Fetish Fuel

by Mich

Sunny days in Portland are about as rare as politicians agreeing on anything, and Francis Morrison, Morris to almost everyone, thought that in itself perfectly excused a leave of absence from work. He needed a personal day, anyway. After the shit show of the past week in his life, a day spent down at the waterfront park sounded like the best thing in the world. Normally Morris wasn't the type to enjoy just sitting and doing nothing, but right then it felt perfect. So when he woke up on that Thursday morning, carefully avoiding glancing at the picture frame that was now sitting face-down on his desk, and looked out the window to see a cloudless sky, brightly outlined shadows, and a prediction on his phone for the high seventies, he called in sick. His boss didn't blame him, but Austin was a bit of a pushover anyway. Besides, he knew enough to understand that Morris had a day off coming.

And so Morris slapped on a t-shirt, indulged in some cargo shorts and flip-flops, and meandered through downtown Portland to the park.

Portland has a million and one parks, it seems, sitting on every street corner and taking over every other block, and native Portlanders can name almost all of them. From Couch in the Alphabet district, pronounced like the slightly-more-polite version of "cunt", to Cathedral Park under the St. John's Bridge, to Clinton City, Frazer, Overlook, and even the Grotto way out in the East Side. And even though it was the middle of morning on a Thursday afternoon, Morris saw more than a few other workday hounds playing hooky and lazing around on every single strip of green that they could find.

And when he got to the Waterfront, he found his own strip of grass, plopped down, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

It was heavenly.

***

There were three big reasons why the stress levels on Morris' odometer were getting past the red zone, and all of them had hit within the past week. The first was that Morris' coworker, his partner-in-crime and pretty much confidant, had quit the job on-the-spot the previous Friday, sending off with two raised middle fingers and two plane tickets (one for himself and one for his fiancé) to New Hampshire, where Morris understood they had bought a bed and breakfast or some picturesque shit like that.

In the tiny software department of their already tiny company that left Morris, who was already swamped with work that he was supposed to be completing in impossibly short amounts of time, and Tina, the part-time intern who somehow managed to put in more hours than the full-time Morris. After the eventful leaving, Austin had pulled Morris aside and told him that, as his boss, he unfortunately had no other options but to assign all of the remaining work, client requests, bug reports, everything, right to Morris. He could try to pass things off to Tina, but she was already swamped.

It would, of course, come with a minor pay-raise. Something like an extra hundred or so a month. Morris didn't ask where the entire extra paycheck would be going, but then, maybe Morris was a bit of a pushover, as well.

The second bombshell had hit that weekend, when he was at his girlfriend's apartment, laying on her sofa, distractedly pushing her two cats off of him. He had been complaining about how he couldn't really do anything about the extra workload, how he had promised not to job-seek despite all of the trouble at work, how his life was going to be a living hell from then on. Scarlett, his girlfriend, or, rather, his girlfriend at the time, had nodded sympathetically, the headband holding back her long hair winking in the light.

Then she had dumped him.

"Too much complaining" was the main reason she gave, although "our relationship is turning into a big, bloated nothing" was a phrase that stood out in its weird poetry. Then she had pulled her cats off of him, to Morris' detached relief, and shooed him out, saying she had to get to the gym before going to bed. "Why?" Morris had distantly thought. "Need to keep in shape for the next guy you pick up and drop?"

Going to work Monday, and seeing the massive amount of emails that had been forwarded to him from a now-defunct email address, had only reminded him that his life was going to hell. When he finally got home at seven, he had been exhausted and plagued with visions of Scarlett. It wasn't just that stress had brought it on; it seemed that every girl at his office (which had a surprising amount; going down from eight to seven employees had dropped the number of men down to two) had been talking about their steady, extremely gushy romances. Even Austin had twirled the ring on his finger once or twice in the Monday meeting, reminding Morris of the inherited engagement ring that was sitting at the bottom of his sock drawer, now definitely unused.

So it was hard to block memories of Scarlett out. The way her hair smelled when she pressed into his chest. The way her tight butt curved enticingly in those fitted pants she wore. The way her perfect, large breasts felt in his hands when they cuddled after an hour-long fucking. Morris had tried to distract himself with work, but it had only helped him zone out and refocus on her beautiful, pointed face.

The earthquake, which started just about when he threw his body into his big, empty bed, helped shock her from his mind.

***

So now here he was, four days later, making sure the opposite of "shit happens" happened. He was just laying here, enjoying the sun, not even watching for girls. It was too soon for that, and would just make him thing of Scar—of whatever-her-name was. Surely he could forget a four-years-long relationship in the space of a week.

At noon he wandered back to downtown and got a burrito, wondering if he would burn from the sun. With Portland's near-constant drizzle, it was almost always assured that Morris wouldn't even get a tan without purposefully trying. He had Scandinavian blood, as evidenced by his lightish hair and ability to grow in a fierce beard when he got the mind to it, and that generally meant that he burnt. One day wouldn't hurt, though, could it? Besides, he thought with a wry smile, letting his eyes play out over the Frisbee-throwers and sunbathers, it was early June, Summer was just beginning. A sure-fire sign that the weather was just about to turn cold and wet again.

His stomach full, Morris laid back down on the dry, warm grass, resting the back of his head on his arms, and did his best not to think about anything that might be bugging him.

"It's them chem trails again!" said a grating, gravelly voice that jerked Morris out of his unexpected nap. He sat straight up, almost bumping in to the homeless man who had materialized in front of him. His dirty corduroy pants hanging off of his flabby butt, the man was staring upwards at a jet blaring overhead.

"No," Morris said. "Those are just contrails. They're a natural phenomenon of vapor. Like car exhaust."

The man turned to look at Morris, or at least let his eye wander in the young adult's direction. "The car exhaust is doing it, too. Warping our minds. Making people depraved. Making kids reach puberty sooner!"

"Sure, sure," Morris nodded. He had dealt with his fair share of rambling, mumbling homeless before. They normally didn't bug him in the parks, though, and definitely not without asking for change. "That's why I try not to smoke. Would only cause more problems, right?"

That appeared to be the wrong thing to say, as the homeless man's eyes flew open in shock as he stumbled back against his shopping cart of dirty goods. "No, you need to smoke! You NEED to! It stops the government's experiments!" He made the sign of the cross and then backed away slowly. "Start smoking! Get laid as much as possible! The end is coming!" He was making quite a scene, and more than a few park-goers were watching as his backwards tumble turned into a run.

Morris couldn't help but feel bemused. He wasn't hassled for change, hadn't been threatened, and was somehow chided for not smoking? The day was looking better and better.

He allowed himself a change in position, moving from laying down to propping himself up on his elbows in the grass. People-watching at the parks was fun, and the crowds were growing even bigger now that the afternoon had arrived. With school out of session, and the universities clearing finals week one-by-one, it was a huge mix of people young and old that walked down the parkway that day, and Morris saw all of them. Sure, there were the normal Portlanders: the unicyclist in the kilt and Darth Vader mask, the tourists with their pink boxes from Voodoo Doughnuts, the groups of... well, whatever group of people shaved off half of their hair and wore patched-together clothes. Hippies? Punks? Proto-New Agers? But besides those were the normal people. The elderly couples, holding hands as they look at the sights and laughed at the young ones. The families, with their 2.3 kids sprinting around and getting yelled at by the people they bumped into. Lesbian couples tenderly kissing each other and throwing bread to geese. High school girls running and giggling. Frat-looking guys in tank tops with footballs.

Portlanders.

The main item of interest to Morris' wandering eye, though, were the girls. Any female of age twenty-and-up caught his gaze, because all of them seemed to be under the impression that summer was here to stay, that they could break out the bikini tops and short shorts and flaunt their stuff to the sun. Then again, who was Morris to talk, in his shorts and sandals? He also wouldn't normally be one to complain, if he hadn't been going through a heartbreaking trial.

But the boner gets what the boner wants, and before Morris knew it he was absolutely raging with a hard-on. It was hardly his fault, really. He was in a half-awake state, was extremely relaxed, and was confronted with everything in the real world that turned him on: nearly-naked breasts and backs; fit girls, with washboard abs and toned arms; chubby girls, with muffin tops and luscious thighs; pregnant girls, girls in swimsuits that probably fit them last summer, girls with big, bouncing tits, girls in short, swishy skirts.

Morris was wearing shorts and had to do something, quick. He had been too depressed, and honestly too stressed, to even feel slightly horny since at least last Friday. That put him a full week without any kind of sexual activity, and that meant his libido was all-too-ready to jump up and out of his throat.

So, with two hours to go before his workday was over, he stood up, tucked his erect penis into his waistband with what was hopefully a subtle "I am brushing myself off" motion, and made the trek back to his apartment.

The building currently occupied by Morris was apparently one of the oldest in Stumptown, made back when the trees were being cut down to make way for the port authority. At the time its height of 35 stories was apparently ridiculous for such a building, but now it was perfect for cheap, single people who wanted to live where rent was normally exorbitant. Still, Morris had a fairly well-paying job, so he was able to afford one of two penthouse suites at the very top of the Grayson building. The elevators were slow and tiny, and the stairs were windowless, but he did love the building, and he loved his relatively large two-bedroom suite at the top.

The erection in his short pants had managed to calm down after he walked the nineteen blocks back home, but that didn't stop that telltale churning in his groin that threatened to turn his crotch into a tent at any moment, and so Morris tried to walk past the maintenance workers that were doing something-or-other to repair the new cracks that had sprung up in the fancy lobby tile. Just his luck, of course, that the cute maintenance girl smiled at him and walked over as he waited for the elevator.

"Going up?" she asked, pulling her blonde ponytail out of the back of her overalls.

"Yup," Morris said, trying not to look at the obviously pleasing shape of her hips as she shifted from foot to foot.

"Cool," she said.

A moment passed.

"Cool," she said again, clearly amused by their punctual conversation. "That earthquake caused a number, didn't it?" she asked, holding on to her elbow with her other hand.

Morris nodded. "Yup." He glanced at her and didn't fail to notice the mustachioed guy at the other end of the lobby, who was doubled over with silent laughter.

"It's going to take us a while to go through every floor and fix the cracks and such."

"Cool."

The elevator arrived! Thank god. Morris walked on and pushed the button for the penthouse, then, at the maintenance girl's request, pressed 29. Great. Twenty-eight floors of this awkward conversation.

"So..." she said, brushing a strand of hair flecked with paint out of her eyes. "I'll probably be seeing more of you. I'm Audi."

"I'm Frank," Morris said, giving her proffered hand a perfunctory shake.

Her eyebrows twitched. "I've noticed."

"No, that's, god, that's not what I meant," he stammered. Don't think about how cute she is, don't think about how cute she is, he repeated to himself. Had to keep that rogue erection under control. Never going a week without again.

But Audi just laughed. "Like I have room to make fun of names. Most people think I'm a car."

"Yeah, heh," Morris faked a chuckle and rubbed his neck. "Most people just call me Morris. Francis is a dumb name."

"Well, I think it's a fine name. And like I said, I'm sure I'll see more of you." Her brown eyes twinkled as they reached 29 and she got off. "See you around, Francis." She got off, surely giving her cute butt a little more of a swagger than strictly necessary, while Morris pondered the chances of hooking up with a maintenance girl. And one that looked to be his same height, too, which was pretty weird. You don't meet too many girls six feet tall.

The elevator doors finally opened to the penthouse and Morris practically rushed out, his hands already reaching for his zipper. He luckily fumbled it before realizing that the door to the other penthouse suite was open and he could hear music playing; someone else must have finally moved in.

But there wasn't time for that.

No, this was jack-off time.

Pulling his shorts off, Morris almost grabbed the box of tissues before remembering that he probably wouldn't need that full box of condoms anytime soon. He pulled one out, tore it open with his teeth as he plopped down, ass-naked, at his computer, and he fired the thing up.

It was an old laptop, wheezing with dust, but one that had been with him through thick-and-thin. Plus, it had his massive, massive porn collection on it, something that Morris often admitted he was far too protective of.

He had started collecting porn when he had first discovered masturbation, over ten years ago when he was twelve. Even as a little kid Francis Morrison had known what had turned him on, and he had started amassing an organized, thought-out, massive folder, collecting everything that pleased his eye throughout the entire internet. And as the internet grew up, so did Morris, his collection growing. First by megabytes, then by gigs.

And what a collection it was.

After clearing out the anti-virus warnings that had started to plague his computer recently, and removing a piece of malicious software that had somehow infected his hard drive, Morris look upon his indexed and ordered folders and tried to imagine what most turned him on today.

For, you see, Morris wasn't just turned on by what he could find in the real world. That stuff was great, and he liked it plenty. Although his pool of past girlfriends, as of this last week, only contained a single member, she could affirm that Morris found her plenty attractive. But when he was alone, and his mind wandered, it wasn't just normal girls he wanted. He wanted far more than he had even admitted to Scarlett, more than he had talked her into roleplaying through the years.

When Morris looked at a girl with big tits, saw the way that they strained against t-shirts and bounced on her naked ribcage, he wanted them to pump bigger, fatter, fuller. Not implants, god forbid implants, but... bigger. Filling up her shirt, her arms, her lap. He wanted to see fist-sized nipples punching through her practical canvas and nylon bra as she got turned on by the slightest thing.

When Morris saw a girl with a big butt, he normally liked what he saw, but he also wanted to see more. Increasingly-tight pants, earth-goddess hips, problems fitting through doors.

When Morris encountered a chubby girl he immediately started picturing her fatter, plumper, gaining weight every day.

When he met a girl at the gym he hoped to see her there every day, putting on muscle.

When a woman he knew got pregnant he wished she would get twins, or more.

It wasn't just that he liked women plump, or fat, or with big tits. He loved the idea of them getting bigger, fatter, rounder, or... or whatever he wanted. There were a million and one things about this complete fantastic, completely idiotic fetish, and Morris, depending on the day, was attracted to all of them. The word Morris glommed on to most was "expansion." It was also a word that a huge community online attached itself to, which worked out perfectly for him. It meant he could go online and find more things, whether it was real women who conformed to the lower end of the fantastic spectrum, or it was drawings someone was making with way higher quality than the subject matter suggested, or some new manga out of Japan.

And each and every one sorted into folders, hidden in an area he kept old screenplays a friend had sent him ages ago. Folders with names like "Ass Growth" or "Belly" or "Weight Gain". He had text stories, comics, video files, animations. Animated gifs, still images, photoshops. A million and one ways of representing a million and one different imaginary girls that he found arousing at one time or another, all of them flocking to an imaginary Morris, who, naked, in top physical condition, would nearly rip them apart on his massive genitals.

It was an epic masturbation session for Morris that day, one that he prolonged as much as possible. Possibly it was part of his subconscious urging him to forget about his stupid troubles, but it was also possible that it just felt that good.

At last orgasm hit him, and he filled up the condom on his dick and then some. When his eyes rolled back down, his fingers already tying off the rubber, he saw that nearly two dozen different images were open on his screen, all of them representing different aspects of fictional girls that he might find attractive.

It was almost liberating.

With Scarlett he had hidden himself, his true attractions. Sure, he had told her a few things that he was turned on by, but most of them were reflections of her: her large breasts (a very healthy DD cup), her long and smooth hair, her firm and round butt. Once or twice in the heat of the moment he would bring up the idea of her putting on a pound or two, just enough to round out her ass some more, to maybe grow a cup size if the gods smiled on them, and she had always gone along with pretending they would do that. Once she had even play-acted that she was nine-months pregnant, that she was lactating, that she was absolutely horny, knocked up with by him several times over.

But now he was free. Free to fantasize about anything without feeling guilty. Those gigabytes of images and videos and text files were his again.

He jacked off twice more before going to bed, resolved to get to work the following day a new man.

***

"You seem a bit distracted today," Tina said the next day, as she typed away back at a client. It was true; although Morris had assumed that finally relieving some of his sexual frustration would help him focus at work, to get back to dealing with the insane workload that had landed in front of him, instead he just found his thoughts drifting to... well, to the idea of jacking off. It didn't help that now the only males in the office were Morris and Austin, leaving five women, all of them hotties in their own way.

And Morris was the only person they really had to talk to, anymore, who wasn't "just another girl."

First Tina had complained to him about the difficulty in planning a wedding with her boyfriend. The tiny half-Korean girl was normally so excited for it, but today she wanted to bring down the force of a million hammers on all men within firing range to make up for some imagined slight her boyfriend had given her.

Then Felicia, the graphic designer, had swept into the office, the light sundress she was wearing almost flipping up to reveal the curve of her rounded, tanned Filipina butt. But instead of forcing her swelled bust into Morris' face, wrapping his hands around her lithe waist, she instead needed to complain about her dog, then her rent, then her ex-boyfriend, in that order.

Alex, the secretary, whined about how her diet wasn't working, even though she looked pretty fit to Morris in her tight t-shirt and casual skirt, while Sarah, the project manager and head of sales (and Morris' personal nemesis), had stopped him in the hallway to demand progress on three different projects, her blonde hair pulled back in a business ponytail to reveal the deep cleavage down her pantsuit's front.

The only one of the women who didn't pull Morris away from his attempt to keep his libido down was Shana, the older software developer who only came in every other day. Today was an off day. Although, knowing the way Morris' erection was acting, he probably would have been a little too excited to see her short, curvy figure meekly enter the front door.

"Yup," Tina giggled again, brushing a loose strand of long black hair out of her eyes before resuming her machine-gun typing. "Distracted."

"Sorry," Morris apologized, speaking for what seemed like the first time all day. "It's this thing with Scarlett."

"Is that still getting you down, bud?" Tina positively bubbled. "I'm sorry for ignoring you." And, to Morris' extreme surprise, she actually stopped typing and turned to look at him, a look of genuine sympathy on her small pointed face. "Breakups can be rough, even for the initiators."

Morris' heart dropped. "Well, she broke up with me."

"No way!" She seemed truly shocked. "Why would anyone break up with you? You're a great guy! You have it all, really. Looks, personality, a fun factor." Her big brown eyes were filled with concern, and Morris was extremely confused. Tina had never showed any sort of affection for him before, beyond a good coworker camaraderie, let alone shown interest in his love life. Yet here she was showering him in what seemed like bona fide praise.

"I mean, I could never give up Lucas, and he has all of that, too. This weekend when we were looking at wedding venues—" and she launched into another hour-long story about how hard it was to get married, her attention instantly sucked back to the computer screen.

Great, Morris thought. That attention was kind of weird; makes sense that she was just thinking about herself.

The day progressed as normal after that, and somehow the minor spark of concern that Tina had shown him helped him ignore the waves of horniness washing over him and actually get to work. When Felicia surprised the office with a box of doughnuts from the local shop, Morris only took one before getting back to work.

It was at the end of the day when reality came crashing back down. "Morris, can I speak to you in my office?" a voice from behind his chair intoned. It was Sarah, the project manager, her arms crossed and her eyebrows pinched down.

"Uh, sure," Morris said, getting up from his desk. "Didn't we talk this morning?"

"Situations have changed" was all she said as she turned on her heel and walked out of the shared office space down the hall. Morris gulped and did his best not to watch her firm and toned butt, nicely visible through the thin material of her tight slacks, as she marched on her two-inch heels. Instead he looked to the left, only to see Austin in his fancy CEO office guiltily looking away from the window in his door.

"I got two calls this afternoon," Sarah said as soon as the office door closed, rounding on Morris. She was pretty, in an angular features sort of way, but right now she just looked pretty stressed. "From two different clients who need their integrations delivered."

"Well," Morris said, "you've seen me working all day, as hard as I can. These things take time, and I'm just one person, now."

"That's not good enough, Morris. This is crunch time, with summer sales approaching. The shops need their software running right."

Morris didn't know what to say to that. "Then hire another software developer!"

"I can't until these clients pay us! Look, Morris." Her voice suddenly softened, and one manicured hand reached up to lightly grip Morris' upper arm. He eyed her in confusion, but Sarah didn't seem to notice. "I know this might put you in a bind. As soon as this stuff is done, I can hire you another person. A real full-time developer. And I can put him or her right under you." Her tongue did this strange thing with her shiny white teeth at the word "under" that Morris almost couldn't comprehend. She leaned closer. "But until then, your balls are mine." There was grit in her voice now as her teeth clenched. "So finish the job. Come in next weekend, if you have to."

Their noses were nearly touching, and even though her eyes were hard, there was some weird light down in them. "Um, okay. Sure thing, Sarah," Morris stammered. He just wanted to get out of there.

"Great. Close the door on your way out."

He did.

Alex gave him sympathetic Bambi eyes as he passed her desk in the office lobby on the way back, looking up from gossiping with an idle Felicia. "Sorry about that. I know she can be a real dick."

"She told me to work weekends," Morris said, unable to prevent the whine in his voice.

"Well, don't bust your ass too hard."

"Yeah," Felicia added, speaking around a doughnut as crumbs tumbled down the front of her sundress. "It's her own fault for not having plans in place to replace devs that she's working to the bone."

Morris sighed. "Thanks, guys. I may pull a few extra hours."

Surrounded by sad, empathy-filled eyes, he trudged back to his desk.

***

By the end of the day Morris was dead to the world. His fingers numb from typing and debugging, his balls blue from endlessly growing and fading erections, his brain dead from concentrating in order to stem the tide of erotic thoughts, he wanted nothing more than to pen himself in his room and have a good, long wank. Then maybe some video games or something. Anything but this.

Which is why he was ill-prepared to be stuck in the elevator with yet another gorgeous girl he had never met.

The first thing he noticed about her was her hair. Definitely her hair. Of course, probably anyone who met her would have said the same thing: it was vibrant, long, and as red as the bricks that made up the apartment building. She was a little short, and the tight blue sweater she was wearing, ignoring the ninety degree heat outside, clashed wonderfully with her long locks. As he entered the lobby she turned, revealing that she was carrying an armload of cardboard boxes, as well as a pretty, freckled face: small pointed nose, large brown eyes, red lips.

Then she spoke to him.

"Hey, could you get the button for me? I don't want to put these down or I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to get them up again!"

"Sure," Morris said. Pure poetry. They waited in silence for the elevator.

Morris peeked at the bottom cardboard box, seeing the big permanent marker label on the side that said "BOOKS". "Get a good deal down at Powell's?"

"What?" she asked, turning back to him. Apparently her mind had been elsewhere.

"Um, nothing," he said. "Just this bookstore down the street. Kind of famous."

She pursed her lips. "Huh. No, I'm moving in today."

"Oh, cool." Awkward pause. "Well. Welcome to the building."

"Thanks."

To Morris' immense relief, the doors dinged and opened and the pair shuffled inside. The girl's khaki shorts did little to hide the fact that she had a great pair of stark white legs; judging from her general complexion, she probably burned easily, and was anxious for the weather to turn to Portland's world-famous gloom.

"Let me get your button for you again. What floor?"

"Penthouse."

Morris' eyebrows shot up. "Oh, so you're the new resident? I'm the only other person on that floor. Name's Frank, but you can call me Morris."

"I thought the other door was for maintenance or something," the girl said.

"Nope," Morris said. "Just us. All alone at the top."

"Well. Cool." She seemed willing to gloss over the creepiness of his last statement, which Morris took as a plus.

"Yeah. Hey, do you need help moving in?" To be completely honest, Morris' boner was raging again without remorse, carefully trapped beneath his belt, and he wanted nothing more than to get away from any girls who potentially thought of him as a creeper next-door-neighbor. But hey, if they had a chance to meet, what better reason than to get to know each other?

"Not really," she said, to his enormous relief and disappointment. "I have maybe one more load after this."

"Cool deal."

The elevator doors opened and the girl walked down the hall to her door, propped open. To her credit, despite her big load, Morris noted she had no problem handling what seemed like some heavy boxes without even staggering. "Well, let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks," she said, without even turning her head. The door clicked behind her, and Morris sighed at his complete inability to make a good impression as he unlocked his apartment.

He was about to disappear inside when the other door opened again and a fiery red head popped out. "My names Janey, by the way. Sorry I didn't say that earlier. Janey."

Despite himself, Morris laughed. "No worries. I know how moving in can be stressful. Hope you like it here!"

"Thanks," she said, and grinned. It was the kind of grin that lit up her entire face, her eyes smiling, her cheeks dimpling. "See you 'round, Morris. I'm sure it'll be less awkward later." And her door closed.

A deep blush ran down Morris' back at the bald-faced statement of awkwardness, but Morris couldn't help but smile at her. She had bothered to tell him her name! Maybe it was a good day, after all.

He stripped off his jeans, erection popping free. Time to jack it.

***

It was the end of the following week when Morris decided that something was definitely up. It started out normally enough: get dressed, shower, jack off while pooping. That last one was the newest addition to his schedule, but was pretty much a necessity with his raging libido. It was all he could do to stop himself from whacking off in the work toilet, but that was a low he was not ready to stoop to.

From the moment he entered the office on that Friday, though, it was like suddenly getting hints that a hidden eye picture was resolving. There were a lot of things wrong with the office, but he just couldn't put his finger on why.

He sat at his desk and got to business. His hard work throughout the week had paid off, in a desperate bid to be so far ahead of schedule that coming in over the weekend was out of the question, but it still needed a few things cleared up to absolutely wow Sarah. He was in such deep concentration that he didn't notice what was up with Tina when she arrived, and he probably wouldn't have if she hadn't burst out with an excited "I'm pregnant!"

He stopped typing, digesting the information. Pregnant. Tina was pregnant. Oh! Tina was pregnant! He spun in his chair. Were congratulations in order?

Morris had heard the expression "glowing with excitement" before, but he hadn't reckoned it was so literal until just now. It was almost hard to look at the tiny Korean grad student, she was so happy. A grin was splitting her face, her hands were on her thin hips, her chest heaving with deep breaths. "I found out this morning!"

In a flash Felicia, Alex, and Sasha were all in the room, crowding around, asking questions. Had she and Lucas been planning on it? Did she want to have kids? How far along was she?

Morris could make a guess, having lived a life of far too much information ever since Tina had gotten hired. Her period normally happened around the beginning of the month, and it was only halfway through June. Her missed period had probably happened a week or two before, and she only just now had the test. So she was probably a month pregnant.

Eight months of this. Could Morris last?

He had to admit, though, once the screeches of excitement had died down, and Felicia had finished trying to force food down Tina's throat, and Sasha had stopped giving motherly advice, and Alex had stopped trying to rub Tina's belly, Tina would be awfully cute once she was properly pregnant. On her small frame, a big belly would be really sexy. Prominently sticking out, forcing its way into your vision through those tight shirts Tina always wore, fighting for your attention as her tits probably swelled with milk—

But no. He couldn't think about that. Besides the fact that she was engaged, and was a coworker, it wouldn't do to get himself worked up. Not with the way his mind had been working all week.

Then again, it did seem like her shirts had been a little tighter than normal all week. He gave a sidelong glance at his coworker. She was wearing a skirt and slacks, pretty normal fare, with a short-sleeved shirt on top. Her small but round breasts were normally pretty prominent with the way she dressed, as they were perky to hell and back, but was it possible they were bigger?

No way. She was barely a month pregnant. That wouldn't make any sense. Besides, that was only if his math was correct. She could be two weeks pregnant, for all he knew.

His practiced eyes were hard to deceive. She was barely over an A-cup, if all of his memories served right, and Morris didn't think even the self-deprecated Tina would call them an A-cup now. She giggled to herself in joy again, getting an extremely tiny bounce out of her chest.

No way did Morris think that would have happened before.

An intra-office IM popped up on his computer. "Progress report before the weekend?" It was Sarah. Morris sighed, his internal pessimist erasing all mystical thoughts of boobs and replacing them with an image of the PM refusing to accept that his working ahead was good enough.

"Be there in a second," he typed back, gathering his notepad and a pen.

Sarah didn't get up from her desk when he went into her office, instead choosing to type on her laptop for a second before looking up at her only web developer. Typical power play, Morris thought. Pretending like I'm unimportant so I'll bow down before her. "What do you have, Morris?"

She lifted her eyes toward his, the movement naturally pulling her loose hair up over her shoulders, and Morris' eyes nearly popped out of his head. No way. No way were her boobs bigger, too.

But there was no denying it. The typical pantsuits that Sarah wore left almost nothing to the cleavage imagination, and Morris was intimately familiar with the exact parameters of Sarah's boobs. A two-inch strip of darkness, drawn directly down from her collarbones, caused almost definitely by a pushup bra because her boobs were not big enough to cause that on their own.

But today they were almost bursting out of her blazer, indentations forming in her flesh from the tight-but-firm fabric. If she wasn't so insistent on wearing tailored clothes, nobody would probably notice, but on an expensive, form-fitting jacket like that one, the change was instantly recognizable: Sarah's breasts were larger than they had been earlier that week. Hell, maybe even bigger than the day before.

Was that why she was acting so strange? Sitting behind her desk, not walking over to scare Morris at his workstation?

He auto-piloted his way through the project update, his mind desperately trying to catch hold onto anything other than breasts and finding almost no purchase. Instead he walked back to his desk unable to think of anything else.

Hell, weren't all the girls in the office acting strangely? Tina suddenly pregnant and in love with it, despite planning a wedding. Sarah's usual power plays changing pace. Felicia, he noticed as he peeked in on the designer, was eating yet another doughnut, the supply of which she had been keeping up with all week. And was her top a little tight around the chest, as well?

Even Alex, normally so distracted at her desk, gave Morris an unusual smile and a "cheer up, love," as he passed. Maybe it wouldn't be so weird if it was alone, but everyone was acting odd. The only ones he didn't have anything on were Austin, who was, as usual, locked in his office with his phone, and Sasha, who was just about to leave for her half day. But as she passed, there was a certain spring in the immigrant's step that Morris wasn't imagining. Was he?

Or was he having some sort of breakdown?

***

The straw that broke the camel's back was a text, just as the end of the workday approached. His phone buzzed and Morris felt a weird coldness wash over him, before his conscious brain caught up and realized it was the specific vibration pattern he had given Scarlett. He didn't even need to look at the screen to know it was her. All he saw was the message.

"Hey, do you want to chat?"

Chatting with his ex-girlfriend was the furthest thing from his mind. The wounds were all still so fresh, only opened a little more than a week ago. But the rational part of his brain told him that he needed to talk with her at some point, so it might as well be now.

He texted an affirmative back, and they set up a mutual bar to meet up at.

"Hey," Felicia said as she stopped by his desk. She touched his shoulder, her slender fingers slightly sticky, "we're all going out for a drink after work, to celebrate Tina's incoming baby! Want to come?" Despite being a somewhat-introverted designer, Felicia was a natural party-planner, and also an expert on bars in the area; she had been quite the popular bartender in college, especially with her thin but curvy build and enticing, almond-shaped eyes.

Felicia's single, Morris thought as his eye quickly darted over the hugging curve of her tight jeans, dipping into the cleavage of her flowy tank top. And really hot. If they were going drinking...

But no. He had to deal with his current relationship before even thinking about a new one. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head and hoping she hadn't noticed the ogle. "Have to finish things up with my ex. Besides, taking a pregnant girl to a bar?"

"Uh, duh," Tina chimed in from her desk, "Shirley Temples!"

"And happy hour food, girl!" Felicia added. "Have to feed that baby!"

"Sure," Morris said, turning back to his computer. "It'll have to be another time. Congratulations, though, by the way." Tina nodded so quickly her head almost popped off.

It wasn't the cheapest bar that Scarlett had wanted to meet at, instead one of those trendy ones that liked to pretend they were lower class than they actually were. Basic Portland bar, really, and the kind that Morris' ex really loved. At least that was one thing he had to look forward to in a life without her. No more overpriced PBRs.

And yet, as he waited for her, he found himself drinking one of those overpriced PBRs. And then a second. Then a third of a microbrew. Glancing at his watch, his head now swaying on his shoulders, he saw that Scarlett was 45 minutes late.

He was almost done with his fourth beer, on an empty stomach, no less, when at last he sighted her familiar dirty-blonde hair bobbing above the other booths. When she came around the corner and saw him in turn, Morris was hit with an intense, unquantifiable emotion. It hurt, seeing her again. The focus of his life for the past four years, waltzing into a bar in yoga pants and a sports bra, carrying a cardboard box, a light sheen of sweat on her face.

"Sorry I'm late," she said. "Had to finish my workout. Anyway, here's your stuff. Your Nintendo and those books I borrowed. Figured you'd want them back." She plopped the cardboard box onto the booth table.

Morris almost didn't know what to say, but he found his fumbling tongue. "'Sorry'?" he mimicked. "You picked the time! And just for this? You could've dropped them off at my apartment or something."

He was pleased to see her face turn bright red and spread down her (possibly swollen?) chest in that blush that normally drove him crazy but today just... well, it drove him crazy. In any angry way.

"Well," she sputtered, "I figured you'd enjoy finding out what it's like to be bored and annoyed at ME for a change!"

Something snapped inside Morris. His vision narrowed to a pinprick as extreme vertigo took over his body. Before he knew it he was pushing himself up from the booth, stumbling over his shoes. The nerve of her! Dumping him and now acting like he was the bad guy!

In an unbelievable miracle he was able to get control enough to take his anger out on the box of his own stuff, grabbing it with such force that one of the sides halfway caved in. His lip pulled up in a sneer. "It's too bad your workouts haven't really been doing anything," he snarled, a slight slur staining the words. "You've probably put on ten pounds since I saw you last time."

Even in his drunk state, the irony didn't escape Morris' mind as he stormed out of the bar, avoiding the gapes of the other patrons. After all, hadn't he always kind of wished that Scarlett would put on just a few pounds? Just to see how it looked? Trying to insult her by claiming she put on weight was pretty counter-productive.

Then again, she had just dumped him, so, well. Fuck her.

The walk home was completely forgotten when the night was over, but the sudden realization in the elevator that he was, once more, riding it with his next-door neighbor was impossible to block out.

"So, what, are you moving in now, too?" she asked, making Morris jump in surprise. His eyes shot over to the petite girl leaning against the wall, the bag of laundry tightly held to her chest. This time her bright red hair was pulled into a long ponytail, and she had on a pair of glasses, a light tank top, some very short shorts, and socks.

"No," was all Morris said. Fuck, his eyes were burning, and now Janey was looking closer at him, probably spurred by his curt response.

"Oh my god," she said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She leaned back, her eyebrows tenting into an admittedly cute expression. "Oh geeze, I'm sorry, I always do this. I don't even know you and I'm making stupid jokes." She shifted the bag of laundry to her other hip, and tried to avoid eye-contact.

His drunk brain tumbling, Morris felt like this awkward conversation was all his fault. "No, it's fine. This stuff is from my girlfr— ex-girlfriend. You know. Typical breakup!" He even managed to put a little chuckle at the end of it, and it almost didn't turn into a sniffle.

To his surprise, she didn't immediately drop it. "You too, huh?" The small smile was almost too knowing.

"What," Morris said, "did you just break up, too?"

She shrugged. "Why do you think I need a new apartment?"

The doors opened and the pre-programmed voice said "Penthouse." Both tenants stood in the elevator for a moment, sheepishly not looking at each other, waiting for the other to leave first. Finally the doors got fed up with waiting and started closing, prompting Morris to grab them with a free foot before shuffling toward his door.

He tried not to look back. "Anyway," he said. "I'll see you around." With the box balanced on one knee, the key was almost in the lock when Janey's voice spoke up.

"Hey, do you want, I don't know, some hot chocolate or something?"

Morris finally looked up at her and saw that she had hardly moved from the elevator doors, the laundry bag still hugged to her chest. "In the middle of summer."

She gave another tiny shrug, her ponytail bouncing. "It always makes me feel better, that's all."

The word "no" was on Morris' lips before he realized that, yes, he did want hot chocolate. In fact, it sounded like the greatest thing in the world at that moment. And it wasn't the sudden arrival of his erection that made him decide so, either.

"Sure."

Janey led the way into her apartment, tossing the laundry bag into the bedroom before hurriedly shutting the door. Cardboard boxes and plastic bins were everywhere, most of them labeled, some of them open. Morris was pleased to see that the layout wasn't that much bigger than his own apartment, even if it was in a bit more of a pleasing arrangement. Not a kitchen nook, but a real-looking kitchen, complete with an island. "Make yourself at home," Janey said, beckoning at the mostly-clear sofa.

Morris plopped down, the realization of how drunk he was suddenly hitting.

They made small talk while Janey boiled some water and dug up some chocolate powder and even a bag of mini-marshmallows. He had graduated a year before her, she was a Portland native, he was an after-college transplant. The usual.

Finally the cocoa was ready and Janey brought the two mugs over to the couch, handing one to Morris before plunking herself down. "Here's to exes," she said, holding up her mug and trying to clink it against Morris'. He grinned and did his best to connect.

It was then on the crowded couch that Morris realized what a delicious, lovely rack Janey had.

Had he not seen it before? His mind took off at a mile a minute, trying to figure out how many times he had seen her in the past week, if she had ever been wearing anything as revealing as this thin-strapped top. No, definitely not. And she had mostly been carrying boxes, hadn't she? Or wearing those big sweaters.

But now, less than two feet from him, he could see that she was pretty blessed for such a small girl. At least a hefty C-cup, they stood proudly from her chest, every so often shaking or moving with her body. When she brought the mug of chocolate up to her lips, she would drag the mug slightly across her stretched-tight shirt, making indentations in the breast-flesh that set Morris' dick to the hardest possible setting.

He burnt his tongue.

"This is, uh, really good hot chocolate."

"Thanks," she said, either oblivious or too polite to notice his stares, "my mom taught me the recipe. I mix it myself."

"It's tasty."

A few more moments of tongue-burning.

"Yup."

Once his mug was empty, Morris quickly calculated the chances of him making a fool of himself and realized that they were almost certain. "Well anyway, thanks for kind of making me feel human again," he said. "I'll let you get back to enjoying your night."

She gave him a small smile. "Not a problem, dude. We should hang out more often, since we're neighbors."

"Right," he said, trying not to think about her delicious tits. "It would be the neighborly thing to do."

"Exactly," Janey said, nodding.

They exchanged numbers after Morris extricated himself from the deep and comfy couch, then, before he knew it, his box of stuff was back in his hands and he was back in his own door. He didn't see the lingering look Janey gave his backside as he walked down the hall, but it didn't matter, because he was wishing for it to happen.

With his apartment door safely shut, Morris set about taking care of what had been bugging him all day, even before feeding his starving and screaming stomach: a good fap session. Deciding he deserved a reward, he fished another rubber out of his dresser and ripped it open as he clicked through the maze of folders that hid his porn stash. With condom safely affixed, he got to work, only to realize that something was awfully uncomfortable down below. In his food-deprived and alcohol-infused brain, it took him a moment to look down, and when he did it took a moment to register what was wrong.

Was the condom ring tight?

It definitely looked like it. The tight elastic was cutting into the base of his cock, forming a tight pinch around the sensitive but hard flesh. Morris didn't think that condoms expired in that way—he thought they just became sort of brittle, so it wasn't a question of being old. Just... of being small.

But these condoms had fit earlier that week, hadn't they?

For some reason, the thought of outgrowing a condom made his drunken mind even hornier, but a surge of blood to his groin made the pain even harder to bear. The thin rubber was stretched over the head of his dick, the reservoir in the tip definitely losing ground to his apparently over-swollen erection.

Holy fuck, he was definitely bigger. Just like the girls at work were bigger. Weren't they?

The mere thought of all of his fantasies coming true was enough to send Morris over the edge while his brain flooded with images of huge, growing tits to match his enormous, raging cock. Semen flooded the condom, filling up the reservoir like a tiny water balloon before flowing back down the condom and spewing into Morris' thighs. He ordinarily would have been concerned about stains on his chair if the orgasm that came with the jets of come hadn't laid him flat back, his eyes rolling into his head.

Panting, gasping, Morris came out of his sticky, slimy reverie and looked down at the puddle forming in his lap.

"What the fuck was that?"

***

Most of that weekend was spent in Morris' apartment, hardly interacting with the outside world, instead enjoying the intense pleasures that his newly-enlarged dock was bringing him. And it was bringing him pleasure: he was more sensitive, was shooting bigger loads, and seemed even hornier than ever before. Plus he felt like he could go again only five or ten minutes after each wad was shot. On Saturday alone he must have jacked it fifteen or sixteen times; Sunday was relatively barren at only ten.

But it wasn't for no good reason that he only came ten times: despite each stroke of his hand making his legs shake with feeling, it felt like he could go longer before coming, just letting that impending feeling of an orgasm electrify his body as his hands stroked and pulled and rhythmically milked his erect dick. Morris may have came five fewer times on Sunday than he did Saturday, but he spent no less time jerking off; he merely lasted longer.

The condoms in his drawer were going to be useless from here on out, Morris realized. All of those sex ed teachers were completely wrong: while you could fit a smaller-than-needed condom over your dick, it would not be pain-free, and it definitely increased the chances of the rubber ripping, as he found out with his last experiment with the box on Saturday afternoon. It was just after finally measuring his erect penis, astounded that it was still standing strong after his fourth orgasm, and he had found that he was approaching eight inches.

Eight inches! That was almost two inches bigger. Jesus, how had he not noticed?

Yes, Morris was in heaven. He had always been comfortable with his dick size, never actually ashamed of his slightly below-average length, and had never received a complaint from the ladies, but that didn't prevent his fantasies from taking control, sometimes. The idea of a cock so huge that he had to tuck it very carefully down a pant leg—that girls would shake with worry and horniness at the sight of—that he could wrap both hands around and stroke the long length of while liters shot from the tip—that was something that popped into his mind some idle nights.

And, well, eight inches. That was quite the start. Plus it appeared to be a super-cock! Able to last forever, to come huge ropes, to regain hardness almost immediately with no stinging or blue balls. Not to say his balls didn't feel a little swollen by the end of the weekend, but they didn't hurt. Maybe they were just tender.

Needless to say, Morris' computer was tuned to the porn channel for almost 72 hours straight. His phone sat ignored, no news sites were browsed to, and when his phone alarm woke him up on Monday morning, his face stuck to his desk with what felt suspiciously like dried cum, his hand still wrapped around his flaccid member, Morris had no idea what had been happening around the world that weekend.

***

How much sleep had he gotten that entire weekend? Maybe ten hours? Twelve, all told? He was bleary-eyed, and his head was aching, almost like from a hangover. Although in this case it would be more of a hung-over.

Morris grinned at himself in the mirror at the horrible pun, then admired the slightly more 3D effect of his slightly thicker, longer dick in his jeans. It was definitely more prominent than before. He ran a hand down the thick denim, feeling his firm package become a tiny bit more firm at the touch before realizing he was already running late. With his shirt thrown over his head and his bag slung over his shoulder, Morris grabbed the elevator.

Two women and another guy got on during the trip down. He definitely wouldn't have remembered them if it weren't for the fact that the women, who got on together, seemed to be whispering something to each other before clamming up halfway through a word when they realized the elevator was occupied. Plus, there was no way Morris would forget two stacked beauties getting on in his building. The one in the button-up blouse looked like she was definitely wearing a shirt that was too small, and the other in the suit-jacket had some kind of curves going on even through the wool material.

Morris shook his head as he exited the elevator, trying to clear his mind. His new dick was like a dousing rod for hot women, especially after that fap-fueled weekend. Of course he would notice every attractive woman in sight.

They must have noticed him noticing, too, because every woman he passed in the two-block walk to his office avoided eye contact like the plague and hurried on her way. The mom in the heavy sweatshirt with the stroller. The business woman almost sprinting to her car.

Morris stopped at a light and heard a jogger approaching. He turned to look and saw a hot blonde in a running bra and tight shorts bouncing his way. Her eyes were set on a point a bit above the horizon, her jaw strangely clenched, and her face seemed unusually red. But mostly Morris saw her nice, big tits, bouncing firmly in the bra, at least a few inches of cleavage exposed under her set chin.

Sensing nothing good coming from within his jeans, Morris looked dutifully down and hurried to his office.

All of the girls were clustered together over Tina's computer, watching some video, and Morris felt the pit drop out of his stomach. Oh, god, was it another terrorist attack? Maybe war had been declared? It would certainly explain the dead atmosphere in the city.

"What's u—" he asked before being shushed by four fierce women. Their faces turned back to the computer monitor. What emotion was that in their eyes? Apprehension?

Tina turned the volume up. It was a news anchor on CNN; they must have been watching streaming news.

"—although a point of origin has not yet been confirmed, the earliest reported incidents began nearly two weeks ago, all seemingly across the West coast of the United States."

"Right here," Alex breathed, but Sarah shook her head.

"Only maybe."

Morris looked at each girl in turn. "What exact—"

"SHHH!"

Now a doctor was on screen, a grey-haired woman in a nonetheless very form-fitting lab coat. "Obviously women may experience some change during their monthly cycles, such a thing is normal and documented due to normal hormonal shifts due to menstruation, but certainly nothing of this scale nor of this breadth has ever been recorded." The camera was obviously hand-held, and a "LIVE" icon was in the lower-right corner as the shaky feed slowly zoomed on the doctor's face. "At this point," she said, turning toward the lens, "I'm unsure if we've heard of any woman past puberty that hasn't been affected."

The feed cut back to the CNN anchor, who wore a taciturn expression. "For those of you just tuning in, we are having a special report about the sudden breast growth epidemic that has inexplicably swept the globe—"

Tina clicked the video closed, but Morris' eyes didn't leave her desktop. "So they don't know anything," she said, an easy shrug in her shoulders. She spun in her chair to the other four, and Morris was greeted with the sight of her overfull t-shirt straining against boobs that had definitely not been that large even last Friday.

Breast... growth... epidemic?

The words echoed in Morris' ears while his brain tried to calculate the size of his engaged coworker's tits. They were at least large enough to fill his hand, maybe a little smaller, which meant a healthy C or maybe D-cup on a girl of average size, but Tina was smaller than normal, and quite thin. An E-cup? Maybe even an F? Holy shit.

"You don't sound so concerned," Felicia said, and Morris' eyes almost popped out when he saw that her boobs, before just large, were now almost ripping buttons off of her blouse. Holy fuck! G? GG? Who the hell knew when tits got almost as big as your head?

Tina just grinned at her taller coworker. "I'm not!" She lightly lifted her hands in the air and twirled in her seat like a legless ballerina. "I am loving it! I've always wanted big boobs, and now I'm getting them, free of charge and all-natural!"

Sarah, as usual, was not amused. "I highly doubt it's all-natural," she said darkly. To her credit, it didn't appear that the project manager had gained many inches in the bust, but underneath her pantsuit jacket Morris' numb mind bet several thousand dollars she had invested in a minimizer bra as soon as she realized what was happening.

What was happening? What was happening was that women... women all over the world were having their tits blown up.

"Who cares if it is?" Alex said, bubbly as usual. "We all look great!" She turned to Morris. "Don't we, Morr?"

As if a switch had been flicked the three other women turned to Morris with an expression on their faces that said, despite the shushing, they hadn't realized he was there. Sarah's face turned beet red with embarrassment and she disappeared almost immediately, while Tina gave a nervous giggle and pretended to get started on work.

Alex and, surprisingly, Felicia, remained focused on Morris. "Yeah, Frank," Felicia said, cocking her head, "what do you make of all of this? Do you think it's awesome?"

Morris knew how bad of a liar he was. He had years of experience. "Well..." he said, trying to cook up something to say.

"That's what I figured," came the response from the statuesque Filipina. Her tone was disappointed, but there was a funny satisfied look in her eye, and a strange smirk that didn't escape Morris' glance as she turned away, snatching up a few cookies from the snack table on her way.

Holy fuck, Morris could see the curves of her breasts from behind. They nicely complimented her curvy, round ass in that skirt, and his imagination immediately filled his head with thoughts of bending her brown body over her desk, both hands firmly clenched onto the soft pillows of her ass while her tits pooled onto the cold marble of the desktop, orgasmic moans and shouts of joy echoing throughout the empty office as Morris' thick cock slid in and out of her dripping snatch—

"Thanks for your input, Morris," Alex said, snapping him out of his daydream and into an embarrassed reality. Wait, did her eyes slide across his belt-line as she turned and walked away? Did she notice his huge, roaring erection?

Oh god, work was going to be impossible.

***

It turned out that almost all of life was nearly impossible. It wasn't just the consta-boner that had taken up residence in Morris' jeans, or the fact that there were suddenly large, smooth, heaving breasts everywhere: it was the fact that the owners of said parts were still not used to having them.

As an example, at one point during the day Morris had managed to finally get enough concentration going to start responding to a few client requests, and turned to as Tina if she had some login information for a website when he saw that she wasn't looking at her screen and was instead staring straight down between her tits, her hands busy under her t-shirt. She must have heard Morris turn, or maybe she heard him stop breathing, because she immediately looked over. "Hey!" was all she said, but her hands snapped out of her shirt and onto her hips. Never one to be bashful, Tina launched into an explanation. "It's hard to get bras sized and I think I got one with too tight of a band which you'd think would be hard considering how thin I am but apparently I've put on a little weight and it's going to be a bitch to find a new one with how many girls are growing recently." She had an annoyed look on her face, but not one that screamed "sexual harassment," so she either didn't mind Morris' peeks at her boob adjustment or knew it was just a fact of life.

Similarly, after lunch Morris tried to ask Felicia about her design on one site, and was almost immediately distracted by the realization that her tits were big enough to rest on her desk while she typed on her computer, her arms actually smooshing in from the sides to reach her keyboard.

"Yeah, I know. They're big." To Morris' surprise there wasn't any annoyance in her voice, more a tone of resignation or even acceptance.

Nonetheless, he felt the need to apologize for losing his eyes down her cleavage. "Sorry. I guess they get in the way a bit, huh?"

She looked down at herself, her eyebrows tweaking in a way that suggested she hadn't considered that. "I suppose," Felicia admitted. "But, well, I don't mind that much." Again Morris was surprised at the complete bluntness from the enlarged woman.

But then, he thought, adjusting his thick erection to align with his leg, if someone asked him about his dick, he'd probably be upfront about it. Some things are just too weird to be anything but straightforward about.

The day ended with another walk through the gauntlet of women to his apartment. It seemed that Morris ran into almost no guys throughout the day, that the female half of the species, despite mostly acting embarrassed or in a rush, were perfectly fine with coming out and flaunting their incidentals.

And this was happening all over the world.

On the elevator ride up to his floor Morris' pants were even unbuttoned in readiness, his hands in his waistband, ready to throw them off the moment his door opened. Half of it was being completely, out-of-his-mind horny, so that he didn't much care that he was still technically in public; the other half was just experience. After all, what were the chances someone would get onto the elevator going up once he was past the first few floors? Generally people only came and went from their apartments to the ground floor.

That all changed, of course, when you were thinking about maintenance.

Halfway up, at floor 15, the cold robotic voice announced the floor level and the elevator slowed, giving Morris just enough time to zip his pants up before the doors opened and that maintenance girl, Audi, stepped on, pulling a cart filled with tools.

"Sorry, sorry," she said, accidentally bumping Morris with the cart as she found room for it. Morris was too busy gaping at her body. Had she even HAD tits before? Maybe it had just been impossible to see in her thick overalls, but now, wearing just a tank top, Morris could see every bit of the long curves that tumbled down from her neck, straining the ribbing on the top as her heavy-duty bra fought with gravity.

How big? Morris asked himself. And were all of the girls going to get this big? Maybe bigger than Felicia at the office, but Felicia had a lot to start with. It was almost expected.

Audi coughed, folding her lightly-muscled arms under her chest. "I said, would you get 18 for me?"

"Right, sorry," Morris jerked for the button, not daring to meet the girl's eyes. Luckily she was smiling.

"It has been a crazy weekend," she said. The doors opened and she pulled the cart out of the elevator. "Not that I'm complaining."

Oh, god. It wasn't just that all of the breasts around Morris were growing, it wasn't just that he now had a super-dick: it was that everyone was just loving it that made Morris so hard.

Door open. Pants down. Dick in hand. Orgasm.

***

But, as everyone knows, even the most crazy of circumstances will soon become routine, and that first week of realization that boobpocalypse was upon the world was no different. Brassiere sales went through the roof as every single woman had to restock her collection, along with fashions changing to help provide support and reveal cleavage like never before. Now more than ever before everyone was talking about breasts, not just tit-obsessed men and women frequenting lingerie stores.

And, for that week, Morris wondered if this was what heaven was like.

Everywhere he looked were huge breasts, feasting his eyes. From teenagers to grandmothers and everything in between, not a single woman who had started to mature had been missed, and average sizes were skyrocketing as recalculations were made. By the end of the week, anything less than a double-D was seen as "below average", and women who hadn't grown were being asked on the news and on websites to report to specific numbers, so that they could maybe be studied, to find out why they, of all women, were staying "normal".

The internet was absolutely exploding. Suddenly ALL porn was big-tit porn, whether it wanted to be or not. Since the breast growth had started on the west coast, all of the porn studios in LA were getting a boost of their revenue. It seemed that this bonanza of breast size was making a huge spike in large breast interest.

Morris, meanwhile, merely needed to turn to the news to find whack-off material. Images of crowds of women, all of them with sweaters and shirts absolutely stuffed, now flooded the news sites. Wardrobe malfunctions were a way of life, and one special interest of Morris', clothes being burst out of, was a daily occurrence in every city on the globe.

And the best part of all was that it meant they were still growing.

The evidence of it lay in Morris' own office building, with his five female coworkers. As time had gone on and the breast growth phenomenon had proven to be something that was here to stay, the girls had grown more and more flippant with their status.

For instance, he had been working with Alex on a particularly troublesome client who had called in for support and, thankfully, been stopped by the brick wall of customer relations Alex managed to be on the phone. Morris and Alex had never been the best of friends, as she sometimes got catty at the most unexpected times, but, to Morris' dismay, the boob flu was forcing his hand: that horny part of him prevented him but being anything but extremely nice to any woman who he could be around. And Alex's breasts were now bulging from her polo shirt.

Morris had looked way for just a moment before he heard a sigh of relief and turned to see Alex pulling her bra out from her shirt. He gawped as she reached under her shirt and adjusted the two fatty loads, both of them clearly overflowing her hand. "That's better," she said.

"Uhm, what's better?"

She looked at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, it was just getting way too tight. My babies were suffocating!" She looked down and plumped up her now sagging chest with her upper arms. "And they need all the room they can get to grow!"

Morris swallowed and got out of there as quickly as he could, while Alex kept talking to herself. "No more girlish GG-cups for me," she said in what he would expect to be a mumble, but was more a proud statement.

"What's in your butt?" Tina asked as Morris tripped into their office, getting away from the erotic yet uncomfortable situation. She didn't even look up before continuing. "Alex talking about her boobs again? Sheesh." A part of Morris' mind was happy that at least someone around there was still sane before she continued. "I mean, they aren't half as nice as mine are."

His eyes betraying him, Morris glanced at her chest and had to agree. Then again, her boobs were probably only slightly larger than Alex's, it was just that on a tiny frame like Tina's they looked enormous. In the loose blouse she was wearing, and most of the things women were wearing lately were loose, Morris could see at least four inches of cleavage sloping down from her neck, before her breasts ballooned off of her rib cage, pressing into her arms whenever she reached up to type. Then again, it was probably also the fact that Tina always seemed to be nipping right out of whatever she was wearing, her thick nipples constantly protruding for everyone to see. They had to have been getting bigger—before all of this started, Morris had never noted her nips as being unusually large in that department on unexpectedly cold days.

"Then again," Tina continued, as always oblivious, "my boobs are nowhere near as great as Felicia's. It must be all of that food she's packing away."

"I heard that," came the voice from the other room, but Morris couldn't help but note that it sounded like the designer was talking around a mouthful of some pastry or another. It was true: she did always seem to be eating lately, and it might just be going to her chest.

According to the news and gossip, bras in Felicia's size were being manufacture red as quickly as possible all around the world, in anticipation of their use as females started to get that large on a more regular basis, but that didn't mean they were easy to get. Morris had heard Felicia telling Sarah that she had been able to order a few from Germany, but had ultimately decided against it, since she would outgrow them before they arrived.

"Think about it, though," the business manager had said, ever the salesperson. "You could make a killing reselling them, assuming the rest of us catch up to you."

Morris' pants strained at the thought. Without a bra, Felicia was managing as best she could, but her chest was rapidly outgrowing the crooks of her arms, forcing her to madly grasp at them whenever she walked anywhere instead of taking a more subtle "arms crossed" routine. "At least in a few days," she joked, "I'll be able to sit with them in my lap."

Weirdest of all was that the girl who had seemed concerned about growing too large just a few days earlier appeared to be rapidly disappearing in favor of a girl who loved her swelling, overflowing tits.

And statisticians estimated that the majority of women in the US would be reaching Felicia's size in just a few weeks, with the world following closely behind.

Panting, Morris stood up from his desk, his chair pushing away behind him. He needed to get to the bathroom, pronto, if the pulsing heat in his groin was any indicator. He staggered to the hallway, pointedly not looking at Tina, and almost ran into Sarah.

Sarah, who was trying her best to appear professional as possible, in her pencil skirt and business jacket, but even she hadn't been able to get something tailored to fit her new chest yet, and her tight cantaloupes were pushing the lapels apart, the closely-fitted, white top she was wearing only making her prominent, hard nipples even more evident. Whatever she was saying went right out of Morris' ears, and he pushed past her toward the bathrooms.

If he could just hold it...

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement, and he looked through an office window to spy Sasha gritting her teeth as she tried to button her blouse, but soft, tanned flesh only managed to spill out around her fingers...

The bathroom door slammed behind Morris and he unzipped his pants as his dick burst out. It was a deep purple, was madly pulsing, and, at his last measure, had just surpassed nine inches in length. Its surprising thickness meant that, as Morris grabbed at his member to try to get some control while he lifted the toilet seat, his hand had trouble reaching around it, his fingertips only just getting to his thumb.

This stimulation, unfortunately, piled just a little too much on to his already brainless horniness, and Morris found himself coming as a rush of thunder entered his ears. His knees wobbled and weakened as the orgasm first took hold, and the ropes that he shot off felt like they were tiny punches in the groin. As his eyes were rolled back into his head in pleasure, Morris couldn't tell where he was aiming, but at that point he didn't care. Each pulse of orgasm wracked his entire body with a hot electricity, and in some distant universe he heard the distant splats as his seed was shot all over the tiny bathroom.

Panting, gasping, Morris came down from his come-induced high and let his eyes take in the sight. He had plastered the walls and plumping with sticky, hot semen, and he didn't even feel bad. In fact, he was a little proud. Holy shit, he hit the ceiling? How powerful were his little jets?

Feeling satisfied and not the slightest bit embarrassed, Morris got to work cleaning up. Luckily, nothing more than a little splashback had managed to get on his jeans, and he was careful to avoid any more as he mopped up what had to be at least a half-cup of sticky, hot semen.

This shit was getting crazy, Morris thought. And it was getting harder to keep a boner down.

Well, at least he had all weekend to jack off again.

***

Despite living in what could easily be called his own personal fantasy world, Morris didn't have any illusions about the women around him. They were all getting much more blunt about their breasts, it was true, but he was careful not to interpret their own obsessions with their tits for actual advancements at himself. After all, if it was publicly obvious that his dick was growing, wouldn't Morris just be talking about it with every person on the street? Probably.

Still, that didn't stop fantasies from entering his mind. Getting tackled by a naked Tina, her fat nipples dragging up his chest while she crawled up his body, rubbing her slightly pooching stomach against his red-hot dick. Felicia cradling him in her lap, his head resting between her enormous, fat tits. Alex shutting up for once while she ate out a blushing Sarah, both of them kneading their bulging chests.

But hell, half of those girls were in a relationship. He couldn't even begin to fantasize about Sasha, as she was married and had kids who came to the office sometimes.

That didn't stop some fiendish part of Morris' mind from working, though. And besides, that cute girl on his floor, what was her name, Janey. Something might happen there. He needed to be prepared.

So after another long weekend that consisted almost entirely of pleasuring himself, and another day at the shrine of awesome breasts that he called an office, Morris made the trek down to the grocery store to pick up some actually large condoms.

There were a couple of options, leaving Morris temporarily stumped. Did he want L? XL? Maybe XXL? Magnums came in more than one size, it seemed, and none of the boxes gave estimates in terms of width and length.

He decided to try his luck with the XL, and had just grabbed the box when he heard a voice behind him.

"Uh, sorry slugger, but there's no way you need those."

Scarlett. She lived close enough to use this same grocery. Only natural they would run into each other.

Of course, that didn't stop Morris' body from reflexively spinning around and trying to hide the box behind his back. She stood there, a hip cocked, a grocery basket on her arm. "A little optimistic, are we?"

Holy shit were her tits looking great. The t-shirt she was wearing stretched across them like two overfilled balloons, and they looked just as perky and round as they had been when they were only DD-cups.

Morris stammered, his mind racing, before he realized that, no, he wasn't optimistic. His mind clicked back into place. "Actually, pretty realistic." He put a finger to his chin and pretended to consider the rack again. "Possibly undershooting..." Shrugging, he grabbed an XXL box, as well. Scarlett was almost laughing when he turned back to her, but she stopped cold when he stepped past and leaned in. "You think your girls are the only ones growing, do you?" God, his dick was so hard, pushing against his jeans, as he finally said out loud what had been on his mind. He saw her eyes dart down, saw her start to comprehend what that crease in the denim meant.

But then he made the mistake. A simple inhale, a breath of something fruity she was wearing, and Morris fell back in love. His voice quavered, for just a second.

And Scarlett snorted. "Whatever, dude. I hope you're enjoying the masturbation fests I'm sure you're having. Finally all of the chicks have what you've always wanted, don't they? But if I know you, you're still hung up on me."

It was true. He couldn't deny it. Even now, he was salivating at the thoughts of her buoyant, taut breasts. She laughed and shook her head back, sending the dark brown flow down her back.

Morris' brow furrowed. "Did you dye your hair?"

She stopped. "What?"

"It looks darker."

Her face was a blank mask, but then it turned to a sneer. "'It looks darker'? Is that the best you can do?" Scarlett rolled her eyes. "I have places to go, Frank. I'm sure you'll see me later, when you're jacking off into those trash bags." She turned on her heel and left, crushing Morris' heart.

Then again, it looked like his earlier prophecy was at least a little true: now that he wasn't being confronted by her huge, delicious tits, he could see that at least a little of his ex-girlfriend's sides were muffin-topping over the waist of her jeans.

Unfortunately, the prospect of Scarlett putting on weight only made him harder. Morris sighed. Time to go home and find out which of these fit him best.

It was the XL, and they were a little loose.

***

The next day, though, Morris couldn't get The Hair Incident, as he was calling it, out of his mind. It was very strange how her hair looked darker. Or maybe not darker, but like it had a strange sheen to it. There was something there, and now Morris was imagining things everywhere.

For example, Tina. Today she was wearing a long, light cardigan over a t-shirt and jeans, but as he peeked over, he could swear that, underneath her heavy hanging breasts, a tiny belly was poking out. But then again, almost all people, especially programmers, had a bit of a pooch when they hunched over a keyboard. And maybe she was more pregnant than he thought; by now she was, at a minimum, one month along, but she could have waited a lot before telling anyone. Maybe she was three months along, even.

And Felicia had to be packing on a few pounds, with the doughnuts and muffins and bagels she was constantly bringing into the office and then consuming. They were supposed to be for everyone, or at least she kept loudly announcing they were, and Morris would have maybe a bagel every few days, but the rest would disappear quickly into her munching mouth. That was pretty abnormal, even for Felicia's cheery and modest disposition. She had always been a little curvy, so it really was hard to say if she had gained anything.

Morris' eyes had to be searching for patterns where there were none. Clearly his brain was going absolutely girl-crazy, what with being completely single and now just surrounded by huge, almost-naked breasts.

Was Alex acting squirrelier? Probably not.

Was it weird that the normally masculine Sarah was wearing skirts instead of a normal pantsuit? Maybe a little.

No, it wasn't strange that silent Sasha was wearing a baseball cap over her graying hair.

No, it wasn't odd that all of the women on the street seemed to glance at him, that fewer and fewer breasts seemed to be getting adequate cover. It wasn't for any strange, specific-to-Morris reason, certainly—some appeal to his love of the idea of a woman growing out of the clothes she was wearing.

Even in the new, absolutely ridiculous world that Morris found himself in, he wasn't ready to entertain that possibility; that the growing breasts and shrinking shame of every woman in apparently the world was due to his obsession with the concept.

To Morris' relief, the IM he received later in that week wasn't from any of the girls in his office, but from Austin. Austin, his boss and owner of the company! Austin, the only other male in Morris' universe.

"The Australia convention starts next week, Morris, and my vacation starts immediately after."

Well, so much for that. "How long are you going to be gone, in total?"

Austin's eyes sparkled. "A whole month. Just me and the wife, alone. Er, after the convention, that is."

"Has it been a while since you've taken a vacation?"

"Not really," came the response. "But, uh, just between you and me, while my wife's chest isn't getting as big as some, well, she's getting a bit... insatiab—"

"—I get it, I get it," Morris said. Although, honestly, that was the first he had heard of it. It might explain a bit, though: all of the looks he was getting wasn't specific to HIM, it was just any male in the vicinity.

Wait. He was going to be trapped in an office with five increasingly-horny girls?

That might be a dream come true... But something about Morris felt guilty about even entertaining the idea of taking advantage of them. None of them were really acting like themselves, were they?

But then, if any of them came on to him, despite their relationship statuses, would Morris be able to resist? He wasn't exactly a beacon of non-horniness himself. In fact, those few moments in Austin's office were some of the few minutes where he wasn't fighting an erection in his entire workday.

But then he stepped back out into the hall and saw that Alex had a hand down the front of her jeans and he was tent-poling once again.

Morris excused himself to the bathroom.

His apartment was becoming less a living space, more a shrine to the changing world around him. Food was mostly leftovers or boxed dinners, the shades were permanently drawn, and condoms filled every trash receptacle. Every day at clocking-out time Morris bee-lined it for the door and down the street, filling his mind with images of the women he'd encounter. Then up to his safe refuge.

Unless, of course, he ran into someone he knew in the lobby.

In this case, his new neighbor. Janey.

"Oh hey, Morris!" she called out cheerfully from the waiting area. The other people waiting for the elevator, a couple with their dog, looked over briefly before continuing their conversation, and Morris tried to pretend that the middle-aged woman's eyes didn't linger over him. Instead he focused on little Janey.

Although she wasn't quite little any more. Instead her voluminous breasts filled the camisole that she was happily wearing, draped over their well-supported masses. She wasn't anywhere near the size of Felicia, or even that close to Tina's engorged beauties, but something about their shape and heft pleased Morris' eyes more than either of his coworkers' huge breasts. Maybe it was the way that Janey almost immediately realized that her rapid, excited movements were making her huge, shirt-straining breasts to bounce and jiggle all around. She stopped just as quickly, a small, red blush spreading on her freckled face as she shoved her hands into the back pockets of her shorts.

"Uh, hi. Janey, right?"

She gasped in mock outrage. "'Janey, right?'" she mimicked. "I can remember your name, but you have to guess at mine?"

Morris shrugged. "I was right, right?"

"I guess." A wolfish grin flashed, then disappeared as the elevator dinged its arrival. The requisite awkward silence followed as the couple joined them in the small space, their chocolate lab getting friendly first with Janey's crotch and then her face as she leaned down. Morris' eyes magnetically pulled down with her and he saw a bounty of cleavage in the wide collar of her top, but he pulled his eyes away: in these close quarters an erection of Morris' size was unacceptable.

At last the couple left and Morris breathed a sigh of relief before realizing that he didn't really have anything else to say the cute girl.

Luckily, she said it for him. "So, hey. Do you want to go get lunch or something this weekend? See a movie?"

His heart nearly leapt out of Morris' throat. "You want to go out to lunch with me?"

Janey shrugged with one shoulder, making a very pleasing motion across her chest (it had to be at least a G-cup) that made her blush again. "Almost all of my friends were also my ex-boyfriend's. I don't know hardly anyone!"

"Oh, yeah," Morris said. So a date in a friends way. He could live with that. "That sounds fun. Um, here's my number."

The exchange went smoothly as possible, and they decided to figure something out that Saturday. "Barring, hah, some weird emergency." The bizarre thing was, Morris realized later after he had pushed out another load, was that he was pretty sure that was the least breast-growth related conversation he had taken part in for the past two weeks.

At least it was all slowing down, starting to become normal.

For once Morris felt satisfied after jacking off, and proceeded to actually play some video games for once, instead of looking up news about the weird and wonderful ways in which the world was changing.

Which meant it was only just before bed, when he flicked back on to the internet to rub one last one out, when he saw the news.

***

"Can you believe it?" Tina shrieked in Morris' ear the moment she came into the office the next morning. "An udder." She sat down in her chair, her breasts taking a few moments to come to rest with her. "What. The. EFF."

"I'm pretty sure that if it had happened a month ago, nobody would have believed it," Sarah said, leaning on the doorframe. She was, as usual, dressed in a grey suit jacket and a knee-length pencil skirt, but there was something more casual about her appearance, to Morris' eye. Maybe the fact that she could no longer button the jacket around her volleyball-sized breasts.

"I know, right? It would have been National Enquirer stuff!"

Sasha poked her head in through the open doorway from the other room. Morris started in surprise—it was easy to forget that she existed. "What is strange is that in the pictures," she said in her suppressed Russian accent, "she has large breasts, like us."

"What about them?" Felicia asked from the other side of the room. Her folded arms were notably hidden completely underneath her enormous chest.

"Breasts and udders are, what do you call, both mammary glands."

"But that's what's so weird!" Tina cried. "A small udder, just below her stomach, doesn't make any sense, since she already has breasts!" She placed her own hands below the slight curve of her belly and a strangely thoughtful look came across her face. "Isn't it weird?" she said at last.

The other women nodded and dispersed with their own mutterings. Morris was just trying his best to flex his thigh muscles. He had read that it was a good way to control unwanted erections, by directing your concentration somewhere else. Currently he was trying his best not to think about cowgirls.

They weren't his biggest fetish, definitely. Not as great as the more "normal" things, as Morris liked to think of them: big thighs and butts and breasts and bellies. But the concept of a girl growing a tail and cow ears and an udder and having that udder grow large and heavy with milk along with her breasts was definitely an idea he didn't find repulsive, rather cute and sexy.

And, like everyone else, he had seen the pictures and read the interview with the woman who was now in a hospital having everything tested on her: a small udder, just a few inches wide, but bright pink, with soft, somewhat wrinkly skin, and four fat nipples protruding from it. Just an inch or two below her belly button. What nobody else seemed to mention was how, in the pictures, the blonde woman's ears were a little pointed looking, and stuck out a little further than usual. And he liked to imagine that one picture that had her back to the camera showed a slightly bump in her back—possibly a tail.

Yeah. A cowgirl. In the real world.

It was finally getting a little too good to be true.

This sudden revelation didn't stop Morris' mind from racing at the possibilities, and for the rest of the day he had to fight what seemed like a constant boner. His dick, at last measurement, was just passing the ten-inch mark, officially making him "pornstar huge", which meant that trying to prevent his mind from pondering the gradual reveal of a cowgirl's lactating udders, her thickening thighs, her pointed ears, was utterly tantamount.

He made it through the rest of the day without anything more than two visits to the restroom for emergency system-flushing, and was feeling good and safe on his walk home when his phone rang.

It was Scarlett.

Instantly all erections disappeared as Morris wondered why she was calling. Was it just to be a bitch to him some more? Maybe gloat about some new boyfriend who wasn't boring? 

Despite his brain screaming at him, Morris picked up the phone. "What is it, Scarlett?"

"Uh, hey, Morris," she said, and his brain stopped. Something sounded off; this wasn't the Scarlett from just a few days ago who was full of herself. "What's up?"

"Not much." Not even a trio of college girls walking past in t-shirts that probably fit them back when their breasts weren't the size of honeydews could distract him now. "Why are you calling me?"

There was a pause on the other line. "Did you see the news this morning? About the woman with the, uh." She trailed off.

"The udder?"

"Yeah. Right."

Another deep pause. Morris' mind raced. "Oh my god, Scarlett, you don't have one, too?!"

"No! No. Nothing like that." But she didn't sound so sure, and the thought of Scarlett hiding a floppy cow tail in her jeans was enough to make Morris' dick start getting harder. "It's just..."

"Just what, Scarlett?" His astronomical horniness levels weren't enough to make Morris forget the terrible breakup. "We broke up, remember? Why are you coming to me with your problems?"

She gasped in what sounded like a bit of a sob. "God, Morris! I don't have any friends who aren't your friends, too, okay? And I'm... I'm scared." Her voice sounded tiny.

Any friends that weren't his friends? That was precisely why he had been avoiding any of HER friends. "God, this is stupid. What are you scared of?"

"Just... could you come over?"

Could he come over. As if they hadn't broken up and she had a bad day or something. Morris sighed. "I guess, if whatever it is can be that serious. I'll be there in a bit."

Scarlett gushed her thanks as he hung up and redirected his course toward her apartment. Whatever it was had better be good, especially if she wasn't even turning into a cowgirl.

And he had to stop thinking about that, because his hot rod of flash started to creep down his pants every time...

The fight with Morris' boner was at last forfeited in the elevator up to Scarlett's apartment, where curiosity and horniness at last got the better of him. Maybe she wasn't turning into a cowgirl, but maybe it was something else. Maybe more of Morris' fantasies were coming true: she had doubled in weight, or she was massively pregnant, or her boobs (and how big would they be now? It had only been two days, sure, but who knew?) were lactating gallons of milk.

The door swung open and Morris' dick was nearly bursting through his jeans, but all he saw was a worried-looking Scarlett, smuggling two watermelon-sized breasts inside of a massive t-shirt. "Quick, come in," she whispered, casting furtive glances down her hallway.

"Uh, okay." Morris let himself be pulled into her dark apartment. It seemed like all but the barest of lights were off. "What the heck is this about, Scarlett?"

"You mean you can't tell?" she was standing in the entryway, twisting her hands into each other, her feet pigeon-toed in a way that Morris had always found cute beyond belief. "I don't look different?"

And, even though his mouth was salivating at the sight of her larger-than-life tits positively bursting from her tight and XXL large t-shirt, Morris had to shake his head. "Well, aside from your huge tits, no." She did look a little slovenly, he supposed: the t-shirt was old and fading, those sweatpants she had on had clearly seen better days, and her hair was pretty disheveled, but even Morris didn't have the cold heart necessary to tell her that.

She didn't look relieved. "You aren't looking hard enough, Morris. LOOK." She flipped on the kitchen light and suddenly Morris saw what she was talking about.

Her hair WAS darker; he had been right at the grocery store. But it wasn't just darker: it had this strange, violet tinge to it, like she had been dying it. Judging from Scarlett's distraught pose, though, she hadn't been dying it. "Your hair..."

"And not just my hair!" she shrieked, then pulled up her t-shirt. Besides at least a square foot of underboob being revealed, and the fact that her enormous breasts were being unusually perky for not wearing a bra, Scarlett's tummy was laid out for Morris to inspect. And it wasn't just the fact that she HAD a tummy, despite being a fitness nut, that caught Morris' eye.

"Holy fuck, your skin is turning blue, too, isn't it?"

"Yes!" Scarlett yelled, pulling her shirt down forcefully, which only forced more soft and firm cleavage up toward her chin. Morris could see it now all over: her lightly blue eyes, the way the blue veins on her hands and her tits now stood out more. Ever-so-slightly, Scarlett's hue was a little less tan and a little more blue. "And I'm all bloated, and my jeans won't fit over my ass, and YOU FUCKING DID THIS TO ME." Even on her extended, accusatory finger, Morris could see that the skin under her fingernail was a dark mauve instead of the usual husky pink.

He wondered what her nipples looked like...

"Wait, I did it? How the fuck is it my fault?"

"Oh, come on," Scarlett sneered. "You told me your little fantasies. About fat girls and big bellies and weird cow transformations... and that one girl from Willy Wonka."

No way. Morris had thought about it, had even maybe considered it, but no way was she right. These things weren't catered to him: the world didn't work that way. "You think you're turning into a blueberry?"

Her lip curled, revealing purple-tinged gums. "Oh, don't pretend you aren't ecstatic. I bet you nearly came when that girl's pictures popped up all over the net. And you work with all of those sluts at your office. Tell me, how many of them are 'suddenly pregnant'?"

"What are you talking about?"

"All of a sudden, five of my coworkers are pregnant, and two of them are already showing. Most of them are suddenly putting on weight. And, wait, what's that, Frank? What's your number one fetish? Giant tits?" Suddenly the huge t-shirt was over her head, falling to the floor, and both of her enormous, purple-veined breasts were being offered to Morris.

He was right: her thick, thumb-sized nipples were far darker than they had ever been, and had a very clear blue tinge to them.

"Well here are your tits, Morris," Scarlett said. The sneer was mysteriously gone from her voice, replaced only calm. She took a step towards him, and now that her shirt was off he could see that there was a bit more junk in her trunk than before. Another step and her butt wobbled as her hip popped to the side. "Now why don't you use that extra-large cock of yours and give me a tit-fucking like you've never had before?"

This conversation had gone from accusatory to sexual in far too short a time for Morris to keep up. "How... how can this be my fault?" he asked.

"Come on," Scarlett said, her voice dropping as she continued her advance on her retreating prey. "You can accept that tits everywhere are suddenly growing huge, with no adverse affects, but not that it's because you want them to?"

"That could be anyth—"

"That girl had an udder, Morris! And I am turning blue and I think there's something filling me up and I'm just... I'm just so horny, Morris." Her voice turned to a whine, and she reached for her waistband of her sweatpants.

Morris' dick screamed YES, but his brain was somehow in control. This was the love of his life, the center of his existence for three years, and she had dumped him. And whatever had been happening to her was making her act outside of her control.

Besides, she almost didn't deserve to get what she wanted.

"Goodbye, Scarlett," Morris said, pulling together the last of his willpower.

Her eyes flew wide, the blue tinges to her once-brown irises becoming obvious. "No! You can't leave me!"

"Weird, isn't it?" Morris said, closing the door behind him.

He kept his cool for two blocks before realizing that the precum leaking from his dick was probably going to give the appearance that he had wet himself and sprinted home to jack off.

***

Unfortunately, turning his back on a girl turning into a giant blueberry was easier than forgetting that there were now two fetishes come-to-life in Morris' list of evidence of a world gone crazy. Well, three fetishes, really, if you don't forget that enormous, growing breasts wasn't a usual occurrence. After a night filled with thoughts of possibilities, as well as at least six or seven "get up to pee and end up whacking off" sessions, Morris tried to get to work.

But he kept stealing glances as Tina, typing away at her computer.

Finally he worked up the nerve to say something to her that he had been wondering for a while. "Tina, how far along are you? I mean, like, when do you think you got pregnant?"

"Uhm," she said, thinking as she spun in her chair. Today she was wearing a miniskirt and dark leggings, and her hand found a resting place immediately on the tummy of her striped top, underneath the two fat, heavy breasts that bloated the stripes around her torso. "I think about a month, now? According to my doctor, we conceived a month ago."

"Huh," Morris said, trying to act like he was just bored. "And you're already showing a little? Isn't that weird?"

Tina just beamed. "The doctor says it's probably because I have multiples!"

Morris' heart fluttered, but he managed to only tweak his eyebrows. "Wow, really? That's crazy. I didn't realize they could affect when you show that much."

"I know, right? I don't know if that means I just have twins or what! Maybe it's more!" She playfully grabbed at her chest, weighing one large breast in each hand. "I'll at least have a lot to feed them with."

Rolling his eyes, Morris hoped that his dick was carefully hidden beneath his desk, because the boner he was getting watching her tits undulate in that stretched-out top was more than enough to almost set him off, let alone the idea that his tiny coworker was possibly pregnant with more than twins. Hell, maybe more than triplets: his obsession with pregnancies left him with the knowledge that most bellies didn't start to show until the second or even third month.

"If you could feed twins, I could feed an army," Felicia joked as she leaned in the threshold of their adjoining offices. Morris' spying eye turned on her, now, sizing up his hot Filipina coworker in the tropical sundress she was wearing. She was definitely filling up more of the doorway than usual, but it was so hard to tell with her mammoth breasts, both of them weighing down to her belly button, eclipsing her body. Morris had to look for other tells: the softness of her arms, the roundness of her face. She had to be putting on weight, especially with all of the sweets and pastries she was eating. Finally she turned, with a wink, and sauntered back to her desk, revealing that her butt was far from the large-but-toned classification that Felicia had previously qualified for. There was more than a few pounds packed on there, although her huge swinging breasts were trying to distract from it.

The question was how aware was Felicia about her pounds packing on? It wasn't exactly something Morris could ask about; besides, he might orgasm just by asking her "are you spontaneously gaining weight?" It definitely wasn't something Felicia would normally rejoice in, either, as Morris could distinctly recall her swapping diet tips with Alex not too long ago.

Morris got his answer only a bit later. Now that he was paying attention, there was a little too much enjoyment being generated on Felicia's end while she munched on a box of doughnut holes. First the small pastry would be popped into her mouth, her eyelids closing for a moment before opening to reveal that her eyes had rolled back into her head. Her lips would sensuously move around the small ball of dough, tongue flitting out to capture stray powdered sugar. Then her fingers, still lightly dusted, would be licked clean as Felicia's mouth quivered in joy. Meanwhile her other hand was busy beneath her breasts, and while Morris at first imagined that she was somehow pleasuring herself while she was eating, he was able to catch a glimpse while excusing himself to the water cooler and saw that she was instead massaging her stomach.

Her round, soft stomach. A far cry from the taut and firm six-pack that Felicia had sported on a few of the warmer days just last month.

So Felicia was gaining weight and loving it, probably as much as twenty or thirty pounds since... well, since whenever this had all started. Three weeks? Four? Her enormous breasts, still not quite resting in her lap, had succeeded at distracting from anything else. Tina was pregnant with multiples, her stomach bound to begin surging out at any time. What about the other girls?

Sasha was in her office, quiet as usual, although today she was wearing some kind of beanie. Her breasts were larger, but nothing unusual there. Morris wondered what it was like for her son, who was around fifteen. Eh, he was probably in heaven with cheerleaders, completely distracted from his mother's double-handful sized tits.

Sarah was still dressing up in her suits, although the skirts were definitely a marked difference. Morris wasn't sure if he had ever seen her in a skirt before the boobpocalypse happened. Was it an attempt to be sexier?

Alex was... well, now that Morris looked at her, she had been acting pretty strange lately. Giggly one moment, then somber and sleepy the next. She was also the one most likely to play with her boobs, although they were the smallest in the office. Other than that, no physical changes Morris could see. Her light brown hair was normal-colored, so no blueberry effects, her ears poking out of it like normal—

—oh, shit. Her ears. They were pointed, weren't they?

Morris would have definitely noticed before, and while just a few days earlier he would have brushed it off as just a trick of the light, now he wasn't so sure.

Holy fuck, something had to be going on. There were a lot of things pointed ears could mean on a girl, but Morris couldn't think of one that didn't turn him on.

Scarlett was right. There was something strange, and it must have had to do something with Morris.

And he would think about it as soon as he was able to jack off and get these images out of his head.

***

Saturday morning Morris woke up to news that all over the west coast were stories just like the cowgirl, many of them saying that they only reported themselves to a doctor because they saw something strange was happening to other women. Some of them were only there after being talked into it by their spouses or male friends; an alarming similarity between all of the stories was how most of them seemed pretty pleased with their changes.

But oh, were there changes.

Women who were, after an ultrasound, revealed to be pregnant with octuplets. A statistically abnormal amount of women, considering the news was saying the normal chances of octuplets was "one in forty-four trillion."

Women who had put on up to fifty pounds in just a few weeks, some of them with the weight only in their butts, or only in their stomachs.

Women who, for no apparent reason, were now lactating up to a cup a day.

And those were the more normal ones.

There were more cowgirls, at least one more blueberry. There was a girl who now had three sets of breasts, the other four appearing in a row down her torso, first as nipples, but by now as at least B-cups and growing. There were at least three girls who had sprouted tails in the past few weeks, two of them with fur that matched their hair colors, one that was not. To Morris' delight, even a few cases of women suddenly putting on several pounds of muscle without lifting a single weight were popping up, although their relation to the other cases, according to the scientists, was not for sure. Morris knew differently.

All of these were related to things that Morris had, at one time or another, and sometimes extremely frequently, masturbated to. At this point there were only a few more "unusual" things left on Morris' checklist.

And these were just the ones on the news, as the articles stated that doctors were being surprised by women who weren't bothering to report their changes. 

It was all extremely tailored, and, he had to admit, so extremely hot.

And yet, after Morris had his morning wank, there was something bothering him. All of these women seemed to like what was happening to them a little too much.

It almost made him feel like he was betraying his team, his population of one that loved all of these specific fantasies. After all, when he imagined women in his life suddenly gaining an hourglass figure so exaggerated they couldn't walk, didn't he always imagine them loving it? When he read stories about girls who found the secret to increasing their bust size, didn't he especially love it when they grew obsessed with only getting bigger and bigger? This was a dream come true!

And yet there was that niggling part of his mind that insisted there was no way Felicia would have been that happy with putting on some pounds, with having tits that large, if there wasn't something else going on. Something potentially devious.

He had been trying to block it out from his mind, to just enjoy life while it gradually became closer and closer to paradise, but it was getting all too real, now.

Morris was so lost in thought that he almost forgot about his lunch date with Janey. Once he fished his pants back up from the floor, he saw that she had texted him only a few minutes prior, telling him to meet her across town at the mall in just twenty minutes. Frantically Morris shoved his unraveled dick into his boxers, trailing cum, and pulled the rest of his clothes on before running for the elevator.

Fifteen minutes and two run red lights later Morris was at the Lloyd Center mall.

Mecca of America.

It was the most crowded place Morris had been in since this whole crazy mess had started. Heck, probably the most people in one spot since his afternoon down at the Waterfront, just after his breakup. And it was extra-crowded that day. Or maybe it was just all of the extra space that the huge tits every single woman had taking up space.

And there was a lot of tit there.

Gaggles of teenagers, all of them giggling and arm-in-arm so that their pumpkin-sized breasts rubbed against each other. Old women gracefully stepping so that their soft, sagging melons didn't quiver as much as their ankles. College girls in the largest bikinis Morris had ever seen showing off the stretched and fading tattoos on their four-pound tits. One breast-feeding mom was struggling to get her newborn to latch on to the shot glass of a nipple on her enormous beach ball of a blue-veined breast.

And almost everything they were wearing looked like it was only getting tighter. Not just their tops: Morris saw more muffin-tops that day than he had seen at all since about 2003, more than a few girls were exaggerating their firm and slightly protruding bellies, and at least two pairs of jeans had been ripped in the back to allow short, fuzzy tails to stick out.

Things were changing.

The worst part was probably Morris' boner. It had come back full force not five minutes after his last jerkoff session when he had seen a policewoman struggling to button her uniform top as her breasts, both of them larger than her head, struggled equally to expose their lacy and no-doubt expensive supportive garment, and it hadn't gone since. Everyone's eyes felt like they were on him, and he wasn't sure that was paranoia. A twenty-something woman, her ears slightly pointed, pecked at her boyfriend before eye-fucking Morris. A swarm of college girls giggled and winked when he passed by. Even a pair of soccer moms, laughing and slapping each other on the arm, gave him a lingering once-over when he neared the food court. The strange part was that, though Morris was getting adept at detecting someone eying up his groin, none of their eyes went below his waist: all of them seemed strangely attracted to just Morris in general.

It was kind of a relief when he spotted Janey in the food court, picking at a salad, and she only briefly glanced at him. "Hey, dude," she said.

"Hi," he replied, slotting into the chair. There was a moment of silence.

"So, uh," Janey said at last, crunching at a crouton. "You getting something?"

Morris thought about it. "I guess I'm not that hungry." She laughed.

"Some lunch! Normally it's the girl finding excuses not to eat in front of the guy."

He had to smile at that. "I guess that's true. Sorry to disappoint you."

She laughed again, and Morris' heart leapt. He really liked this girl. He wasn't sure what it was about her; the way she found everything funny, the way she didn't get weirded out by how awkward he was, or maybe it was just that she was very attractive and seemed attracted to him. It didn't hurt that she had great tits, today mostly covered under a t-shirt/long-johns combo, that bounced and cavorted with every minor movement of her body.

"So anyway," Janey said, as if they had been talking at great lengths, "how about, you know, it all?"

"What all?"

She rolled her eyes, a whole-body movement that didn't just cause her boobs to roll, but also her long red hair to flip with it. "IT all. The boobs, the udders, the tails, I guess? Everything!"

"It's pretty crazy," Morris said, poker-faced.

"Oh, come on," she said, winking. "You love it, don't you?"

It was Morris' turn to laugh as he realized he wouldn't be able to lie for very long. "You know, you're the first person to ask me that? I work entirely with women, all of them, I'm pretty sure, very affected by whatever is going on here, and none of them have asked me if I like it."

"It's kind of a breast-man's dream."

Morris decided to lay the cards on the table. She seemed glib enough, and not in a way that weirded him out like with his coworkers. "It was pretty much my dream for a long time."

"Really?" Instead of the disgust or disappointment that Morris always imagined when he admitted things like this, or even husky horniness as he might expect recently, Janey just looked interested, leaning in so that her pillowy breasts squished against the edge of the table. "I honestly thought guys figured boobs over a certain size were gross!"

"Well not me, baby!" Morris said, mock-confident as he leaned back into his folded hands. "I wanted them as big as I could get!"

"And now that you've won the lottery, Mister Morris," Janey said, putting on a fake news reporter voice, "what are you going to do nooooowwww?"

Morris shrugged, deciding to tell the truth. "Masturbate constantly?"

The timing was perfect, and she cackled hysterically, catching a few looks from the crowded cafeteria. Morris laughed with her, unable to contain himself. But his eyes were on her: the way she wrinkled her nose, the way her entire body went into every movement, the way she seemed almost naive in her confidence. None of the bravado and on-purpose sexiness of Scarlett, even though she was very sexy.

"Anyway," Janey continued when she calmed down, "isn't it just really, really weird? The boobs I could handle, but now all of this other stuff. I don't know." She shook her head. "It's just weird."

Morris shrugged. "I don't think anybody isn't saying it's weird."

"But no!" she said, leaning in and talking in a conspiratorial whisper. "That's the weirdest part! Sure, lots of people are saying it's weird, but in more of a 'Huh! I just found twenty dollars!'-weird way. Like it's odd but not really strange or bad!"

It was almost exactly what Morris had been thinking about that morning, almost exactly what had been burning in his mind for the past month. "I know exactly what you mean. My coworker, who isn't even married, is extremely excited that she might be pregnant with more than triplets. I have another one who is just packing on the pounds and she just seems to get more and more happy."

Janey's eyes lit up. "Oh my god, thank you! Thank you! I thought I was going crazy! You seemed like the one sane person in this entire city."

"Well," Morris snarked, "this is Portland."

"Fine, in the entire world! The news has those scientists on, but now that everyone in the world is being affected, they seem less concerned. Like it's supposed to happen! And don't get me wrong, I really love my new tits. I mean, I really, really love them." She took a moment to look fondly down at her bulging chest. "But buying new clothes and L-cup bras is getting expensive, and I don't know if I'd be able to handle suddenly having the rest of my body changing. I mean, I've heard about girls..." For the first time, she blushed.

Morris' ears perked up. "What? What have you heard?"

"Just weird stuff. Rumors. But my coworker claimed that a girl she knows in San Diego can suddenly fit a lot more... inside herself." Her blushed faded once she said it. "But others are growing more tits! And these blueberry girls, what the hell is with that?"

"I, uh, don't know."

"All I'm saying is, more people need to be freaked out, and not just us."

"Y-yeah," Morris said. What was wrong with him? Too guilty to even think about responding to the weird come-ons of the girls he works with, but then not wanting to really agree when someone wants to freak out?

He guessed he did think it was concerning. Just, you know, too good to want to freak out about.

Janey must have read something on his face, because her eyes narrowed for just a tiny moment, but then she moved on. "Anyway, this has been a lousy first date, huh?"

Morris popped back to reality. "This was a date, then? What about the time with the hot chocolate?"

She flapped a hand. "Oh, that was just a warm-up. To make sure I liked you despite you being kind of a weirdo in the elevator."

"Glad you liked what you saw."

She rolled her eyes again, before standing up with her tray. "Come on. Want to come pick out yet more clothes with me? Scavenge what we can from the 'medium-sized bust, small frame' pile?"

"Medium?" Morris said. "Has the average really moved that much?"

"Boy, you have no idea," she said.

***

"Thanks for all of your help today," Janey said several hours later, as he walked her back to her car. "Seems silly we'll be driving back to the same apartment in separate cars."

"What can you do?" Morris said. "Be thankful you can at least reach the steering wheel around your chest."

"No kidding!" There was a slight hint of a blush at that idea, though, one Morris quickly filed away. He had noticed that in their afternoon together: whenever the idea of her being bigger came up, Janey definitely seemed a little excited at the idea. But, unlike all of the other women Morris had interacted with, she didn't seem okay with just letting the world know. She acted like it was an embarrassing secret, one she felt guilty about.

Morris knew all too well how that went as he once more adjusted his crotch to a more stealthy position. "I had a great day today," he said while they made their way across the parking lot. "It's nice to know that someone else thinks this is all more strange than anyone else is making it out to be."

"Again," she laughed, "no kidding. It's great they all love it so much! It really is. But it makes me almost uncomfortable." She stopped next to a red pickup and got out her keys.

"I know exactly what you mean. About being uncomfortable, I mean."

"Yeah?" she asked, leaning a little towards him. She licked her lips. They were full and red and stood out from her pale, freckled face. Morris wasn't sure if she wanted him to kiss her or not. He had been out of this game for so long.

But her eyes said to go for it. So he did.

It wasn't a very long kiss. Longer than a peck, shorter than a French. But then Janey pulled away with a strangely apologetic expression. "I'll see you around, big guy," she said, climbing into her car.

"Bye," Morris barely breathed, watching as she pulled out of her spot.

No, she wasn't pregnant with twenty babies, or pulling around a butt that could get stuck in doorways, or flashing a tail out from under her skirt. But she was smart, and funny, and cute, and, above all, sane.

And somehow all of that just made Morris' dick harder. Then again, most things did these days.

***

It was two more weeks before Morris saw Janey again. Not even a chance encounter in the elevator got him a good look at her cute body and delicious tits, her glowing red hair resting on the shelf of a bosom that she now had. They had traded phone numbers, so texting was now considered legal on both sides of the field, and they exchanged a few brief conversations, but mostly just confirmed that she was too busy for them to meet up.

Instead Morris was left with a ton of free time to confirm exactly what he had suspected about his coworkers, and to jack off, and to fight against the growing feeling of guilt at how much pleasure he was experiencing at the hands of everyone else's misfortune.

Not that any of them saw themselves as unfortunate. Jesus, it was clear that every woman in Morris' life was falling into a deep well of erotic excitement, centered around however her body was changing.

Tina was the most obvious, mostly because Morris worked with her almost every minute of every day while at work, and she was getting more and more easily distracted as time went on. He would be trying to go over some code with her and realize that she was too busy stroking the soft skin of her stomach, wrapping her hands around the firm little belly, gauging how big she was and how big she would get. Morris could see the gears turning in her head as she tried to imagine where she would be in nine months, and it would be positively huge. Considering that in a little over a month and a half she had gone from a completely flat tummy to a round bowl that most women wouldn't experience until their fourth or fifth month, Morris tried not to imagine her having trouble even getting out of bed, but it was so hard.

Of course, with Tina there was a hard line for how big she would get, assuming she didn't become overdue. With cases like Felicia, who by now had put on at least sixty pounds and didn't appear to be slowing, she may not have stopped after just nine months. By the time Tina gave birth Felicia might quadruple her own body weight. Then again, Morris guessed that Felicia was eating more and more every day, if the rate at which new piles of sweets and breads and pastries were renewed and then disappeared was any indicator. Before it seemed that Felicia wasn't ever not eating something, now it seemed like she was putting doughnuts and sandwiches and "leftover" spaghetti away at an even faster pace, nearly swallowing them whole. All of these effects were going straight to her waist and hips as well, with her fat tummy outlined in all of her tightening dresses, her wagging behind plumping up every day. Morris had heard her admitting in a stage whisper that all of her jeans, at size 18, no longer fit, and that she was pushing past the 210 pound range.

There had been an odd amount of pride in Felicia's voice, as well, one that all of the women seemed to have for their various maladies. Tina's glowing satisfaction at the brood forming in her stomach was only matched by the happy blush on Felicia's fattening cheeks when receiving a compliment on how healthy she looked. With the revelation that catgirls existed, Alex had started dressing in skimpier outfits, and didn't suppress the urge to groom herself at her desk. She had also cut holes in all of her shorts, to let the tail that she had sprouted playfully wiggle in the air. Even Sasha, normally so shy, had stopped hiding the fact that not only was she completely reforming an encyclopedia's worth of code in their company's library, but was giving all of the credit to what appeared to be a literally swollen head. Rather than hiding it under knit caps anymore, she had announced in heavily-accented English that her brain, and skull by necessity, appeared to be growing at a rate of 1.5% every week. Morris hadn't really been able to tell if her head was bigger through her pixie haircut, but it was definitely true that the middle-aged woman's forehead looked larger, and the results of their software's speed increase was impossible to deny.

The only one that remained possibly unchanged was Sarah. Ever the dignified executive, she continue to dress in fancy skirt suits and tight blazers, and it was only when Morris spoke to her that her face appeared to grow bright red before she excused herself to the bathroom.

Then again, women becoming extremely aroused around Morris was something he was slowly growing used to.

It had started as small things: Tina suddenly spinning in her chair in strange excitement when Morris entered the room, Felicia accidentally rubbing against his shoulder as she walked past with heavier footsteps than normal. Each day, though, it seemed like one of his coworkers went a bit further than before: Alex's tawny, furry tail dragging across his shoulder-blades, Felicia loudly announcing that her pants were too tight to keep zipped up that day, Tina resting her ballooned breasts against his neck while she acted like she wanted to see what he was working on.

And oh, the breasts. The tits. The knockers. God were they good. It was saying something that Alex was still the smallest in the office while her tits rested somewhere between "honeydews" and "volleyballs". Hers at least appeared to have finally stopped growing, although she did love to paw at them when otherwise unoccupied. Felicia's weight gain meant that a percentage of every pound she put on went into the soft, fleshy funbags on the front of her body, and Tina insisted she was still growing, as well, although no milk was being produced yet. Even Sarah's chest was impossible for her to hide anymore, with her fancy jackets instead draping off of the watermelons down her shirt.

The internet claimed that the breast growth epidemic was coming to an end, being replaced instead by a skyrocketing sex drive and strange and weird, but undeniably pleasurable, transformations.

And the guilt just piled up in Morris' mind.

It didn't matter that Tina was making plans to take care of all of her babies, or that Felicia talked about her growing weight like a sports team's scores, or that Audi, the maintenance girl in his apartment, loved that she was putting on more muscle than she could deal with, or that the mom on the street with the four breasts was animatedly talking about the new clothes she got, or that there were reports of a woman downtown being rushed to a hospital when her knees suddenly reversed position, despite her insistence that everything "just felt right" to her. Those things weren't normal for those women to enjoy, and somehow it was Morris' fault.

This was all too... perfect, really. It was all exact, all things he had fantasized about before. Women pregnant with up to a dozen babies, their stomachs growing out past their knees while they spewed streams of milk. Women eating themselves into immobility, orgasming just at how full they were. Women growing enormous breasts that interfered with their everyday life. Women becoming more buff than any male bodybuilder. Heck, those were tame compared to the ones in his "miscellaneous" folder: women expanding in every direction as they puff up into a ball of pleasuring juice, or dragging a bulging udder on the ground in front of their fat hindquarters, or looking down in amazement as their labia swell too large to be contained in their pants. And yet all of these, even the fantasies that Morris rarely admitted he dreamed of to himself, were being reported in the news. Not a single one had been mentioned that Morris didn't directly have evidence of on his computer.

It was like some outside force had plucked this from Morris' mind and forced it onto the rest of the universe. There was almost no other explanation.

The one person who seemed immune to acting in some stereotypically fantastic manner was Janey. Instead of subtly turning the conversation to how much she was enjoying her new breasts, or the lotions she was going to rub on her body when she got home, or how wet she got just from touching her bare skin, she and Morris instead texted about annoying projects, or dumb TV shows, or the weather.

And that got him a completely guilt-free, happy-to-be-here, holy-shit-it's-huge foot-long erection.

Just imagining Janey acting like a real person instead of an oversexed fap story made his pants grow too tight to handle, and Morris would have to excuse himself to the bathroom, where he would stand in front of the toilet, knees locked, one hand supporting himself as he leaned forward and aimed his turgid, swollen cock into the bowl. His normal modus-operandi of jacking it while sitting on the seat had been permanently retired at least an inch ago, when he had first been unable to get his dick down under the lip of the bowl, no matter how far he scooted back. Besides, Morris didn't like the way his huge, swollen balls swung down there near the water as he uncontrollably bucked with each stroke of his hand along the Coke-can thickness of his cock.

It was clear that all of the women in his office, even the ones in hard, long-term, loving relationships, were flirting strongly with him. It was clear that if Morris reciprocated in any way, they would probably go for it: they would unzip his jeans, unleashing the monster they all knew existed, and have their way with him while he came like a fire hose.

But Morris also knew, in an instinctual way, that it would be wrong to do so. That letting himself give in to his urges could get himself lost in what the world was becoming. Even if it wasn't cheating, even if they were single, there was something wrong about it.

Besides, who he really wanted was Janey. And none of these women were her.

Of course, that didn't make living with it any easier. As the sixth week of the Sexpocalypse came to a conclusion, Morris knew that he needed some kind of boost to keep him going. Especially when he got a text on Friday morning from Scarlett.

It was a selfie in the mirror, with Scarlett's naked body on display from hips to head, her phone nestled between her two huge and pert breasts. They were almost completely spherical despite there being no bra in sight, and both about a foot and a half in diameter. Their enormous size didn't quite hide the round and glossy tummy beneath them, Scarlett's belly-button the only pockmark on an otherwise perfect dome of a belly, weighing down between two wide, smooth hips that belied an enormous, round ass.

And all of her, with the exception of her dark violet nipples, was a bright, fruity blue.

"You can juice me ;)" was the accompanying text, and Morris needed no interpretation. The desire was obvious in her low-resolution eyes, in her dark magenta tongue that was licking one juicy midnight blue lip. And while Morris was able to send a themed joke back himself ("Sorry babe; find yourself a banana-shaped vibrator"), his heart wasn't in it. That weird part of his brain that found the idea of a girl fattening up and rounding out into a blueberry was almost louder than the part of his brain that found the concept of having sex with a woman who otherwise probably did not want to have sex with him repulsive.

He dressed and headed for work, and when the elevator doors opened to reveal that the new-and-improved Audi was already on it, he almost waited for the next trip before swallowing his horniness and stepping on.

It was a mistake.

"Hey," she said, and there was a weird growl in her voice. Morris tried not to look at her, but there were mirrors in the elevator on every wall, so he couldn't help it. He couldn't help seeing that she had tied the top of her jumpsuit around her waist, revealing that the white tank-top she was wearing would soon rip to shreds from her bulging, corded back. That her arms were approaching the size of Arnold Schwarzenegger's. That her core looked like liquid steel. That her huge tits were almost nothing compared to the plates of muscle they rested on.

"Uh, hey. Audi, right?"

She smiled. "You know it is." Her swollen traps were doing this weird twitching thing, causing the fabric of her ribbed top to tighten and loosen. "You know what else? I'm missing a tool from this toolbox." She shook the heavy steel box for emphasis, and Morris saw that it looked like an empty lunchbox in her strong grasp.

"Oh, uh, that's too bad."

"Not really," she said, taking a step towards him. The muscles in her legs tightened the men's size jumpsuit to its maximum, threads straining. "Because I think you have it hidden in your pants." Her arm was coming for Morris' groin and he had no idea what to do. He both wanted what was about to happen and feared for it at the same time. There was no way he'd be able to resist this girl, either physically or mentally, and if she wanted something, she'd be able to force it.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened and Morris took his chances to get out. Despite his brain firing like he was in a nightmare, no strong feminine hand grabbed his shoulder as he left. He glanced back, despite all instincts telling him not to, and saw a hungry look in the blonde's eyes as she casually leaned back against the elevator. "I'll see you around, Frank," Audi said.

"Holy fuck" was all Morris was able to say on the way to work. That was insane! Nobody had come on to him that hard in his life! And god, did he want it. He didn't care that his raging erection was making a fool of him as his dick pounded with his heartbeat down his pants, almost painfully redirected along his leg. He had just needed to get out of there.

Walking into his office with a ranging erection yanking his leg constantly upward turned out to be a huge mistake, one he had managed to avoid for the past few weeks by masturbating immediately before going to work and averting his eyes from the growing population of sexy freaks on the streets. He had been able to avoid, thank god, a boner from the picture of Scarlett only due to ejaculating just prior to receiving it, but the confrontation with Audi had given his dick some terrible ideas.

Sarah and Alex were casually chatting in the front of the office, but as Morris half-limped into the room both of them trailed off, their eyes drawn downward to what appeared to be a forearm hidden down the front of Morris' jeans. Alex squeaked once her eyes traced the enormous, twelve-and-a-half inch outline, her pointed ears twitching back in surprise. Sarah, meanwhile, clasped her hands tightly in front of her legs, dropping the notepad she had been clutching without batting an eye.

"Uh," Morris said, trying to look around while doing his own crotch-covering motions. "Sorry, ladies," he said, but he was already being pushed aside as Sarah darted down the hallway to the bathrooms, the diamond-hard tips of her gallon-sized breasts almost tearing through her tight shirt, her steps a hurried mince in the tight, knee-length pencil skirt she was wearing. Morris made to follow her, tearing his eyes away from the furry tail that had appeared between Alex's legs and was wrapping itself around her thigh in excitement. If he could just take care of this problem before too much attention was drawn to him, he would be able to get to work and avoid all other problems.

—but no. Both bathrooms were taken. It must have been someone from the office downstairs, coming up to use theirs while Sarah... relieved herself.

Okay. Morris could handle this. He had gotten plenty of boners at work before, and had hidden them fairly well. Obviously he had, or there wouldn't have been all of this excitement over a single lingering look. He just needed to get back to his desk, sit down, and work. Maybe flex his thighs a few times.

The slow walk past Sasha's office was impossible. He gave a smile and a brief wave at the graying Russian, noting that it did look like her hair was thinning; the bulbous shape of her head was becoming more apparent. God, however this sexpocalypse had found out about that fetish was a wonder in itself. Morris had maybe three pictures of it, all of them lame drawings.

Her turned the corner to his office and nearly tore a hole in his pants.

Felicia and Tina were together on the office couch, the smaller girl's round, naked, pregnant belly on display underneath a blue top that only just held in her round, lightly-veined breasts. She had on a pair of green cargo shorts and purple tights, and one leg was up on in Felicia's lap. A lap that was definitely softer than it had been at 210 pounds: Felicia had to have put on at least twenty since that bold announcement, as her soft belly was tightly pushing against her thin, floral-patterned sundress, her thick thighs pressing together as her wide bottom sank into the couch cushions, her enormous tits, together more than an armful, squashing underneath Tina's otherwise rail-thin body.

And they were leaning into each other, their lips parted, their eyes mostly-closed...

But Morris entered the room and any hints of a kiss disappeared when both of the women's eyes snapped open and they honed in on their target: Morris' crotch.

Tina licked her lips.

"Uh, hi, girls," he said.

Felicia swallowed and worked her jaw as Tina extricated herself, pressing her shorts-clad legs together. "Hi, Morris," she said. But she didn't exactly say it, she more moaned it. Groaned it. There was need in how she said it, something Morris never would have expected.

"I guess you caught us in a compromising position," Tina said in a smaller, cuter voice. One that was almost trying too hard. Morris realized both of her small hands were on her prominent stomach, holding the taught flesh. "Anything you want to do about it?"

Morris blinked. "What?"

"I think they need to be punished," Alex said. She had appeared just a yard away from Morris, and her eyes were sparking with something.

"No, not punished," Felicia continued, now standing up. Parts of her wiggled with motion as she did so, parts that made Morris' dick flood with blood. "Maybe just... calmed down."

"Calmed down?"

"Yeah," Tina agreed, winking at Morris. "I think we just have a little too much energy. We've been working so hard for the past few weeks. And with all of these changes..."

"Good changes," Sasha tossed in from her doorway.

Tina nodded vigorously, making her milk-laden tits bounce. "Oh, so good. But still tiring."

"That's true, they're tiring. Stressful." Alex's mischievous glint hadn't disappeared. "I think you should do something about it, Morris. As the man of the office."

Morris looked at all four faces, all of them flush with lust. "The man of the office?" he repeated. "Sarah's in charge. I'm just a developer."

Sasha glanced down the hall at the bathrooms. "Sarah is... indisposed." As if in agreement, a squealing moan of pleasure came from the women's restroom, one that made everything in Morris scream in excitement and anticipation.

Fuck. These women were going to tear him apart, just to get at his throbbing, precum-leaking dick.

And Morris lost it.

"What the hell is this?" he asked. "Why are you acting this way?" All four women looked taken aback. "I know that you're all going through changes," he said, walking to his desk and throwing his bag down, "but we have work to do, clients to take care of. This is frankly falling close to sexual harassment."

All of them looked abashed, and, blushing, the tension evaporated from each woman in turn. "Sorry, Morris," Felicia said, "it has to be these weird hormones."

Morris shook his head. "That's all right. Believe me, I know how crazy it is right now."

They all chuckled at that, and headed to their desks.

Morris sat down, trying not to show how hard he was breathing. It had taken all of his strength to pull the sexual harassment card, to resist tearing his pants off and reaching for the nearest bulging breast. But that would have been wrong. So, so wrong. Not just because this was their workplace, and they were all colleagues, but, essentially, their embarrassed reactions after his rebuff told Morris all he needed to know: these actions were not their normal actions. Anything he did would potentially conflict with their real characters. And whatever this was that was making them act this way was easily stopped.

But that didn't make his erection go away. Not at all.

***

Morris left work a few hours early that day, citing a headache, and there were a few embarrassed goodbyes from around the office. His outburst had seemed to shock them all into sanity for at least one workday—he would have to see how they were after a weekend with their various boyfriends and significant others.

Speaking of which, although he had managed to sneak away to drain his pipes a few times throughout the day, it felt like after that morning's excitement there was nothing that was calming Morris' dick down enough.

He decided to see what Janey had been up to, and in a few text messages found that, finally, she had a night free. Which gave Morris a few hours to finally travel down to the store and pick up some new pants.

It was a problem he had been trying to avoid, with little success. The fact of the matter was that he not only was unable to hide his new huge dick in his pants, but it was frankly becoming painful at times. Half of the blame Morris could place firmly on his new, swollen balls. Both of them had been growing along with his enormous, vascular tool, and were about the size of ripe, oblong plums, hanging in heavy, soft sacs that only drew up at the base of his two-inch thick cock when he was just about to cum. And frankly, with room in his jeans and boxers already being taken up by more and more of his fat penis, which condensed down to an astounding seven inches soft, Morris was feeling the pressure on his sensitive balls grow stronger every day. The jockey shorts could stretch fine, but the tough fabric of his jeans were making him a little concerned with bruising.

This concern was only outlined on the drive to Old Navy. Each shift of the gears, every step on the brakes or accelerator forced his most sensitive organs to react in ways that were not often pleasant. And when Morris turned to peek through the drizzle at his neighbor at a stoplight and found a woman licking an ice cream cone with a tongue that was at least twice as long as any tongue had a right to be, using the tiny, agile point to clean any dribbles from the shelf of the breasts in front of her, well, he had even less space to work with in his groin.

Trying his best to not let anyone view the ramrod running down his leg, Morris grabbed a bunch of loose-fit jeans and fast-walked to the changing room. He didn't know if he wanted pants that were longer, wider, or both. Heck, the more room the better, especially since his growth didn't seem to be slowing. He just didn't want them too loose, or he would have the same problem he would encounter if he started wearing sweatpants: give his boner too much room, and the tent would be too obvious to hide.

Maybe there was something in the idea of wearing compression shorts underneath something looser. He would keep that in mind if the party in his pants grew even more cumbersome. After all, pretending that all was normal was what was stopping him from being picked up by the same scientists that were interested in women with the more odd changes.

As he waited in line, his new purchases artfully held below his stomach in a casual grasp, Morris pondered his situation. Despite all of the craziness happening on a global scale, he was pretty sure that he was a unique case: everyone else affected was universally female. Unless, of course, every single guy also growing a huge cock was hiding it in the same way that Morris was. It certainly wasn't anyone else in the store, at least; a quick glance at the crotches of the various males trying on close-fitting jeans could tell him that, if they were experiencing any growth, it wasn't as much as him. Meanwhile Morris had just purchased three pairs of jeans that were six inches longer, just so he could have those few precious inches in the groin to stop him from rupturing something.

Once he was safely back into his car, shaking the water from his head, Morris erupted into a fit of giggles. It was almost a specific fantasy of his: having to deal with a cock so big that he had to buy new clothes just to help manage it. His own embarrassment was practically part of what turned him on, with his dick rapidly approaching a size that would make small children point out the bulge in his pants to their parents.

Fuck he was so goddamn horny. Luckily Janey seemed to be in a similar boat, as she proposed they stay in and watch some TV shows instead of anything too serious. Anxious to have some kind of sexual activity that didn't exclusively involve his hands, Morris tried on his new pants and, with his excitement growing, was able to ensure that his overgrown dick wasn't too obvious in either soft or hard state. Even when completely run out to the full twelve-and-a-half inches, he was able to direct his huge cock down his leg and mostly function with only a few hints to the rock-hard muscle underneath the denim.

His nerves jumping, Morris was at last able to get his erection under control after a few good jerkoffs, which would hopefully also help him last a little longer should it come to full-on intercourse, and tried to steady himself as he walked across the hall that evening and knocked on Janey's door.

"Holy shit" was all he said when she answered it.

Janey's grin almost cut her head in two. "I thought you said you always loved huge boobs."

But her boobs were beyond the size normally thought of as "huge" or at least normal two months prior. Rather than the L-cups that she had been squishing against the cafeteria table just two weeks ago, Janey's sleeveless blouse instead was wrapped around two watermelons of breast that surely were at the end of the alphabet if not past it. Every movement she made cast ripples and jiggles down them and they wobbled to-and-fro in front of her as she leaned back.

"I do," Morris had to admit, straight-faced. "I just... all of the girls I work with stopped growing at least a week ago."

"Well," Janey said, flipping her ponytail back over her shoulder and giving him a seductive eye. "I guess I'm not other girls."

They decided that getting some cheap takeout was in order before they set down on the couch, and the elevator ride gave Morris more opportunity to see Janey in action. She was still that conflicting ball of shyness and boldness that attracted Morris, she was just a little more careful in her movements, albeit with some mishaps. As they got off of the elevator her heel popped out of one of her pumps, prompting Janey to stand on one leg for a split-second longer than she probably should have. She went from an elegantly-walking twenty-something, in hip-hugging capris and a sexy new blouse, to a staggering pile of boob, grabbing on to her prodigious chest with both hands to stop it from shaking while she found her footing. Morris, left holding on to the mislaid shoe with a sheepish grin, tried not to stare at the huge indentations that had appeared under her fingers, and instead helped her get her foot ready for the short walk once more.

She was so busy with it that nobody had a chance to see Morris adjust the hardening load in his pants, grateful that he had picked up something that fit.

The few blocks they walked to the Chinese place was fraught with slight breast bumps, embarrassed and excited blushes, and many, many mental notes taken on Morris' part. For instance, the fact that he couldn't just see Janey's boobs from behind, but they were also at the perfect level for him to grab if he wanted to. Or how much Janey seemed to love them. Or how, even ignoring the breasts, she was easy to talk to.

"I realized that I don't even know what you do," Morris said. "I mean, you had to get off of work, but what is your work?"

She laughed. "I work downtown at PSU, in the registrant's office."

"Oh yeah? Paperwork galore?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," she sighed. And as she sighed her tits fell softly with her falling shoulders before bouncing back up. "It's getting tougher to type, too," she added with a wry tinge in her voice.

It was Morris' turn to laugh. "Yeah, my coworkers are having that problem. I predict we start seeing new types of keyboards in the future."

They joked and flirted and almost held hands from the Chinese restaurant back to the apartment, before both of them collapsed on to Janey's sofa with collective sighs. Her tits now resting in her small lap with the box of cheap and tasty noodles plopped into her cleavage, Janey gave an embarrassed laugh. "Uh, would you mind getting the remote? It can be hard to get up."

Morris nodded and laughed with her and fell a little more in love before pressing play.

By the end of the first episode of The IT Crowd their food was all gone, Janey's probably half-digested already to feed her funbags' growth. By the end of the second they were sitting so close to each other that Morris could feel her soft left breast on his thigh, and was grateful that the foot long, red hot iron in his pants was currently resting down his left pant leg. The third wasn't even over by the time they had turned to each other and started kissing.

Scarlett had always been a slow-burn sort of sexy, the kind that teased and brushed and kissed with the lightest of kisses, all while moaning and undressing and flaunting her curves. She had been a super-sexual creature, and she kissed and petted like she was putting on a show, like Morris was going to get bored if it all went too quickly. Janey, by comparison, despite being small and mostly quiet and a little shy, was primal in a way that made Morris' entire body stand at attention.

The first real kiss was almost a slow one before Janey almost attacked him with her mouth, her lips locking over his, her tongue thrusting its way past his teeth. Morris gave back in kind, their tongues fighting for control in between hot, heavy breaths. One of his hands found its way behind her head, the other onto her shoulder, and it was a few long, steamy minutes before either of them parted long enough to say a word.

"Oh my god, I want you so bad," Janey breathed against his cheek before she turned her head and their lips sealed again, punctuated by a small moan of pleasure and want from Janey. She reached up her small hand, around one enormous breast, and pulled Morris' hand off of her shoulder, guiding it to the enormous soft flesh trapped within her taut blouse. Morris dove in with vigor, kneading and stroking the hot, giving flesh. It was heavier than he had anticipated, even with all of the swinging and bouncing he had seen, and it was clear that the bra Janey had on was made of a thick, sturdy material. But it wasn't thick enough to prevent him from being able to tell how soft, how giving the breast was, how deliciously smooth and round. It didn't stop him from tracing his hand down to her huge nipple and squeezing and teasing the area, drawing gasps and exclamations from Janey.

This time without prompting he slipped his free hand in between the canvas-like fabric of her bra and her hot, freckled skin, pushing himself elbow-deep into Janey's shirt to pull his arm and hand along her huge, three-gallon tit. The direct contact between his palm and her soft flesh made him harder than ever, which was only tripled when Janey's hand came down to stroke along his thigh, travelling inward his crotch, squeezing and massaging.

Her hand reached his groin. Her eyes popped open. Her hand felt outward along Morris' left leg, her eyes growing bigger and bigger.

With a pop Janey's tongue retracted into her mouth and her head jerked away from his, a trail of saliva stringing between them before breaking.

"What the SHIT?" she asked.

Morris gave what he hoped was an apologetic grin. "I guess I've been doing some growing, too." But she didn't look even vaguely amused by this. Instead Morris' worse possible fear spread across his would-be lover's face: fear, tinged with disgust.

"You've been growing? You've been growing? Holy fuck, Morris!" She was backing away on the couch, pushing herself with her hands and her bare feet, her knees squeezing her breasts almost into her frightened face.

"I don't know what you're thinking," he said, "but it's not like I can control it! Could you stop your tits?"

"No," she said, "but that's fucking different! Jesus Christ, how huge are you?"

"It's not like I keep a ruler in my—"

"HOW BIG ARE YOU?"

Morris didn't know if he was supposed to be getting mad, but he was almost insulted. What, half of the world's population could change in weird, sexual-fantasy ways, but he couldn't? "A little over a foot," he said, his voice cool.

"A foot? A foot? Like, twelve inches?"

"Yes."

"Holy fucking Christ, Morris, that's almost one fifth of my height! You didn't think to tell me? Have you told anyone?"

"No, but—"

"You have to tell someone! You could die! I mean, where is the blood coming from? And say goodbye to having sex with anyone that isn't made of rubber!" Her lip curled as what Morris was sure were terrible images flooded into her mind.

"You didn't seem as concerned when you told me about your boobs."

"That's because I—oh, god, you like this, don't you? You like it being that big?"

Now Morris' lip curled. "Hell yeah, I like it. It's awesome. It feels good, it looks amazing, and it's still growing, Janey."

She shook her head. "Ugh, you're just like all of the others. I thought you were different, you know? You were the only one weirded out by everything going on. But you're like the rest."

Morris stood up, this time letting his dick outline itself down his pant leg so she could see the thick protrusion. "Not quite, Janey. Because I've always wanted this. I've always dreamed about it. And now it's happening. And you know what else? Every other woman has noticed my fantasy-sized cock and has been drooling all over me. They aren't disgusted or freaked out. And I think I'll go take advantage of that, first chance I get. You're not going to be anything but tits in a few weeks, anyway."

Leaving his leftovers, he walked to the door and slammed it behind him, missing the look of pain and confusion on Janey's face.

But when he got back to his apartment after the short walk down the hall, all of the fury at being rejected left him. No, he didn't want any other woman. They still frightened him, with the ways they had changed in their minds as well as their bodies. He just wanted Janey. He thought she would be accepting, hell, even joyful about his enormous, almost-impractical dick. But instead she had reacted exactly as a real woman should: with fear and disgust. And that was the paradox of this entire situation, wasn't it? She was the only one who didn't seem magically drawn to him, but he was apparently so big that she didn't want any part of him.

The blue balls hanging from his groin like heavy, overripe fruit were paining him, and Morris realized that he hadn't wacked off for at least the past two hours. Pretty much a record for him, when he wasn't sleeping. He sat heavily at his computer to relieve himself, hopefully in time for the pain to go away. Once he was down, though, he didn't need any pictures or text to get him ready to go: the thought of being with Janey alone was enough to make a steady stream of precum dribble from his huge cockhead. Morris reached for the box of XL condoms and found it was empty, just in time to realize that there was no way he'd be able to get up for a new box. The hot, burning signs of an orgasm were building in the base of his cock. If he didn't act fast, he would have a huge mess not just on his hands, but all over his computer and probably in his face.

Without a second thought Morris leaned over and wrapped his mouth, which could still taste Janey, over his cock head.

Before this whole mess had begun, Morris had never given much thought to autofellatio. He had tried a few times as a horny teenager before reading from some successful self-suck artist on the internet that it felt more like sucking a cock than having your cock sucked and had given it up as a stupid dream. But now that he hardly had to bend over to get his dick near his mouth Morris found he was in the perfect position to very easily suck himself off.

And he found that it was amazing.

The hugely endowed man wished he had thought of this before he had grown so big, because even with the spongy, rubbery flesh of his cockhead compressing between his lips, there wasn't much more he could fit of his dick into his mouth. Then again, if he had tried earlier, he may not have been able to reach his cockhead: even now he couldn't do much more than bob his head on the end, feeling a million sensations just from running his lips and tongue over his swollen and engorged cockhead.

That burning sensation at the base of his cock soon exploded into the endless pleasure Morris had grown to expect, and he tensed in anticipation of the flood of jizz that would now be travelling in an almost-endless loop. Remembering what Scarlett had once told him about giving head, he started swallowing even before the semen left his dick, the natural pumping of his hips assisting him.

To Morris' surprise, although it really shouldn't have been, his sperm didn't taste like the bitter, salty stuff that he remembered from when he was an overly-curious kid. Instead it was thick and creamy, almost sweet. It was cloying, though, smelling like sweat and sperm. He had thought that he was coming gallons before, but now that he was being forced to swallow it by his own hand, Morris got a literal taste of what he was dishing up. It probably could have tasted like tar and mayonnaise, though, and Morris would have loved it: it felt that good. So good that his groans of pleasure and orgasm still managed to make their way out of his sealed and swallowing mouth.

His stomach was almost full by the time his orgasm was over.

"Holy fuck, that was good," Morris said to himself. "That guy on the internet can go fuck himself. And so can Janey," he added as an afterthought.

His extreme satisfaction almost managing to mask the letdown from just a few minutes before, and he pulled pajamas on over his deflating tool and went to bed. At least he had managed to avoid blue balls. Maybe now that he was able to suck himself off, his libido would go do.

That night, of course, the wet dreams started.

***

In the morning, as he pulled his still-sopping sheets down to the laundry room, Morris tried to remember the details of his dream. It had been unusually hot, a stupid thing to have to specify about a wet dream but, well, Morris' wet dreams normally weren't very sexual. They just kind of happened. Not that they had occurred for years; probably the last one had been in, what, freshman year of high school? But this. This was strange.

Or it would be, if he wasn't smuggling a foot-long dick in his pants.

There wasn't much of a plot to the dream, not that he could remember. Nothing really making sense. Just... sex. Lots and lots of sex. Sex with all sorts of women, some he knew in real life, some he only knew in the dream. All of them were complete exaggerations of what real women normally looked like: tits so large that all they could do was lean over while Morris rammed them from behind, bellies so big and soft that they were like a giant pillow as Morris' dick slipped in and out, asses pumped up with so much fat that his dream legs went to sleep while they bounced up and down on his dick, pounding away at their cervix. There were cowgirls. Blueberries. Catgirls, and more. There were mermaids and centaurs and torsos positively brimming with fat, heavy breasts.

All of them for Morris. All of them more than willing to take a hold of his enormous, throbbing, needy cock and get filled up with his seed.

Morris sighed as he pulled a load of laundry, containing several bras with cups the size of buckets, out of a washer. It was going to be another long weekend.

***

The following week, at least, went by relatively smoothly. Abashed at his outburst on Friday, all of the girls seemed demure and businesslike. Morris was almost disappointed to find that Tina had stopped wearing her increasingly-revealing clothes and now seemed to have a stock of maternity shirts and loose skirts. Alex mischievously batted an ear at him once or twice, but her tail otherwise kept to itself and her cleavage only revealed an inch or two. And while Felicia's wardrobe did clearly grow tighter as the week went on, it was also clearly not the fault of the new blouses and pants that she seemed to have replaced all of her form-fitting dresses with, but the fault of the positive mountain of food she was consuming.

With less teasing and flirting going on, Morris felt like his work time masturbation was finally getting in check: he normally only felt the need to whack off once every few hours before retiring home to suck himself off a few times like a crazy addict, play some video games, and go to bed. The problem was with the sleep: the wet dreams continued, nightly, now.

They weren't identical. Some nights seemed almost themed: here's what all of the women you know would look like if they were obscenely pregnant, here's all of them with a few thousand extra pounds, that sort of thing. Sometimes they were girls like Tina or Audi or Sarah, sometimes girls he knew growing up, aged up to adulthood, sometimes he didn't recognize them but found them nearly unbearably attractive.

Every time he woke up with a fresh load in his bed. After the second time, Morris started pulling on a condom before nodding off, trusting it to stay on even in a flaccid state. It worked surprisingly well, since he always woke up just after ejaculation and had time to tie off the water balloon of a rubber container, drop it in the trash, and pull another one on just in case. Once a night was his usual pattern, but Morris felt like he needed to be sure.

There was no sign of Janey. Maybe she had changed her schedule so there was no chance of them meeting on the elevator. Maybe he should have texted her. Morris wanted to pretend that he didn't care, but the truth was that he did. She had seemed like an island of sanity in the craziness. Although, with the slight normality regain at the office, Morris supposed he had at least some respite in his life, now.

The next Monday he came into the office feeling like a new man. Sure, maybe he was a little more dead inside, maybe his dick was nearing 14 inches with no stopping in sight, but the girls were being polite and proper, things were falling into a routine, and maybe he could handle everything.

He saw that Austin's light was on in his office, and, realizing that his boss must be back from his vacation, Morris strolled over to welcome him back. He was surprised to see that the balding man had a large plastic box on his desk and was cleaning his drawers out into it.

"Austin?" Morris asked. "What's up?"

"Oh," Austin said, a sneer creeping into his voice. "You." The way he said it threw Morris for a loop: he had always considered Austin a friend, possibly his only guy friend who wasn't Scarlett's friend. Luckily, Austin must have seen the look in Morris' eyes, because his eyebrows twitched and his mouth sagged.

"Morris," he said, "have you met my wife before?"

Another blindsider. Austin's wife? Morris tried to recall. "I think she came down to the Christmas party two years ago, we probably introduced each other. I mean, we always seem to be doing stuff you say that she wouldn't be interested in..."

Austin's eyes were searching Morris', looking for something there. He seemed satisfied. "Well, there's something funny going on, and I'm not sure what it is, but I need out."

"What do you mean?" Morris asked, shocked. "You can't just leave! What's this about?"

His boss picked up the full box and came across the room toward Morris. There was none of the usual warmth in his look or speech. "I was going to fire you, you know. I still could. We'd have to pay for your unemployment, but I don't know if I'd be upset about it." He sighed. "But instead I'm just leaving. Going to Miami, living there for a few months."

"What?" Morris asked. "With your wife?"

A weak laugh burped out of his now ex-boss's mouth. "No, not with my wife, you idiot. Get it? I'm leaving her, and I'm leaving the company." He pushed past Morris, not noticing that his hip nearly smashed Morris' swollen right testicle, and started for the door.

"Wait! What does your wife and the company have to do with each other?"

His hand on the door, Austin turned back, his lip curled up. "You know how we went out to have some very nice, very sexy alone time together? Well, we did. My wife really, really loves fucking. Her libido has been off the charts since this whole tit thing started. We were fucking nearly three times a day when we were down there." His eyes grew harder, more intense. "Now, she's never been a loud lady, but let me tell you that I was making Cheryl scream every time. Most of the time obscenities, some time my own name. But then, on our last night there, she said something I never would have expected as I made her cum."

Morris was entranced, the casual vulgarity of Austin's little speech too out-of-place to ignore. "What?"

"Well, it wasn't my name, Frank. And you're the only Morris I know." And he was gone.

***

"What the fuck are we going to do?" Tina almost screamed at the emergency staff meeting. Her breasts bobbled like balloons above her small belly, acting like they weren't probably ten pounds apiece.

"We'll be fine," Morris said. "Sarah handles most of the sales nowadays, anyway, if people aren't just called up and saying that they want our services. In the meantime I guess we can put a post on Craigslist for a new salesperson."

"Uh, me?" Sarah said in a voice not like her own. Slowly everyone turned to the businesswoman. This kind of uncertainty was unprecedented. "I'm not sure I can—"

"Are you serious, Sarah?" Leaning back in his chair, Morris ran his hands through his hair. "The world is going crazy, all of us are barely holding it together while half of the population unexpected mutates into whatever, and you've suddenly lost your nerve?"

She shook her head, her perfect blonde hair coming out of its tail in tiny wisps. "You're right, of course," she said in a firmer voice. "Sorry, it's just... not to plan."

Morris nodded. That made sense. "Well, we'll have to run with it and see how it goes. Felicia, can you start going over our website and making sure there aren't any references to Austin in it?" Felicia gave him the thumbs up as she tried to swallow the cupcake in her mouth, her fat breasts heaving against the marble top of the conference table. "Sasha, I assume this doesn't change anything about what you're working on?"

"Not a thing, Morris," she said in almost completely accent-less English. The fact that her English skills had improved to such a degree alone was enough to creep Morris out, but add to that her complete hair loss over the last week and it only made her seem more like a bizarre superhuman. One with a head growing taller and wider, centimeter by centimeter. There was something both frightening and sexy about it, and she didn't even have to try.

But that wasn't important. What was important was dealing with this issue of permanent loss of management. "Alright, team," Morris said. "Break, I guess." Alex giggled, as she always did, and they all split up to head back to work. Sarah, however, grabbed Morris' arm.

"Look, Frank," she said. "I'm just not sure if more responsibility is good for me right now."

This was news to Morris. "You always seem like you have almost too much time. I mean, you have enough time to bug me about things that aren't really important, right?" he laughed.

"True, but, you know, I'm just so easily distracted right now."

Morris ran his hand through his hair again. "We all are, you know? I'm sure all of you girls know how easily distracted even I can be, with all of this craziness. Hell, Alex is turning into a goddamn cat and she still manages to get more work done than I would expect a hard-working dog to do."

Sarah's eyes seemed to glaze over. "But she's such a cute cat, I'm sure she can—that's not important, is what I mean. I mean that I have, well, private issues that I'm having trouble keeping a handle on." She nervously smoothed down the front of her shirt, under her tightly-constrained HH-cup breasts, all the way down to her skirt.

"Ah, you mean even you're changing? Is it—"

"—It's private."

"I see," Morris said, confused but relieved. Here was another person! Another one embarrassed and confused by the changes! Then again, she had gotten that look in her eye when he brought up Alex. That look that said "everything happening is so goddamn hot." But what was her deal? Was it like what Janey had said the month before, about some women getting absolutely huge vaginas?

Fuck, no wonder she seemed to get so horny whenever Morris was near.

He tried to clear these thoughts from his head before they got away from him and made his leg stick straight out. "Look, we all have to pull a little more effort here. We already were with Austin on vacation, we just need to keep doing what we're doing." He patted her on the shoulder and she flinched. "You'll be awesome, Sarah."

She nodded, not saying a word, and retreated to her office, hands clenched in front of her. What the hell was her deal, Morris wondered. Then he buried himself in his work.

***

Later it surprised Morris how long things managed to stay relatively okay at work. After that one outburst from him, then the taking of a leadership role after Austin jumped ship, a pattern was established, and the girls were able to contain themselves for what seemed to be indefinitely. There was now a lot of work to be done on everyone's part, and they all used the additional need to force extra concentration out of their brains through the end of summer and midway into fall.

With the odd ways all of the girls had been acting for the past months, he was sure that they all had a very hard time of it. He could see it in the ways they sometimes looked at him, the things almost said, the motions almost made. But they were making quite the effort, possibly just to please him, and they made it easy to forget that he was the only one contending with ridiculous changes.

The growth in his pants continued. Unabated, one might say. When the head of his erect cock become long enough to reach his kneecaps when he sat down, Morris wondered if it would stop soon. The steady expansion continued, though, making it easier and easier to reach it with his mouth, to lather the tip with his spit and shove as much down his throat as possible. His gag reflex was suppressed easily, now, and he figured either his mouth was stretching out or he was just getting better at stuffing it in, because sometimes Morris pulled his dick out and found six inches of spit coating the tip of it. It's true that it was more tapered than he'd expect: at the thickest his dick was probably as big around as a coffee mug, but nearer the tip its girth was closer to his wrist, with a head about the size of a peach.

God, it felt good to suck. And to swallow. And to stroke. It was ribbed in veins, some of them as big as Morris' pinky, and when he flexed it he could feel blood pumping and rushing through, could feel his fat, heavy balls draw up his legs a good inch or two. They first approached and then surpassed the size of baseballs, and were eager to remind Morris at every instant that they were still around. When he rolled over in his sleep, they would sometimes slap against each other, smacking him awake. Or if he was careless when going to piss, pulling his flaccid, approaching foot-long itself, dick out to snake down over the lid. Or just when sitting down, really.

The dreams were continuing with vigor. Every night, Morris was sure of it. He'd remember if he didn't have to do the arduous chore of disposing of his condoms. Condoms which were growing tighter and tighter every day, and he was up to the XXL sized Magnums. The length wasn't the problem, it was the girth: he was simply too wide for them to fit comfortably. He'd have to come up with a new strategy to deal with his nighttime emission, especially now with the quality of dreams he was having. Sometimes they had basic plots, such as "going to the supermarket and being inundated with enormously-breasted coeds," or "every time I cum on you your ass gains five pounds". That sort of thing. They were all things he had fantasized about before, but now he actually got to live them, in dream-land. Sometimes he later jacked off (or sucked himself off, if he was home and was sure nobody would be able to comment on his ballooning, cum-filled belly) to the sweet memories that happened in wet dream land.

Then he would stuff his package into compression pants, cover that with nice loose jeans or sweats, and head down to the office.

The streets and public in general were completely alien to what they'd been like in the summer. Once it had been going on for at least two months, everything was seen as normal. Some women were pregnant with multiples, slogging along with their backs bent back at terrible angles, their fat, full breasts bobbing on top of their round bellies. Some waddled along with their huge rear-ends nearly taking up the entire sidewalk. If you were lucky you'd find a cowgirl staggering to a yoga class, her huge, fat udder hanging between her legs, bigger than most sandbags and in need of a milking. She may even moo at you.

And inside the office Morris would be treated to a sight out of his dreams. Literally, lately.

First he would see Alex at her desk, batting some small toy around the desktop and purring lightly to herself. The purr had appeared sometime in early September, around the same time that very light skin patterns trickled down her face, banded in her cleavage, and ribbed her exposed arms. Tabby markings, Morris figured, although who could say for certain. Her ears, now fully triangular, furry, and located on top of her head, twitched and moved like a cat's, although her tail definitely seemed much more lithe and agile than most real cats. She was also more easily distracted than before, but Morris was surprised at the work she got done. Something about the way she spoke to clients seemed to soothe them, something he understood was common among catgirls. Some brothel in Finland was supposedly hiring them on for extreme amounts of money, but Alex had seemed disinterested.

If luck decided it was so, Morris would run into Sarah on the way through the office, and she normally would squeak and hide herself. The mystery of what was happening with her still ran deep, although sometimes the girls gave each other knowing looks if the subject was brought up. Morris figured pushing would only create more problems and distractions, and he didn't want to push his own luck. He knew that if it wasn't for Sarah's strange "problem" that she would be the one in charge around there, instead of just acting as sales and HR rep, but she repeatedly refused, trying to keep her responsibility low.

Sasha's office had turned into some kind of server room, and it wasn't very common to be able to spot her among the lights and drives. She had completely revitalized all of their company's services, from hosting packages to software to anything in between. Morris was pretty sure that she could automate what he and Tina took care of, but was too polite to do so. As he walked past her office sometimes a wide dome of skin would rise from behind a desk, revealing the huge head of the Russian immigrant. Her head was now at least a foot wide, and several inches taller than it had been before. All of the additional mass rose from her pointed face upward, making her head look a bit like an inverted pear. She'd smile at him, and Morris would thank whoever had caused all of this to happen that Sasha was a nice, good person. He'd hate to see what she could do if she got pissed off or power-hungry.

For that matter, he hadn't heard anything in the news or online about anyone else like her. Was she unique? Or did all of the women who got their brains inflated just figure it was smarter not to be known about? He wouldn't doubt that she could erase her presence from the net in a few minutes, if she wanted to.

Entering the doorway to Felicia's office, he'd undoubtedly get a friendly greeting as soon as she swallowed the breakfast du jour. More often than not it was pastries: doughnuts, muffins, crullers. Sometimes an entire bag of bagels sat out for everyone but instead being consumed by just one person. Once he came in to find a fat stack of pancakes on her desk, dripping in syrup. She had apparently made several dozen that morning, and had taken her leftovers to work for a snack.

She was an eating machine, and she was picking up pace.

Before August was over, Felicia was proudly stating her weight had passed 220 pounds, a 40-pound gain in a single month. She had been eager to show it all off while still keeping the sexiness level down: tight blouses which would billow out over her huge breasts before coming slightly back in only to draw down over her fat, soft tummy; light skirts and tight slacks would reveal her thickening thighs and hips, as well as her swelling bottom; her face, once an oval with a small chin, was rounding out, losing definition to her chubby cheeks and a second chin that was just slightly poking out below.

By the time October started, Felicia had blown that record out of the water with over one hundred pounds packed on. For something that Morris hadn't quite been sure about even happening back in July, you'd have to be blind not to realize that Felicia was more than twice her original weight. The old sundresses and skirts had mostly disappeared in favor of much cheaper, stretchier materials: some nice blouses, more leggings and sweatpants, even the occasional T-shirt. All of them revealing just how much more of Felicia there was, now: the fat, heavy sandbags of her breasts, now fatty and padded enough for her to just rest her keyboard on top of them. The wide, round folds of her stomach, which jiggled and bounced with her heavy steps. Her tree-trunk thighs supported an enormous, padded ass, which had outgrown her old office chair on one slightly awkward September afternoon and was replaced with one not only much sturdier, but without arms to trap her in.

And her fat and flabby arms continued to shovel sugary, floury foods into her waiting mouth. Her round face, still framed by her immaculately-kept black hair, belied not just two chins, but a third which was rapidly appearing, led the way by the cheery cheeks and thickened lips.

One hundred pounds in a single month. Morris wondered if she'd even be able to fit into the office by the time December rolled around; she was already having trouble with the door to the design room.

And then the final problem. The cutest problem, really. Tiny, pregnant Tina.

If Felicia gaining one hundred and seventy pounds in just four months was impressive, Tina had managed to go through the equivalent of nine months of pregnancy in just that time. Actually, looking at her, her stomach was even bigger than most women ready to give birth should be. The problem was that her huge, spherical breasts were about the same size, making your brain insist that it was smaller than it really was.

Decuplets, the doctor had told her. Ten babies. All of them fighting for space as they grew inside of her.

Tina would normally arrive after Morris, waddling through the door like a fat penguin. Almost all of her was still the thin Korean girl she had been back in the summer: she had put on a few pounds below the belt, probably from lack of exercise, and her straight black hair was undoubtedly longer, as she was letting it grow out a bit, but otherwise the same girl. The same, aside from the monstrous belly, always too large for the maternity shirts she wore so that several inches of smooth, round skin were visible at all time, showing off her belly button which had at last popped outward in early September, a harbinger for the explosive growth to come.

Her round beach ball of a stomach only served as a platform for her milk-filled tits, and Tina was even more proud of them than ever, even if her cleavage was being pushed up to her chin. The lactation had begun only near the end of September, although Tina had been quite happy to let everyone know. The way they moved had been enough to clue Morris in, though: a slight sloshing, with that curiously bouncy way lactating breasts would bobble as opposed to the more fluid swinging of breasts such as Felicia's. The milking took Tina away from her computer for up to an hour total each day, as well, and the droplets that would appear on her extra-large blouses and t-shirts made Morris' mouth salivate and his dick sometimes dribble precum in some sort of sympathy leak. Tina tried to be self-conscious about it, he could tell, but she would sometimes slip: massaging her fat, taut belly as her eyes flickered briefly, forgetting to get to the bathrooms before she seriously started to spray, tweaking her fat corks of her nipples absent-mindedly.

But these incidents were few-and-far-between in those few months of quiet working. Months in which Morris was able to completely set his mind right, or at least to a position that he thought was right.

There were still a few moments, just before he drifted off to sleep (his flaccid dick, encased in rubber, carefully slipped through the fly in his boxers so as not to rip the leg open when he inevitably got hard in the night) when his mind would fill with fear that he was letting some dire problem go unanswered, unsolved. And, for that moment, he would know what the problem was: the question of why every single woman on the entire planet was becoming even more and more sexy in his fetish-filled mind. Why would it be specific to him? And why had it all started?

But then he would sleep and continue the cycle: the cycle of wet dreams with enticing females, of waking up with his mind already on what work needed to be done that day, the ho-hum of working swallowed by distracting himself swallowed by masturbations swallowed by... well, by swallowing more and more cum every evening.

It wasn't the most fulfilling life, and definitely not the most sexually-satisfying life, but it was one he could live with.

Then the end of October approached...

"So, Morris!" Tina said when she bounced into the office on a chillier-than-normal Friday. Morris could tell it was extra-cold because his monster dick, measuring in at just under 23 inches when hard (really, really fucking hard) that morning, had managed to shrivel up to a surprisingly short and stubby size in his pants when he got out of bed, maybe as short as eight or nine inches. Unfortunately all of that extra skin meant that it was compacted down to a nearly rock-hard state, and he had been forced to squish it to a very uncomfortable angle down his compression shorts before emerging into the cold that morning. "Halloween party next Friday? My apartment?" Tina's excitement also hinted at the cold as she removed her extra-large pea coat, revealing her nipples poking cheerfully out at Morris. He averted his eyes.

"Halloween party? Don't we still have another week?"

She rolled her eyes, her huge breasts following along with the movement as they swung in a loop through her thick sweater. Morris wondered if she was having trouble milking herself yet, as her hands seemed they would need to press into her overfull skin pretty hard to reach her nipples lately.

Felicia's voice brought sense back into Morris' brain. "Real Halloween is the best time to go clubbing! Can't have an office party then!" She appeared at the doorway, nearly filling it completely from her head down. Today she was dressed in a cardigan and a miniskirt, although hardly anything that fit Felicia could qualify as "mini-" anything anymore. Her fat slabs of breasts sat on her flabby stomach in almost direct contrast to Tina's, every crease in her belly showing through the thin blue top. Her fat thighs, encased in leggings beneath the skirt, were pressed together almost to her knees despite her feet being shoulder-width apart. Her hips weren't even visible through the doorframe, as stuffed with fat as they were.

Morris swallowed, but felt less guilty for ogling Felicia's delicious body; she was newly-single, as she had announced the previous week, and Tina was still engaged to the guy who super-knocked her up. "I guess you're right. So Tina's apartment? Costumes required?"

"Uh, of course," Tina laughed as she gently lowered herself into her chair. The arms had been removed from hers, just like Felicia's, so that her rotund belly could gently rest between her legs without any additional pressure. Morris wondered how long it would be before she was doing the splits, though, and the keyboard-on-breasts fad that his two closest coworkers had been following would have to be stopped at some point, just as soon as he came up with a way for their arms to be able to reach around their prodigious chests. "I already have my costume picked out," Tina continued with a giggle.

"Ooh, me too!" Alex said as she slinked into the room. She caught Morris' eye and straightened her back, her waving tail at once curving back up her back to a more casual pose. "Who all is coming?"

"All of us but Sasha, I think."

"Even Sarah?" Morris asked, more surprised than anything.

Alex giggled, but it sounded more like a purr. "It took some talking-into, but once I told her most of the office'd be there, even you, she said she needed to make sure she would keep us in line."

"I'll bet," Morris said, less sarcasm in his voice than he felt. With the odd way Sarah had been acting since that summer, and the continued mystery as to what was affecting her, it was probably the inclusion of Morris into the girls' Halloween plans that had convinced her. He was so distracted by this thought that he didn't even think to accuse the girls of assuming he'd come without asking him.

Then again, he was single, kind of lonely, and as of Austin leaving the company hadn't had almost any life outside of the office. Why wouldn't he?

That weekend was interspersed with Morris figuring what he was going to wear to the costume party and doing his usual thing alone at his computer. Mostly he realized this was a good opportunity to wear something that was more comfortable with his enormous dick that was less socially-acceptable than normal. Parachute pants, maybe, if he wanted to dress up like MC Hammer. Or he could stick his dick in an inflatable dolls ass and walk around like he was doing her doggy-style, be white trash or something. But no, neither of those felt right. Besides, parachute pants were too thin: what if he got an erection? It'd be all too obvious.

A walk downtown to the various thrift stores for inspiration ended up being more dangerous than Morris would have thought.

It was the first time he had really been out in the world since those months ago when he had met Janey at the mall, and the world had almost passed him by. There were no longer hints and teases that every single woman on the face of the earth was now working overtime to give Frank Morrison a boner: it was practically screamed from the rooftops.

There wasn't a tit in sight belonging to an adult woman that was smaller than a soccer ball. Plump, bouncing, with permanently-engorged nipples, the world was practically made of enormous, soft, jiggling, swollen breast flesh. There were other men in there, yes: hidden somewhere behind the sideboob and the areolae. But all Morris could see were the ultra-feminine forms that crowded the sidewalks, filled the light rail cars, squeezed into busses. And, as Morris headed into the heart of the city, he only saw more and more of them. Spilling out of blouses, squeezed into jogging bras, pressing into hands and railing and falling out of laps. A woman seated on the MAX was taking up three seats all on her own, as her two huge breasts, both approximately the size of overfull trash bags, spilled off of her thighs and sank heavily into the cold molded plastic.

And those were just the tits.

Morris also had to contend with the unusual body shapes that all hit some deep desire of his: the women with butt cheeks like beer kegs, waddling along in stark contrast to their trim upper bodies; the women with an extra two hundred pounds they clearly weren't used to, squeezed into some straining t-shirts as they sweated toward the Big and Tall stores; the one girl, probably no older than 18, who accidentally ripped a hand strap from a bus ceiling, looking embarrassed as her swollen bicep, almost as large as her head, flexed in anxiety. Those were the more realistic ones: there was a woman in bike shorts failing to conceal a camel toe as plump as a melon; at least two women with three sets of enormous breasts, bouncing and rebounding off of each other in their custom tube-tops; a woman with a prehensile tongue sliding it around and around and around a double-decker ice cream cone, before lifting it all off and into her waiting mouth. The weirdest ones, the ones nobody would see outside of a fantasy, were the ones people seemed to pay the least amount of attention to: the satyr bounding down the street, her plump, furry hindquarters barely concealed in the skirt above her hooves; the gaggle of cowgirls relaxing at a picnic table with their swollen udders between their legs; the girl with the interesting scaly leggings that Morris realized with a start weren't leggings when she stood up and hopped, knees locked together, off of the train car. "A... lamia?" Morris tried to remember what snake-women were called, and wondered if her legs were going to turn into a proper snake body.

And she turned and winked at him, an eyelid closing over one slit iris.

It would all probably be bearable, ignoring the two-foot python in Morris' pants, if they didn't all seem to psychically know when he was looking.

Just by glancing around the car, a half-dozen women would flicker their eyes up, their inch-long nipples hardening even more as their breath drew in and they unconsciously stroked a hand along their bodies. Some would smile at him. Some would flirtatiously twitch their heads. Some didn't even seem to realize they were doing it, but all of them gave off subtle cues that they were extremely, desperately interested in Morris. On the street they would step out of the way and give him strange smiles as their barely-contained chests swung out of way. On the MAX they would brush up against him, one long, swollen thigh brushing against the pillar of erection strangled half-to-death in Morris' loose jeans.

When at last he arrived at the downtown shopping center, Morris rushed out of the car line and bee-lined for a store. Any store. Any men's store would do.

And then, too late to hide out of her sight, Morris was spotted by the person he least wanted to run in to: Scarlett.

It was too easy for him to spot her. Blueberries were relatively rare, after all: far less likely than fatties or preggos or even cowgirls. But it was also the bright hue of her skin, the slight sheen of her darkened hair, and the swath she cut through any crowd that helped her get pinpointed.

"Morris!" she called from across the town square. Every single female head out of the crowd of several hundred immediately turned and looked at him, like some creepy cult in a horror movie. He tried not to look. He couldn't. He didn't know if he'd be able to stand it.

And he didn't want everyone in Portland to know how amazingly sexual he found his ex-girlfriend.

But he did turn. He turned to see her blue form waddling down the paved brick square, each foot heavily falling. Scarlett would never walk properly again, assuming no cure for this whole thing could be found. Instead her rounded body tilted to one side then the next, her knees not bending as well as they used to.

She wasn't quite a blueberry. Not yet. But she was getting there.

The last time Morris had seen Scarlett had been in that picture text, a few months ago. She had been completely blue at the time, but, aside from her extremely swollen breasts and a dozen or so extra inches at her waist and hips, she had looked like the same girl. Now she had probably tripled in weight as her body filled out in an attempt to become as spherical as possible. With each step her body bounced and swayed, her butt cheeks straining in her sweatpants, her exercise ball-sized breasts so plump and round that they appeared more fake than any other tits Morris had seen since that summer. Scarlett's round Buddha belly poked naked out from under her tits, not soft and flabby like Felicia's, nor perfectly round like pregnant Tina's; it was ovular, low-slung, more like an extension of her torso than an extra repository for anything else. If Morris could see behind her he knew that he'd find her back was plumping up as well, the tell-tale rounded hunch of a blueberry. Her shiny, azure cleavage rose up before her fattened, firm cheeks and fat lips. In fact, the only part of her that didn't appear to be swollen with berry juice were her arms, another obvious sign of her malady (if you could call it that). According to the news, berrygirls' arms tended to stay thin right up until the last minute, when their swelling bodies overtook the need to bend their arms and they became little more than hands nestled within a valley of swollen, juice-filled flesh.

She didn't appear to be taller than the crowd around her, though, meaning her skeleton wasn't starting to stretch out in order to accommodate the pressures of filling up with some magical blueberry juice. It was possible she had gained a few inches, though...

The extra inches in Morris' jeans tried their best to make themselves known. After all, here was a girl he had only dreamed about, stepped right out of the sauciest interpretations of Roald Dahl. And boy, did she look happy to see him: at the tips of her huge, bolted-on tits were two shotglasses pointing excitedly outward, their deep blue color managing to turn her tight red top violet as they stretched it to transparency.

"Hey, Morris," Scarlett panted in an attempt at a sexy come-hither. She barreled to a stop only a few feet away and planted her hands on her cartoonishly rounded hips. "You've been keeping away from me." She pouted then, sticking out her purple bottom lip in a plump frown.

Morris' brain was vibrating like a hummingbird, managing to go 500 miles an hour while stalled. One command to his groin was screaming louder than all others, telling him to take her home and fuck the juices out of her, and his dick was responding, blood gradually pumping downward against all other refusals on his part. He had already been shaking by the public transportation ride, a foolish decision on his part. Fate had sent Scarlett here as a final, critical attack.

By this point it wasn't even about how creepy it was that every woman in the city wanted him, or that everything seemed tailored to his every desire. Now it was personal.

Something was fucking with Morris.

Like that, a switch went off. "Sorry, Scarlett," he said, and lightly pushed her aside. With her round, sloshy weight, she had to stagger a bit from his touch, but he managed to feel how hot and inviting and firm her side felt. Oh, god, how he wanted it.

Maybe just one kiss...

He stepped back, turned, and, grabbing her by her rounded shoulders, leaning over her enormous, waterbed-like bosom, he kissed her. Her lips were soft, moist, and giving, like a delicious peach, and for just a moment he was overwhelmed with the taste of fresh blueberries, all while his two-foot-long trouser snake surged in his pants, almost like it needed to feel her taut flesh beneath it.

"Ooooooooo—" the crowd started.

—and Morris broke it off. "Sorry, babe. Remember? You dumped me."

He hastily beat a retreat down the square, refusing to look anywhere but down as he forced his way into Nordstrom.

The hot iron in Morris' pants could not be stopped. His brain was turned off from his ex, but his dick was another story. He had to get to a bathroom, and he had to take care of this quickly. With a force being constantly applied to his pants in an attempt to pull his left leg up, he was reduced to a fast limp, but it was the best he could do as he followed the signs around the enormous floor. "Men's, up the escalator. Shit." Taking steps was even more difficult, requiring the knee to bend, but he couldn't wait. He had to move. Plus, the men's floor wouldn't have all of those delicious, milky tits he had passed on the way.

Weaving through coats, dodging past slacks, Morris found the bathroom and thanked the Nordstrom gods that it was a single occupancy. The door locked behind him almost as quickly as his jeans and compression shorts came down. The Monster erupted from them, angrily red and pulsating with pleasure. Morris nearly fainted right there, but instead he grasped the enormous cock in one hand and his swinging ballsack, or at least one swollen ball, in the other, and collapsed onto the closed toilet.

Closing his eyes and opening his mouth, Morris did the best he could to sword-swallow his entire two-foot dick. The best he could do was to put his mouth over it, as the normally-softened head was too engorged, too turned on to fit inside his dripping, salivating mouth. With a stifled moan, he started to orgasm and swallow at the same time.

The constant stream of semen was the same as it had ever been, but Morris almost imagined that it tasted like blueberries.

As it started to peter out, his mouth hot with his own seed, Morris realized that his hips were still pumping all on their own, trying to shove his own dick further down his over-stretched jaws. His hands couldn't stop, and, stranger still, his mouth couldn't stop swallowing. It was like when you have really bad hiccups, and can't control your own compulsions; his steel dick was just as hard as it had been when he first came in here.

And then his mouth was flooding again with his jizz as he came once more.

Ten minutes later, Morris emerged from the bathroom slightly less disheveled than he had entered. Multiple orgasms was a new thing, one that had Morris worried as he had started in on his third one before his brain had evaporated into space with the mindless pleasure. Luckily it had stopped there, probably because he didn't have an infinite amount of sperm inside his body, and even on that third orgasm there had been a noticeably lower amount.

Still, that could be a problem. With all of the crazy things happening in the world, who was to say that maybe Morris' balls would become so productive that he just wouldn't stop coming?

Then again, who was to say that it would be a bad thing?

Morris was musing these things over when his eyes fell upon the perfect costume for Halloween, standing proudly out on display. "Yes," he thought. "It solves it all perfectly. In-season, hides my dick and balls, hell, even has a family tradition behind it!"

An hour later Morris was home trying on his costume.

The white socks. The little hat. The black shoes. And, even though it probably wasn't in his family tartan, it still looked damn good: the kilt.

He looked pretty good in the mirror, Morris thought. What was even more amazing was that he couldn't tell he was packing over fourteen inches of loose dick, along with two balls the size of mangos, underneath. Just strap on some briefs to keep everything from hanging too low, and the kilt he had purchased could hide it all. Morris had never been one to think utilikilts as appealing as apparently half of the population of Portland, but he had to admit that in this specific case, it had a lot of applications.

Morris went to sleep that night a changed person. He had found the secret to hiding his enormous problem. He had managed to turn down an extremely, weirdly attractive woman. And, best of all, he had decided to fight against whatever this thing was.

As soon as this Halloween thing was over, he was going to talk to Janey. She was the only one not affected by it all. She was the best person to talk it out with. Even if he had to apologize for being a huge dick (pun intended), he was going to. This was all too goddamn weird. He was going to beat it.

But in his dreams, he was the one being beaten, squashed underneath a Scarlett swollen twenty feet high as she impaled herself on his dick, her tent-sized tits the only deviation from her otherwise spherical body, apart from the tiny pockmarks where her head, hands, and feet survived. Her enormous cerulean pussy lips gratefully accepted the telephone pole jutting from Morris' groin, thick blueberry juice creating a slippery crevice that fit him perfectly. And in his dreams he loved it.

***

The night of the Halloween party Morris found out that kilts can be a little cold to wear during an early winter; he cursed himself for wearing such a stupid garment as he stomped through the streets to the apartment Tina shared with her fiancé. He couldn't help but feel more free than he had felt in months, though: out and about, his package swinging secretly underneath the thick wool kilt while the leather bag hanging at his crotch, apparently called a sporran, doing even better at hiding the bulge secreted between his legs than the loose fabric did.

Things were definitely looking up. He just needed to force things to be normal and they followed along. That was the lie he was telling himself when he knocked on the door, and it opened to the surprise of his night.

"Morris! You came!" Tina said, her bright blue face beaming at him. Beneath that purple smile, her cerulean tits practically burst from a violet jumpsuit which was opened from her prodigious belly to her slender throat, showing off yards of naked, azure flesh, in direct contrast to the more golden skin tone she had been covered by not that afternoon.

Morris brain decided to shut down.

"Do you like my costume?" Tina asked, spinning in place. Like Scarlett, her black hair had a light blue tinge to it, best revealed in the lighted highlights. "Get it?" Morris tried pick his jaw up off of the ground. "I'm Violet Beauregarde! Like from Willy Wonka? And those blueberry girls on the news!"

Right! Right. The costume party. Somehow Morris had managed to forget that everyone else would be in costume, too. "It looks... realistic," Morris stammered as she backed up from the door and finally let him in.

"Ha, thanks!" she laughed. "It was hard to find the right clothes, and of course they weren't the right size, even on the internet. Plus I had to wade through all of this porn. You wouldn't believe what some people get off to!" Morris tried to chuckle along with her, but instead just mumbled a bit.

"They ended up being a bit more expensive than I'd planned," said a male voice. Morris turned to see Lucas, Tina's fiancé, dressed up in a cowboy hat and flannels.

Tina just grinned and winked at Morris. "But I look good, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Morris said.

"And what are you? A bagpiper?"

Morris looked down and realized he was dressed up as lamely as Lucas. "Er, I guess. I was going to be Mel Gibson, from Braveheart, but I couldn't find a prop sword in time."

"Well," Tina burbled, "I still have some blue facepaint, if you still want to dress up a bit more. Just let me know." She lightly touched his arm, and Morris suddenly realized that, despite putting his foot down, now they were in her territory. The home of weirdly horny Tina. This night was going to be more difficult than Morris had planned.

"Come on!" she suddenly shouted, moving from a light touch to a full-on grab, pulling Morris into the main room. "Everyone else is here!" Her movements naturally squashed Morris hand against her full, heaving tit, and Morris didn't miss the dark look from her fiancé, but what could he do?

The apartment was decked out in traditional Halloween decorations: crepe paper, hanging bats, orange lights, and some cheesy spooky music was playing. It felt like it was supposed to be a hopping party, but Morris was surprised to see that, apart from the addition of Lucas, the normal office crew were the only guests.

In a manner which Morris was so used to he almost didn't notice it, the three other faces all turned immediately toward him and drank in the sight. "Nice skirt, Morris," Alex grinned. She was dressed in a red miniskirt and tube top, with plastic horns slotted over her ears and a red pitchfork in her hand. As her tail whipped around in a playful greeting, Morris saw that she had taped a red arrowhead to it.

"A devil?" he asked.

She winked. "A sexy devil."

He had to agree. Her full tits, still the smallest in the room, were nonetheless appetizing in the tight top, and the bare midriff showed off the tabby pattern going down her sides and back. It was alluring.

"Don't let her distract you," Felicia said, "have a drink!" The fat, for there was no other word for her, woman was in an expected spot by the numerous appetizers, a full plate perched on one hand. Like Alex, she had gone with the theme of "as naked as possible", dressed like a Hawaiian hula girl. The grass skirt bellowed out from her rounded waist, a flower-patterned bikini with cups as big as skillets holding in her plump breasts. Her fat, flabby stomach was bare and ready for everyone to see, her tanned flesh complementing it perfectly. Morris just wanted to sink in to her, to feel every curve in her 400-pound-plus body.

And something in her eyes told him that she wanted him to, too.

Morris gratefully accepted the cup of offered beverage while taking in the last guest, Sarah. As per her modus operandi lately, she was shyly leaning near the window, almost as if she was suddenly second-guessing her costume. She looked amazing, though: a long, sparkling backless dress with a sexy slit going all the way up to her curvy hip and a strapless bodice that clung to her huge, volleyball-sized breasts; matching high heels that were at least four inches tall, giving her a head above every other girl there; long, elegant plum-colored gloves that came almost to her shoulders; and to top it all a natural-looking, redhaired wig over her natural blond hair, expertly curving over one eyes.

"Jessica Rabbit?" Morris guessed. Sarah blushed and nodded. It was a good job: she absolutely played it right, apart from the shy holding back. But that odd hunger was there in her revealed eye...

A long drink from the beverage in his hand told Morris that there was way more rum than Coke in his cup, but he didn't mind. If he was going to get through the party, to get the girls satisfied that everything was normal, he was going to need some definite liquid courage.

An hour later and Morris was feeling the effects kick in. His steps were getting bigger and less precise, his speech slurring. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all, but he was enjoying catching up with Lucas. He hadn't really had a talk with another male since Austin had abandoned the company.

"So when are you guys hitching it?" Morris asked. "You have a date yet?"

"Not quite yet," Lucas said. "But within the next few months, we need to. It probably won't be super-huge, because we need to save for the babies."

Morris smacked his forehead. "The babies! Oh, man. Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Lucas responded, smiling. He had warmed up after the initial chilly encounter as the girls devolved into drunken gossip. Maybe he hadn't noticed, though, that every few minutes at least one of the four would look Morris' way, some odd look in their eyes. Even sober Tina.

"Decuplets, right?"

Lucas ran his hands through his hair, his cowboy hat forgotten on the floor. "Yeah, decuplets. I guess there's a bunch of government assistance programs, now. For cases like ours."

"Right," Morris nodded. "I mean, a ton of other girls have the same thing happening to them, right?"

"True, and, I mean, Tina is just so excited." He looked over at his fiancée with eyes that Morris realized reflected real love. "It's so crazy, how she's swelling up, just getting bigger and bigger. And she's only halfway there!" Lucas shook his head, taking another sip of beer. "She's crazy, but I love her, man." 

She must have heard her name, because Tina bounced over. "Talking about me?" she asked, plopping down in between the guys, her softened butt and huge belly helping squish them apart, the firm blue skin resting not just on her thighs but on the thighs of the men sitting next to her, her hands resting, probably on purpose, right beside. In fact, the hand on Morris' leg was doing more than finding support, her thin fingers playing over the tartan kilt while she explored the contours of her coworker's leg. Morris' eyes popped open, and he tried to make her hand move, but Lucas had already seen the grab that she was now making at Morris' crotch.

"What the fuck, man?" Lucas asked, shoving the pregnant girl off of him and staggering to his feet. "Tina, what is this?"

"What's what, babe?" she asked, genuine confusion on her face as, to Morris' horror, she fell all over him. Her tight stomach pressed in to his already swelling cock, her enormous breasts enveloping his chest. She was almost, but not quite, trying to get off of him in a weird dance. Was she doing this on purpose? No way was she drinking, with her pregnancy.

"I saw you grab at him! What's going on between you two?" He was running his hands in his hair again. "I thought I was mistaken, that I had imagined it, but I wasn't!" Tina was still "struggling" to get off of Morris. "Jesus," Lucas finally shouted, "would you get off of him and listen to me? This is serious!"

Tina finally shoved herself off of Morris and back on to the couch, both of her hands wrapped around her stomach. "I know, Lucas. I'm sorry, I'm just having fun."

"Having fun?" Lucas was practically screaming now. "You're having sex, aren't you? Good god, are those babies even mine?"

"Woah, woah," Morris said, starting to panic. "No way! We've never done anything more than hug before! We're not involved in any way!" He was backing away from Tina on the couch now, pushing himself with his feet. His loose kilt was riding up, revealing the black briefs that his package was sealed away in.

Unfortunately, every pair of eyes in the room saw it, too.

"Holy fuck," Lucas said, "Jesus. I have to get out of here."

"No," Tina said, in a small voice, "no, babe, don't—" But he was gone.

Everyone in the room was silent, all but two pairs of eyes glued to Morris' not-so-hidden secret. Then Tina spoke again.

"He's gone." Slowly, she crawled along the couch. "Morris, he left me. He left me alone with my babies." Her jumpsuit had pulled the tape holding it on loose, and her two huge, milk-laden breasts were now naked to the world apart from the blue body paint that was covering half of each. She pulled herself across a cushion, her stomach now pressing into Morris' leg. "Don't leave me, too," she said, only now it was more of a moan than a whine. One hand wrapped itself around Morris' frozen waist, but the other found its way into his kilt, caressing his bulging member, which was slowly trying to force itself from its confines...

"No!" Morris shouted, pushing her off of him back onto the couch and standing back up. He nervously straightened his kilt and the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. "Tina, this is terrible, but why are you acting that way? You're engaged, for god's sake, and the guy you're engaged to just left you!"

Tina's face turned from sultry to horrified. "I... I know!" she said, then burst into tears. Felicia at last moved herself from the floor and sat heavily next to her friend.

"Don't worry, girl. I don't think he was right for you, anyway."

"Yeah," Alex chimed in. "He seemed like a jerk."

"Right, exactly," Morris said, before realizing what he was hearing. "Wait, what? No! He... he loved you! What are you saying?"

Alex put an arm around Morris', lightly curling her body against his. "She's saying what we all know, Morris. That you're the right man for her."

Tina sniffed. "The right man for, for, for all of us." She rubbed her hands on her naked belly, blue paint flaking off of it. "The right man to be the father of my babies."

Felicia nodded. "To feed me."

"To caress me," Alex said, dragging a hand across his chest.

"To, mmn, to teach me," Sarah at last chimed in, taking small steps towards him.

Morris' brain, trying to catch up to this sudden freak show, caught on this last detail. "To teach you? What do you—" Suddenly, like a murder mystery being solved, all of the pieces fell into place for Sarah's mystery: the sudden change to only wearing skirts, the rushing off to the bathroom, the bizarre looks. She was avoiding pants for the same reason that Morris had avoided pants that night. "Oh god," he said.

"Oh, yes," Sarah moaned. "Show me how to use it." All shyness and embarrassment had disappeared from her face as she lifted her naked leg in a long, languishing motion, letting the loose sequined fabric fall aside to reveal the enormous, naked cock underneath, slowly growing erect. Sarah's dick was fat, as big around as her leg, and growing fatter as it pumped up with her blood. Unlike Morris, she was uncircumcised, which made a sick sort of sense, and the skin of her dick was dark, almost deeply tanned, yet much smoother than Morris'. It looked even longer than his did soft, but, as he watched in horror and some deeply-hidden fascination, it didn't appear to get any longer as it pushed aside the dress and pointed higher and higher: just thicker and more erect.

Sarah looked to be enjoying it, and, for once, the other girls weren't looking at Morris, but instead were watching with rapt worship Sarah's huge member. "Do you like it?" she asked in another moan, drawing her hand along its taught, smooth curve. Precum bubbled from the tip, dribbling down the thick vein underneath, where Morris saw it mingle with her dripping snatch. "I used to be embarrassed by it, but I've come to love it." She had no balls, just a smooth, slightly wrinkled joining of the cock to her torso and then a lovely shaved pussy. Sarah's wandering hand slipped down into her dripping folds, then came back up, spreading the lubrication along her great length. It wasn't quite two feet long, but it was getting there. "It's so big I almost don't know what to do with it. Do you ever feel that way?"

"Oh, I'm sure he does," Felicia purred, heaving herself up from the couch. "But I can think of a few things he can do with his problem."

Tina followed suit, slipping on to the floor and crawling toward Morris, reaching up to pick at his kilt, her huge tits and belly dragging across the carpet. "Oh, I can too. Do you think I could get more pregnant?"

"And I could suck him dry," Felicia added, enveloping Sarah from behind and grabbing her bodiced tits.

"And I could lick every part of his body," Alex whispered in his ear.

"And he could fill me completely, making me come until I can't come any more." Sarah winked one heavily shadowed eye.

Morris dick was telling him what to do with more force than he thought possible. It had started the night out safely curled downward over his balls, nearly managing to reach his asshole. But now it was desperately trying to straighten, trying to force itself past the kink in itself. It wanted to fuck all of these women, to try out all of these things they were suggesting. To screw Tina so hard that her stomach swelled up, not with pregnancy, but with cum. To explore every inch of Felicia's growing body while she pleasured him eternally. To find out how flexible Alex had become, how insatiable. To turn Sarah from that asexual being she had been just a few months ago into a screaming futa orgasm machine.

But that other voice, the one that sounded mysteriously like Janey, came roaring out from his gut.

"No!" he shouted, pushing Alex off of him. He stomped past the other girls, refusing to even touch them, as he grabbed his coat. "Girls, this is wrong!" he said, not even turning back. "This isn't like any of you, at all." Some voice in his head insisted that, if he could get through to them, things would go back to normal. They would all turn off and become normal people again, his friends and coworkers.

"This is like us," Sarah called. "The new us."

"And we like it!" Tina added, just before the door closed.

That was it. That was the last straw. He had to talk to Janey.

***

The entire walk home in the cold October night Morris waited for his dick to give up, to realize that it was getting no action, at least for the time being, and to soften up. It was genuinely painful, how it was trying to become erect despite being carefully curved down under his body. Morris wanted relief, he craved it, but his anger at the universe contained his hands from whipping it out and pouring a gallon of semen into the gutter.

Whatever was going on, he needed to start doing something beyond just riding it out. He couldn't keep pretending that things were normal or were ever going to be normal again. The girls weren't just harmlessly flirting with him anymore, fulfilling some slight fantasy of his in a way that was sustainable: they were ruining their lives. 

And Jesus, it wasn't just in social ways, like breaking up with their boyfriends or procrastinating at their jobs. Felicia, as sexy as she was, was reaching an extremely unhealthy level of weight. And who knew what kind of health risks giving birth to decuplets meant? Just because some kind of weird, possibly supernatural force was causing these changes didn't mean that it made the affected immortal. Who was Morris kidding?

Only one other person in the world had ever shown a lack of the mental changes.

As fate would decree, when the elevator dinged on the twenty-ninth floor, Janey's door was open for the first time in months, and he heard voices coming from inside.

"—ks for coming this late on a Friday, Audi," he heard Janey's voice, growing louder as she walked towards her door. Morris froze; he hadn't seen either Janey or the muscular maintenance girl in months, and Audi hadn't acted exactly sober last time. His mind pulling a one-eighty, Morris rushed for his door as fast as his swinging package would let him, forcing his eyes not to peek in his neighbor's door.

"It's no problem!" Audi's response was growing closer. "Half of the building is needing these emergency changes, including me. The super said I'll have to start using the freight ele—" His key in the lock, he was just turning it when Audi's perky voice entered the hallway. "Well well, if it isn't Mr. Morrison."

His head turned, and Morris almost gasped. He probably would have, if the internet hadn't prepared him for this.

Audi's body was no longer in the realm of "normal", even for female bodybuilders. In the past two months since their last encounter, she had probably doubled her body weight and mass, rocketing past the point of "superhero" and approaching "Incredible Hulk". The muscles that made up her exposed body were enormous, swollen things, most of them larger than her pretty blonde head, all of them pulsing with veins and striations. She looked dressed for the night, with a cotton halter that was little more than a thin square of cloth with string ties around her neck, or what used to be her neck until it was overcome by her impossible trapezius muscles, and ripped, rigid abdomen. The denim skirt barely contained her enormous thighs, both ballooning out with muscle from her tiny waist, which was so tight and muscular that it looked almost cartoonishly small compared to her arms and chest, even if it was far thicker than she had been that summer.

She grinned at Morris and casually lifted one arm behind her head, ostensible to adjust her long blonde ponytail, but Morris couldn't help but see how her triceps bulged out, bigger than a pumpkin, her obliques hardening and rippling.

"Uh, h-hi," Morris said. "Haven't run into you in a while."

She winked and Morris shuddered with both horniness and a little fear. Audi had genuinely scared him in their last encounter, and he knew that if she caught him alone again, he may not be able to stop her. And the worst part was how much he wanted that to happen, to climb on top of her and feel her rippling and flexing underneath him, to feel her hands grip his waist as he pounded her, her vagina flexing and massaging him in ways no other woman would be able to...

Janey's head popped out of the doorway to her apartment just under Audi's flexing arm. "Who are you—oh," her voice fell dead. "Hi, Morris."

He realized that this was now or never, especially if he wanted to escape from Audi. "Janey, hey, I've been meaning to talk to you."

To his surprise, her eyes turned from cold to a warmer uncertainty. "Yeah, uh, me, too. You want to come in?"

Morris nodded frantically, relieved as Audi's narrowed eyes rolled away. "I'll leave you two alone. I have a club to hit, anyway." Morris couldn't help imagining her punching the walls of some rave, making huge holes everywhere as she truly breakdanced, before he followed Janey's small, pert butt into her apartment. He got one last look of Audi turning herself slightly sideways to fit into the small elevator, her eyes on her still-normal head sending a clear message of desire, before Janey's door closed behind him.

Then he got a good look at the apartment and realized how much of it had changed, almost assuredly for practical purposes.

Almost nothing was located at or below Janey's eye-level anymore, with new shelves put up everywhere to hold things up. Her bookshelves were empty below the third level, items now piled up on top of each other to still be reachable. There was also a strange amount of mirrors located everywhere, most of them angled up or down. He passed by one such array near the door and realized that by looking up into one mirror on the ceiling he could see in the reflection of another mirror near the ground right up his fancy kilt to his overstrained briefs. Another rebound shot through mirrors gave him a good look at his black leather shoes.

All of these little gadgets and setups to help one see around an enormous load in front of them, Morris imagined.

"Did you set all of this stuff up yourself?" he asked as he made his way down the hallway. Janey was already in the kitchen, probably mixing up some famous hot cocoa.

"Some of it. Most of it I've had Audi or some of my friends help with. It can be hard to move around, which is the problem this is all solving."

It was obvious why. The reason had presented itself when Morris had followed her into the apartment. Sure, her butt was cute in the leggings she had probably casually thrown on that morning, but what really caught your attention were the two enormous breasts that were leading her everywhere. When he had last seen Janey, that terrible night of Chinese food and blue balls, you could see her tits from behind if you were paying attention. Now they were pretty much all you'd see. Fat, massive, and heavy, her tits were truly great, bigger than almost any others he'd seen on the news sites, even in this huge-tit infested world. They exploded from her neck downward, the bra she was wearing somehow providing support to two great sacks of flesh as big as two overinflated exercise balls pinned to her chest. Every movement she took shook and waved them, brushing or smacking into the wall with a slight movement depending on how much she was concentrating to keep them under control. The shirt she had on was clearly far too big for her, the thin sleeves extending out past her hands, but it was still tight around her huge fat tits, tight enough that Morris could see a girdle-like back to her brassier, the heavy-duty hooks doing their work.

The cocoa prepared, she poured it into two mugs and spilled a tiny drop onto the floor. With a surprising deftness, Janey grabbed at a nearby extending claw tool, snatched up a washcloth with it, and mopped at the spot on the floor before depositing the washcloth in the sink. She saw Morris' look and shrugged with one shoulder, her entire chest wobbling and shaking from the motion. "It's easier on my back then squatting."

She brought the mugs over and handed both to Morris before slowly letting herself drop onto the couch. With her legs together both huge breasts sloped off of her lap and put most of their weight on to the couch, filling up the space almost to her collarbone. Janey took her mug back, swept her brilliant red hair out of her face and, lifting the cocoa to her lips, raised an eyebrow. "Nice kilt."

"Thanks," Morris said, before realizing he was sitting with his legs comfortably apart and slapping his free hand down on the loose tartan fabric. "Oh god, er, sorry."

She waved a hand. "No, I'm sorry. Look, let's get this out of the way: we both acted stupidly back then. I led you on and then way overreacted when you took the natural assumptions, and you acted like kind of an ass when I reacted the normal way one would when confronted with a foot-long, and apparently growing, penis, and was expected to put it inside me. Sound like a good compromise?"

Morris couldn't believe his ears. Was it really that easy? "Uh, yeah. Yeah, sounds like a good compromise. Sorry that I've been avoiding you, if you've felt this way."

She blushed, her freckles almost disappearing in the red. "I was embarrassed."

"You were embarrassed?"

She smiled into her cocoa. "Well, with the amount of times I've assured a guy that his perfectly-normal dick is huge, it was rather sad to finally freak out at an actually huge one."

Morris had to laugh at that. "Then want to make out?"

A stony look came over Janey's eyes and she sighed. "Morris, I like you. I really like you. I liked you that first day, and I've only come to like you more in the few times we've hung out. But frankly, you scare me."

"Like, my cock scares you?"

She rolled her eyes. "More than your cock. Do you think I missed the way the maintenance girl looked at you, the way everyone in the mall that one day was focused on you? Do you think I've forgotten how you confessed literally every single weird change that's happened in the world has appealed specifically to you?"

Even though Morris had been scared of these exact same things, he felt that old defensive urge rising inside him. "I'm sure a lot of guys have found them appeal—"

"Oh, cut the bull, Morris. You think there's any chance that there has been one bizarre fetish magically appearing on the planet that you don't find absolutely sexy?"

He slumped. "When you put it that way..."

She lifted her free arm over one breast, resting her elbow on the enormous pillow naturally forming in front of her. "This is somehow all about you, dude. Every woman in the world seems to want you, whether they realize it or not, and all of them are specifically tuned to be extra-sexy to you. Sexy in ways that, up until last June, weren't possible in any sense of the word."

"And that scares you?"

"Morris, the laws of physics themselves are breaking because of you! I should be covered in bed sores, let alone be unable to stand, but here I am not even hardly inconvenienced because of my tits. If what I can guess about what's under that kilt is accurate, you shouldn't be able to get an erection without passing out. And forget a billion other things: women pregnant with a dozen babies and no stretch marks on them? Skeletons somehow able to stretch due to blueberry juice, but still provide a firm basis for musculature and organs? Brains getting bigger and thus somehow far more powerful than any human should be able to grow?"

"You know about the brain thing? I thought that was a secret."

Janey leaned back on the couch, a prideful smile splitting her face. "I've been doing research on my paid time off. A LOT of research. I'm not a good hacker, but I am good at tracking people down and calling around. Those big-brained women are good at hiding themselves, but they can't erase memories—yet."

It was like a weight was lifted from Morris' shoulders. "So have you been trying to find a reason for all of this? Have you found anything good?"

To his disappointment, she shook her head, her loose hair gently flapping against her shirt. "Nothing that a male doctor or scientist the world over hasn't already found."

"'Male'?"

She quietly, seriously laughed. "The females are all a little distracted."

"Jesus..."

"But," and she pushed herself off of the couch, stretching her back with her hands behind her butt. It made her huge tits push away from her, the long-sleeved shirt nearly pulling to transparency. Her nipples, erect with excitement or horniness or just the chill of an October night, poked out like mountain peaks on vast hills. "But." She turned to him, her chest swinging along with her, and grinned in a way that made her more beautiful than anything else. "We have two advantages."

"What's that?" Morris could feel the excitement growing inside of him again.

Winking, she pointed a finger right inside her chest. "We have me, who is still mysteriously only normally attracted to you and not weirdly, obsessively, supernaturally attracted to you."

Morris grinned along with her. "Okay, and?"

Now the finger turned toward him. "We have you. The guy all of this is somehow centered around."

"That's, uh, not as much as I was hoping."

"Are you serious?" She threw her hands up, eliciting movements along her body that very nearly made Morris' underwear burst off. "That's the best clue anyone else in the world has! The two people who should be mentally affected by this bizarre, global phenomenon, but aren't! Both of us on the same floor, in the same building, working together? We have to crack this thing!"

Now Morris stood up, his kilt flapping back to his knees. She was right. They could do this! Together, they wouldn't need to be scared anymore, or uncertain. Working together, they would find out what was causing all of this, and stop it.

Stop it before Morris was raped to death by an ever-growing pile of suitors.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Morris said, heading for the door. He politely refused to soil Janey's toiletries with a possible stream of semen. She seemed to understand and even appreciate his honesty.

***

Their research began the next morning by going over, in detail, everything that had happened to Morris that summer, trying to trace the exact moment when it all began. Up until then, Janey had only the moment that her bras started feeling tight to go off of, while Morris had an entire string of events. First Scarlett had dumped him, then he had decided it would be great to be single for a while, then he had met first Audi and then Janey. After that it got more focused: when did Tina announce she was pregnant, when did Felicia start looking like she was gaining weight, when did Audi start looking at him? From there they went to unusual events in those few weeks: bums he ran into, people he spoke to, things that might have made him frustrated or upset. Janey had an entire list of things that might have caused a worldwide obsession with Morris' fetishes.

"Seriously, you think I might have accidentally cast a curse on the world because a stripper hit on me?" he asked late that afternoon as Janey crossed another thing off of the huge spreadsheet on her laptop.

"Dude," she said, somewhat exasperated, "I'm sitting here with tits the size of washtubs, you're over there stroking a dick that would make a horse cry. There are girls outside with six tits, or cow udders, or cat tails, and you're doubtful that something ridiculous might have caused all of this?"

Morris sighed and sat back into the couch, his new utilikilt flapping against his thighs. "I guess I was expecting something more epic."

She rolled her eyes. "The world is seldom epic, Morris." She eyed his crotch, absent-mindedly running a thumb along the strap of her camisole. "Do you need to empty your pipes again?"

The blush on Morris' face wasn't stoppable. Her candor was great and practical, but it didn't leave him much in the way of mystique. "Maybe," he said, standing up and stepping into her bathroom. He had gotten over the embarrassment after the fourth such moment that day. She didn't ask what he did with the semen, and he didn't tell her, seeing as how the baggy sweatshirt he was wearing covered up the bulge in his stomach that resulted from another autofellatio session.

When he came back out Janey was consulting from a legal pad carelessly propped on top of her huge breast flesh. "Now, what about this homeless guy you said you saw on the Waterfront, talking about chemtrails?"

And so it continued for the entire weekend. Come Monday morning Morris had almost managed to forget about the state he had left his coworkers in after the Halloween party. It wasn't a mistake he'd make easily again.

The office was empty when Morris arrived, aside from the now-fixture of Sasha in her little server farm. The temperature inside was a perfect 72 degrees, a welcome feeling after the cold on Morris' naked shins. He thought maybe he had lucked out, that the girls had decided working from home was the best way to deal with their changing conditions.

He was wrong. After an hour of silent work, punctuated by the odd sound of soldering from the room next door, the front doors of the office burst open to reveal the four remaining members of the team, all moving in one mass, none of them dressed very appropriately for work. In fact, Alex was still in her costume, sans-horns or tail dressing, while Tina was in what had amounted to a quick change after Friday night: nylon shorts that had probably fit her a few months prior, before putting on pregnancy weight, and a white t-shirt that showcased her lack of bra and huge, puffy nipples. Felicia had dropped the grass skirt for a pair of gigantic stretchy sweatpants, pulled tight over her enormous rear, while Sarah had apparently gotten over hiding her asset as it was now extremely prominent a loose skirt.

Morris was going to wonder how they had managed to not freeze, but such things wouldn't occur to someone as drunk on booze and horniness as the foursome.

He sighed in exasperation, wondering what new hell he was going to have to put up with, when he realized that all four of them were heading to his office. This was a much more dire situation than he had expected.

His laptop was back in his bag when Alex appeared in his doorway, leaning on the frame as her tail flicked to either side. "Hey, Morris," she giggled.

"Hi Alex," he said. "I was just going. Looks like there won't be much work done today, anyway."

"Yes," she slurred, her flush cheeks strangely colored with the brown tabby markings. The flush traveled down her cleavage to the two melons almost slipping out of her top. "Probably not. That's why we came in. We thought we could help you... unwind." She drew out the last word, wrapping her tail around her leg as she did.

"I unwound pretty well over the weekend, thanks," he said, picking up his bag and trying to move past the catgirl, only to see that Tina was behind her, her huge, round belly still showing a few splotches of blue paint on it.

"Hardly!" Tina said, not so much drunk as just high on life, Morris was relieved to note. None of the telltale slurs peppered the pregnant girl's speech. "You left my party early, you jerk! And so soon after Lucas left me."

"We had to go out and have our own fun," Alex pouted.

"And we did have a lot of fun!" Sarah was on the other side of the door, and when she caught Morris' eye she reached down and drew a tantalizing hand up the huge bulge in her skirt. "Just not as much fun as we could have." Her dirty-blonde hair was mussed around in a way Morris had never seen, and he wondered exactly who she had found to fuck her. Hell, if she had just ordered a guy in a bar with that authoritative voice, he probably would have listened.

But now wasn't the time for that, as Morris backed away and headed for the other doorway, the one to Felicia's office. But who would be blocking it other than Felicia, her entire body taking up the space.

Felicia's round face was turned into a drunken pout. "Do you know how disappointed Tina was that you just ran out on her like that?" Felicia liked her lips. "But you're still rockin' this kilt thing. I lllove it."

All four of them started to move in to Morris, who backed away in the only direction he could, the reverse sides of his knees eventually hitting the couch. He sat back down heavily, narrowly avoiding squashing his huge, swollen balls.

His dick was responding already. He didn't know if he'd be able to resist this.

"Girls, I, uh, I came in today to tell you—" Sarah reached him first, leaning down over him, ignoring the laptop bag held up in self-defense to rub her huge, fat tits against Morris' sweatshirted chest. Even through the thick cotton and the wool of her blazer, he could feel how hard her nipples were, the squishiness as her bowling-ball-sized N-cups played between them, the rigidness of her futa-cock rubbing against his. A hand with pointed fingernails pulled his chin to the left and Morris found lips meeting his, a rough tongue inserting into his mouth and gently flicking at his teeth. He pulled himself away from Alex's kiss. "—came in to tell you I'd be working from home for a while—" Pudgy fingers pulled his hand from his bag and pushed it inside a flowery bikini top, where Felicia's chubby nipple sat waiting at the end of her elephantic breast. Smooth, plump lips parted around his ear while hot breath played against his face. "—and if any of you need my help with anything technically related, you can just IM me—" The other three girls parted to allow the gravid, heavily-pregnant to Tina step in and push Morris' legs further apart, letting her big, round, only six-months-pregnant belly rest on his pelvis.

Tina stuck her lip out and looked down at Morris over her vast, engorged breasts. "Are you saying you don't want this? You don't want me? You don't want us?"

"Oh, god, of course I want you, but—"

She leaned forward, smothering him in the creaking textiles of her failing t-shirt. "Then you'll get us, Morris."

Her delicate hands traced their way up and inside his kilt and along his thighs until they found the elastic of his poor, strained briefs, then pulled them down his mountainous genitalia. As soon as the stretched black material was past his meaty cock it pushed itself out, sliding around Tina's naked belly and thumping against one of her mighty breasts. "Oh!" she shrieked, and a shotgunned spray of milk spat out of her shirt as a damp patch began to spread. "Sarah, it's longer than yours!"

"And it can probably actually fit inside of you," Sarah added, an odd tinge of jealousy in her voice.

"It will fit inside anyone," came a voice from the door. The five on the couch turned round and saw Sasha standing there. All traces of accent were gone, and she was speaking flawless Midwestern English, but that wasn't the surprising part: what was surprising was her head. It had doubled in size since Morris had last seen her, towering over her body like an obscene light bulb. It almost added a foot on to her height, bulging out into a near-perfect sphere above her face, light blue and purple veins patterning its surface. Sasha's face had an almost serene quality to it, patient and intelligent and wise. What the fuck was happening to her? "It is part of its nature," she continued. It was almost monotone, and a little scratchy, probably due to lack of speaking.

"What do you mean?" Morris asked, as the other girls slowly ran their hands over his body. "Part of my dick's nature?"

Despite her otherworldly appearance, Sasha rolled her eyes. "You mean you do not know? I had forgotten how little you all know."

"What's there to know?" Tina asked, leaning forward to try to kiss Morris.

"Give in," Alex whispered.

"I advise you do," Sasha said from the doorway. Morris had been so distracted by her head that he only now realized she was completely naked, her pendulous breasts almost reaching her belly button, her tight, supple body on display. She used to be nearly fifty, aging, sagging! What was happening to her?

"Oh god!" Morris shouted and, with herculean effort, pushed the women off of him. Felicia was the only one who failed to truly move, instead flopping to the side on the couch, one fat breast spilling out of her small top to rest on her huge, pillow-like belly. "You ladies are insane! I'll see you again when all of this blows over!" Clutching his bag, he ran home.

It was more of a fast waddle, actually.

With his underwear gone, Morris realized just how much he relied on support to prevent his inane parts from bouncing everywhere. He could hold his dick down once he had his hands free, but it was still long enough to poke out from under anything other than a calf-length skirt, and his huge balls bounced around willfully, slapping against each other and his thighs.

He had to get home and talk to someone sane.

And, after a session in the bathroom that lasted four delicious, mind-blowing orgasms, he said hello to Janey, let his eyes glaze over her bosom which even now his brain was comparing to Sasha's bulbous head, to Tina's growing tummy, to the absurdity of Sarah's cock. He sat on her couch and got back to serious work.

***

One weekend of research turned into a week or two turned into a full-time job for Morris and Janey, stretching from Halloween through to Thanksgiving and reaching into December. They toiled constantly, with Morris occasionally doing some work for his company which he ostensibly still was employed by. The girls seemed to do better when he was gone, as they were probably able to concentrate better, but that didn't stop them from endlessly instant messaging him with erotic words or images. He had to start only going online if he needed a specific, instant response from them, as he really didn't need to see updates on their inflating bodies. To see Tina's belly as it grew and swelled, or Felicia's weight numbers as they first passed 500 pounds and then neared 600. He worked mostly by email, and stated he would only be reading them once per-day. The girls seemed to get that, and limited their own orgies to about one per-day, according to Sasha.

That one was mysterious, certainly. She refused to give any more cryptic advice other than the few sentences that last Monday in the office. Morris knew that she knew the answer; she probably knew everything in the world, by now. But he wasn't going to risk a personal confrontation, especially after some one-sided dirty talk where the super-intelligent Russian indicated she'd be able to control him with her thoughts.

And so he and Janey looked into everything they could think of. A history of Portland, their own family trees, supernatural beliefs in the northwest, odd science experiments. It took up a lot of time and it was a great distraction from the oppressive, unstoppable sexual events going on around them.

Janey's breasts continued to grow, inch by inch, and now Morris had a front-row seat to the phenomenon. The barriers broken, she would tell him all about the difficulties in getting the custom bras and cloths, and how she could tell when she'd need a new one, and how difficult it was becoming to do even more basic tasks like sleep or open doors. At the end of October she just barely reach her nipples if she stretched and pushed and squashed herself; in a few weeks doorways were becoming a near-impossibility, and a few weeks after that even sitting on the couch wouldn't give her any more room. Her boobs were just too big, filling up her entire lap and all of the space in between while still resting on the cushions next to her.

She tried to keep herself covered at all times, what with the dropping temperatures as well as the libido volcano sharing a room and research, but it was difficult with the increasing square-yardage of her chest. Especially during those in-between times, when a new enormous bra or a tent-sized top were in the mail, and the old ones were growing very, very inadequate, when Morris would be most at-risk. Instead he would excuse himself to the bathroom and take longer and longer periods in there. Around the same time that Janey had to start taking the freight elevator, echoing a prediction made by Audi, Morris started returning to his own bathroom to masturbate, something Janey took to indicate how difficult it was to maintain control for Morris while he was cumming.

It was true, too. About two weeks after going into permanent sequester from the girls at the office the unthinkable happened: he was too long to be able to reach his cockhead with his mouth. It was just as well, really, considering how thick his cock was getting. He hadn't been able to fit his entire mouth over his dick for weeks, instead resorting to just sucking on the tip to empty himself. But now that self-sucking was impossible, he had been forced to improvise. No condom would hold his massive member, which was approaching the thickness of a two-liter bottle of coke at its widest, and besides, the gallon-and-a-half that was pumped out of his enormous balls every time he jacked off, which was around ten times a day, was too difficult to dispose of. He had resorted to whacking off into the tub, then washing it all away with cold water. He hoped it wouldn't plug the pipes, or Audi would have a hell of a fun time cleaning it out.

When flaccid his dick was just as problematic. It flopped over his enormous, swollen sack like an elephant trunk. By mid-November it was nearly twenty inches when soft, which meant that there was a lot of things he wouldn't ever do normally again. Stupid things, like pee standing up: now he had to twist his cock around to prevent it from being so long that it just plopped into the water of the toilet. Or wear normal underwear, as he now needed something that pulled his bits up and in front of his pelvis more so than normal briefs could manage.

One day he woke up from tumultuous, sexy dreams and, after emptying his load into the bathtub and washing it down, realized with disgust that his pubes were spread across his football-sized testicles in a really unsightly fashion. He looked like a middle-schooler, proud of the few hairs on his chin and refusing to shave them off. So that's what he did: lathered up his balls, hefted on his one hand, and delicately shaved it smooth. It felt freeing and refreshing, weirdly enough. His ball was so huge that it was like palming a party balloon, and when he was done with them both they slapping cheerfully against his legs.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he asked himself.

It was true. Their research had gotten them nowhere. They hardly even knew what they were looking for, apart from a distraction from their increasing attraction.

"Oh, sorry," Janey said as her gigantic tits dragged across Morris' lap and his mountain of junk, a week after Thanksgiving. The holiday had been a somewhat depressing affair, just the two of them, apart from their families and any real friends. The close quarters were stifling, really: both of them trapped in a single apartment. Once Audi had installed a wider doorframe, the work rapid with her surprisingly flexible and incredibly strong body, Janey and Morris had celebrated by going up to the roof and spending a few hours out in the sun on a surprisingly nice day, but it was winter in Portland and the rain kept them inside almost every other hour. Besides, even that wider door was probably getting far too narrow for Janey.

"Do you do that on purpose?" Morris asked. It wasn't the first time she had accidentally brushed up against his dick, and she normally looked extremely embarrassed as he excused himself to across the hall, hauling himself up and repositioning the weight beneath his inadequate kilt.

She gave him a blank look. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I am."

"No, of course not." Her brows furrowed in an aggravated frown. "Like I'd really want to get you overexcited?"

"Well why not?" He tossed his laptop aside and stood up, the sudden movement almost pulling him from his feet as his balls nearly swung free from his utilikilt. "Look, we both want each other, don't we? We don't have to penis-in-vagina fuck to get what we both want! I'm sick of this bullshit!" He threw his hands up. "I have an amazingly high tolerance for not getting what I want, but this is insane!"

"Are you serious, Morris?" she asked from her pinned position on the couch. "Look at me!"

He did. He gave her a long, languishing look, as he always did whenever he thought he could risk it. Her breasts were absolutely massive, taking up the entire loveseat on their own. Today she was wearing an enormous ringer t-shirt, the sleeves and collar made for a much, much bigger woman, but the bottom only barely prevented the underside of her breasts from showing. There was a lot of tit to cover, as they were both as large as baby killer whales, while still being smooth and perfectly rounded, with big, fat nipples topping them off. Such beautiful nipples: Morris could see them through most of her clothes, now, almost always hardened up and as fat as a fist, the plump areolae as wide as a dinner plate. "What about you?" he asked, imagining sticking his fat, 32-inch cock between those tits and pumping once... twice... then just coming all over both of them, cumming and cumming until his eyes had rolled back and he was collapsed into those warm, giving tits...

"Do you think I don't want to just rip your clothes off, to lick every inch of your cock while you grab and massage my tits, to get eaten out by you while I cum six ways to Sunday? Of course I do!" She narrowed her eyes. "But even more than that I want to figure out what's causing this and stop it, before I am suffocated under my own boobflesh and your balls pin you to the ground."

And yet both of those images appealed to Morris in some terrible, erotic way, so impossible to resist that his dick, with its own mind, wrenched itself free of its moorings and shifted halfway out of its elastic prison. He picked up his laptop and tossed it to Janey, where it landed safely on a free section of breast. "Then do your own research. Try not to get any viruses on it; I cleaned out a shit-ton this summer and it was a huge fucking pain!"

He stomped to the hallway before realizing what he had said.

"Viruses, Janey! Viruses!"

She seemed to hear something in his voice and turned her pretty face to him, anger and frustration replaced with curious surprise. "What about them?"

Morris rushed back, grabbing at his laptop, not even registering that he had to lean over and plant a hand on her giving titflesh to do so. "I cleaned a bunch off this summer when they spontaneously appeared on my computer. This was just after Scarlett broke up with me and I broke out my porn collection again."

Janey raised an eyebrow, apparently willing to forgive their spat for this possible breakthrough. "And you think a virus caused all of this?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. What I do know is that every single one of my fetishes, all of the things that have been happening all around the world, each individual turn-on is documented right here, in pictures and stories and drawings."

Now she was getting it. "Do you think you still have the virus quarantined somewhere?"

Morris grinned at her. "Let's find out."

They spent the next two days tracing back every virus that Morris' computer had cleaned, finding out its origin according to various hacker and anti-virus databases, sure that, when they found one that was undocumented, they'd find their culprit. It was much more interesting work than most of the other stuff they had looked at, and Morris was extra-happy that their stupid fight had gone unnoticed.

Until every resource dried up.

"I can't believe it," he said, running his hands through his hair. "I was so sure."

Janey just shook her head. Today she was in a polo shirt and loose sweatpants. She scrolled through some site on her own laptop. "You see this news?" she asked.

"About what?" Morris sighed.

"People moving to Portland. Our immigration rate has jumped up, like, a thousand percent."

"What?" Morris asked, more interested. "Why?"

"Uh, the story doesn't say," Janey continued, unable to stop the weird feeling in her throat. "But according to this they're all women..."

***

A week later, Morris and Janey broke up.

Their lack of a lead had given them a massive drop in morale. Morris had stopped shaving anything but his balls, which he now worshipfully cleaned up every morning. He also often neglected any clothes apart from a bathrobe, which didn't do much to keep his dick pinned in. It would often be seen peeking out from the bottom of the terrycloth, swinging around as he paced or plopped heavily into his armchair.

Janey wasn't doing much better, although she was keeping her hygiene impressively. Morris guessed that she did some fancy aerobics in her small bathtub every morning, although she neglected to tell him any details. Instead she became catty, terse, refusing to look at him. He didn't know if she was disgusted, or just resisting the seemingly inexorable draw towards him.

He still had some dignity, though. Whenever he started to feel that internal clock strike midnight, whenever his naked dick would start to stiffen and draw itself upward, he would excuse himself to his apartment and take care of business. The multiple orgasms were getting ridiculous; sometimes he would be coming down from his fifth one and start to feel a sixth cresting, about to build, before his dick would go limp and sputter out another drop of thick, milky semen. He would then bend it around and lick it clean, tonguing his inch-long slit for a little extra pleasure.

He was getting gross and he didn't care, and so when he "accidentally" brushed his semi against Janey's constantly-erect nipple, feeling the texture through her cotton shift, her eyes filled with a weird mix of disgust and desire and she ordered him to leave.

"Fine!" he said, snatching up his laptop. "Fine."

"I'll do better work without you distracting me, anyway!" she said. It was probably true, as, after their first month of working well together, of conquering entire swaths of the internet, now they mostly kept to themselves.

It was a cold December.

Morris stopped working at all, either on research for "the cure", or for his old job. He got a text occasionally from one of the many females that knew him personally and apparently constantly lusted after him now: Sarah, her tongue licking up her long, smooth, dark shaft; Felicia, completely naked with her hands lifting up a few enormous rolls from a bed that she mostly covered; Tina, seven months pregnant and her belly now massively outstripping her huge, lactating tits, the golden curve resting on the floor as she sat on the office couch with one leaking nipple sexily clamped in her mouth; Alex, the photographer of all of these beautiful ladies, licking Sarah's cunt or massaging Felicia's breasts or rubbing oil on Tina's belly; or Scarlett, now photographed with the help of a friend, spherical enough for her feet to no longer touch the ground, her naked body still showing a few signs that, yes, here was an arm, now a puffy dome around her hand, while this side of her body used to be a belly as signified by the belly-button and the extra curve here. Scarlett was the most desperate of all, it seemed, as she texted almost every day—Morris guessed that her friend was also drawn to him. He could see the way that her body was rounding out, her cheeks puffing up obscenely, her enormous tits still prominent as they almost constantly spilled blueberry juice out, which flowed down her round body and mingled with her vaginal juices while her pussy lips pressed into the floor.

He jacked off to every. Single. One.

The dreams he had were still vivid, still ridiculous, but the sleeping orgasms had stopped, probably because he was almost constantly cumming throughout the day. It was the only break his prostate got, really. He'd come down from one multiple orgasm, six now standing as the record, rest for about a half-hour, eat a few of the dwindling supply of protein bars, check the news to read more horrifying stuff about how almost every woman on the face of the planet was trying to move to his little city, and then back to the bathroom to fill up the bathtub yet again.

Morris' dick growth was accelerating. He didn't need the measuring tape to discover that, as he could almost see it happening. He remembered the good old days when he would gain an inch in a week; now he'd be lucky to get only three. It was getting longer, and thicker, and heavier every single day. He used to worry about it dipping into the toilet bowl? Now he worried about it dragging along the floor. If it wasn't for his enormous, swollen scrotum, the tip would definitely dangle onto the carpet when he sat down. Instead it bobbed and swung and slapped against his calves and ankles when he walked, his dickhead, as big as a coconut, making the most ridiculous noises. And when he got hard, well, it was like a third leg, only longer, veinier, and more manly. God, it was amazing, running his hands along its length while it slowly pushed itself along the floor, trying to find the leverage to pull itself up into the air, pulsating gently. Physics said that he shouldn't be able to keep it erect, that the giant muscle between his legs, his taint, as swollen as it was wouldn't be able to hold that dick aloft. But Morris was three feet—no, four feet—no, MORE of impossible cock, and when he came, it was better than anything he had possibly imagined: better than heroin, better than heaven, better than the most delicious burger in the world. His abs seized up, he fell on the floor, his eyes rolled back into his head...

...and then another orgasm started to build...

Sometimes he imagined Janey as he woke up and poured shaving cream into his hand, before rubbing it all over his stuffed pillowcase of a scrotum. He imagined her having the same troubles he was, only womanlier, sexier. Waking up in her cute pajamas, her babydoll T that was made for a giantess only barely covering the acreage that was her bosom. Her tits must be nearly large enough to cover her entire bed by now, he reasoned. Would she be able to move? To stand up? He hadn't heard any construction or remodeling, so she must be trapped in whatever room she was in before they became too unwieldy. When he left her she could only fit through a door one tit at a time, even her redone front door. She must be trapped under her own weight, or maybe she had been lucky enough to be standing when she at last passed that threshold. Able to drag herself around her living room, with breasts so big that they rested on the ground in front of her even while she was standing at her five-foot-nothing height, her huge nipples digging into the carpet as she pleasured herself over and over and over again...

On the occasions that Morris thought about his neighbor, he would often end up retreating to the bathroom for an extra time alone.

Time passed, marked only by the nights and the growing pile of beer bottles and empty hard liquor cases. There had been a surprising amount of food in Morris' apartment, enough to shock even him, and definitely enough alcohol to stay drunk almost all of the time.

He had to stay drunk, you see. He knew that he was so horny that if he could leave his apartment without barfing, he would go downstairs, riding the elevator down, open the front doors, and welcome the herd of women that were practically camping out there.

He could see them, through the window, or through news choppers (piloted by men, of course). A crowd of women, milling around. They all supposedly just happened to be passing by as they went about their business, but they would find excuses to hang around this old building in downtown Portland, almost as if they were waiting for something.

Centaurs, satyrs, cowgirls. Blueberries, rolled by helpers. Hugely fat women on motorized beds and carts, dick girls with their cocks "tastefully" hidden in socks and sleeves, cowgirls mooing and milking and licking their lips in horny anticipation. And women not particularly changed, too, their huge breasts rubbing against each other and everything in between. Makeout sessions would turn into impromptu orgies and the Portland government couldn't do anything about it but declare a state of emergency while they filled in half of the government roles.

Morris drank and jacked off and tried not to notice the sounds.

Until one night when he got an IM from a familiar username.

"Come over as soon as possible, I found something too important not to tell you."

It was from Janey.

He looked at himself in the mirror, glad that, by chance, he was only a little buzzed. He had a month's worth of scrub on his face, a beard that, despite his normal thick growth, had managed to come in patchy and shitty. Dried spooge had collected in too many places to count on his bathrobe and his skin.  His dick, just emptied of its load and now coasting at an easy three feet long soft, was cascading over his balls, both dangling to his knees in his required wide-footed stance, each as big around as a medicine ball and just as heavy, but smooth as silk due to his obsessive shaving. He needed to clean up before presenting himself to the woman he was convinced he was in love with.

A half-hour later his face was smooth, as well as his entire crotch. Maybe Morris had gotten carried away, but his razor had seemed to have a life of its own. Once his chin was smooth, he had gone to go over his balls once more and figured "what the hell?" After all, this was all coming to a head, one way or another. He could feel it.

When he was cleaned up, he pulled on a t-shirt and pulled up his cleanest kilt, which now did embarrassingly little to cover anything other than his newly-shaved groin: his balls and dick fell completely out of the hem, and no underwear in his closet could help keep them in. It was the thought that counts, he assured himself, and Morris decided he was ready.

"Come in," Janey's voice said from inside, a little querulous. She was nervous, too, Morris thought, steeling himself.

He had imagined it, but he almost wasn't ready.

Janey's tits weren't just huge anymore; they were her entire body. Standing in the middle of her apartment in nothing but a pair of very well-fitted panties, Janey's tits fell out before her, spreading left, right, and especially forward, piling onto the carpet and coming up to her chin. Resting in her cleavage was her familiar laptop, the power cable draping off of one huge tit to reach the power, and what looked like notes in black Sharpie covering a large percentage of the skin of her breasts within arm's reach.

The furniture had all been moved to the sides of the room, probably pushed by Janey in a series of awkward shoves, and dishes were piled up in the kitchen, but Morris could see that from this arrangement she'd be able to get around and do most of her business. Her hair even looked like it had been shampooed recently, as shiny and red as it had been the first day he had met her while it cascaded down naked back.

And oh, what a back, for he could see that her tits had taken up more of her chest, the skin on her sides, from her collar to the bottom of her ribcage, stretching out to morph into fat, delicious breast. Freckles dotted the perfect surface as well as fine veins and arteries. She blushed at Morris' stare, one hand trying to cover up her almost naked bottom, the other holding on to her laptop. He couldn't help himself: he had to walk around her, to take it all in, these tits that were now wider, plumper, fatter than Janey was tall, with fat, rosy areolae as wide as trash cans and pert, plump nipples that stuck out like tapered coffee cans. Morris couldn't help but trace a hand along her as he circled back around.

"Morris," she said softly, her eyelids flickering, "this is importan—"

"You're beautiful," he said, leaning in to kiss her, letting his cockhead rest on the ground as he moved. To his surprise, she let go of her laptop and lightly pulled his head in for a deep, long kiss, her tender lips clearly aching for his. Then she pulled away.

"No, Morris. We don't have much time. I need you to find a sledgehammer or a fire axe or something. But first: have you ever seen Ghostbusters?"

***

She explained it to him as he chopped away at the walls around her door. The axe had been in the supply closet, sharp and ready as if it were made for this moment, and Morris found that the hard labor was extremely difficult after his three months of physical inactivity.

"This building is old. One of the oldest modern ones in the city, right? And they thought it was crazy to make it this tall at the time. But the thirty-five stories is important, important to the god that the architect worshipped!"

He stopped chopping. "Hold on, back up. A god?"

Janey nodded, her tits bouncing with the motion on the ground. "Right, an elder god. I found some notes on the back of the blueprints. Specifically, he worshiped Sharonoth, the demon of beginnings, lord of lightning and natural disasters, and, most importantly, harbinger of lust and sexual cravings."

Morris got back to work. "Like, urg, odd sexual fetishes, hah!" The doorway was getting bigger, at least six feet wide, now. They'd need it larger to get Janey into the hallway.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed.

"But how did you know to look into the building's history?"

"It seemed obvious once I thought of it. We both live here, we both are near the top of it, I had only just moved in when all of this crazy shit happened. Plus, the lord of lightning? We're at the top of a building that, for the longest time, was the tallest one in the city! Of course lightning struck it all the time!"

"Of course."

As she talked, Janey backed her way into the kitchen, found a washcloth, and started to scrub the marker from her freckled breasts. It was very distracting, but Morris was too excited to get turned on by now.

"So, what, the elder god is waking up?" Morris had never read Lovecraft, but he had read a lot of Stephen King, enough to give him a general idea of the lore in these cases.

"According to the writings of the architect, after enough energy was stored in the building, Sharonoth would stir in his slumber and begin to awaken. His dreams would become manifest, and eventually he would be born anew into the world."

Sweat was pouring down Morris' face, but it felt good. Real work. Real conclusions. The doorway was almost as big as it was going to get. "'Born anew' how, exactly?"

"Well," Janey said, the happiness draining from her voice. "Have you had sex since this all started?"

"No," Morris admitted. "It was too weird, like I told you. They all... they all wanted it too badly."

She gave a small smile. "We'll talk about your self-esteem when this is all over. For now, I think you did good. Assuming that, for whatever reason, you're the catalyst in all of this, having sex would have been 'game over' immediately."

Morris was going back over the edges of the nine-foot hole he had created, covering the edges with blankets and towels, knocking away spurs that were too jagged. "But I succeeded! I haven't had sex. What's the problem?"

"The problem is our deadline. Tonight. Sharonoth apparently has a big thing for the numbers five and three." She was backing up to the door, her pert little butt tightening in her black cotton panties as she pulled herself backwards, her tits bouncing against the wide hallway, rebounding on corners. Despite their size, the skin was still soft and tender, and numerous scratches covered the surface from a few smacked shelves and picture frames.

"That's kind of arbitrary."

Janey shook her head. "But it's popped up all over! Five girls in your office that have five unique changes to their physique. Three of us in your building. How many floors in the building? Thirty-five. How many months has this been going on? Supposedly since the end of May, almost eight months ago. Eight is--"

"Three plus five," Morris finished. "So what? Why do you think this is leading up to eight months after it started?" he asked, squeezing past to help push her.

She stopped, her arms spread out on her enormous breasts, an exasperated look on her face. "Are you serious, Morris? It's New Year's Eve. In twenty minutes, it will be 2015, three times thirty years since the building was made, and three times five years since the turn of the millennium. It's all building up for this, I can feel it."

"Then where are we going?" He started to push as she started to pull, and, without another scratch, they got her past the threshold and into the hallway.

Janey breathed a sigh of relief. "The freight elevator. For a lord of lightning, we're going to the roof."

The elevator ride was very, very brief. They had one floor to go up. Then, with her blanket acting as a train, Morris and Janey got themselves out onto the cold concrete.

It was a calm, cloudless night. Unusual for Portland. "Huh," Morris said. "I was expecting a little more thunder."

Janey had her arms crossed tightly over her bosom, rubbing her naked shoulders. "Guess I should have put on pants, huh? They were all in my closet when I got stuck."

"Crap," Morris said, "I could have grabbed you something."

She grinned at him. "Thanks, Frank, but we were already running out of time. This should all be over soon."

Morris nodded and looked around. "Assuming you're right. What do you think I'm going to have to do?"

"Resist sex one final time, I imagine," she shrugged. "Don't give in to temptation. Um, if someone asks if you're a god, tell them yes."

They laughed together, and, seeing how cold his partner looked, Morris hugged up against her. She gratefully leaned into his warm body, and didn't seem to mind the three-foot-long semi that was bracing itself against the hot curve of her breast. "Do you think this will all go away, when it's over?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. She turned to him. "Do you want it to? This is your fantasy, after all."

He scoffed. "Hardly. I don't really like this whole end-of-the-world stuff. And in case you couldn't tell, women throwing themselves at me on the streets isn't really turning me on."

"Let's assume that goes away. People get their minds back, etcetera. Do you want everything else to stay?"

He thought about it as hard as he could while a beautiful girl with fantastic-sized breasts leaned against him, her naked body shivering against his hot and hard one, her beautiful hair smelling like an ocean breeze.

"I'd only want people to stay the way they are if they wanted to. That's my kind of fantasy."

She nodded, then tilted her head. "What's that sound?" she asked.

Morris rolled his eyes. "Oh, just my thousands of fans. Maybe millions by now, if you're right about how important tonight is. All of them trying to get a glimpse of me and my huge dong."

She smiled into his chest. "I hope it's over soon."

They stood quietly for a moment, listening to some kind of rhythmic chanting coming from below. Were they saying "Sharonoth" over and over again? Was it possible that the supernatural mind virus had infected them all to such a degree?

"What about you?" Morris asked her suddenly. "What do you want?"

She blushed again, and that was almost answer enough for Morris. He was going to make a wry remark when the elevator dinged and the end began.

"Hey, sexy," said the familiar voice of Audi as she stepped out of the freight elevator.

She hadn't been lying two months ago when she had said she would start to need it soon. The behemoth that unfolded itself out of the now tiny-seeming freight car would be too large to fit into the stairwell, let alone one of the closets they claimed were passenger elevators in the building. The "too many passengers" alarm was sounding from the car, and Morris could see why: Audi was huge. As big as a car, fittingly enough. Her traps and deltoids towered above her head, all semblance of neck gone, replaced by mountains of muscle that turned into arms as thick as trashcans, ridged and cut and veined like fine marble. Her breasts, previously enormous on her much smaller frame, were now stretched over her pecs which bulged into her chin, lats and obliques thinning down to a relatively waspish waist that was about two feet thick of bulging steel and abdominals. Her massive outer glutes bulged out in a parody of sexy hips, her thigh muscles folding and overlapping with the necessary tension to keep this behemoth standing, each leg bigger around than a tree trunk, flaring like a cobra head outward. Even her calves looked like they were going to explode with muscle, with her legs still at least two feet in width at her knee, only tapering down for her ankle and her wide-set, bare feet.

She was completely naked, her long blonde hair loose and blowing in the wind, and she was positively frightening and attractive at the same time.

"The Master calls," she said, walking over to the pair frozen in disbelief. "You have a trip to make." She picked up Morris by the back of his shirt and lifted him off of the ground and over her head as if he weighed only five pounds. "Don't try anything or I'll kill you both."

After tossing Morris into the elevator, she went back for Janey. Her arms weren't wide enough to gather all of Janey's breasts, as, while her skeleton had stretched with necessity, Audi still wasn't quite that big, but she was able to lift Janey above the gigantically-endowed girl's breasts, letting the tits dangle against her muscular front as she carried Janey to the elevator. Watching her movements, it seemed unreal: anyone with that much muscle should have lost all flexibility hundreds of pounds ago, yet Audi was able to move and bend and lift like she still only weighed 140. He chalked it up to that odd ability for his balls to not turn into atrophied of blood, or for Janey's skin to not rip open when, well, when someone lifted her breasts up by her body.

"I'll see you down there," Audi said once they were both situated, then pressed the button marked "B2" on the pad. As the doors closed, Morris caught a fleeting glimpse of the musclegirl as she suddenly spurred off toward the edge of the building, then felt the building shake—she must have jumped.

A few seconds later there was another earth-shattering mini-quake as she hit the ground.

"I hope she didn't hit anyone down there," he mumbled.

Janey, meanwhile, was close to panicking. "Them? What about us? Why are we going to the basement? On that matter, when did we even get a second basement?"

"This elevator has always had that second button," Morris said. "As far as I knew, only the janitors went down there. God knows what else is there."

She just shook her head. "This just doesn't make sense! Sharonoth is the god of lightning, he should be upstairs, where lightning strikes."

Morris just grimaced, his huge cock shriveling up for the first time in months, the fear finally getting to him. "We'll find out soon enough."

As the freight elevator made its painstaking way downward, the building shook and shivered a few more times, for god-only-knew reasons. Morris guessed it was Audi, making her way down to the basement in a far more violent manner. Or maybe the Morrisites outside had finally decided to just come inside and get a hold of him themselves. Hell, where were all of the women who lived in the building? Why had they gone outside instead of staying in, just coming for him in his apartment?

The elevator dinged at B2. The doors opened. Audi was there to greet them, her naked body slick with sweat as she ducked a little in the ten-foot-high ceilings. "The Master awaits, Lovers," she said, then grinned that crazy, crooked grin again. "Should I take your coats?"

"Thanks, we're fine," Morris said, stepping out of the elevator and lifting a hand to Janey. She had been shoved in all wrong, though, with her tits facing the exit, so rather than wait for them to gradually turn around Audi apparently decided to make herself useful and grabbed Janey by her enormous, rigid nipples. Instead of screaming in pain, Janey merely gasped as she was pulled slowly out of the elevator, stepping forward with staggered movements. "Oh, oh god," she said, and Morris felt himself, despite all other effects, getting a little turned on.

It was impossible to resist. It was something in the air down there, a thickened quality. Like the smell of a wet pussy, or a lover's breath, or—

What was he thinking? It was a normal basement. Bare walls, concrete floor. But there was something around the corner, wasn't there? Something calling him...

His cock was half-erect, pointing the way. Morris took a step forward, the momentum of his pendulous dick pulling him. An enormous arm made purely of muscle with a small, thin hand on the end blocked his way. "Not so fast, Lover. It isn't time yet."

"What do you mean?" Janey gasped. In about thirty seconds she had gone from scared-but-composed to sweaty and panting, one free arm flat against her breasts and moving in kneading motions, the other picking at the back of her panties.

Audi just kept smiling that odd way, her muscles flexing with silent laughter. "Just a little more time..."

And Morris wasn't there anymore.

***

He was floating. Silent, calm, happy, and fulfilled. He had been floating there for a long, long time. Since the Beginning. He didn't want to open his eyes, in that way you don't want to on a sunny Saturday morning, light trickling through your drawn shades onto your lids, birds tweeting some distance away. But he did. He saw himself, stretching out in front of him. Stretching out for feet, yards. An enormous extension of himself, pulsing with blood and emotion and lust. His cock was huge! Twenty feet, at the least, and as thick around as his own torso. Beneath him he could feel his balls boiling, testicles as large as small sedans shifting with impatience to release his seed, to come and come and come and cum as they emptied their reservoirs into a willing vessel. He reached out to touch the skin of his enormous erect cock and saw that his arm was different, stronger, more... more perfect. He flexed and felt his entire body respond, saw how his abs were taut and firm, his pecs actually bulging out a little. It was right and good.

Far in front of him, but so tantalizingly close, was Janey, floating as well, licking her lips with anticipation. Her breasts bobbed with her, both of them large enough to fill a swimming pool and dripping with sweat, her nipples erect and massive, thick and sweet and tender. Freckles dotted her body and Morris saw that, like him, she was changed in other ways: her hips broader, her ass thicker. She drew a hand down one tit's edge and traced her thigh into her crevice, where Morris saw she wasn't just wet with longing, she was swollen and ready. He could almost believe she could take his monster of a cock.

No. He could believe it. Anyone could take his cock.

And he so willed it.

Like a captain of a bizarre, turgid starship, Morris started to drift toward his target. She saw him coming and moaned in anticipation, the sound echoing through the huge, infinite space. Oh god, he would cum. He would finally cum, and it would feel so perfect.

Praise be to Sharonoth, the Master.

Wait, what?

"What the fuck is this?" Morris asked, and he stopped. Everything stopped. Suddenly he was back in his normal body, his out-of-shape, thin body, with the dick that was only (ha, only) 54 inches long and the balls an inconvenient foot wide. Janey was back, too: thin, short Janey, with the curvy butt and the couch-sized tits. Now that she was naked in that white space, Morris could see that her labia were indeed bigger than normal, puffy and swollen in her hand. He still wanted her, he still lusted after her, but this was more normal. This he could stop.

"And why did you stop?"

She was standing in front of him, on his erect dick, if you could believe it. Tall, curvy, virtually flawless. She had dark, curly brown hair, an earthy color, with a single streak of white in it. Her breasts were full, even abnormally large, but realistically so, or at least realistically the previous year, before the boobpocalypse. Her hips curvy and healthy. Her pussy neatly trimmed. And her face... it was perfect. Pointed chin, intelligent eyes, curvy lips.

"I want you to continue," she said, twisting her waist away from him so that he could admire her perfect, round ass. She was still locking into his eyes.

"But why? Why is this so important? Why do you need me to... to fuck someone?"

"Not just anyone," she grinned, leaning down so that her huge tits swung beneath her. "I want you to fuck someone that desperately, achingly wants to be fucked. And I want you to feel the same way." She tapped a perfect nail against his nose, and Morris flinched.

"But why?"

"Mmmmf," she said, stretching up toward the sky/wall/floor/ceiling/emptiness. "Because it's so good to be awake, isn't it? And my what an interesting world you've created."

Morris felt insulted. "I hardly created it. You made it all this way."

"Oh?" She cocked a perfect eyebrow.

"You are Sharonoth, right?" Janey asked, having drifted closer.

The woman smirked, reaching a hand up to cup one huge, delicious breast, playing a nipple between her fingers. "I might be. I may be. Sharonoth is too great, too impossible for you to comprehend. I have been created as an aspect of Sharonoth. One that wouldn't, well, break your mind. While forcing you to orgasm in what I can only imagine would be the greatest pleasure felt in your universe for..." She counted on her fingers. "Why, for ninety Earth years. Has it been that long?"

Janey sneered. "You know exactly how long it's been. That's why you chose today to wake up."

The woman only shrugged, her breasts bobbing pleasantly. "Sharonoth does not choose such things. Sharonoth only abides by the rules. Fifteen half-moon cycles ago, Sharonoth was disturbed from Sharonoth's slumber, by this universe telling Sharonoth to begin preparation." She smirked. "And so, Sharonoth did."

"The earthquake!" Morris slapped his head. "But how did he prepare? By randomly picking me?"

The woman, Sharonoth's avatar, stepped lightly from Morris' cock to Janey's right breast, her bare feet making oddly sexy imprints in the flesh. "Oh, it was not random. Sharonoth is the lord of lightning, after all, and you reside in a location heavy with both lightning and lust spirits, soaking up all of the sexual goings-on in your building. And, like a lightning rod, Sharonoth could feel all of your desires, all of your longings, and could make them come true." She turned and sat cross-legged on the breast, her own tits resting in her lap. When did they get that large, that full, that... enticing? She leaned in, letting her erect nipples play on to Janey's soft breasts. "You were fetish fuel for Sharonoth," she said, her teeth snapping in delight. "Delicious fuel, and so much of it."

The gears were turning in Morris' head. "So he, he made every woman in the world appeal to me?"

"Sharonoth made you a global target, and made the globe your own target. The stronger the lust, the stronger the desire in both parties, the more powerful Sharonoth will be when reborn into this world!" She leaned back against the breast, her own tits now spilling out of her lap and squishing against Janey's.

Janey gasped at the feeling, but still had to know the answers. "Then why not change Morris' brain? Just make him think nothing of having sex with every woman he met?"

The avatar smiled with knowing. "The more freely-given the love, the more fuel it gives," she said in a sing-song voice. "After all, why do you think you were able to keep your own mind, little Lover?" She stood up and again danced to Morris' dick, her now enormous tits swinging against her naked waist. "Yes, the entire world was set up just to soften you up, Lovers, to make you eternally horny and unsatisfied and desire-filled, and then you were brought here, drawn here, in order to fulfill the need." She turned to Morris. "And besides, admit it: your own desires wish for a girl who would willingly make love to you, one that had her own personality and will and internal struggle. All of this is set up just. For you." She cocked an eyebrow. "Or is this one too strong of mind? Sharonoth will awaken, no matter who you have sex with. This is just the best option. Perhaps you'd care for one of the other targets of your lust?"

She snapped her fingers and Sarah was there, her swollen breasts plumped up around her enormous, erect cock, the soft foreskin almost covering the cantaloupe-sized head. She moaned with desire, her eyes tightly closed as one hand worked the folds of her pussy and the other the loose skin of her dick, pre-cum pouring down the length of the shaft.

*snap*

Sasha was there, floating in nothing, her body the body of a twenty-year-old, her head three feet in diameter with her small, pointed face at the end. It pulsed with power and knowledge and desire, and her legs worked against each other in a want even she couldn't control.

*snap*

Purring filled the non-air as Alex played with the six tits arranged down her striped torso, her tail pushing in and out between her thighs while her ears twitched in pleasure, her hands making a kneading motion against the overripe array of breasts.

*snap*

Two tons of delicious Filipina sat welcoming in front of Morris while Felicia whimpered and licked her lips in longing, her enormous breasts spilling off of her hot-tub of a belly, the flab of her ass pumped up behind her. The shape of her was almost lost in enormous, sexy curves, one rounded body part flowing into the next as she plumped ever larger.

*snap*

Tina floated serene as her pregnant belly laid out in front of her, far longer than her legs could reach and perfectly oval. Her black hair pooled among her enormous, dripping breasts, and she turned to Morris with eyes filled to the brim with lust and horniness and pride. "The doctor said he was wrong. It wasn't ten. It was twenty." She closed her eyes and leaned as far forward as possible, squashing her full breasts, both as large as beach balls, against her taut, golden skin, her reaching hands trying to grab as much tight skin as possible. "I'm going to get soooooooo biiiiiiiig..."

*snap*

"Now, Sharonoth needs to awaken, and it will happen. You will be honored in the best way that your kind can, once Sharonoth is here." The avatar turned away and spread her arms, her enormous breasts filling the space between her collar and her feet. "Let us welcome the Master! Let you two bring in a new age of lust and terror and beginnings! Set the foundation for a new world here, in the foundation of Sharonoth's greatest temple!"

Morris blinked, and he was back in the basement. The air was cloying with that perfume, and with the hot, sweaty smell of two lovers. He was grasping something and he realized he was holding on to Janey's nipples like two thick handles as the object of all of his desire lay on her back in front of him, her perfect breasts parted so that he could see her face and her dripping, soaking folds. His dick was perfectly positioned to enter her, and though she looked too small, he knew he would fit. It would happen because he wanted to do so. He wanted to have sex with her. He needed to. He could do anything, here in this place. He had been rewarded the power, at least for this night.

His balls were churning, and though Audi was somewhere behind him making sure that the deed would be done, he didn't need a threat. With the carrot or the stick, he knew the carrot would be better here.

Janey looked up at him through her canyon-like cleavage. "Oh, god, I don't care. Just fuck me, Morris. Fuck me."

He looked beyond her. Around that corner was who-knows-what. Probably a massive shrine above a hole in the ground that led to a being from outside of their universe, but it was promising him the greatest pleasure he could imagine. More than that, really. Something so good that he would lose his mind from it, no doubt.

Fuck it, he thought.

And, rather than needing to thrust inward, he willed to ender Janey and felt his own dick growing longer, thicker, stronger. She had started about four feet away from the tip of his dick, but he wanted to fit there from here, so he did. And oh, if her breasts were just a little bigger... just a little... Her nipples swelled and grew in his hands, the pebbly, oven-hot feel of them filling his fingers as he started to have to reach further to hold on to them, her tits growing inside the confines of the room. Oh god, he needed to be bigger, he needed her to be bigger. So he was, and she was.

It felt good, so good. He was enveloped by the girl he wanted, the girl he loved, and she was becoming only more desirable, more deliciously sexy, and his capacity to feel pleasure was only getting bigger, greater. He shifted his legs apart as his balls followed suit, throwing his head back in delight as he at last lost his grip on Janey's nipples and the flesh started to press against the ceiling. His eyes snapped open, though, when he felt the monstrous tip of his penis touch something soft and giving. He looked down to see Janey's spread legs, her knees pressing against her breasts, and the dick that was now thicker than a third leg and almost twice as long pushing into her vagina. He needed more length, more, and more juice behind it. His balls touched the hot concrete and swelled a little more, then finished, as his dick pressed in to the darkness. Janey gasped and Morris actually watched her hips reconfigure themselves to allow more space. Her gaping, swollen lips stretched and stretched and with almost no effort or friction Morris' truly awe-inspiring penis entered her, her belly pushing outward to contain it. 90 inches, Morris figured, would be good. Three times thirty.

"Oh, god, Morris, this feels unreal," she gasped, her hitching chest no longer able to have an effect on her room-filling mammaries. "Oh god."

He knew. He could feel it now. Feel that first wave rising as he pushed his hips in, feel her bottom out and gasp with a mixture of bliss and pain, then pulled himself slightly out. Just the barest amount of friction and she was screaming, crying out, yes, yes, release now, give it to her, fill her up.

Now was the time.

Morris dared a glance over his shoulder and was relieved to see that Janey's newly-enormous breasts were too big for even Audi, who was pressing herself against the wall while shoving her hand inside herself over and over again. The perfect moment, then, to pull himself out of his lover, rolling backward on his balls. He hadn't dare think of his plan, as Sharonoth had been shown to be able to read his mind from the very first moment of this insane adventure. He had just thought of the fringes of it. "Make her tits bigger, make his dick longer, make his balls produce even more jizz." All thoughts that would definitely be sexual, lust-filled thoughts from Frank Morrison, mistaken for him giving in to the urges slamming against his mind.

He pulled out, and angled his dick a little up, and sprayed for that unseen hole to another universe around the corner.

Obviously Morris couldn't see it. He didn't dare: he had read about what happened when you saw elder gods. But god, he was pouring out so much cum that there was no way that stupid tentacled beast didn't get at least some of it in its infinite eyes.

And he wasn't going to lie: cumming that much, out of that long of a dick, in between the two most perfect breasts ever experienced by man, felt better than Morris imagined anything could feel like.

His screams intermingled with Janey's screams, while, in the other room, peeking in on their lovemaking session like a pervert, Sharonoth screamed a mind-splitting shriek of rage.

But, by the time Morris stopped cumming, something like his fifteenth orgasm, Sharonoth was silent. And it would be for at least another ninety years, assuming this latest jerk-off session put it back to sleep.

***

It is a rare day in Portland, Oregon where the sun shines, and Frank and Janey Morrison were enjoying it while they could.

The law in Oregon states that you can be naked as much as you want as long as it isn't in a sexual context, but for the past six months not even the sexual context was really paid attention to as the millions of transplants had come out of their Morris-obsessed trances on New Year's Day and realized that they desperately needed some kind of outlet. Every willing man and teenager possessing of a penis and a heterosexual orientation had been snatched up quickly and noisily in the streets, backyards, and public restrooms of the city by equally-willing partners, while every gay woman honed in on each other like magnets. Spats about yelling out some guy's name during lovemaking, about obsessions with a person they had only dreamed about with an enormous penis, those were quickly forgiven and forgotten as the women also forgot why they had even wanted to come to this drizzly little hipster Mecca.

Six months later the aftershocks were still being felt and heard in many a public toilet and through many a thin apartment wall, and almost everybody was understanding. Especially the newlywed Morrises, who had decided to spend the bright June day on the Waterfront.

Even in a world that was now filled in every corner with enormous blueberries of women, truck-filling breasts, and anything in between, Janey was still found to be a bit of an oddity with the sheer size of her. Each breast was over twenty feet wide and, when laying on the ground, about ten feet tall, with her nipples cheerily greeting most passersby as ample surface for sitting. She didn't mind it; it felt good, as good as the warm sun beating down on her pale, freckled skin. Morris leaned against one boob and eyed his beautiful wife. She pretended not to notice through her sunglasses.

"You bothered to wear bikini bottoms?"

She had to smile. "Some of us prefer not to parade our privates to every person within three miles," she said. "Besides, they're cute." She tucked her fingers under the elastic band and let them snap against her slightly swollen belly.

Morris rolled his eyes. "As if I have a choice." It was true: no article of clothing really made sense for him to wear. His dick, when soft, was still a good five feet long, and his enormous beanbag chair balls brushed the ground with every step unless he picked up his scrotum himself. A famous fashion designer from France had made him some very special underwear that kept it all in, but he had to walk so horribly bow-legged that it made him feel dumber than just carrying himself around.

The fame of Morris' cock had lasted only for a little while. After all, a world where catgirls cut you off in traffic and snake women took your order would quickly grow bored by a man with an enormous penis, no matter how enormous it was. Even now, though, there were a few people peeking into Janey's cleavage and starting in surprise at the man swinging his own dick around in his hand idly while his balls rested gently on the ground.

After the supposed end of Sharonoth's attempt to wake up, Audi had thankfully come to her senses, apologized as much as humanly possible, and torn an enormous hole out of the ceiling to help get the two would-be lovers out of the subbasement. Morris was thankful for her sake that Sharonoth's departure hadn't taken away the strange ability for fetishes to maintain their existence, or else there was no way Audi would be able to even move any more. The laws of physics remained broken, at least in the cases of everyone changed by the events of the past eight months.

As they had been carted through the crowds of furious lovemaking, he had spotted a few familiar faces. Felicia's enormous mass was being tended to by no less than five men, two to each of her enormous, fatty breasts and one trapped between her monstrous thighs. As she moaned and twisted with pleasure, her entire body shook, every inch of her pleased. Sarah wasn't too far away, one man taking her from beneath while she shoved every inch of her enormous cock into a willing participant. In this case it appeared to be Alex, her hips doing that same strange trick Janey's had done not ten minutes before to allow Sarah's entrance. Another little gift from Sharonoth. On the other end of the street Tina was on her belly screaming in joy as Lucas took her from behind and she rocked back and forth, her full stomach working as a pivot for her swinging, dripping breasts. Finally he spotted Sasha in a small cadre of similarly-shaped women, all of their enormous heads touching in the center of a circle of five, their bodies writhing in what Morris hoped was delight.

They all gradually got back to their normal lives afterward, some of them with more difficulty and a little less joy than before, but all with relative success. More than a few cynics noted how good it was for the economy, even with all of the government assistance needed for the weird health cases.

Meanwhile he and Janey rented out an entire warehouse with a great heater and a large, efficient drain, using the dwindling savings in Morris' account, and made love for the first real time. This time he didn't pull out, and they both came over, and over, and over again.

And when she got pregnant, it didn't give her an enormous belly. Her breasts didn't start shooting out pools and pools of milk. She didn't plump up or fill out that much. It was twins, but normal, boring twins.

A boy and a girl.

One with a huge, five-inch-long penis, and the other with fat, full breasts on her tiny baby chest.

Well, Morris thought as he cut their cords, maybe that was just how the world would be from now on.

What a boring world it would be if he had been a foot fetishist.