I can only help with one." Beth laughed before unzipping my fly. "Now for round two," she said, pulling my dick out of my briefs. Her small hands looked so dainty next to my pulsing red member. From its stiffness it was impossible to tell that I had already came twice that day. When I came for the third time, shooting my load down Beth's throat, it didn't feel any less good, either. "Wow," she said, sucking her teeth clean. "That was a lot more than last time." "Guess I've been practicing," I joked before realizing the implications, but Beth just laughed again. "Come on, Mr. Masterbate, let's watch this movie, and maybe, if we're lucky, we can do this again at the end." We did, and it was just as good for both of us. As I kissed her goodbye at the door I thought it was just my imagination, but her shirt actually DID look a little tighter. I shook my head at the thought; don't give yourself another wet dream, I silently said. I realized the next morning how much of a close call it was; my erection was tenting the boxers I sleep in, feeling stiffer than ever. Thinking quickly, I hopped into the shower and turned on the water, finishing the job myself. "Better than by accident, right?" I reasoned. I couldn't imagine just trying to let it fade off; it was so hard that my dick felt foreign in my hand. When I was done washing my problem down the drain, I finished my shower and dressed, and again was met with an odd foreign feeling: my clothes didn't seem to fit right. My boxers wouldn't sit comfortably, my pants felt too tight, even my shirt was a little odd in the shoulders. "Maybe my washer is shrinking all my stuff," I wondered. "I'll have to ask the landlord about it." The issue with my clothes bugged me all day, causing me to squirm in my seat all through my classes, readjusting my waistband every few moments to try to get more comfortable. It didn't help when I would think of Beth and the similar problems she must be having, as it just brought back the monster boner I had that morning. "But it's not the SAME problem," I told myself. "After all, my clothes are just shrinking; her boobs actually have grown." But the thought placed the suggestion, subtly or no, into my head. The next day, while the landlord's maintenance guy looked at my washer, I went to the strip mall Beth's grocer was in. The clothes that I was wearing that day felt even wierder than the day before, so I figured that the first were just the least effected, and I would have to get a whole new wardrobe. Lucky for me it was payday at my work that day (I took pictures for the university paper), so I had cash to spend, and time to check on Beth. I have to admit that I almost constantly was reminded of her by small, stupid things, and was popping a boner at almost everything. The day before I had had to jack off four times just to keep my mind clear. At that point I was almost wishing for Beth's boobs to go back to her normal, small size, just so I could maybe get this masterbation monkey off of my back. I stopped at her store first, just to say hello, and my fears were realized: in two days I could tell that they weren't stopped growing. In fact, from the looks of it, they were speeding up. Before her work shirt had been loose enough to hide her breasts, but now it was pretty much form-fitting, showing her outgrown bra perfectly. A week for the last one, I thought, and now just a few days for this one? Leaning on her register, bored, Beth did an almost imperceptible double-take when she saw me. "Oh, Landon, hey," she said, nonchalant. Her brows were furrowed. "What's up?" I asked, deciding to play along, as if she wasn't sporting a pair of almost-D-cups. She ran her eyes over me again. "Oh, you know, not much. Are you... are you okay?" "Am I okay?" I repeated, my eyebrows shooting up. It caught me off guard, obviously. "Um, yeah, I guess. Why?" This time I felt her eyes hover on my crotch for just a moment, but that was hardly avoidable: my hard-on had returned, just as hard as it had been lately. "You just look strange," she said. "Different." I laughed it off. "Oh, my clothes just shrunk a bit in the wash, the landlord's checking it out." "Huh," was all she said. I waited for her to use it as a similar excuse, but she remained quiet. "So..." I said, deciding to just say it. "Looks like the puppies are growing." She blushed, which I somewhat expected, but then the blush turned into a look of anger. "Landon!" she said, shocking me. "Just because I'm... I'm... putting on a bit of weight doesn't mean you can make fun of me for it!" My head reeled. "What are you talking about, babe?" I asked. "Three days ago you said you never wanted them to stop growing!" She rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm sorry I don't live in 'fantasy boob-growing land' with you, but I got a rude shock this morning when my jeans were a bit tight this morning! My chest isn't magically growing, I'm just finally getting the freshman-fifteen!" Not sure what to think of this, I cast a voyeuristic eye over my girlfriend. She might have been right, maybe her hips did look a bit shapelier, but nothing un-sexy, and definitely nothing FAT. I found myself somewhat disappointed to realize that she wasn't just having a strange, second puberty, but obviously she was gaining weight in the right places, even so. "Look, Beth," I said, putting my hands on her waist, surprised she would let me in her angry state (but maybe this was just some strange test), "you know I wouldn't tease you, even if you did gain a few pounds. Besides, don't you think you look better?" Her anger had faded as quickly as it had popped up, and she allowed herself to be cradled in my arms, where I easily scored some feels off of her soft shirt-fillers. "I guess I do," she smiled. "I used to not care if I looked good, though, and I'm scared if it just happened because I naturally did." I turned her around to look her in the eyes. "Number 1," I said, "you still look fantastic. Number 2, you are definitely not getting, nor, I think, will you ever, get fat, and 3, I think you will agree to come by my house tonight and we can forget about all of our troubles." She nodded and smirked and giggled and all was okay. All three were eventually proven right, some sooner than others. "Hey," Beth called after me as I left for the department store. "You think I can't tell when you've been working out? NOW who's concerned about their image?" Working out? I thought. Hardly. Five minutes later found a very confused me standing naked in the department store dressing room. I had collected a bunch of jeans and the brand of boxer-briefs I liked and shirts and so forth, all of them in the same size as the ones I was wearing. After all, I reasoned, if the ones I was wearing were shrunk, then the same printed size would fit me, right? I had been proven wrong, naturally, and, as I was stepping out of the new clothes, took a moment to examine myself and found that maybe something strange WAS going on. First of all, it DID look like I had been working out. Not a whole bunch, but more in shape than a photographer like myself normally was in. When I flexed my abs you could actually discern a six-pack instead of just a firmer stomach, and my pecs looked like they had a little definition. Even my shoulders looked a tiny bit broader, which would explain my confusion with my t-shirts. It was when I at last examined my crotch that I got completely confused. After all, some unexplained muscle was easy to imagine some excuse for, but your penis doesn't just GROW, does it? Up before this point I hadn't even considered the option enough to look at it for longer than necessary, but now, with my inventory of my naked self, I couldn't avoid the fact that it would easily explain my waistband problems. I remembered in high school, talking about dicks with my classmates, all of us comparing our measured erect sizes. Naturally we didn't actually whip them out and compare in the showers, or anything, it was all talk, but it had really brought the issue to my attention. Seven inches and a couple decimal places was mine, bigger than the average kid, but not by much. I had always remembered, you know, because it was mine, and it hadn't changed in those five or six years. But now, looking at it, I couldn't imagine how I hadn't noticed. This thing was at least an inch longer than that, maybe an inch and a half. It even seemed to be pointing at itself in the mirror from its usual erect state. I reached down with both hands and easily wrapped them both around what had previously only barely held two palms. Then I reached under and felt my balls, suspicion turning to conclusion: what I had originally blamed on all of the orgasming was probably not that at all. I had mixed up causality. My balls WERE bigger, which would cause me to have more sperm, which would make me a lot hornier all of the time. Right? "shit." What was causing this? And why did it turn me on so much? Well, maybe the second question is easy to answer. After buying new jeans, boxers, and shirts (my waist size was the same, at least: just baggier clothes) I went home, not sure what to do, exactly. See a doctor? Call my brother? Jack off? That thought made me think of Beth, which reminded me of my invitation. I looked at the clock and realized I only had an hour before she got off of work. Thinking as quickly as possible I jumped back in my car and drove to the Chinese take-out place, picked up a movie, and made it back just in time to change into a nicer, new shirt. The doorbell rang and I answered it to see Beth there, dressed casually in some jeans and a new, low-cut top. Now I could see what I could only guess at before: she definitely wasn't getting fatter. The top showed off her tight stomach and narrow waist, seductively leading up to her bulging breasts. If they hadn't been a D-cup at her work, they definitely were now. Below the waist, though, I could see that she was right about one thing: those jeans were tighter on her than they should have been. "Maybe it is that puberty thing," I thought, "and her hips are just widening. Is that possible?" Then I remembered a few impossible things that had been happening to me lately, and brushed those thoughts aside. "Let's just have a nice, relaxing evening, okay babe?" I said. She smiled at me from the doorway. "We can as soon as I can get in," she said. I grinned and stepped aside, my abnormal boner already raging in my pants. "Not tonight, big guy. Tonight we're just watching a movie." Surprisingly, I was right. That was all we did. I found out that, yes, her bra size was now just under a D-cup, amazing for two days. I reminded myself to start measuring my own growth, see when it would jump, how quickly it would grow, and all that. The movie was cheesy and romantic and we kissed at all of the right parts. We cuddled for a bit afterward, and, before I knew it, I was kissing her goodbye at her car. I found myself breathing a sigh of relief, but wasn't really sure why. The lump in my jeans was chafing, so I stripped out of them and found a ruler. It was cold and metal, but it did the trick: 8.8 inches. Definitely bigger than a month ago, I thought with satisfaction. I then rushed to the bathroom and jerked myself off before I could come all over the carpet. *** Three days later I got out of bed with my normal morning wood, and jerked myself off in the shower. It was becoming routine. It was the weekend again, but I had a meeting at work that day, which meant somewhat dressing up. I shoved my now flaccid penis into my underwear as I was getting dressed, and noticed that what had been creeping up on me for the past few days was now staring me in the face: the boxers were already tight. Looking at my package, rolled up in that stretchy fabric, it was a wonder I hadn't realized the truth earlier. My balls were approaching the size of fooseballs, and my dick about five inches just flopping. I worked up an erection again, something that was coming easier and easier, even after just orgasming, and got the ruler out. Almost nine and a half. "Jesus," I said. It was really turning into a monster cock. Suddenly curious, I sat down on the edge of my bed and bent over as far as I could. Nope: even sticking my tongue out I had a few inches to go before being able to blow myself. Besides, I reasoned in that oddly detached way of thinking you have before you're completely awake, I'm sure I wouldn't be half as good a blow as Beth. After jacking off again (it stung for being so soon, but I pushed this aside), I realized I hadn't seen Beth since our last dinner-and-a-movie. I wondered if she would blow me now, but realized she would probably be weirded out by whatever was happening to her enough. I pondered how big her boobs were by now as I dressed for work. It wasnt just my underwear that was tight again; my slacks and shirt were tight, too. I looked in the mirror as I buttoned my shirt and realized that muscle that hadn't been there before was flexing in my arms. Whatever was happening was strange, all right, but it was so gradual, it was hard to get upset at. Besides, who gets upset about suddenly getting a giant cock and muscles? I found just one downside as I biked to the newspaper's office. First of all, bike seats aren't built for testicles twice the size of normal ones. Secondly, neither are shocks. My second downside occurred once I came into the office. Janet, the stereotypical pretty-but-uninviting secretary greeted me from her desk. "Hey, Landon," she said. "Here to do a column?" I felt her eyes go down and up me, something really strange from Janet. "Um, no," I responded, realizing her eyes had hovered on my crotch for a second longer than absolutely necessary. I tried to nonchalantly make sure nothing was TOO out of the ordinary. "Just dropping off pictures." SHIT. Either my balls had swollen from all that bumping, or my pants were a lot tighter than I had thought. I still attempted to play it off cool and made a bit of a show of rummaging in my messenger bag for the manila envelope that contained my pictures. "I'll just take them, then," Janet said, and I gratefully placed the envelope in her waiting hand. As I turned to leave, after making sure there weren't any rude little notes left for me, she spoke up again. "Hey, um, what gym do you work out at?" I turned to look over my shoulder (and was the view just a little more awkward?) and studied her face. It was an earnest question, apparently, but her expression gave her away as flirting. I tried to imagine Janet, only a few years my senior, who always wore her blonde hair still in a bun, in something sexy besides that grey suit she always wore, and it just made internally laugh. "Greg's," I lied. "Well," she said, unbelievably letting her hair out of the bun. It fell onto her shoulders and made me instantly reconsider that internal giggle. "They're obviously doing something for you. Maybe I should start going." "Uh, yeah," I said. I didn't know what else to do. So I left. I returned to the department store that afternoon. "Too small," I said, as I plopped all of my clothes on the counter. The clerk smirked at me and let me exchange them. I was never more grateful. *** I called Beth that night (she doesn't work on Saturdays) and she agreed to meet out for dinner. "Something fancy," I proposed, not sure what occasion we were celebrating. We agreed on an Italian place, a national chain, but who cared; I was anxious to see how she was doing. The next evening I studied myself in the mirror before dressing up, just in a white t-shirt and boxers. Somehow, in a week, I had changed from somewhat-on-the-skinny-side Landon to looks-ready-for-boot-camp Landon, at least in terms of muscle mass. I flexed an arm and wasn't too surprised to see a fairly good-sized bicep form and stretch the sleeve of the shirt, which was also tight enough to see my pectorials through. No longer just slighty defined, it looked liked I benched a few every day, and they really helped to broaden my torso. Even (and I had to glaze over my bulging package) my leg muscles were thicker and more defined. It was so strange. I dressed in slacks and a black shirt, and, tying my tie, I tried not to think about what Beth looked like. It would ruin the surprise. I hoped my changes were as gratifying to her as our changes were to me. After all, somehow they were tied together: it was too much of a coincidence. I got to the restaurant before her, and pretended to consult the menu, but was really just waiting for Beth to walk in the front doors. When at last she entered them I could understand why she had been late. It was a strapless black dress she was wearing, but it was obviously something she had bought a few days ago and had caused her trouble today when she had tried to fit into it: her boobs were absolutely mushrooming over the top of it, too much for that dress designed with women with nice racks in mind. It clung to every inch of her body, especially her chest, but also her hips and butt, which I noticed looked oh-so-slighly bigger than the few days before. Still not enough to be described as juicy, but noone would ever not call her curvy, assuming they hadn't glimpsed her bust. Beth sat down in a flush. "Sorry I'm late," she said in her small voice, now even smaller from embarrasment. "I had, um, issues." "Was it your hair?" I joked. Even a blind man could see that her hair was done up perfectly. She leaned across the table, giving me a better view of her prominant cleavage. "Landon," she hissed, "I don't know what to do. Something is happening to me!" The waiter showed up just then, and took our orders. Once he was gone, I tried to respond mildly. "And does it look like nothing is happening to me?" I asked. It was only then that she seemed to notice the fact that I looked, well, kind of built. Her eyes opened even wider. "So you haven't been working out?" she asked. I shook my head, and she let out her breath in a huge sigh, plopping backward in her chair. It sent pleasing shockwaves through her frontal flesh, which seemed to switch her back into panic mode. Instantly she was leaning forward again. "Do you know how big I am?" she asked. I shrugged. "An E. An E!" The waiter had returned with our food and was now eying Beth's chest, but I don't suppose he could help it, what with her shouting out her cup size. Once he had left I dug in. "Just eat something," I said. "Calm down." She blushed again. "I'm scared that if I eat anything this dress will absolutely burst off of me." I laughed. "All right, all right, let's just go home." I signalled for the waiter, who honestly hadn't strayed far, so as to continue gawking. Fifteen minutes later we were in my living room, discussing our past weeks. I explained buying new clothes, my muscles, and told about, but didn't show, my strange, fantastical new member. I didn't want to kill her with shock, I suppose. Meanwhile, Beth told me about the troubles of fitting into a bra, and getting her pants over her hips, and finally just giving up and wearing sweatpants until she gets paid again. "I guess," she said, sipping a water I had finally gotten her to drink, "it was yesterday when I finally concluded that I must be going crazy, because fat doesn't just distribute itself in 'the right spots.'" "Neither does muscle," I added. She stared thoughtfully at me. "Well," she said at last, "let's see it." A playful grin moved across my mouth. "You first." She returned the smile. "All right." Unfortunately for her, the mere act of reaching around to unzip her dress merely put pressure on her breasts and they mostly popped out of the top before she had even started to take it off. When the dress fell to the floor I saw what I had expected: two soft, firm globes, almost overpowering her small frame, void of stretchmarks and just barely sagging. Her ass curved around into two perfect handholds, and I pulled her toward me, marvelling at the new strength in my arms. "Oh, my, Mr. Landon," she said. "I thought this was a trade." "Then help me," I said, still grinning. She graciously unbuttoned my shirt, then helped me pull the undershirt over my head. There was a small gasp at my lightly muscled chest, and she ran her hands over it. I nearly came right there, as she straddled me and felt up my own busom. She must have felt my thick member twitch, because my pants were shucked right off, revealing that my dick wasn't just erect, but was poking out of the leg of my briefs, the elastic keeping it in place. A small "Wow" was all she said before I wriggled out of my boxers, too, and showed her the full deal. "How big is it?" she breathed. "9.6 inches this morning," I said. "I've been measuring, keeping track. From the looks of it I'm getting a new inch every week." "Oh, Landon." My balls, which had been hanging uncomfortably low of late, were drawn full up to the base of my shaft, which was flexed and ready. Beth placed her hands on my strong shoulders and lifted herself over me. I blinked. "Are you sure about this?" She seemed so small, and I so huge, now, but Beth just nodded. "Landon, after all this, I have to." And she lowered herself on to me. It didn't look like she was in pain, as her sopping vagina provided more than enough lubrication, but a strange look came over her face. I knew she wasn't a virgin, and she had been on the pill since her last boyfriend, but, when I asked her later, she said that it felt so strange, so new, that it was almost like her first time. I moved over her, into a more comfortable position, and started to move with her. A small moan that had been building into her throat suddenly burst forth, becoming a wail. "Oh," she cried. "Oh!" I lowered my head and buried it in her cleavage, feeling the softness of her great pillows on either side of my head. Her hand came up and stroked my hair. "Landon," she said, and her back arched. "Oh, Landon!" Her first orgasm took her, then her second. I soon heard her repeating those words from the week before: "I never want it to stop! Never!" I did my best to oblige. That thing that had been haunting me for two weeks, that unstoppable need to ejaculate, now left me, and I found myself able to go on for longer than I had ever done. I made Beth come at least seven times in that session, and not once did I even have to resist the urge to do likewise. I just moved in repetitive motions, and, with my newer, stronger arms, helped Beth do the same. Finally I realized that she was just staring up at me. She reached a hand up and ran it through my hair. "Okay, babe, you can finish it up. I think I've had enough." But I just shook my head. "I don't even know if I can." She grinned and took it in stride. Flipping us around, she disconnected from me, revealing my dick, beet red and bigger looking than ever. At last I realized my balls were aching for release, that I was going to be in major pain if something wasn't done soon. "Let me help you with that," Beth said, leaning over. Her mouth fit perfectly over my swollen cock-head, her small hands stroking my shaft lovingly. I came within moments, dumping my whole super-load of cum into her mouth. After she swallowed it all, and was laying on my chest, which now provided an ample platform for laying one's head on, I reflected on this odd habit of her. How many girls swallow, after all? I mean, that first time, I think that was the first time I had ever had a girl swallow. You know, back before our respective growths started. It didn't come as a shock, I suppose. I didn't instantly know that that was the reason for all of this. But the coincidence was uncanny. I would have to wait and see. *** We woke up around midnight, and I sleepily got Beth dressed up and out the door before retiring to my real bed. My dick was so exhausted that it didn't even get erect at the sight of her trying to squeeze back into the dress. Finally I told her not even to zip it up, just to drive slowly so that she wouldn't get pulled over and she would be fine. I stumbled into bed, pulling on my now tight pajama pants, and set my alarm for early classes the next morning. I slept right through the alarm, of course, only waking up when I realized how blue my balls were. My dick was poking straight up in the air, saluting the ceiling. I blearily saw that it wasn't contained in my pajamas. Only mild surprise went through my head when I realized that my monster dick had managed to rip itself right through the thin fabric. Nearly falling out of bed, I peeled the pants down my thighs and off my body, then wondered how to dress. I tried to focus on my member, and realized I would have to get it tamed before I could possibly wear anything. I wrapped both hands around it, and the thought that it was even bigger than the night before wandered in and out of my mind. Like a car backfiring, I was awake. Bigger than the night before? I grabbed the ruler, now on my nightstand, and measured from the hip out. Oh, yeah. Ten and a half inches, almost exactly. WAY bigger. I stroked it with both hands again, and suddenly was shooting off, all over my bed. I dumped a ton of jizz out, spurting out in gobs big enough to look like loogies. My balls were knocking together underneath, swollen up enough to remind me of the plums I would get sick off of as a kid. My arms, still trying to jerk every last bit from my huge erection, were changed, too. Clearly defined triceps, and not just noticable biceps, but bigger ones. I looked in the mirror and saw a guy who would try out for football on a college team and get accepted, easily. My pecs were no longer flat plates, but were starting to bulge out over my abs, all of them clearly visible. And my legs, well, no wonder my pants had torn so easily: my thighs and calves were positively ripped. Letting go of my soft member (it sagged down like a stubby elephant's trunk, probably about the size of my erect cock a month before, but now looking so small), I struck a crab flex, and saw muscles bulge in places I hadn't imagine I could bulge in before. Where each muscle ended, another began instantly, creating hills and valleys all across my body. "And I'm getting bigger, probably." I whispered. "I have to talk to Beth." She didn't pick up the phone at first, so I hoped she was still asleep, but then her perfectly-awake voice answered my call. "Landon?" she asked. "Yeah, it's me," I said. "How big are you?" We needed to get down to business quickly. Her voice was steady, at least. "Well, pretty big. I can't fit into any of my bras, or my panties." "Shit," I said, "I haven't even tried clothes. I bet I could find something for me to wear, though. You want me to swing by with something for you?" There was a pause. "I guess. Do you think you could get here in an hour? I have to go to work." Work? How could she think of work at a time like this? She must have read my thoughts, because she suddenly got a defensive tone. "Look, Landon, just because wierd stuff is happening doesn't mean I have to give up on my rent. School can wait, but work can't." Shit, she was right. I hadn't written a column for my work in weeks! I would get in trouble if I didn't. "First things first," I said. "What sizes should I pick up? I'll get there as soon as I can." She told me, and I tried not to think too much about it. I tried not to picture a G-cup, or the honeydew-sized breasts that would fill one, nor the bigger sizes she told me to get, "just in case." My closet had almost nothing that would fit me, but at last I found some extremely old, extremely big sweatpants. They probably could have fit two of the old me, but now they just left me with the question of "how long will these fit before my thighs would rip out of them, and my groin would be too tight?" I looked at a pair of my boxers for a moment, before realizing that, even if I were able to fit my legs into it, it wouldn't hold my dangling junk very well; I was too loose for that style, now. One XL sweatshirt later, and I was heading to the department store. First I picked up the lingerie for Beth, since I knew what size that would have to be in (although I have to admit, it was difficult to find the thin-yet-stacked sizes she requested). But then I hesitated in the men's department. Huge sweatpants seemed to be the key, and really, really big shirts. As for underwear, though, if I continued growing at this rate... I finally bought the three biggest sizes of bikini-style briefs I could find. I tried to get ones that were narrow in the waist and really, really big in the groin, but one can only do so much. Besides, who knew how much muscular I would get; maybe my abs would start thickening to the point I would need bigger waist sizes. The bikini-style, I told myself as I walked up to the register, was necessary, however. They offered the most volume in groin-area, while still keeping it tight around the legs, thus holding onto my balls and dong the best. Almost (I choked at this thought), almost like a bra for my groin. I shook off the strange look the check-out woman gave me and rushed into the bathroom. I was correct about the underwear, thankfully. The smallest one was a bit loose, but who knew what condition it would be in by the end of the day. I looked at the biggest one I had bought and almost fainted at the thought of using it: it would hang more than halfway down my thigh had I worn it. Of course, if it was full, it would hang less far, but I didn't want to think about it. The car bounced my groin around something awful on the way to Beth's. I tried my best to get used to it. I rang the doorbell at my girlfriend's and waited, bags in my hands. Noone came to answer. "Beth?" I called. "It's me, Landon!" Silence. Then I heard soft footsteps, and caught a glimpse of an eye at the window. Finally, the door cracked open, and a strand of dirty-blond hair fell out. "My God, Landon." The eye was open huge in surprise. "Quick, inside!" Her apartment was hot. That was the first thing I noticed when I went in. She tried to stay out of my sight, behind the door, but after she closed it and I dumped her bags on the table, she couldn't keep away from me, and I took her all in as quickly as possible. She had managed to squeeze into a camisole, apparently, and when I say squeezed, I mean squeezed: the cleavage caused by that thing ran up to her neck. Her boobs were so squashed out of shape that I couldn't tell their size or even estimate, but they were bigger than any hand could ever hope to grab. The straps of her top looked painful as they dug into the soft flesh. Despite the heat (but probably due to the tightness of her top and, logically, my appearance) her nipples were completely hard, and they couldn't be described as nibs any more, more like tiny Coke cans. It wasn't just her top, either. Her panties (and they must have been the ones she slept in, because there was no way she forced herself into those) were tighter than skin tight, trying to contain was what now a bubble butt. I don't know measurements, but Beth had had me pick up some 42-inch hip clothes. And she used to be a 28! "Landon!" she cried. Her eyes were going all over me, and I could tell she was taking the same inventory. They hovered the longest at my dick, which had come to full attention at the sight of the beauty before me. "What is HAPPENING to us!?" I didn't really know what to say. "Well," I said, "we're, um, growing." "Growing?" she gaped. "GROWING!? Look at these!" She grabbed her breasts in each hand, her fingers sinking in through her top. "Oh, don't do that," I moaned, almost feeling my balls swelling at that sight. "I'm HUGE!" she screamed. "And my ass..." She turned around and pointed, as if it were necessary. "Did you SEE it?" "Babe," I admitted, "I LOVE it." She came to a dead halt. "What?" she asked. "Well," I reasoned, "I'm not saying that I don't want it to stop, and I'm not saying that you weren't drop-dead-gorgeous before all of this, but, well, in case you can't tell, your huge tits and your really nice butt only make me want you more!" Her face turned red. "I guess you ARE just Mr. Huge Boobs-Fantasy Land, aren't you? Do you have any idea what kind of problems I am going to have because of this? Back problems, people looking at me, I'm going to have to work off these pounds, too! Now, if you don't mind, I have to go to work!" In a huff she grabbed the bags and stormed to her bedroom. I watched her butt bounce away and sighed, all before rushing to the bathroom to jack off. The feeling of grabbing my throbbing dick in both hands and rubbing away while pumping what felt like gallons of come into the toilet was too much for me, and I almost blacked out. When I was done I sat on the toilet (flushed it, of course), and thought. About life, about work, which I would have to show up for today, probably, and about my girlfriend. I was answered from my ruminations by a knock at the door. "Can I come in?" Beth asked softly. I grunted. She came in, fully dressed in her new clothes, a true hourglass figure. The bra I had gotten from her self measurements seemed to fit well, the top over it completely covered her chest while tapering down to her tiny waist, and her peasant skirt hugged her big, round curves, but didn't make her look fat, something she definitely wasn't. She had her hands clasped behind her back and a sorry expression on her face. "Look, I guess I didn't take into consideration how much this is effecting you," she started. "I mean, at least I don't have to walk around with constant notifiers of everyone around as to how turned on I am. And I guess it's true; I've never felt sexier or better about myself than ever before, and I absolutely cannot wait to repeat what happened last night tonight." She looked up. "It's just that, well, I think I can feel myself getting bigger, right now. Already this shirt feels too tight, and my bra is getting uncomfortable." I nodded. Those feelings were all too familiar to me. Even then the sweatsuit that had been too baggy when I bought it was only a little too big for me. "I think," I said, not getting up, "I think it started that night when you gave me a blow job." She didn't immediately reject the idea, which I think was understandable, what with what had been going on. "And," I continued, "I think it's been speeding up each time you blew me since then." She nodded. "It makes sense," she said. "But what does it mean? Will it stop?" I shook my head. "I don't know," I said, standing up, "but I do know that I haven't written anything for my work in weeks, and you need to get to yours." Beth nodded, gave me that smile that made me fall in love with her, and stood on tip-toes to kiss me. My erection started yanking at my waistband again, when her soft chest pushed up against mine. I felt something, then: something wild and crazy. I reached around her and sank my hand into that pillowy ass and pulled my girlfriend even closer to me, making my boner slide up against her. "How about we find out, right now, if the blowjobs are causing it?" I felt that, deep down, she would hate me forever for those words, for that possible damnation. But then I saw a returning crazy look in her eyes, and her mouth formed her response: "Let's find out, then." She pushed me back onto the toilet and pulled down my sweatpants and briefs. My member popped up like a big, veiny jack-in-the-box. Beth grabbed it in two hands and marveled. "Holy crap," she said. It looked like a summer sausage, and I knew it was even longer than it had been that morning. A foot by now? Very possible. My balls, drawn up underneath, looked like pink avacados. When her mouth went over my cock, my eyes rolled up in ecstacy. She managed to get her mouth around it, but I don't know how far down she went. It's amazing, really, how I had came only moments before, but now was going again. A tribute to my new balls, I suppose. For the last time, Beth sucked all of my semen down. She even pinched her fingers up my huge shaft, as if trying to squeeze every last drop out. At last she smacked her lips. "Tasty," she drolled. "Now let's see what happens." We waited. And waited. No clothes bursting off. No seams ripping, no buttons popping, nothing. "Huh," Beth said, standing up and dusting herself off. "Well, I guess I'll go to work, then." "Yeah, that was rather anti-climactic, don't you think?" I punned. She rolled her eyes and we walked to our respective cars together. "Hey," she said, her hand on the door handle, "I wasn't kidding about tonight. I want to see what else that fantastic cock of yours can do." "Gladly," I grinned, and we both drove off. I got to work a half-hour later. On the drive there I noted that, while this last event hadn't seemed to speed us up as I had hypothesized, my new sweatsuit was definitely getting to be a better fit. I would be changing before the day was done, to be sure. And I would be praying that it would all stop soon. *** I walked in the door and was greeted by Janet, who did a double-and-then-triple-take. "Landon?" she asked. Disbelief was everywhere. "What happ--" and then her look changed. She went from open-mouth-gape to composure with a tiny growl in her voice. "I mean, what have you been doing over at Greg's Gym?" As she spoke, she let her hair down again, and I realized that growl was flirtatious. "I haven't seen you over there, but obviously you're doing everything right." As cheesy as her sexiness was, my stupid horniness would not wear off. I found myself realizing that Janet was actually very pretty, that her hair was a nice rich auburn and smelled like honey, and that she probably had a nice body under that unassuming outfit... But I shook my head vigorously. "Oh, I, um, have been trying this new thing. I really can't talk about it, I have to work." I hobbled over to my workstation, praying that my boner wasn't too visible (but who was I kidding?). I logged on, opened up the word processor, and dug into my memory. What was my column supposed to be on? Oh, yes. "Sex on the College Campus". Wonderful. Trying not to think of huge breasts, or huge penises, or growing, or blowjobs, or deliciously welcoming vaginas, or orgies, or semen, I wrote about sex. It was about halfway through the column, I think, when I first noticed that my arms were moving differently. Normally when I type they are slightly at angles, then coming in to reach the keys, but I realized that I was holding them further away from my body than normal. I looked down from my screen. My sweatshirt was about bursting with muscle, and it was gradually tightening... I stood up abruptly, knocking over my chair, and felt my balls bouncing against my thighs, trying to escape from my huge bikini briefs, which were now too tight. My dick was uncomfortably squashed against the front, and I could see it clearly outlined against my sweatpants, which were drawn horribly tight by my massively muscled thighs. The blowjob, I thought. It was a delayed reaction! Then that meant that Beth... "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." I scrambled for my things and rushed for the entranceway. I had to get to Beth. "Where are--oh, my--where are you off to?" I heard someone ask, and I turned to see Janet, only it wasn't the normal Janet: this one was dressed in spandex boyshorts and an athletic bra, showing me everything I had never noticed before: a more than ample busom, a tight ass, and everything sexy in between. "I thought we could work out togeth--" "OHSHITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT" streamed out of my mouth as I rushed even faster for the door, my dick sprouting from my waistband like magic. It reached up and up and UP, right between my pecs, as thick as my arm. Well, as my arm before all of this started. I slammed the car door shut, squeezing myself into my tiny Honda, and stamped on the pedal to Beth's work. I got there in under five minutes, I think, but it felt like hours: my balls were bigger, approaching the melon range, when I rolled through the door. There were a bunch of people standing around, looking dazed, so I knew what had happened: Beth had been manning the cash register when this surge hit. I followed the eyes of the people to a storage room. The door was locked, but that was no match for me: I bashed it in, then immediately turned around and slammed it shut as hard as I could, which turned out to be hard enough to make the door sink in on its hinges. "Babe?" I heard Beth's voice behind me. I turned around to find her with her back against the wall, tears on her cheeks. Her wrecked top was strewn around her, her bra merely unclasped. Her skirt, thankfully, was only just tearing. Her breasts, of course, were nearly lying in her lap. "It just suddenly started, I didn't know why, one of my buttons nearly shot this guy's eye out..." "Shhh," I said, moving a finger to my lips, and feeling all of the muscles in my arm move strangely, flexing, pulsing. My sweatshirt was stretched to its limit, had already torn in a few places, so I did something I had always dreamed of doing: I flexed and ripped it right in half. My arm muscles had become wrapped columns of things, thicker than the average joe (the average joe that I used to be) when I flexed, and the sweatshirt was no match for them, nor for my chest that wasn't just barrell-shaped, it was like two barrels. Below them was my steel-like torso, my abs no longer a six-pack, more like a twelve-pack of living metal bricks. Below that was the read-hot, two-foot beam that was my penis, long enough that, if I wanted to, I could lean over and suck myself off. But beyond it I saw that I wouldn't have to. Beth had heaved herself to her feet, holding one breast in each hand so that they wouldn't sag to below her waist. They were giant, beautiful things, and I could tell that in the future, besides needing a bra the size of a kitchen sink, Beth would never be seen as more than a chest with a pretty face and a nice ass attached. "Oh, Landon," she said. "I want you in me. And I'm still growing." In her? Was she serious? But then, like a prophecy, her skirt gave up the ghost and popped at the sides, revealing the fact that her growing bottom had already ridden itself of its panties. I conceded to fate. Grabbing her shoulders in my hands, I picked her up. She felt no lighter than a baby, despite those giant weights on her chest, contributing to probably half of her body weight. I sat down, my back to the wall, and slowly lowered her toward me. The head of my dick nuzzled her pussy, and I didn't know what to do, but I felt her slick lips open up, and I felt her stretch, and stretch, and streeeeeeetch... And I was inside her. Beth slid down my length, gently, gently, silently writhing in pleasure. When I was deep enough that she could be supported by the strength of my member alone, I let go, and let her rest against me, massive chest against enormous one. Her knobs of nipples brushed mine and I shuddered in pleasure with her. Beth ran her hands over my arms and chest, and I ran mine through her hair. I couldn't have been more in love. Within moments, for the first time, I was coming inside her. It was wierd, because my coconut-sized testicles were pumping all of their stored semen for at least a minute before I stopped orgasming, but none of it came out of Beth. It was like her pussy was vacuuming all of it right up. Beth was a little busy with a few of her own orgasms to notice, but I did, right then: my muscles were clenching anymore, my dick wasn't tightening, my balls not inching further and further on the concrete floor. The growth had stopped. We fell asleep there, on the storage room floor, wrapped in each others arms (and other extremities). I woke up first, and saw that my dick had gone soft for what felt like the first time in years, but was still the size of a dachsund. I fished around the sweatpants I had ruined and found, in a pocket, the extra-extra-large pair of briefs I had bought earlier that day. Putting them on, I saw that I had been right: they were the biggest pair of underwear I had ever seen, and they didn't leave anything to the imagination. I had a feeling that neither of us would have anything left up to the imagination ever again. As I was the only decent one, I left, and returned a few minutes later with the only clothes I could find for Beth. At least, that was what I told her; I loved her new body too much to let her hide it under a mumu. Instead we walked out of the grocery store as the strangest looking couple ever: a man with more muscle than any body-builder, his testament to lack of steroids staring you in the face, and a woman in a huge spaghetti-strap tank-top, her six-inch-wide aerolae the first of things poking through it. Close inspectors could probably see the small hands sinking into the bottoms of the bathtub-filling rack, but I doubt few noticed the ghetto-booty flouncing around in its short plaid skirt. After all, when you can see Beth's breasts from behind, you don't really notice your butt. That is, unless you're me. So, as you can see, the only question that was answered in the end was "How do we stop this?" There is no explanation, no first solution, and no probable way to reproduce what happened to us. It was most likely a freak chance, a dumb mutation, something like that. All I know is that the universe is an awfully big place, and some pretty crazy stuff happens in it once in a while. Then again, maybe some things will be answered when Beth and I have a kid.