Wants and Needs
By Mich

“Your body knows what it needs.” That’s what they always told me. First through puberty, then, you know, later. It took me a while to believe it, to understand what I both wanted and needed.

How do things like this start? What do I do to introduce you to my life, before? I guess the true beginning would be when my mom and dad went to the local Anniversary Inn or whatever, having been freshly married, and fucked like bunnies all night long. It might not have been from that night that I was conceived, although that's what they have always told me, but that's probably the most historically accurate place to start, and my strange mix of genes sparking may very well be how it all began. But maybe it would be my parents' conceptions that start us off the best.

Or maybe it was just high school. Ordinary, everyday, high school. That is the best place to start, because that’s where the story basically ends. It starts a few days prior, as best I can tell, to when my world got rocked.

I, like about 20% of the youth in America, went to a private high school. Uniforms, high tuition rates, the whole shebang. My family was pretty well-off due to my dad working for an upscale engineering firm, so both me and my little sister were able to go. I was a senior that fall, and wasn't really itching to get off to college just yet. I was still a virgin. I still had a crush on the girl across the street. I still liked my high school, goddamn it, and that's apparently not that common. True, I would run into Jessie, my little sister, in the halls sometimes, but seniors and juniors didn’t mesh that often. True, the principal seemed a little obsessed with bottom lines and profit margins, but that didn't bother me, just my parents. I liked it there. I had a few good friends, I was pretty much the star of the boy's track team, I had good grades, and, overall, life was good.

The day I can remember most clearly just before I noticed any changes was a track meet day. Jerry, my best friend, and I were getting out onto the field, about to run some laps. School was over, it was a crisp October afternoon, and things were, as I said, good. I was still at T-36 hours or so until stuff took off. We jogged.

“Are you asking Whitney to the dance or what?” Jerry pestered me. His mouth was always running, it seemed, which would explain his huge lung capacity. He always found it easier to talk while running than I did.

Whitney, of course, was the aforementioned girl across the street. She was short, perky, had a really tight ass that she would show off in jeans (when she wasn't wearing the plaid skirt of our school's uniform) and was a real, well, sweetheart. I fell for her hard the first time I saw her, and had stayed fallen all through elementary and middle school.

I shook my head. “Probably not. Halloween dances are for chumps. I don't even have a good costume.”

“That's not the real reason,” Jerry laughed. “Even though she clearly has a thing for you, little Corey is too scaaaaared to ask a girl out.”

“Shut up,” I said, as I whacked him on the back of the head, feeling my cheeks burn red. The other guys had heard what he said and were laughing along with him.

“Just ask her, Core!” was the general chorus. I ducked my head as my face burned hotter. Being put on the spot only made it worse for me, then. I didn't understand why other kids would care so much about my relationship with a girl. It was stupid.

After the meet, after the showers, after going home, I got on Facebook and saw that Whit was on, too. “Ask her,” I told myself. “It's not stupid. You've known each other and have been friends with each other forever.”

But I couldn't.

The next day was almost as forgettable. My History class reminded me of a big test coming up, but I was mostly distracted by my History teacher. Miss O'Reilly was the stereotypical babe of a teacher. Big, firm tits, a round ass, a tendency to wear shoes with heels higher than strictly necessary. Her black hair was long, and she didn't put it up in a bun like the other women teachers, but left it in a ponytail or let it hang over her shoulders. I tended to get a bit distracted in her class trying to keep an erection down.

My slacks were just starting to tent when the bell rang and we were dismissed. I thanked God that I didn't have the monster cock you always saw in porn and shifted my semi sideways, effectively hiding it.

What a simple thing to take for granted, now that I mention it.

Whitney and Jerry and I ate lunch with a couple other kids that we hung out with. The talk was, of course, on the Halloween dance. There were still three weeks but everyone had a date—everyone, of course, but me and Whitney.

“What are you doing for it?” one of Whit's friends asked her. The response was evasive.

“Oh, I don't know. Probably watch a movie or something. Halloween dances are pretty lame.”

“That's what I said!” I jumped in, probably a little too loudly. “You can't even dance well if you have a good costume, right?”

“Right,” she said, but looked sad. In retrospect it's pretty obvious she wanted me to actually ask her there. What an idiot.

Afternoon classes followed by a bus ride followed by homework followed by dinner. T-12 hours, now.

“How was school, kids?” Mom asked at dinner.

“Good!” Jessie squeaked. “Ryan Parks asked me to the dance today!”

“That's great!” Mom said. Dad kind of growled.

“I don't know how I feel about you going to a dance without supervision.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “It's not like there won't be supervision, Daaad,” she said, drawing out the word. “There will be adults there, and teachers, too.”

He harumphed and caught my eye. “Keep an eye on her, huh?”

“Actually,” I said, picking at my peas, “I probably won't be going.”

Mom and Dad stopped. “You mean you haven't asked Whitney out yet?” they almost asked in unison.

That was it. “Jesus, does everyone make my decisions for me, or can't I just have a peaceful night at home for once?” I said, slamming my hands down on the table and shoving off from it. Dad started to say something but Mom must have shushed him because I didn't hear anything else on my journey up the stairs to my room.

I went to bed far too early for any reasonable mind that night, sleeping probably ten hours before my alarm clock finally woke me bright and early, six AM.

I didn’t know it yet, but it was D-Day.

I slipped out of bed, my pajama bottoms bunching up my torso like always. I scratched myself and made my way, half-blind, to the bathroom. As I pissed down into the toilet, my hair fell into my eyes, and I brushed it away.

Then I realized my hair had fallen into my eyes.

I nearly spun to the mirror right then and there, spraying piss all over the floor, but I maintained control and finished up, holding out a bunch of hair with my free hand so I could see it. There it was, the color it always was: kind of a gold-tinted blond. It was just about three inches longer than it should have been.

I normally keep my hair really short, crew-cut length. It makes it so much more comfortable when running, so that it's not flying everywhere. But this...

Looking in the mirror, my shaggy head looked like I belonged in some kind of band. Past my ears, curling up away from my neck, hanging over my eyes, it was too long. Impossibly long. Was it some kind of trick? What kind of trick makes hair grow longer in the space of a few hours?

I didn't know what to do. I should ask my mom, I reasoned. I showered, stumbled back to my room, half in shock, and pulled my uniform on.

Here was mysterious item number two. My pants were looser than normal, and my shirt. I had to pull my belt about three notches further than usual, threading the remainder through a few more belt loops, while my shirt felt baggy and slack, almost billowing away from my body. I tucked it in, but there was more to be tucked in than normal. And, now that I looked, my slacks were too long for me, so that my heels were stepping on it. I was normally six-foot-two, pretty damn tall, so I was probably still pretty average, but...

The only real conclusion was that I was smaller. Smaller, with longer hair.

“Hah,” I laughed crazily at myself in the mirror. “I must be turning into a girl.”

Then I went downstairs.

“Good morning, honey,” Mom said carefully as she mixed her tea at the counter. The tone of her voice suggested that she was trying to be pleasant after my sudden freak out the night before. “Did you sleep—what the hell?”

I had never heard my mom swear before, even such a minor one as that. She was rushing over to me. “Is this a wig? What's going on, Corey?”

I didn't have an answer. “I don't know. My clothes are too big, too.”

“Shit, we need to get to a doctor, or something.”

“You think?” I said. “Do doctors normally see people for their hair suddenly growing?”	

“They must, honey. Plus, this weight problem, or whatever?”

“Yeah,” I said, shakily. “Yeah, let's go.”

***

“I don't know what to tell you,” Dr. Eck said. He was the only doctor I had ever gone to, the only one anyone in my family had ever gone to. We got Christmas cards from him and vise-versa. “Other than the hair, the drop in weight, and the apparent two inches in height difference... Corey seems perfectly healthy.”

Mom was in mother bear mode. “What do you mean, perfectly healthy? He might have some crazy disease or something! I've seen Mystery Diagnosis!”

Dr. Phillips shrugged. “What you haven't seen is the thousands of people that have non-disease-related drops in weight or height. It's not as uncommon as you'd think. He feels fine, right? We've taken blood tests, we'll get back to you.”

“Um,” I said, as Mom's head got ready to explode, “are you sure about that? I don't know anything about diseases or stuff...”

“Trust me,” Dr. Phillips said. “I've done all of the basic checks and you check out fine. You can breathe okay, right?” I nodded. “You've noticed no changes at all in your ability to run and stuff, right?” Another nod. “Then all we can really do is let you get back to school. We'll run those tests, and if anything changes in the next few days, call me again.” He slapped me on the back. “You're one of the healthiest young men I know, Corey. I'm sure if something's changing with you, it's biologically normal, whatever it is. Sometimes the body needs something you didn’t even know it needed!”

I wasn't so sure, and almost asked my mom for a second opinion, but thought better of it when I saw how relieved she was. And yet, as we walked back to the car, my hair was already brushing the tip of my nose.

School was interesting, to say the least. Beyond the ribbing from my track team, and the odd questions from Jerry and Whit and the rest, there was the odd feeling that the school was a tiny bit bigger. Locker tops weren't at eye-level anymore, they were a tiny bit above it. Plus I was continually brushing hair out of my eyes, something I hadn't done in years, but now felt as natural to me as tying my shoes when they get loose.

“I can't believe that the doctor said there is nothing wrong with you,” Whitney said at lunch.

“Thanks a lot,” I grumbled. Jerry laughed but was immediately silenced from her glare.

“What I mean is, there has to be a reason for this, right? Like, it can't just happen?”

I shrugged. “He said that they were doing blood tests or something, but, other than that, I check out.”

“It's just fishy,” she said, stabbing her freeze-dried fish for emphasis.

More fishy things were going on than that, though. When it came time for track I went to the locker room with Jerry, who was already looking to be nearing my height. That was fucked up. I no longer looked over him at things, I would have to look around him. I was still getting smaller.

“Has your hair gotten longer?” he asked as we started stripping, echoing my thoughts on constant changes.

“It's not unlikely,” I muttered. It certainly seemed longer. I was originally planning on hacking at it when I got home, but now the point seemed moot; if it was just going to keep growing, why bother?

My shorts still fit, at least, snugly fitting around my hips, but my running shirt was loose at the shoulders and chest. “What the fuck is going on?” I almost screamed.

I know, I know, it should have been obvious, but when you're IN the erotic story, things aren't so simple. You're used to real life, not the life that you'll be living within a few weeks. You don't expect things like height, or hair color, to change.

That's right. I had only noticed it then, when it was bouncing across my vision as we ran, but the tone of my hair was definitely lightening up. Not quite the dirty blonde anymore, I was getting awfully close to fully-blonde. I would have been more worried about it if there wasn't this funny feeling in my lungs, like there was this weight on them. And my jersey kept rubbing against my nipples in a strange way that I couldn't attribute to any one cause, but I assumed was due to it being way looser than normal. “When this is over,” I panted in-between breaths, “assuming I don't shrink away to nothing, I'm going to need a lot more clothes.”

Did I ever.

It was after track, almost dinner time, when we were once again in the locker room, that I got my real first clue as to the directions things were going.

“Dude,” Jerry said as I soaped up my torso in the shower. He was stopped, staring at my chest.

“What is it?” I asked, getting uncomfortable at the attention. A couple of the other guys were laughing at his consternated look, making tacky gay jokes.

He only grimaced. “Er... do your, er, nipples, normally look like that?”

I looked down, expecting to be greeted with two angry red nubs, the result of a chafing jersey. Instead I saw two puffy things, about as big around as a quarter as opposed to my, well, normal nipples. The tits of them, if you will, were bigger and puffier, too, and not angry red, but a soft pinkish brown. The sparse patch of hair that used to occupy my chest was gone, as well. And maybe, just maybe, there was the faintest round contour over my pecs.

Almost like tiny, flat breasts.

“Shit,” I said. I immediately turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around my body so that it covered both my chest and my groin.

You know, like a girl does.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” I thought as I rushed to the lockers and started pulling on clothes. I was still soaking wet.

I forced myself to calm down, dry myself off, and, while I did that, take a look at myself. No way could I be turning into a girl. That doesn't happen.

I kept saying it to myself.

Well, my dick was still there, and my balls, and they all looked fine and dandy. No changes there. The only change, other than my obvious drop in height, was this fine layer of fat on my chest, with just enough heft to noticeably dimple if I poked at it. Maybe it was just some weird thing involving hormones. I was an adolescent, after all.

Then I looked in the mirror.

My hair had lightened up more, and was now long enough to curve around my jaw line, framing my face. My facial features looked like a blurred version of my real face, with a smaller nose, a slightly more pointed chin, maybe larger eyes. Were my lips thicker? My jawline narrower? My shoulders were definitely narrower in comparison to my smaller body than they used to be. My waist was smaller than that, and it rounded out to slightly fuller hips.

In other words, I no longer had the lithe-but-somewhat-blocky body of an adolescent, athletic male. I had the body of a girl, or at least the body of a guy-turning-into-a-girl.

That fucking lying sack of shit doctor. There was something more going on here than a freak drop in height.

***

Mom's jaw dropped a bit when she came and picked me up. It was clear that she almost didn't recognize me. “What's going on, Corey?” she asked. I just shook my head.

“I think I need to see the doctor again, Mom.” She started to nod, then stopped.

I didn't like this. “Well, maybe not,” she said. “He's already doing some blood tests. Maybe we should wait a day or so before going back.”

Another day. At this rate I would be a full-on girl by then. This one day already seemed like it had lasted weeks. My heart started to beat quickly again before I caught it and calmed down.

I could wait a day. After all, I still had my man-parts, didn't I? It was just a change in everything else.

That night found me standing in front of my mirror, examining my reflection. My hair was lighter by another few shades, apparently creeping its way toward platinum blonde, and longer still, growing toward my shoulders. My face was... well, it wasn't really my face. Not anymore. I would be surprised if, by the time I woke up the next morning, anyone would recognize me as Corey without me introducing myself. They would guess that I was... well, Corinne, I guess. My breasts (as I had to call them, what else would they be?) had started to actually pop out from my chest, like when a hidden 3D picture resolves after you relax your eyes. They didn't quite bounce when I moved, but they definitely had extra mass there.

Mom was looking through Jessie's old clothes, looking for an old bra that might fit me. The scary thing was, I was getting close to Jessie's size.

My height was a completely different thing, altogether. At last measurement I was down to just barely five-foot-eight. That's six inches in a whole day. Only two inches taller than Whitney, and three more than my little sister. I was small enough that, even with my wider hips, anything not made out of tight elastic slipped off of my ass and fell to the floor. I was planning on wearing one of my old t-shirts to bed, which was now long enough on me to fall to the top of my thighs. Hell, by the time I woke up, maybe it would be to my knees.

I looked back at my reflection. Yep, definitely a girl. Except for one thing: my junk. My package. My dick and balls. They looked so out of place it was ridiculous. How strange, really, that after all of these impossible changes (shrinking skeleton, breast tissue development, hair growth within hours) that the one thing that truly defined me as a man hadn't changed.

Well, that was technically not true. Looking at it closer, there were a few differences, but nothing so glaring as me looking exactly like a girl. My pubes were getting softer and straighter, not the kinky tangle that my pubes normally were in. A tiny wart or pimple or something that had always been on the underside of my dick head, right where the glans met the shaft, was definitely smaller and smoother. Finally, and this may have been my imagination, but it looked like my circumcision scars were clearing up, and the skin there felt softer and stretchier, almost like my foreskin was growing back. It was an idea I’d normally never even entertain, but with the other changes, well, maybe it was growing back.

Riddle me that, Batman. My dick staying relatively the same was the least of my problems. I pulled my shirt over my head, feeling my light-blonde hair billowing out around my neck, and flopped into bed, sighing.

I had tried, and, when that failed, Dad had tried to get Mom to take me to see Dr. Phillips the next day, but she had flat-out refused. While we've always seen doctors, Mom's opinion has always been that the most important part of medicine is trying to heal yourself. That is, not seeing the doctor unless you absolutely need to. Her reasoning in this case was that nothing had really changed from the day before; I was just shorter and had longer hair. The face change and body shape change was just more obvious now, she said.

Dad didn't know what to think. I had assured him that I was still “all there” and he had seemed pleased with that, or at least relieved. And my junk definitely wasn't smaller. If anything, my dick (which I was now stroking while I pondered my situation) felt bigger to me. Then again, my hand was a lot smaller than it had been before. My big, clumsy, adolescent fingers and joints had been replaced with dainty, thin fingers, ripe for manicures.

“This is so stupid,” I said, finally realizing that even my voice sounded like a girl's: higher, somewhat softer, speaking in a different key. It was all so ridiculous, but, somehow, I was a little turned on by it.

And, with one hand on a nice boner and the other in my newfound, long hair, I drifted off to sleep.

***

Walking through the halls at school was even more difficult the next morning. My uniform was even baggier than before, and I felt like a total chump wearing a bra underneath a boy's uniform. I had woken with perky, B-cup breasts, on a 32-inch chest, the perfect fit for Jessie's bras from the previous year. That's right, I was even smaller than my little sister now. I had measured in at 5'2” that morning, which meant that my height regress was finally slowing down, but I would probably be even shorter by the time it was done. Mom had gotten all a-flutter at the realization that I could fit into Jessie's clothes, but I had shot her ideas down when I pointed out that I was still a boy and still needed to wear my school's uniform to school. I just cinched my slacks really tight, rolled up my pants and sleeves, put my hair into a ponytail (it was long enough to tickle my shoulder blades now) and braved the world.

The world was a lot bigger.

Jocks looked down at me, cheerleaders giggled from on high, my locker was now tall enough that I had to stand on tip-toe to see the combination.

“Holy shit. Corey?” I was waiting for this. Jerry had been waiting for me.

I slowly turned and look at him. Up at him. His mouth was open and his eyes were wide. “Yup,” I said. “It's me.”

“No fucking way,” he continued. “I mean, if I hadn't seen you yesterday, I would have thought this was some stupid trick. Why aren't you, I don't know, being dissected or something?”

“Thanks for that thought,” I said, rolling my eyes and shoving my backpack (which seemed so much heavier, now) up and into my locker. “I was mostly happy there isn't track practice today or anything.”

He ran his hand through his hair and looked into the distance. “No crap. Man, I don't even know what to think. I mean, you're still, like, a guy, right?”

It's a remarkable thing that this question was somewhat comforting. “Oh, yeah. All still down there. It's just the rest of me.”

“Fuck,” he said. “Have you talked to Whitney yet?”

“No,” I explained, “she doesn't ride the bus with the rest of us. Drives herself, you know.”

“What's she going to think, man?”

We didn't have time to speculate.

“Holy shit, Corey!” Whitney said from behind me, unknowingly echoing Jerry. I rolled my eyes and turned toward her.

“Yes, it's still me, yes, I'm still a guy, no, somehow no one in the entire universe thinks there is anything actually wrong with me!” I said, answering all of her questions for her.

But, instead of looking weirded out, like Jerry, or frightened, like my mom, she looked excited.

“This is so cool!” she said. “I mean, we were already great friends, but now we can be girls together!”

“Jesus, Whit,” I said, “I just said I'm still a guy! It's not like I suddenly sprouted a vagina or anything! I'm just a, I don't know, extremely convincing man-trap.”

She finally looked a little disheartened. “Well, fine. But we can at least go get you some clothes that actually fit you, right?”

“I guess,” I said. “But then again, who knows when I'll stop shrinking?”

“You mean you're not done getting smaller?” Jerry asked, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair again.

I shrugged. “Not really. It's clearly slowing down, but this bra is already kind of loose around my ribs.” I didn't say that it wasn't exactly loose on my tits, but I figured they couldn't see it under my billowing shirt, and what they didn't know couldn't hurt them.

Whit's eyes were still shining. “You. Are. Adorable.”

Despite myself, I blushed. “Where did that come from?” I thought to myself, but only said “Shut up, Whit. Let's go to class.”

My earlier predictions were right. By the end of school I had to tighten my belt another notch and roll my sleeves up a little bit. Jessie's borrowed bra was definitely looser around my chest, but it wasn't slipping off of my shoulders by the time I got home. I measured myself against the wall first thing on walking in the door and found I was another inch shorter.

“This is just stupid,” I said to myself as Jessie smirked at me. She had been hilarious throughout the whole week, normally sniping at me with jibes at my girl-ness. What a pain.

“What was that, Jess?” Mom called from the other room, where she was doing some work in the office.

“Not Jess, Mom. Corey.”

“Oh. Right. How are you holding up, honey?”

I lied. “Fine, I guess.”

“That's good, dear. Why don't you change into something more comfortable? I picked out a few of Jessie's old things for you to try on. They're on your bed.”

I dragged myself upstairs and reflected on my life. Why was I lying when I said I was fine? Maybe because I didn't feel fine. I felt good. Great, even. I had more energy than normal. When I looked in the mirror I was a little weirded out, but I didn't feel ugly. I felt cute, attractive, maybe even beautiful. Adorable, as Whit had said. There was something appealing about looking like a girl that I hadn't realized until now.

My venture into the strange was only beginning.

The articles of clothing on my bed were alien to me, though, definitely. “A skirt?” I nearly screamed down the stairs. “A camisole?” The skirt wasn't that short, a heavy denim thing, and the cami was black and kind of lacy. Two things I wouldn't ever wear, ever. Ever. I met my mom at the top of the stairs.

“Well, honey,” she said, in an undertone, “you won't exactly fit the dimensions for boy's clothes anymore, and, in case you hadn't noticed, pants for girls leave little up to the imagination as to the goings-on down below.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck. I couldn't wear pants ever again if I wanted to fit in. I looked too much like a girl to pull off being a guy, really, and girls don't have penises, girls don't have testicles. If I wore jeans or pants that weren't as baggy as my old school slacks, my package would be out there for all the world to see. Skirts made a sick sort of sense.

“And the cami?” I asked weakly. Mom smiled.

“I thought it would look cute!”

Damn her, but it did. After I changed and looked myself over in the mirror, I had to agree. My hair, which was now approaching a shade closer to white than yellow, hung down over my shoulders, framing my breasts and touching the bottom of my rib cage, nicely contrasting the black top. My breasts, meanwhile, were a bit bigger than a B, especially with my shrinking rib size. The skirt was of a heavy enough fabric to subdue my junk, and was loose enough that you wouldn't think I had any. In fact, looking at me, you'd think I was a small freshman or so. A small freshman girl.

Almost in defiance, I lifted my skirt and stuck out my tongue at my image, reveling in the bulging package in my whitey-tighties, a bottom-of-the-drawer artifact from when I was in sixth. God, there was just something hot about that image; my curvy hips pulling my underwear tight against my fat penis. My nipples were sticking straight through my borrowed bra, my dick was slowly getting erect, and I liked it. The thought of liking it disgusted me, but something inside wanted it. Pulling my waistband down, I let one dainty hand play with my dick while my other hand slipped under my top to fondle my breasts.

Just a little tweaking was enough to almost overstimulate me.

I backed up until my legs hit my bed, looking at my image in the mirror the whole time. My looks were sultry, my lips thick and inviting, my eyes exotically wide. If that hadn't been me in the reflection, I would have started fucking me right there.

Instead I fell back onto the covers, trying not to moan in ecstasy as I stroked and pulled on my erect penis, which felt absolutely huge in my little hand, my tits burning with pleasure and excitement. I brought my boob hand out from my shirt and let it wander down to assist with my dick. With both hands on it, stroking up and down, I was in heaven. I was beyond heaven, or at least thought I was. I was in a place I hadn't been before.

Then I realized that my extra hand wasn't stroking my dick. It was lower down, just past where my balls were lolling against my pelvis, tickling a new source of excitement and pleasure.

That extra hand was in a vagina.

***

Finally, finally, I was able to shake Mom to the core. Apparently her older son shrinking, changing hair color and facial features, growing breasts and hips, and, overall, mostly turning into a girl wasn't enough to freak her out. Spontaneously sprouting a vagina was, though.

I hadn't really known how to tell her about it, so I just flipped up my skirt, pulled down my y-fronts, and showed her. She reacted surprisingly well considering she was expecting to see normal boy parts until she saw my other junk. Then her eyes were wide, one hand was on her mouth while her other was looking for a place to hold, and she was babbling incoherently.

“What is it?” Dad asked, coming into the scene, seeing the exact same thing, and sitting down.

It was half-an-hour before anything of use was actually said. “I'm calling Dr. Phillips right now,” Mom said. “I don't care if he's at home, we're calling him at home. We need to see him tomorrow.”

Jessie looked like she was going to say something about seeing it for herself but I glared at her and she shut her open mouth. Even when I was technically the smaller sister, I was still the big brother.

Needless to say, Mom didn't cook dinner that night. We ordered pizza.

“So... does everything still work?” Dad asked quietly as night set in. I was watching TV while Jessie and Mom busied themselves and didn't think about the new shemale in the family. Or at least Mom didn't. Jessie might have been texting all of her friends to tell them, for all I knew.

“As far as I know,” I told him. Fact is, I hadn't wanted to find out, but when I peed before dinner it had come out of my cock, and I had discovered all of this while jacking myself off, so really, it was the exact truth.

Dad nodded, as if these things happened, and patted me on the shoulder. “We'll get through it,” he said. “That's what people do. In a few months, this will all be commonplace.”

What I didn't ask him was if he really wanted this to be a commonplace thing in the world.

You'll probably find it amazing that I didn't give everything the full test that night, alone in my room. It was all there, lying, waiting for me to try it. My pussy was begging to be felt, explored, have things tenderly shoved into it. To find out if I had a hymen or not. To find out if masturbating with it felt just as good, or better, than jacking off.

But instead I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in a sea of almost-white hair, wondering where my life could possibly be heading.

***

The doctor's office seemed a lot colder than the last time I was there. Emotion-wise, not temperature-wise, although my nipples seemed to be having the times of their lives, poking through the bra and thin t-shirt I was wearing. I sat on the big padded table that all doctor's offices have and waited for Dr. Phillips to make his appearance. It was a much longer waiting time than usual.

At last he came in, poring over something on a clipboard, and glanced up at me only a moment before double-taking.

“Oh,” he said, and I was placing bets that his next words would be “my God” before he managed to compose himself in a doctorly manner. “I see you HAVE progressed a little further than we'd hoped.”

“Progressed?” I burst out. “What, like this is some process every young man goes through? What's going on, Doc?”

“Corey, calm down,” Mom said, but I could tell she was just as confused at his response as I was.

He took it in stride, though, and nodded with a straight face, hanging the clipboard on the door. “Let me be straight with you. We really don't know what's going on with you, Corey. Your blood test showed a whole mess of hormones that shouldn't be present in your body, or shouldn't be as abundant, or aren't normally active in young people your age.”

“Like what?” I asked. So there was some kind of cause, even if it was pretty bull-shitted. Whoever heard of hormones causing bones to collapse, caused organs to appear out of nowhere? “At what age do they normally show up?”

He lifted his eyebrows and scrunched up his face in a way that made me almost feel sorry for the guy. “We're talking kids only a few weeks old.”

“Newborns?”

“No, fetuses.”

“Jesus,” I said, trying to run my hand through my hair but ending up with a lot more hair than I had planned. My locks were definitely slowing themselves down, only reaching my waist that morning. “So what can we do?”

Doctor Phillips shrugged. “We can try balancing out your hormones with some hormone therapy, the kinds of things people go through when having a sex change, but there's a reason you're not allowed to legally do that until you're an adult besides mental immaturity. Your body is still fluctuating too much, especially yours, apparently. We don't know what effects it would have.”
 
“A sex change?” I said, not believing my ears. “The problem isn't that I just look like the wrong sex now, Doc! The problem is that I have the main sexual characteristics of both!”

He looked grim. “And there's the other problem. Who knows what's going on, um, down there with you, if this could develop overnight? It was overnight, correct?”

That I didn't know. How often does a guy check that bundle of muscles just behind his balls? The only reason I had noticed the damn thing was there was because instincts helped me find it when I was trying to get off. “Could've been growing since this thing started, to be honest,” I said.

He mumbled a few things to himself, looking back at the clipboard, taking some notes. “Well, I'm not a gynecologist, but I'd like to take a look at, um, your vagina, for my notes and research. Maybe it can give me some clue as to how this whole thing is happening.”

Mom stepped in. “You want to look at him? But shouldn't we have experts take a look, take samples, that sort of thing?”

Dr. Phillips looked at her and sighed, an odd glimmer in his eye. “Let me tell you this plainly. I could alert every expert I know about Corey's status and recent experiences. I could shout it from the rooftops that we have a genuine, natural sexual reassignment of some sort happening here, to an average high school student. We have miracles happening with your son that just should not be possible without severe pain or damage to him or something. But it is not. Which means that, were I to tell everyone I know about it, he might be taken away from you. You might find out what's going on, but he's such a singular case, they would not want it to get away from them. So I'm trying to keep it down low, if you understand me. I'm only sharing what's going on with a few close people, like my secretary, and my research team. So if you want faster answers, be my guest. But maybe you should ask him yourself what should happen.”

Mom glanced at me and I shook my head. “No way do I want a team of scientists to go all E.T. on me. I just want to go back to school.”

It was mostly the truth. The tiny part that was false was that school wasn't the only thing on my mind. I had gotten over the initial shock and just wanted to be alone. I wanted to test out my parts. I was more than a little bit horny. And now Dr. Phillips wanted to check them out.

After a brief pause, Mom sighed and nodded. “Should I leave the room, then, Corey?” It was almost funny, after all of this talk about my privates, after showing them to her and Dad, now she was offering me some privacy with it. What a bizarre situation.

She left the room and Phillips stepped toward me. “Now, this will probably be pretty weird for you, but try to think of it like when I give you your physical every year. I'm just going to be going down there, checking out everything is all right, trying not to touch you too much, and looking for anything inconsistent with the norms. Okay?”

“Sure,” I said, and settled myself onto the bed/table/thing a little more. “Should I take off my skirt?”

“Please,” he said, nodding. I slipped it over my hips more easily than when I had put it on, since I had woken up to find myself that much smaller than the day before, and then my tiny underpants followed. I hadn't noticed it, but, thinking back, those didn't feel looser at all.

Hearkening back to the bizarre need for my mom to leave the room, I now felt completely different, showing myself off to Dr. Phillips. I felt a blush creep up my face as I leaned back, my balls and dick flopping a little bit as I moved. Then, spreading my legs, I pulled them back so that my pussy was exposed.

My little mound had formed just on that bunch of muscle that Jerry always called a gooch. I don't know what it's really called, and I don't even know if that's where it's supposed to go, but it seemed like a natural placement, nestled just behind my sack. Phillips leaned in, snapping gloves onto his hands, and peered at it.

I've seen plenty of vaginas in porn and, now that I had my own, I was comparing it to all of those others I've seen. I was definitely more of an inny than an outy, with lips that curved inward, forming more of a line than a flower of folds and crevices. With an apologetic look to me, the doctor stretched out a hand and pried my pussy lips apart.

It was the first touch I had experienced down there that wasn't my own, and even mine had been fleeting, too scared more than anything else. His gloved, rubber hands were cold and somewhat sticky, but all of my new nerve endings ere firing up, although out of surprise or arousal, I'm not sure.

“No,” I thought to myself. “There are too many things wrong with this, the first and foremost being that you're a guy. Besides, haven't you had all those girls throughout the year tell you that there's nothing at all sexy about OB/GYNs? That it's actually creepy having him feel up your twat? Why is this turning you on?”

I couldn't fight it very well. It was all too new. As Dr. Phillips poked and prodded, slowly digging deeper into my newfound well of pleasure, I felt those prickles of feeling spread from my pussy outward, warming up through my thighs, making my stomach tingle, drawing my balls up toward my dick shaft. My face was flushing hot as he daintily swiped a finger down the side of my vulva, then lightly tweaked my new clit. I can't describe how I knew this, but lubricants were moistening the inside of my cunt, spreading themselves on my vaginal walls. Not enough to start dripping, just enough to let me know it was happening.

“Here's an odd question: where do you pee from?” The question immediately brought me back, grounded me in reality. Doctor Phillips wasn't trying to get me hot. He was just examining me. He probably didn't even realize what was going on.

“Uhm,” I stammered, trying to find my tongue. Instantly his head shot up. He might be oblivious to the physical signs of me getting turned on when he was observing my brand-spanking-new vagina, but the boner I was sporting, pointing straight at my face, should have been more than enough of a clue. Instantly he was out from between my legs, pulling his gloves off, acting as if nothing had happened.

I tried to accept his prudence with grace. “I've been peeing, er, standing up. I don't know if I could, you know, sitting down, but I could try.” I sat up, my balls hitting the cold paper of the table and instantly killing my boner. Soon it was deflated, resting on my ball sack and that stupid tissue paper.

Eck shook his head, but I noticed his face was turned away from me. “No, that's information enough. One more awkward question, though, and we should be done here.” Was he turned away out of embarrassment? “Do you notice any changes to your male organs? Smaller... colored differently... possibly even bigger?”

Bigger? Why would he ask that? “Well, they look bigger to me, but everything does.”

“Hmm. Anything else?” Now that we were talking about it, he was apparently fine with facing me. I tried to return the practicality of his manner.

I looked at my dick, probably for the first real time in a while, and noticed that something was definitely different and it didn't have to do with scale. “Holy crap, I have a foreskin.” That was entirely new. A day ago it had just been a lack of circumcision scars, but now I had a complete foreskin, enclosing my cock head like a little sweater.

Eck nodded. “I thought something was up, but, honestly, I figured there were other things at hand. But maybe you should take note of any other changes there. Who knows what else is going on with your body?”

I nodded. He had that right. After I had my underwear and skirt back on, he opened the door and called Mom back in. “Does everything check out?” she asked, appearing nervous for the first time in a while. He nodded.

“It seems everything’s in order, Mrs. Lauer. Your son has a fully-functioning vagina, in addition to fully-functioning testes and penis. It's bizarre, but it's something you'll just have to get used to. Sometimes if a body wants and needs something, it gets it. You will have to accept that his body has decided it needs something completely unseen before, if Corey's going to get back into a status quo life. 

“But how?” Mom asked. “He looks, sounds, and has all of the parts of a girl! What should we do?”

“Well,” Dr. Phillips said, leaning back. “There is the obvious solution, I suppose.”

Oh, no. Not that. I knew what was coming. And, the sad thing is, I knew that it was the easiest, most logical solution.

“What?” Mom said. “You mean just say he's a girl? Start saying 'she' and 'her'? Say 'her' name is really Corinne or something, and that we just shorten it? Is that what you're saying?”

Dr. Phillips nodded. “That's exactly it. It's not hard to get your official records to have your sex changed. It's normally all of the other stuff that's difficult, but Corey appears to have passed right through that step.”

I sighed. “Oh, boy. But I guess I'm already there, aren't I? I'm wearing skirts and bras, have the long hair and the voice. Anyone looking would just guess I'm a girl, wouldn't they? So why not go along with it?”

Mom looked astounded I would think of going along with it. “Aren't you scared? That the people who knew you before wouldn't go along with it? That they'd ostracize you?”

I shrugged. “It's not like they wouldn't if I didn't change my pronouns and such.”

The doctor just laughed. “I'll look into that paperwork, then. You should get back to school.”

Right, school. The normal life I just wanted. Hooray.

***

I had just gotten back and settled into my seat, ignoring the questioning looks from Jerry, when the Secretary's voice came over the intercom. “Can we see Corey in the Principal's office, please?”

Great. Now Mr. Hartman wanted to see me. I thought I knew what it was about, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

See, as I walked the long walk to the principal's office, nearly tripping over my slacks, I thought this was going to be about my uniform. I suppose, in a way, I was right, but I thought he was going to chew me out about having too large of one. To personally tell me that I needed to get my act together and get a uniform that fits. If it was any other person, they would have noticed that something was a little wrong with me other than a steadily baggier uniform, but you couldn't trust Mr. Hartman to make jumps like that. No, he would assume that it was my fault.

So, preparing a speech about planning to buy one as soon as my height stabilized, I went into his open office door.

Inside, to my surprise, wasn't just Mr. Hartman, sitting at his desk with his fingers steepled. No, there was also Ms. Hawker, the school... well, honestly, I don't know. She organized a few clubs, and ran a few inter-office things, but I don't think she had an official title, apart from “extremely frightening authority.”

She was holding a set of the girl's uniform, and it looked to be in a small size.

“Uh-oh,” I thought.

Hartman gave me his cheesiest simper. “Welcome, Mr. Lauer. Or should I say 'Miss' Lauer?”

“Double uh-oh.”

The look on my face must have been obvious. “Yes, you see, we received some very interesting information from your mother this afternoon. It seems that the rumors going about this school are true: you have had your sex changed.” He raised up a hand as my mouth dropped open to reply. “Now, whether or not it has been your choice for this... procedure to come about is not my responsibility. Keeping to the school's charter is. That charter states that males are to wear slacks, shirts with the school logo, black shoes, and ties. Females are to wear knee-length plaid, pleated skirts, blouses with the school logo, white socks, and black flats. Due to recent,” and here he pondered the next word for a moment. I could almost hear his brain chanting “lawsuits lawsuits lawsuits” over and over again, but he didn't say it. Finally: “happenings from transgendered students at other private schools, any students that are associated with any one sex, whether it is their birth sex or not, are required to wear the uniform of that sex.”

He grinned and gestured to Ms. Hawker, who brandished the clothes hanger with the skirt, blouse, and socks hanging from it. In her other hand I finally saw the pair of plain black shoes, the kind I always associated with the old book character Madeline for some reason, that every girl in school wore. “In a show of good faith and support in what is surely a trying time for you, the school is providing you with an extra uniform, as you have surely already spent a lot of money from one of those expensive stores in town for your current one.”

“But I don't want to be recognized as a girl,” I said. “In case you haven't heard, I still have boy parts.”

The grin turned into a smirk at the childish phrase, so I shot it at him again. “You know. A penis. A dic—”

“—I get the point thank you very much Miss Lauer,” he said quickly. “But I have also been made aware that you also have, as you put it, 'girl parts.' And as your outward appearance also matches your specific sexual characteristics, and your mothers has even requested that you start having female pronouns used in regards to your person, the school has no choice but to request you to wear a girl's uniform.”

It was a losing battle, so I gave in. “And by request, you mean if I don't do it, I can choose not to go here anymore.” It was an expensive school, one that would look good on my college application that I would be sending around next semester. I couldn't waste Mom and Dad's money.

“Precisely, Miss Lauer,” he said, putting an emphasis on the Miss. “If you wish to wear a boy's uniform again, all you have to do is be readily recognizable as a male.” Good God was he making my blood boil. I practically snatched the clothes hanger away from Ms. Hawker, who still hadn't said a word, and stomped out of the office.

“One more thing, Miss Lauer,” Hartman called after me. I turned. “As you are no longer classified as a male, you are off the men's track team.”

“What? Can I be on the girl's track?” He shook his head.

“I'm afraid that your genitals leave that out of the question on all parts. You could, however, join something like the chess club.” That grin was almost Cheshire. The bastard was getting his kicks out of this, for sure. I spun, my hair flying out in a halo, and stormed away. Hawker, however, stomped out after me.

“You forgot your shoes,” she said in her dry, no-nonsense voice. As she turned to go she gave me one last look. “And get a new brassier, that one is clearly too tight on you.”

Now how the fuck did she know that? My school shirt was so baggy I felt like I was wearing a tent. The cups did feel really tight, though, making up for the sagging back strap. Shaking my head and sighing, I headed to the bathroom to change.

My first obstacle, of course, was going in the correct toilet. I had my hand on the boy's before realizing that I wouldn't be going back in there for a long time, if ever. Head down, pleated skirt practically dragging on the ground, I wandered over to the girl's restroom, where I was disappointed not to find a couch, as had always been rumored, but a tampon machine.

“Wonder if that’s fully functioning in me,” I said to no one. A period would be the last thing I needed.

It's really funny, how I had been wearing a skirt for two days now at home, but putting on that school one felt like the real ball and chain. Jessie's old skirt might have been a temporary thing, like if I had really swollen balls or something. But the school actually purchasing me a uniform and giving it to me? That only meant one thing: I was in this for the long haul.

“Hopefully I'm not getting shorter,” I said, as I pulled the blouse over my head and tucked it into the skirt. How had they known my size? It was fluctuating so much, there was no way to guess. It must be that Ms. Hawker; the way she had sized up my bra size under my shirt had been uncanny.

I looked at myself in the mirror, something I had been doing a lot more than usual, lately. The blouse fit perfectly. The skirt was stretchy, and felt like it was just barely hanging onto my hips after I zipped it, but fit. The shoes were comfortable and practical but very alien feeling, and the socks made my shins feel itchy. But, God damnit, I looked like any other girl at the school.

And there I was, thinking of myself as “another girl” and not “a guy who looked like a girl.” So it was official. I was no longer a guy with breasts, but a girl with a penis.

Folding my boy's uniform under my arm, I went back to class.

***

My friends had taken my new uniform in stride, more interested than anything else. “So even though you're a guy, the fact you look like a girl means you have to wear one of their uniforms?” Jerry asked.

I realized that I hadn't really told them about the vagina thing, so I did my best to break the news quickly and painlessly.

“You have what?” Whit almost screamed. “No way. I kind of want to see proof, but I kind of don't.”

I rolled my eyes. “That's how almost everyone has reacted,” I said. “But trust me, it's there, and the doctor confirmed that it looks like almost any other pussy he's ever seen.”

Jerry had stopped eating in mid chew and his eyes were glazed over. Finally he spoke, apparently having forgotten that food was filling his mouth. “So you're... a shemale.”

I cringed, even though I had been thinking the same word to myself. “I don't know. That word makes me think of really hairy men with gynoplasty and breast implants.” Whit nodded.

Finally Jerry swallowed. “Well, I don't know where you go on the internet, but I hear that the Japanese even have a special fetish market for chicks with, um, both parts. They call girls like that futanari, and it's not that uncommon for guys to get off on the idea of fucking a girl with a dick.”

Almost despite myself I cringed again. “Like, in the ass?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “No, like, in the pussy. They have both parts, just like you, remember?”

“I can't believe we're talking about this,” I said, putting my head on the table. Whitney patted my hand.

“We know, it's hard. But you'll get used to it.” Then she leaned closer. “You might think about closing your legs, by the way.”

Goddamn. I was sitting like I normally did, legs spread wide, making it so all the world could see my junk bulging in my underwear. I quickly crossed my legs, but resumed my moping on the table-top. Jerry patted my head.

“Hey, man. At least you're hot.”

I glared, but, somewhere, I felt a piece of pride alight.

That was really where my problems would eventually lead.

After going home and dropping my bags I did what was now becoming routine: I measured my height. 4'9”, same as that morning. It seemed that my height loss had finally stopped. Thank God, really; any more and I would be classifiable as a little person. For now I was just super tiny.

Mom must have heard me moving around, because she came out of the office and stopped at seeing my new uniform. “Oh, boy. I kind of guessed this would happen.”

“Can you believe?” Jessie said. “I laughed myself silly on the bus.”

Mom gave her a look, but returned to me. “I think we need to get you more clothes, Corey. You're outgrowing Jessie's old bras, and her skirts are probably too big for you.”

I nodded. “I just checked, and I'm the same height I was this morning. Guess I'm never going to be in the WNBA.”

It looked like Mom was going to both laugh and cry at the same time, and, before I knew it, she was hugging me, pulling my head into her chest. It was probably supposed to be comforting, but it just reminded me that I used to be a head taller than her, and now looked like a middle schooler.

Well, except for my boobs, which I couldn't help notice that my school blouse displayed rather nicely.

The mall was packed, as it was a Friday, but we hit all of the good stores. Smaller shoes in a women's size first, casuals and a dress shoe or two (both of them flats, I didn't want to deal with heels), then more skirts than you could shake a stick at, plus some really loose pajama-style pants. Tops galore, ranging from t-shirts to camisoles to blouses. Mom even got me a tube-top, though it seemed way too girly for me to wear. She also wanted me to get my hair cut, but I said I wanted to leave it the way it was, for now. I had never had long hair, and it would normally take so long to grow it out, I figured I'd live with it a while longer. After all, if I was resigning to a girl's lifestyle, I might as well start thinking like a girl. And something inside me, probably those female hormones and the new big girl part of my brain, told me that it made me look pretty hot, that long, almost-white hair, falling in strong waves down to my ass. I hoped it was done growing, though, like I was done shrinking. Any longer and it would be getting tangled on doorknobs instead of just in itself.

Which left the lingerie store. I was dreading that. First of all, should I get panties, or should I stick to male underwear? I didn't really know anything about panties, but I figured they would do the job of holding in my junk while conforming to my figure better.

Mom kept trying to talk me into getting measured so I could get a matching panty and bra set, but I flat-out refused. If any cute shop girl, or even old shop lady, was going to be measuring my tits and fitting me for a real bra, she was going to do it without knowing that I had balls. I was going into a fitting room with that skirt on, whether Mom liked it or not. It's not like I cared whether everything matched or not.

So, after doing a quick self-guess at my hip measurement and snatching up a package of panties, I let myself get measured for a bra.

That was an experience.

You never think that girls get their boobs handled by other women all the time, kind of like you never think that going to the gynecologist would ever become commonplace and not sexualized, but that lady poked and prodded and lifted and wrapped around, all while her mouth moved at a never-ending pace. I guess that's how I've always imagined hairdressers to be, and why wouldn't similar personalities work at a similar job? Measuring and cutting hair, measuring and fitting underwear. It made sense in my mind.

At last she left me with a few pairs to try on and went to help another customer, leaving me alone in the dressing room. After standing there, embarrassed at myself, for a full minute, I finally took off my skirt and very loose whitey-tighties, cracked open the pantie package, and slipped into my new underwear. Surprisingly, it DID fit pretty well. My balls got tucked out of sight, my dick was pressed tightly against my torso, and, while I bulged down there a hell of a lot more than any girl my size would, once I put the skirt back on, I was home free.

The bra fit perfectly, too, although maybe a tiny bit too tight in the cup area, and that was when it hit me: my height may have stopped, and my hair, too, but there was no guarantee that my boobs had reached their end point. Hell, they were already huge for a girl my size, putting me right into a C-cup, but what if they got bigger?

Well, for one, I would be even sexier.

My panties were growing tight against my quickly growing erection, but I knew I had to subdue it. I was in a lingerie store, for Christ-sakes, I couldn't pop a boner. I got rid of it by thinking about cold, ugly Ms. Hawker, how she wouldn't be able to complain about my bra NOW. Once I was all set, I put on the biggest bra there, a small D-cup (with a chest size of 29!), prayed my assumption was correct, and stepped outside.

Fifteen minutes later, Mom and I were driving home, laden with clothes and panties, while she chattered a mile a minute about what it was like being a girl when she was in high school, and how beautiful I was, and how she wondered which side of the family my looks came from now. It must have been the girl in me, because I was blushing at her compliments furiously. I was silent the entire time, but it was because I was working really, really hard to keep myself from getting an erection. When we finally parked the car, I grabbed my bags and rushed upstairs.

“Want to try on different combinations?” Mom asked in a sing-song voice. “I understand!”

It was a perfect excuse, really. Instead I took off all of my clothes, threw them on the floor, and followed suit, spreading my legs and almost moaning in delight. My dick stuck straight up in the air as I massaged it with one hand, and my pussy nearly squirted lube all over my other hand.

The onset of orgasms was strange. I would feel it coming from one direction, as cum started to build up in my balls, but I would stop everything until the feeling stopped, and then I would feel an odd burning explosion forming deep in my pussy, so I would stop there, too, while working the shaft of my dick. I went on like this for five minutes, then ten, then twenty, each time coming so close to cumming then forcing myself to stop and hold it off.

And this was without porn. I was just getting off on the thought of being able to get off. How fucked up is that? Then again, maybe your fucked up meter is pretty broken by now.

Finally, after doing this countlessly, my body soaked in sweat, silvery-white hair plastered to my back, I felt that explosion starting deep within my pelvis as my three fingers pushed into my pussy, through the folds and the moistness and the slippery feeling of my vagina, and I let the orgasm come, still pumping away with both hands. Jizz sprayed out of my dick with a ferocity I had never experienced as a male, my balls feeling like something was clenching them to squeeze every drop of sperm out.

And the female part of the orgasm, well. I don't even know how to describe it. Waves of pleasure went up and down my body, emanating from that new place, that new organ I had never known the wonders of. Juices soaked my hand as I pumped and pumped for more, as I orgasmed more and more. I bit my lip in a sad attempt to not let my family know what I was doing, but the fact that I was writhing on the floor might have clued them in.

Here's the really strange part: I experienced multiple orgasms, as some women can naturally. The thing is, I experienced them from both ends. While my pussy was busy machine gunning those orgasms through my body, my dick just kept coming. And coming. And coming. I may have run out of jizz, although you wouldn't think it from the coating my entire body got, but I'm familiar enough with the male orgasm to know when I am having one and when I am not, and, somehow, I had unlocked the ability to orgasm over and over and over again.

Who knows how long I pleasured myself, but, eventually, I ran out of steam, and came out of my trance. Everything was coated in my juices, both masculine and feminine ones. I didn't just need a towel, I needed a goddamn shower. Holding my cumstained hair away from the walls, I cracked open the door (reminding myself to come back later and wipe it off) and peeked down the hall to the shower. It was clear, so I rushed, naked, across the hallway and into the bathroom.

That long hair, over half as long as I was tall, took forever to get clear of semen.

When I had finally gotten out, had dried myself and my hair with Jessie's blow-drier, it was time for dinner. My clothes were still in my room, and, while dressing, I wondered how I was going to get those cumstains out of the floor. I was too distracted, really, to revel in the fact that the clothes I was wearing were my own clothes, and they were girl clothes.

The weirdness was already normal. My body was getting what it, mysteriously, needed.

***

On Saturday I woke up with morning wood, and it was finally obvious to me that something more was going on. I know, I know, I was tired of it, too. I mean, after turning into a girl, or a futa, as Jerry called me, you'd think that would be enough. But no.

My dick was clearly bigger than the day before.

I was sleeping in that gigantic t-shirt that I had gotten used to sleeping in. Really, looking at me in it, it's pretty difficult to believe that it ever fit me, let alone was a little bit small. But now it hung down to my knees, or would, if my erection hadn't brought it halfway up my thighs.

After my little fuck-yourself-fest from the day before, I was intimately familiar with my dick and how it fit with the new me. It was big, comparatively, but just the right size, in my opinion. Then again, it had seemed to be the same size it always was, just scaled up from my relative point of view. But now, looking at it, then grasping it in two hands as a dribble of pre-cum streamed down it, it was bigger, thicker.

I searched through my desk for a ruler, found it, and slapped it next to my fully-extended shaft. The cold metal was a shock at first, but it didn't deter my little captain at all, which remained proud, tall, and slightly curved to the left.

Measuring from my pelvic bone to the very tip, my dick almost reached the 8 inch mark.

Let me tell you about my penis.

I was relatively shocked when I learned that my dick, which was just barely over the six and a half inch range, was bigger than average. It always looked so small to me, so when I finally looked it up on the internet after a discussion with the track team (not immediately after our first shower together, but close) I was impressed with myself and with the little guy down there for living up to my expectations.

The rest of my junk I was pretty pleased with, too. My balls seemed fit for the task of eventually propelling genetic replicas of myself into a willing female donor, although I was always a little disappointed that they didn't hang as low as they should have, and that they seemed to jump up close to my body at the first sign of trouble, or cold, or a stiff wind.

But other than that, we got on fine.

And, that Saturday morning, we got on even finer. We were a bit bigger, a bit smoother, and less, well, circumcised, but we got on just fine.

I managed to find a black sock that I hadn't worn in ages to place over my dick before pumping it full of semen, but then I remembered why I hated jacking off into socks: even less feeling than a condom. Instead I found my old pajama bottoms, stuck both my dick and my hands into the waist band, and proceeded to use both hands to stoke myself vigorously.

I was halfway to coming before remembering that my pussy was what had really provided the fun the day before, so I put my legs together and rubbed them in a way that gently stimulated my pussy lips. Instantly my dick went even harder than before, my balls started tingling and jumping with excitement, and I was jizzing into the pajamas. And jizzing. And I just kept shooting all over. It was just like the day before, only I was expecting it, this time. So, my pussy leaking down my legs, my pajama pants rapidly getting soaked with sticky semen, I started my first Saturday as a horny futanari.

I decided to keep the bigger dick thing a secret, for now. After all, I didn't want to worry my parents and doctor with something that I actually liked.

The key words for that weekend were “low profile.” I mostly spent the time getting used to my new body. I learned things to do with my hair from Jessie and my mom, and decided that I really liked the length it was at. The way that it cascaded down my back and flowed around my elbows and hips just screamed elegance and beauty at me. I learned that my nipples were sensitive, too, and in one of my many, many masturbation sessions I came (with my dick carefully inserted into my pajamas) almost entirely from nipple play. I learned that my friends would have to get used to hearing my new voice over the phone, and that they were just as interested in the new me as I was. I learned that I had apparently developed a crush on Jerry just as strong as my crush on Whit...

It's not like I had any control over it, really. Looking back, I remember how panicked I was at the thought, but it makes sense. If I had been a girl for my whole life instead of a rushed one with a glued-on penis, I probably would have been best friends with Whitney and mooned over Jerry. Now that I had both a male and a female brain, it was only natural that my crush for Whitney would stay and a new one for Jerry would develop. Or maybe my brain just turned bisexual. How can you know what the cause is when your wants change?

I also learned that my theory about my tits was right. By the end of Sunday, as I was setting out my new uniform and breathing deeply, my D-cup bra was fitting almost too snugly for my tastes. My little hands could not contain my tits by themselves anymore, both of them being a tiny bit more than a handful.

My panties were tighter, too, letting me definitely know that not all was as it seemed. My dick, at last measurement, was over 8.5 inches long, and I couldn't touch my fingers to my thumb when I wrapped a hand around it. I wasn't sure, but it also seemed like my balls were swelling larger, too. At least all hair had disappeared from my crotch, other than a triangular patch of silvery, silky hair, just above my dick.

It was with a grim face that I looked at the pleated skirt of my uniform. The bulge at my groin would probably not be as concealable as I had hoped.

I turned out the light, lay down in bed, and stuck the dildo I had stolen from Jessie's underwear drawer as deep inside my pussy as I could take, feeling my hot rod of flesh slowly stiffen into my pajamas. Masturbating and moaning, I fell asleep, ready for my first full school week as a sex-crazed dickchick.

***

My first bus ride as a full-on futa was about as embarrassing as you'd mention. I sat demurely in my seat, doing my best to keep my hands in my lap to hide the dent my equipment made on my skirt. Lucky for me, the pleats definitely helped there, adding additional contours where a normal, smooth skirt wouldn't have any. Nevertheless, kids peeked at me over their seats, around corners, or bluntly stared. My cheeks burned, like they seemed to have done for the past week, but I did my best to ignore them. The tightness on my chest, where my tits were just barely overflowing my bra, was not helping, and my size small shirt was probably going to be pretty tight by the end of the day.

What was even worse was keeping an erection down. All weekend I had been at my house, so if I had gotten a boner, which I got, on average, every few hours, I could just go to the bathroom and empty my balls into the toilet. I could do the same at school, for sure, but it would be a hell of a lot more obvious that I was hiding an erection, and the public would be a lot more interested than my family.

Even walking to my locker was a chore. All of the girls seemed a lot hotter than they had been previously, and I picked up on the tiny motions they made with their hips, their hands. The fact that they all were paying me more attention didn't help. And then the guys, too, with their tight shirts, strutting their stuff in an attempt to win a girlfriend, their packages (smaller than mine, probably) sometimes prominently showing in their slacks.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Jerry tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hey, Core,” he said. There was something different in his voice, probably caution. “How's it hanging?”

I didn't really appreciate the joke. “Um, okay,” I said, deciding it wasn't the time to tell him it was hanging lower than normal. “Have you seen Whit around?”

“Right here, Corey,” she said from behind me. Always sneaking up. She had that same tone that Jerry had. “You holding up okay?”

I shrugged. “As well enough as can be expected.”

She finally caught sight of my chest. “Holy shit, Corey, you're getting huge!”

“Um, thanks,” I said, blushing.

“Aren't they getting to be a hassle?”

“Not really,” I said, surprising myself in my bluntness. I guess you can only be embarrassed about so many things at once. “I mean, really, they're nice, and they feel really good.”

Jerry laughed. “I just hope you can walk by next week.” It was funny, how huge he was. The fact that he was so much taller than me, so much bigger, even though it had been me shrinking, not him growing, made me start to get hard. I quelled those thoughts by thinking of my old standby: video games. Mario and Zelda and not how badly I wanted to see Jerry with his shirt off and his pants around his ankles and—

“Yeah, well, that's not my only problem.” I lowered my voice even more and leaned toward my friends. “My, um, junk is getting bigger, too.”

Jerry's eyes grew wide. “Really? Like, all of it?”

I nodded. “I'm longer, thicker, and my balls” (my voice dropped to a miniscule size) “are getting huge.”

Jerry ran his hand through his hair. “Man. What is going on with you, Corey?”

I didn't know. What I did know is that I had to get to class.

I also know that Whitney hadn't looked so nervous and shocked. Instead, at the mention of my growing male anatomy, her eyes had merely looked hungry.

Classes went by more normally than I'd expected. Other than the odd look from kids sitting near me, and the fact that I had to hold my legs closed when I sat down, nothing much changed. What was really making me anxious was the prospect of going to gym the next day. What was I going to do? Mom and I had picked up a small set of gym clothes, but they were in girl sizes and styles, the shorts being the only pair of proper trousers that I owned. My balls would be on full view for everyone to gawk at.

By the end of the day I was tired of the stares, tired of school in general, and definitely tired of the raw feeling my bra was putting on my chest. Whitney wanted to hang out after school, and I was too weary to notice the edge on her voice, so I told her we'd have to do it the next day. I slouched home, able to ignore most of the stares on the bus, and let the door stay open when I finally got to the house.

“Hey, Mom.”

I've got to give Mom credit. I had only had my voice changed to girl-tones for a few days, and already she was able to pick up subtle changes in my mood from it.

“You sound exhausted, honey,” she called from the office as I heard her packing things up. “Were the kids crue—Holy Lord, your boobs!”

She had walked into the living room, intercepting my route to the kitchen, and stopped dead at the sight of my chest. I looked down and saw that I was obviously overflowing my cups, little muffin tops apparent through my uniform blouse, which was clearly too tight for me. Not tight enough to strain the buttons in an obvious way, but tight.

Mom walked over, hugging me to her, squashing my boobs even more. “You poor child. You put on some comfortable clothes and relax for the rest of the day. I'll go to the store and get you some more clothes.”

“I'm sorry, Mom,” I said, but she hushed me.

“Don't worry. It's not your fault at all, really.” She pulled away and held me at arm's length. “Any money spent to make you comfortable is important money. Now,” she continued, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “if it was any other part of you, I'd just buy the biggest I could go and we'd wait and see if you eventually beat it, but you will want good-fitting support every day. And since we don't know when you'll quit growing up top, I'm going to buy a bra in every size I can find that fits your rib size.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Don't thank me yet,” she said, as she grabbed her keys. “I'm buying the school blouse with the biggest chest measurement I can find. Those are really expensive.”

Now that was embarrassing. I was about to head up the stairs when I realized Mom still didn't know something important. “One last thing, Mom.”

“What's that, hun?”

It was best to tell her straight. “My... penisandtesticlesaregrowingtoo.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What? Really?”

I nodded, trying not to blush some more. “At least a few inches since this whole thing started.”

“Hmm,” she said. “I'll see if I can get panties with a longer crotch.”

Wow. More embarrassment headed my way. I thanked her anyway and headed upstairs to change into pajamas. I was too tired to care when I passed Jessie on the stairs. Too tired to block out a thin thrill of voyeurism that passed through me as her eyes darted to my groin and grew wide. Too tired to do anything but collapse onto my bed and fall into a dream-filled nap.

***

I was right about gym. It was horrible. But first, some prefacing.

Mom stayed true to her word and bought me about ten bras in different sizes, from DD all the way up to a K-cup, which she said the bra store had to specially trim down for me from a 42-E. I looked at those gigantic cups, bigger than my head, and marveled that it may come to that. Instead I wore the DD she offered, pretending that it wasn't a little tight, and slipped into the tent-like blouse. She said that they didn't have one with as big a bust as she wanted with as small a waist as mine, so I would have to make do with one that would probably fit that K-cup bra pretty well, and just tuck a lot of it into my skirt.

One nice thing that the new bra had was a lot of padding in the nipple area. Mine were getting bigger each day, along with my tits, and in my super-horny state they tended to stay pretty stiff, poking through anything I was wearing. Their sensitivity wasn't hurting, either; in fact, I got off to my nipples almost as easily as to my dick or my pussy.

The new panties my mom bought, by the way, were ridiculous. I have no idea where she found them, but, true to her word, they were really long in the crotch, while still fitting snugly around my waist. Really long in the crotch. I would need balls the size of bowling balls and a two-foot long dick to fill up the biggest pair she had. And believe me, I knocked on wood when I said that. Mom might have been preparing for anything, and the thought of that might have turned me on pretty easily, but I knew it would be inconvenient as hell. My by-now 9 inches of dick was hard enough to walk around in public with.

Which brings me back to gym. To put it briefly, the girl's shorts I was required to wear, the cotton things that so tightly molded to my tiny butt, smooth thighs, and normally smooth crotch, was not meant for male genitalia. My shriveled dong and balls, both of which were the size of grade-A eggs by now, were clearly visible against the thin material, even through my panties. Even my panty-lines, prominent due to the fact I refused to wear a thong, were less embarrassing.

It's pretty needless to say that soccer had never been bouncier, what with my huge tits compressed into a smaller sportsbra and my big-and-getting-bigger dick tucked into my shorts.

You might be wondering which locker room I was allowed to use. Well, the answer is simple: the girls'. I was to be treated like a girl, the coach said, so I was to use the girls' locker room. If there was any kind of problem, I would be asked to leave both the locker room and the school.

The occupants had all hushed when I had come into the room, my head down, my bag over my shoulder. I bee-lined to the locker assigned to me, turned my back on all of them, and dropped my skirt.

I was trying to be discrete, honestly. But you have to bend down at least a little to change your skirt for shorts, meaning not only could the girls staring, and of course all of them were staring, see my low-hanging nuts and their long friend, but they got a good view of my other, newer parts, too.

“Holy shit, she does have both,” one of them breathed.

“You mean he has them both.”

“No, he's officially a she, I heard the principal talking.”

“Where does she pee out of?”

And more. I did what I always did best and tried to ignore them. Showering afterwards, of course, was even more awkward. I tried to blend into the wall.

“So are you coming over after school?” Whitney asked later in the hallway. I had been too busy keeping my head down, taking just the right kind of steps to not bump my package at all and send it jutting into my skirt's lining.

“Um, I guess,” I answered. I had completely forgotten about her reaction to my dick-growing revelation, but now that I remembered her raised eyebrows and somewhat devious glint I was worried. Not just worried, though: a semi broke out of my skirt, and I felt my nipples crinkle hard.

Shit. I knew what was going to happen at Whitney's house before we even got there.

“My parents are both working,” Whitney said after the short, silent drive. “So we have the house to ourselves!” She led me up the stairs to her room.

I licked my lips and my voice squeaked out even higher than usual. “Um, what do you want to do, then?”

She shut the door behind me. “I want to see it all, Corey. Take it off and show me.”

If I had been brought up as a girl, raised to be scared of anyone that might rape me, I probably would have recognized the sexual predator tones in her voice. The problem is, you can't rape the willing, not really. I wanted to show someone else as badly as she wanted to see.

I started with my blouse, unbuttoning it slowly to show off the fancy red lace. This being the smallest bra my mom had bought on her latest spree, it was also the least utilitarian, and looked very sexy. Not as sexy as the fucking gigantic ones would look, I bet, but they would be sexy in a different way.

The soft and pliable flesh of my breasts was definitely pushing over the tops of the DD bra, just as it had the day before. Releasing its catch, they bounced free from the constraining cups, rounded red marks appearing on their tops. I winked at Whit, who was now sitting on her bed, her legs crossed, leaning on her knees, as I pushed my hands under each boob and hefted them a little bit. Both were too big for either hand's job, but created smooth orbs as they sat in my palms. I played the thickened nipples between my fingers, feeling the sexual energy rush through my body.

“These are getting so big, Whit,” I breathed. Something about the way I said it, like some sex-fueled porn star, made me even hornier. My dick started to rapidly push against my waistband, and I felt Whit's eyes draw lower.

Laughing softly, I unzipped the skirt and pulled it over my hips, revealing the object of Whit's attention. My erection was pulling my panties away from my stomach, its beet-red head poking out. Beneath it, the panties were soaking as lube slipped out between my pussy folds, so I pulled them off. Whit's eyes widened at the completely revealed form of my new body, but still didn't say anything. There was something about her that told me she liked what she saw. Her quickened breath, maybe, and her little nipples poking through her school blouse.

I shivered in excitement. So many people, by now, had seen my new body, but all of them in a scientific or equally embarrassing light. Now someone was seeing it how I had been thinking of it since nearly the beginning: sexually.

“Oh, fuck,” I said as one of my hands magnetically jumped between my legs for my pussy. Another, alien hand stopped it, and I looked up to see Whit nearly towering over me.

“That is the plan,” she said, and, as she walked me back to the bed, I saw she wasn't wearing any panties under her skirt.

We must have made quite the sight, losing our virginity that afternoon. There was me, the obviously smaller girl, lying down on the bed with my large penis penetrating the girl riding on top of me. While I thrashed around on sheets, in a manner you'd normally see girls doing, Whitney massaged my tits with one hand and my pussy with the other, rhythmically moving back and forth on my towering dick at the same time.

SHE, for the record, felt amazing. Slick and tight and smooth and hot, we rocked and moved together, my tits jiggling on my chest, all parts of my body reacting to pleasure centers. Her fingers found my clit while my penis found just the right spot. Whitney's moans of pleasure turned to yelps and screams of adulation, and I joined her.

Panting and squelching in the bodily fluids, Whitney and I embraced while our boobs rubbing against and around each other, and kissed, tenderly. “That was perfect,” she said.

In another hour we were all cleaned up, sitting on her couch as if nothing had happened. I had just explained everything that I had been experiencing, all of the details. She was fascinated, and she was fascinated after the sex, which meant she really wanted to know. There were two things she really was interested in, though, and she made no real effort two hide it: my boobs. She loved them. To the point of wanting hers to be like mine, that hungry look appearing on her face when I described how they kept outgrowing my clothes.

I don’t know if either of us knew what that look truly meant, at the time, at what it told me about Whit’s wants.

That night as I lay in bed, this time in just a white tank top and panties, I wondered, briefly, why Whit had never been as interested in me when I was a guy. Was it because my dick hadn't been really big then? Was it because Whit loved huge tits, and if you combined those with a penis she couldn't resist? I eventually decided it wasn't worth worrying about as I drifted off to sleep. After all, she wanted me now, and I was a horny teenager. Who was I to question that?

***

I was woken up by something bumping me in the chin. I swatted it away, but it was bigger than I had expected, and something about the swat felt good, too. I opened my eyes to a ridiculous sight.

A gigantic penis was staring at me between two voluminous breasts.

Now, I had huge breasts before I went to bed, and my boner, while not gigantic, was pretty big. But this, this abomination that had somehow crept up under my top, soaking everything in precum, was too large of an erection to be mine. And my tits, their huge nipples sticking straight up, were too big. They had jumped a cup size too early, or something, both of them the size of small melons, probably EE or even F cups. Everything about me was straining my clothes and I hadn't even gotten dressed. My balls had somehow slipped out of my panties and were lying on the bed, apparently large enough to bump against my thighs.

Well, who was I to deny myself a treat? The point of worrying about things like this was long past. I leaned a little bit forward and stuck as much dick as I could into my mouth.

A dickhead the size of a small fist is no easy thing to fit between your lips, especially if you're a notably tiny girl, but I managed it, using my hands to pump the shaft through my top. The effect was nothing less than extraordinary, a feeling I can't describe no matter how hard I try.

Well, here's an attempt.

Imagine having a sixteen inch penis, thicker than your wrist, and every bit of it feels more sensitive than your normal penis. Now squeeze it between two huge breasts that are also extremely sensitive and also yours, stick it in a mouth (not necessarily yours, but it helps) and rub it up and down with two hands. Fast, slow, it doesn't matter, it will be mind-blowingly good.

Then you need to orgasm. As nearly a pint of sticky jizz pours into your mouth, onto your chest, and sprays to hit the wall behind you, you can feel the gigantic tube that's as thick as a garden hose on the underside of your horse cock pumping it all down to your face from your heavy, sweating balls.

I think I lay there for a good ten minutes, panting, my eyes wide and unbelieving at how good it had felt, before I heard my cell phone buzz.

“need 2 talk, meet in grl's locker rm as soon as u get 2 school.” It was a text from Whitney.

I dressed quickly, realizing that I had to skip a few of the bras Mom had bought me. As for my new penis, it had shrunk back behind my foreskin but was still a good ten inches long and stupidly thick. My balls were hanging almost as low, both of them clearly past being comparable to good-sized lemons and now passing the heft of pool balls. Horse cock? How about horse balls? They'd be footballs before long and, with the distance they were hanging now, bumping against the floor.

“Jesus, this is retarded,” I said, as I stuffed the whole package into a new pair of panties and laughed at the ridiculous bulge in my skirt. It was all I could do, really. That and find out what had happened to Whitney.

Still feeling full from my self-made breakfast, I instead did my best to hide the pile under my pleats as I rushed through my house and sat, impatiently, on the bus. My excitement to see my new girlfriend was too great to avoid leaving a wet spot on the faux-leather seat.

As I entered the dark and deserted locker room I saw that there was already someone in there, and, strangely, it wasn't Whitney. Her back was to me, but I could clearly see that she was a much more obvious pear shape than skinny Whit. No way did Whitney's butt fit her skirt that tightly, were her hips that fecund. I would have noticed.

Whitney turned to greet me at the sound of my patent leather shoes. Whitney, the new owner of a bigger, plumper behind, and, unless my eyes deceived me (and I was getting annoyingly good at noticing change) a slightly larger rack.

“Holy crap, Whit.” The words jumped, unbidden, from my mouth as I prepared for a tongue-lashing at what my apparently magical cock had done to her. “And I thought my way bigger dick was a handicap.” Her eyes shot to the obvious mountain in my skirt and, I couldn't believe it, I realized she wasn't miserable.

“Really?” she asked, and, before I knew it, I was dragged to a stall and pantsed. She gasped at my waggling dongle. “Well, shit, Corey, we need to try that again!”

“No way!” I said. “But, like, your ass! It's huge!”

She laughed and turned around so I could get a better view. “I know, right? Isn't it awesome?” She lifted up her skirt, letting me see her rolled up panties that clearly couldn't deal with the extra pounds back there. It was like she had the hindquarters of a girl eighty pounds heavier, her soft flesh dimpling beneath her fingers. Despite myself, I started to get hard, looking at the way her butt formed a tiny shelf against her back, and how her thick thighs were so soft. It wasn't ridiculously out-of-proportion, but God, it could be.

Her bigger boobs were apparently left forgotten up top.

As my dick thickened and rose I tried to pull my shirt down over it, but I froze as Whit laid her hand on my rising giant. “Oh ho, no. If you think I'm letting you get away after finding out what happens to people who do naughty things with you, you have the wrong idea of what this is about.” Grabbing me fiercely, we shifted positions as she pulled me past her onto the cold toilet, then shucked my shirt and bra up over my head.

We had at least fifteen minutes until first period. I used them up finding out how glorious it was getting a blowjob instead of giving yourself one. Turns out it lets your hands stay free to wander further south and play with your other genitalia, if you've got it. My left hand pushed passed my hanging, pulsing balls to slide three fingers into my aching slit, lubricant dribbling between my knuckles. My right hand was only just big enough to cup one of my balls while stroking my clit. Finding out that this position was amazing, I was completely distracted until Whitney managed to get my dick into her mouth and started properly blowing me. With her jaw at its absolute limit, her teeth still drug across my sensitive foreskin in a way I found far more pleasurable than I would have guessed, while her throat opened up to allow my fat cock at least a few inches to slurp in between her tonsils. Then Whit pushed my dick up, between my dangling tits, and squeezed them together, masturbating my penis by titty-fucking myself. It was amazing and soft and smooth and I didn't want it to stop.

The merciless attack on all of my senses had me cumming in record time.

I came, right into Whitney's waiting mouth. And as I came more, and more, and more, she swallowed as much of it as possible, although some splattered onto her chin or chest. And still I came, my balls feeling like they were tightening to get it all out. Tiny moans escaped with a gurgle from Whit's mouth and her hips bucked as I realized that just from this she was also reaching orgasm, her hands at last leaving my tingling tits to fiercely massage her pussy.

I came to my senses when my eyes rolled back from out of my head. I didn't know if I had fainted or if time had just felt like it stood still, but Whit was now licking and sucking my dick clean, her fingers pulling back my stretchy foreskin as her tongue worked into the cracks of my deflating cockhead. Suddenly my head flooded with questions, only a few of which I knew that Whit had the answers to.

“What the hell is this about, Whit?” I asked.

She shrugged, her breasts jiggling as they muffintopped above her overflowed bra. “You think I know?” she asked around my softened dick.

“Not about why this is happening,” I said. “What's with your ass?”

Slurping away from her prize, a long string of saliva mixed with semen bridging the gap from her hands to her mouth, Whit giggled. “God, don't I look great, Corey?” Her hands went to her sides, her fingers digging into the pliable flesh of her butt cheeks while her thumbs latched on to her widened, softened hips. “I never told anyone about this. About my daydreams. About what I fucking jacked off to.” Her eyes locked on to mine. “I didn't even think you could give it to me. But you can. And you did! And... oh...” Her eyes rolled back into her head as she leaned back on her knees, absolutely mashing her ass through her skirt. “I neeeed to know if I can have more,” she groaned, drawing out the syllables on “need”.

I don't really know what changed in me at that point. I can't say. All I know is that I realized what I could do, what power I held. I could give Whit what she had secretly always wanted, while experiencing what I now wanted, what my new body needed.

And what it needed was more. A bigger dick, to feel hands and mouths and tongues on. Bigger balls, to shoot larger and longer loads with. Huger tits, to fondle and squeeze and lick. In fact...

Hefting one of my tits in my tiny hands, I pulled it up towards my face, and started salivating immediately when I realized there was no question about if I could suck my own titty. I ran my little tongue around the areolae, then gently pulled at my turgid, hard nipple with my teeth, a squeak of pleasure emerging from the back of my throat.

Panting with the exertion from our fuck-fest and excitement over my new ability, I dropped my tit back to my naked chest and started looking for my bra. The start of a plan was forming in my head. First, I needed to know the exact extent of what I could do. I looked up to see Whit gazing at me in adoration, a look in her eyes not unlike how a puppy looks when it's begging for a treat.

“Get me my skirt and panties,” I said, and she obliged immediately, turning and bending so that I could see my plump, waiting handiwork first hand. Her fat hindquarters quivered and I wondered if, even now, she was gradually getting bigger, thicker.

When I was all arranged back into my neat clothes, which had miraculously escaped any rogue splatters from my spurting monster cock, I considered my next words, pushing handfuls of my pure white hair back from my head, pulling a headband from my bag into it. “Whit,” I began, then looked up at her and saw that same lustful longing in her eyes, her rosy lips parted, her breath coming out in short, quick gasps.

She was taller than me, and heavier than me, but I pushed her back against the painted steel of the stall door and mashed my lips against hers, my tongue probing into her mouth, my rising cock, already prepared for more action, pushing between her legs. I had to stand on tip-toe just to reach up her with her knees slightly bent, but there was no question who was in control now. I had her.

And I wanted more.

As I went back to my locker, first period approaching, I tried to force thoughts from my mind. Big thoughts, important ones. Like about what I was planning to do later, what the consequences might be. How long could I keep up hiding the anaconda in my skirt, for another. What it would be like if all of those curious glances in the hallways, the ones from the people who recognized the small girl with the ass-length platinum blonde hair, would be like if instead they were looks of devoted longing.

I had seen what Whit saw in me and I wanted everyone to have that look. And, considering Whit hadn't looked at me like that prior to fucking me, I had an idea of how to get it.

***

Jerry and I had a class together in third period, and it was hell keeping my enlarged primary asset hidden throughout that time. I had to keep ignoring all of the girls, stop myself from imagining them with “more”, and I was even more distracted by new thoughts about sex that kept popping into my head. Up until then I had considered myself purely heterosexual, or at least what passed for heterosexual as an intersexed person. But that morning I didn't know what I was: all I knew was that I wanted to be fucked in every single way imaginable, and half of those ways involved someone else's dick.

So I was forced to walk through the halls, feeling my semi-hard cock swinging between my supple legs and bumping against my book bag, my balls hanging heavily in my damp panties, hoping that my hard-as-diamond tits weren't as obvious to everyone as I imagined. My boobs were undeniably enormous, now, heavily hanging off of my shoulders in my 28-F bra. I just wanted to stick my hands up in my shirt and fondle them, mash them between my delicate fingers, lash my tongue across my bright red nipples and around my pocked areolae. But I had to play it normal. I had to stop anyone from know what I thought I could do.

When Jerry saw me as I took my seat in third period, his eyes popped out of his head.

“Holy fuck, Core. You got this big in one day?”

I nodded my head in as sheepish a manner as I could manage. My eyes were big and watery. “Weird things are happening, dude,” I said in a hushed whisper while people took their seats. “Look, we need to go and talk privately. Maybe during lunch?”

“Sure thing, man,” he said, running a hand through his spiked hair. “God, anything you want.”

I almost came from those words right there, but I held myself back. “Awesome. I'm kind of scared, Jerry,” I lied.

“Don't worry, dude, everything will be alright.”

Indeed they would be. Everything was going to plan.

The next step was to meet Whitney in the hall just before lunch. As the rep of our class, she could go into the office without anyone questioning why she was there, and she had been perfectly willing to snag a set of keys for me. This was far and away from the Whit from just the day before, who had probably not even planned on making out with someone else in her own house. Now I asked for it and she agreed to get it for me.

What I didn't expect was that, when she gave it to me, I'd already be able to spot differences in her body shape. Her bra had been discarded at some point in the three periods since we had seen each other, her heavy, fat breasts now caught behind her shrinking white shirt. Yesterday she had probably not been more than a B-cup, today she was at a heavy D, her excited nipples winking hello at me through the thin white material. How had she not been sent home yet?

Even more astounding, though, was her lower half. In about three hours she had probably put on ten or fifteen pounds alone in her ass and hips, her pleated skirt no longer hiding her curves and instead showing them off. It didn't swish around her hips, instead riding tightly on them to show her rounded butt cheeks and flash smooth legs. Already her widening hips were flaring out further than that morning, now wider than her shoulders and curving down to her sexily revealed thighs and knees. She bounced and swayed with each step, probably giving a bit more of a swing to her gait in order to see my reaction.

I desperately tried not to react. I was running on a clock, and needed to get to the rear end of the football field in just a few minutes to meet with Jerry.

Doing my best to rush, I winked and lightly brushed Whit's shoulder, taking the keys and ignoring the pointed glances of some classmates before stepping through the halls. Now that I was on a mission I realized just how difficult it was getting to walk normally: my tits bounced and rebounded with every step, my balls and cock jostling against my strategically-held book bag.

No way would I be on the track team anymore, even the girls’ team.

I needed to get to the back of the field.

Jerry was already waiting there, and he saw me huffing my way across the green. He started toward me, but I waved him away. There was a curious expression on his face when I finally got close, but I also saw what I was hoping to see, something I had seen in Whit the day before: an odd hunger.

Trying not to cum out of pure excitement, I led Jerry to a shed in the back of the field. It was where extra equipment and maintenance stuff was kept, the place that Whit had given me the key to. Windowless and protected, it was a perfect spot for some experimentation.

Some fun experimentation.

Jerry didn't question me as I led him in to the tiny, boiling room, and he gasped in surprise and I think excitement as I plastered him against the wall once the door closed.

His lips weren't as soft was Whit's, and there was some rough stubble on his chin that I would never have noticed as a straight guy. As an omnisexual futa, though, I loved it. I longed for it.

“Corey,” he gasped when finally I removed my tongue from his gums, “what are we doing?”

I remembered my part. “Oh, god,” I gave a tiny gasp. “I'm sorry, Jerry. I just... I just couldn't help it!” I backed away slowly, holding my hands out. “I don't know, I just... I want you so badly, I can't stop myself.” It was all true, really. The only thing that was a lie was my pleading, tiny voice. I wanted to scream, to rip his clothes off.

Instead he gave a small grunt and ripped both of our clothes off.

First his shirt then mine, my big, floppy bra following closely behind so that my soft tits could mash against his hard, athletic stomach. His rock-hard dick pressed into my stomach through his taut slacks and I started to undo his belt while our lips locked, his hands running through the thick jungle of my hair. It was so hot in that tiny shed that even taking off clothes was covering us in sweat, the smell of our bodies and my dripping snatch drowning out the stale gasoline.

I let Jerry lower me to the floor, astounded that I was now small enough for even my old friend to be able to manhandle me alone, and as I went down his pants came with me, revealing what looked like a tiny cock emerging from a mound of dark pubic hair. He wasn't puny small, probably five inches long. Even at that size, less than a third the length of my huge dick which had pushed out of the leg of my panties and was pointing out from my skirt, I wanted him inside me.

My skirt came off, then my panties. Jerry was reaching down, massaging my snatch as he pushed my hanging, aching balls out of the way to enter me. My legs naturally spread out to accept him in, knees pulling up toward my head as my hips rotated upwards to get the perfect angle. My huge cock, probably already bigger than that morning, ended up pointing right over my head as Jerry's dick slipped in to my dripping folds as I gasped. “Oh, god,” spewed from my mouth. “Oh!” Just the thought alone of having a burning hot dick inside me was setting me off, until we found the right rhythm and I started to grind against Jerry's body.

He leaned down to kiss me, his face bumping aside my burgeoning dick as the turgid muscles ground into my tits. My breath started to quicken without me noticing—all I could feel was a guy, a hot, sexy guy, inside me, filling me up, about to fill me with his seed. I didn't even need a hand on my cock to help get me off now, until I realized I was already pumping one hand along the length of my dick, while another massaged and mashed into my pillow-like breast, while Jerry thrust into me against my own rhythmic pulses while he pushed his hot, sweating chest into mine—

My gasps reached a fever pitch, squeaks and cries fumbling from my mouth while I felt it approaching, the freight train of orgasms, the mother of them all, or at least the best one since that morning, and then a white static filled my ears, followed by a thumping splat and a sticky warmth on my shoulder. Then another wet collision, and another, each feeling better than the last. I forced my eyes open to see a stream of globby white go over my head, erupting from my cock, while a satisfying warmth filled me below. Jerry was straining back, his spine arched, and I realized he was cumming, too. Well, for a given definition of “too”: now that I had super-orgasms, relieving myself of semen felt like the dessert after an amazing meal, so that I both started before and ended far after him.

“Oh, god,” I sighed when I finished. Jerry opened his eyes and looked down at me and all I could do was grab him around the ribs and pull my face up to cover his in kisses. “Thank you, thank you thank you thank you. Oh god, that was so good,” I finished, collapsing back onto the concrete. “Jesus Christ.”

As Jerry pulled himself out of me he let his torso drop down to kiss me on the lips, then the breast, then the tummy, then the base of my cock. “So,” he said between kisses, “what,” kiss, “now?”

I thought about it. “Well, I haven't eaten since last night,” I said, truthfully.

***

I didn't know how long it would take to find out the results of my “experiment”. All I knew is that I had to survive at least the rest of the day—that would give me time to see if anything came of it, and also to finish my planning based on the results. Though I didn't want to admit it to myself, part of this whole thing passed a certain moral threshold, one that I wasn't sure I was ready for and so kept pushing to the back of my mind. Instead I focused on the parts of it I loved: how good it felt to come, how much more good it felt the bigger I got, how amazingly stupendously good it felt to see the same look I had seen in both Whit and Jerry's eyes turn into a devoted and obsessed look later.

It didn't take to the end of the day to find out that my hopes were true.

Two periods after lunch, a measly hour and a half after Jerry and I had made extremely sweaty love, with only one period left to go until the end of the day, I felt a shift across my body. Up until that point I had been dealing with that ache you get in your balls after you've jerked off a few extra times in the same day, only this time I knew it was because I had emptied them, absolutely emptied them, three times in a row. It wasn't completely horrible, but it was enough to make me want to occupy my mind with something else, like imagining what was going on with Jerry right at that moment. What class was he in? Calculus?

Then the jolt. My back straightened, my legs almost kicked out. I had felt, actually felt, my bra tighten. After weeks of my chest slowly getting heavier not once had I grown fast enough to actually detect a change, until last night, when I had been completely asleep, dead to the world. But now I was awake. Just, you know, bored. In history class. So bored I had a half-erection.

Oh, that was going to cause problems.

The only real issue was that I was too preoccupied with the delicious feeling of my extra-large bra cups tightening and overflowing, of the straps over my thin shoulders and around my fragile ribcage getting tighter and tighter. My school shirt was straining already, especially considering how tight I liked wearing them, buttons stretching apart from my fattening mams.

Under my desk my panties were strangling my erect cock when it bumped against the cold metal.

“Oh, god!” I shouted out against my will, my hands jumping under the desktop to fold into my fattening member. “Uh, I'm going to hurl!” I squeaked, pushing myself out of the seat and racing for the door. Undoubtedly my straining underwear bounced under my short skirt flashing the entire room with my secret. Let them guess, I grinned to myself as I hit the door, tits first. The wind knocked out of me, but I recovered and made it to the hall, where a bathroom waited for me just a turn away. I slammed the door open and tried to figure out how to lock it before remembering the keys Whit had procured for me. One of them was mostly featureless with just a few teeth on it, which, to my eternal gratitude, fit the lock on the bathroom from the inside.

Any girls who needed to pee could wait their turn.

My security established, I turned and leaned on the counter, gasping, as I looked at my reflection. My tits were enormous and gaining ground, rising like bread dough out of my huge bra. I reached behind me, feeling the pressure increase on my chest from the odd position and appreciating how it made my boobs pop, and managed to pull the hooks apart through my shirt. Then it was just a matter of grabbing the two halves of my top and yanking. Buttons flew and two naked, perfect breasts emerged. Capped with glossy, ruby-red nipples, they were both bigger than my head and still visibly swelling. I grabbed one with a tiny hand, kneading my nipple, and a volcano of pleasure ran through my body. My balls pulled up against my pelvis and my dick surged painfully against the elastic of my panties. My free hand fixed that problem with a quick snap, and a monster dick rose into sight, my fingers not even managing to wrap around it, instead having to settle for something like half of the massive, gleaming organ. I ran my hand gently up its length, just managing to reach the tip where a stream of precum bubbled out.

Then it spurted. And I came.

Half an hour later I had cleaned up the bathroom as best I could, giggling like a little girl. Which, I guess, I was. Only now I was not so little. My tits had stopped expanding soon after I had orgasmed, both of them heavily hanging down my body, their fat nipples pointing straight out. You could still see my belly button—if you looked between them, where my cleavage ended. My shirt could kind of fit, at least enough to get home, and my panties kind of held my dick at least beneath my skirt, but you could still see something bobbling underneath there; my balls, mostly, since they were now the size of good-sized potatoes, only much more smooth and sexy.

I thought back to my earlier musings on if Whit blowing me would result in me growing. It did not appear so, even though Whit had clearly grown. I would have noticed something like this. It was sex, specifically, that affected me.

Then I remembered that I needed to check on Jerry.

I pushed on the door to the bathroom, unlocking it as I did, and opened the door to find that the period had ended while I was in there, and one person was waiting for me, his shirt and pants now far too tight for him.

Jerry.

His grin turn to a slack-mouthed expression of desire when he saw me, and I can't say that I didn't do the same. He was similar to that morning, but... changed. Gone were the slim muscles of a track star, instead replaced with those of a prizefighter. It was like the difference of Christian Bale before and after he got picked to be Batman. His arms were thick and defined, his shoulders broadened, his legs clearly outlined in his school pants. And his cock, well, it was clearly outlined, too. And clearly bigger. A lot bigger.

Ten minutes and three ran lights later Jerry was stumbling backwards up the stairs to his room, half-carrying me as I wrapped my legs around his taut waist, my heavy, heaving breasts raking against his straining buttons. He had to have put on twenty or thirty pounds of muscle alone, and maybe even gained a few inches in height, to boot. I was a little distracted by how badly I wanted him to soak in all of the details. After all, my goal was below me, pressing past my sagging balls and pushing against my soaking pussy lips. Jerry's newly stretched-out member was only half as big as mine, and not nearly as inhumanely thick, but god I wanted it. I realized what I had always heard was true: that it didn't matter how big it was, as long as you wanted it.

But then again, I wouldn't mind it bigger. I wouldn't mind him bigger, I thought as I nuzzled up against his bulging shoulder muscles, my tongue and teeth raking across it while he groaned in excitement.

I was tossed onto the bed and heard my shirt rip, my fat tits finally freeing themselves from so much excitement. My panties were already missing, taken off as soon as we were in the front door, so that my fat, erect dick, probably nearing twenty inches long, was lifting my skirt as far up as possible. My hands ground my tits into my chest and I writhed in anticipation while Jerry undid his belt, letting his new dick free. There was a wild look in his eye as he grabbed my legs without a word and lifted them up, sending me straight onto my back. With him standing and me on the bed with my feet in the air, I was at the perfect angle.

“Oh god YES,” I urged when I felt the hot head of his dick probe me, then roughly shove in, sliding like an oiled sword into a scabbard. “Oh—” my breath hitched and my arms tightened their grasp, squeezing my nipples into my pillowy breasts and sending the most amazing sensations through my body. At that point they weren't even sensations, they were hurricanes of pleasure. I imagine if a seizure could feel good, that's what it was like that day: my entire body consumed by pleasure. There was no way it could be better.

In my mind I suddenly flashed on Whitney, imagining her leaning over me, her fattened tits in my face, her swollen pussy nestled between her huge butt cheeks, my coke can thick cock penetrating her more than she ever would have thought possible.

And I came. And came. And Jerry came, too, grunting and sweating and swearing, filling me up with hot seed as I filled his bed up. I was beyond words, though. Beyond thought.

I wanted MORE.

And I thought I knew how to get it.

***

Jerry and I cuddled for an hour or so after that, me nestled sweetly in the crook of his body, feeling his limp, sticky dick on the back of my leg. My own softened futa cock spread out in front of me on the naked mattress like a used fire hose, at least a foot in length now, but still as soft and wrinkled as ever.

Every once in a while Jerry would whisper sweet things in my ear. Stuff like “I just want to please you,” and “you're mine forever.” Good things. Things I realized I now desired, I now wanted. For the first time since thinking I was turning into a girl, I genuinely wanted something. Not just my hormones or my animal brain.

Cuddle time ended, though, when we both realized Jerry was experiencing another growth spurt.

At first I thought he was just flexing the arm my head was leaning on, as I felt my neck change position against my will. Then I felt it everywhere else: his other bicep curling into my side, his burning hot dick hardening as it passed between my legs. He was growing.

Instinctively I started to grind down against Jerry's hot swelling rod, wriggling my hips against him as I felt his arms tighten around my torso, his strong hands squeezing my soft tits to my ribs. I rolled my eyes down from the back of my head to look down and saw that he was passing “football player” and turning into a bodybuilder. So fucking hot, I wanted him in me, I needed it again.

I resisted, even as my monster futa cock rose up to dwarf my lover's. The fact that Jerry had grown again, that I hadn't, confirmed my little theory. Everything was coming together.

Turning around on the mattress, I felt the rough texture scrape against my sensitive skin on the one side, Jerry's sweaty, unyielding flesh on the other, until I was straddling him. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in a look of intense concentration. His growth was slowing down, but the difference was huge. His arms were thick and bulging, almost as thick around as my waist, with shoulders pulsing in time with his heartbeat. The curving hills of his pecs were sweet to my taste as I kissed my way up him, and my hands wrapped around a torso that felt like a braided steel rope.

I pressed as closely as I could with my extra limb of a dick between us and kissed Jerry softly on the lips, making his eyes shoot open and reveal to me the intense, sweet devotion there. “I need to get home, dude,” I said.

Panic. “What? No! Stay here with me!”

The childlike need almost made me laugh as I slipped back down his body, stopping at the erect peg of his dick. The burning hot meat perfectly split my swollen pussy lips, acting as a resting point that I couldn't feel the end of. I pulled myself up and over it and marveled at how high I had to go—he was over a foot long, now, with much more rough veins writhing around its circumference. There was an urge there, yes, to just collapse onto him and fuck over and over. But his parents would be home soon, and I didn't know if I would be able to seduce them as easily. “I'll see you tomorrow.” I winked at him. “And probably more of you.”

He was nearly panting. This was so crazy, so easy, and I was loving it all.

Jerry drove me home and almost came inside with me, but I knew that would only cause problems. Namely, getting him to leave again. No, I needed him to be ready for the next day.

Instead I made myself as decent as possible, wrapping my softened cock up in itself to tuck under my skirt as best I could, borrowing a loose shirt from Jerry's dad so I could actually contain my boobs.

On the drive back I finally checked my cell and saw I had a nearly infinite number of texts from Whit throughout the day. Talking about how she needed to see me again, how delicious her ass was, how terrible some teachers were about her supposed indecency, how much she needed me, how in love with me she was, how many things she would do for and to me. I forgot that I had last seen Whit halfway through transforming from our little blowjob adventure in the locker room and almost got hard at imagining how big and bouncy and round her butt was now. I could almost taste her hot sweaty flesh as I pulled straining panties off of her with my teeth, running my tongue all the way up a curving cheek to the small of her back...

No! Needed to keep collected. Needed to keep the mask up.

My entire family was waiting at the dinner table for me. I was inexcusably late, considering school got out before 3 and it was past 5 without even a phone call. When they saw how big my chest was, though, it turned from disappointed anger to sympathetic murmurs. “It just... happened,” I said, letting a whine creep into my voice. “And I didn't have any extra clothes there. Jerry got me home as fast as possible to get one of his dad's shirts.”

“Well, honey,” Mom said, “why didn't you just come here?”

“Oh, god,” I half-sobbed, “I don't know, I just panicked and kept insisting we go there. I was basically a wreck.” I pretended to perk up a little. “Plus he offered to buy me ice cream.”

Then it was all smiles and laughs at me. Stupid Corey, acting like a hormonal teenage girl. Jessie seemed to not be laughing as genuinely as my parents, though, and as I sat down, carefully holding on to the front of my skirt, I swore I saw her eyes widen the tiniest bit. But then we were tucking into dinner and I was too distracted trying not to get turned on by my own body.

Not to get turned on by the way my tits swung out just from reaching for a dinner roll, bouncing off of the table. The way my nipples rubbed on the fabric of my borrowed shirt from the motion of a knife sawing through a steak. The way they hung so low that if I had a hand on my lap I could actually reach up and fondle the underside and no one would be the wiser. Couldn't fondle too much, though, or I would start to feel that rush of blood below my waist, the feeling of a kinked up hose trying to straighten out.

After dinner I excused myself for an early night, changed into an extra-extra large pair of panties, a new, extra-long nightshirt, and sat on my bed with the lights off.

I brushed my hair, at first. It took over an hour, with how much hair I had, and there were a lot of little tangles in it from my adventures throughout the day. Then I fantasized about Whit, and Jerry, letting my erection work itself up before I would think about something else and let it slump toward the floor. But most of all I waited. Patience was easy, this way. Knowing what was going to happen, how to play it. It was fun, almost.

An hour after my parents went to sleep, around 11 PM, a very, very gentle knock came to my door. Without me answering the door cracked open and a hand appeared around the edge. Jessie's head poked through, her brown hair almost appearing black in the darkness. She immediately saw that I was up and there was a look about her that she was just going to apologize and go back to bed. She must have realized that the cat was out of the bag, if I was up waiting for her, though, and slipped into the room.

“Hey,” she said once the door was silently closed.

I smiled back in the gloom, sure that I had a condescending, knowing look on my face. “What's up, Jessie?” I asked. She fumbled with her fingers.

It occurred to me that, now that I was changed, I didn't look like my little sister at all. My face was too heart-shaped, my hair so much lighter than hers, my eyes not even the same shape. Let alone our body shapes—mine so curvy with my round hips, thin waist, and now zaftig breasts, while she was much more athletic: toned thighs and slightly muscular torso with smallish breasts. She was even taller than me, despite being a year my junior. I had to admit that she was very cute, just not in the same way that I now was. I was cute and sexy and gorgeous, all at the same time. She was just... high schooler cute.

She was still at a loss for words, so I scooted to the left, purposefully lifting my legs up high enough to flash my overloaded underwear at her, the white bright in the darkness. “Come on, sit down,” I said, patting the bed. “Let's have a sister-to-sister talk.” I flicked on a small light I kept next to the bed, knowing that my parents were down the hall and around the corner, too far to notice that their kids were awake.

“It's still weird thinking of you as a sister,” she said once she had leaned back against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest. Jessie still wore those two-piece pajamas, like a kid on Leave it to Beaver or something, and the legs flapped around her white ankles.

I had to chuckle at that. “Honestly, that is far from the strangest change,” I said. “I’m used to that part, now.”

Her eyes drew to the side to look at me. “It's not the strangest?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” I said, gently patting her knee. She flinched from the first touch, but then relaxed a bit. I used the opportunity to throw a friendly arm around her narrow shoulders. “Honestly, with your and mom's help, turning into a girl has been the easiest part of all of this. You've both been really good about it.” She smiled at the compliment and leaned a little into my shoulder. Here we were, just two sisters hanging out at night, swapping secrets. For a moment it felt kind of cool, really. Special. Then I turned the moment a little further. “No, it's the other stuff that's been crazy.”

“You mean...?”

It was easy to guess what she meant. “Well, yeah. Keeping growing up top and, you know, down below is definitely somehow even weirder than swapping sexes. But there's... there's other stuff.”

She finally turned to me and I saw it, what I suspected, deep in her eyes. “Other stuff?” she breathed.

“Jess,” I almost whispered, facing her head-on as well, “is there anything about yourself you'd change? Anything deep down you want?”

A blush and a look away almost convinced me that I had scared her off. Then, “maybe one or two things.”

I had her.

And then I realized that I had her. Jessie. My sister. I was literally seducing my sister. Some part of me, the Corey from before all of this, screamed and pounded at my chest from the inside. Telling me not to. Telling me that it was wrong.

At that point, though, I wasn't sure what was wrong. It was wrong to randomly be turned into an intersexed girl. It was wrong to randomly gain feet in dick length and yards in breast measurements. It was wrong to be a straight guy and fuck a girl with your dick in the morning and fuck a guy with your vagina at night, and love all of it, and never want it to end, and know that you had them addicted to you with their own base desires, both sexual and physical. And it was wrong to also be addicted to that, to love the control that you suddenly had over everyone you set your mind to. Even your sister.

Besides, with all of the changes my body had gone through in the past months, who knew if we were even biologically related anymore?

“I can help you with it,” I said, and I gently kissed her on the lips. I knew that with Jessie I'd have to be gentle, have to ease her into it. It would have to be tender and loving and slow. For all I knew, she was still a virgin.

Her hands wrapped around my head and pulled me in, her tongue diving down my throat in an absolutely erotic display of desire and need. She was straddling me, pushing me onto the mattress with her lips and her lithe body, her hips grinding against the base of my surging cock, my sensitive balls smooshing under her tight ass.

I gave into her lead and rode with it, letting my hands grip her tight body, my lips be worked and loved by Jessie's. We finally parted, strings of passionate saliva connecting us, and she breathed a low “oh, god”, before slipping down to pull my shirt over my head, four feet of my blindingly white hair hitting the bedsheet beneath me while my freed tits splayed across my chest and rested somewhat on the mattress.

It also exposed my dark, erect cock.

If I had one thing in common with Jessie it was our love of using our tongues to show what we liked. She licked all the way down my two-foot protuberance, then kissed her way back up, her hands tightly holding on to my hips. It was a good thing, too: I involuntarily bucked and jumped with her sensual little touches, every few moments a groan squeezing out from the back of my throat.

This was what I wanted. Loving devotion that led to physical pleasure. Any of the consequences could go screw for all I cared.

Jessie worked her way back up again, her manicured fingernails pulling back on my loose foreskin to lick around my penis' baseball-sized head. Watching her work through flickering eyelids I realized that my boner wasn't quite as cylindrical as it used to be, and instead was definitely thicker in the middle and near the base than at the tip. It wasn't super-obvious, but it would definitely become more notable as I grew bigger. Which I would. I knew I would.

Leaning forward to plant more sticky, desperate kisses on me, Jessie hooked her pajama top over the slippery top of my erection, then pulled back, lifting her arms to shuck the shirt off in one go. It was kind of awkward, but the inventiveness of it turned me on even more, especially seeing her empty shirt filled with my dick like some bizarre flag.

Now topless, Jessie suddenly found her shame and hunched her shoulders, making her little B-cup breasts stand out a little more. Her blush travelled from her face down to her chest, making for quite a cute image. “I'm nowhere near as big as you,” she said. “But then...” her eyes traveled over my erection, standing in front of her like a monument to my lust, “it's not your tits I want all for myself.”

She pushed herself back up me, taking her loose shirt with it, and I realized that her pajama bottoms were gone, too. Her naked, fuzzy pussy was grinding on my hot, sweaty dick while we made out some more, and I could feel the moisture dripping from her nethers onto mine.

“You want my cock?” I asked, grinning around our kisses. “You want to be a dickgirl, too?”

“Not a dickgirl,” she said, her face serious, needful. “I want YOUR dick. I want it inside me. I've wanted it for so long.”

“How, oh god, long?” I asked, gasping as she lifted herself up and over my dick, now using her ass to push it back in a way that made me flashback to how my afternoon with Jerry ended: with me nestled in the corner between his big dick and his stomach. Only this was different: I had two huge, sensual pillows cushioning her torso, ready to be teased and loved, while my dick was twice as long as Jerry's, and far more thick, arching over Jessie's head.

She pushed herself up with her palms, forcing my dick to be pressed up by her back. She looked down at me and all motion stopped. “Years. Maybe longer, even.”

This was news to me. Jessie had some sort of incest fetish? I knew that I would have been disgusted by this before, would have wanted to get her help, would have needed to tell mom and dad and laugh about it with Jerry. But now, well, didn't I want her just as bad? Wasn't I turned on by things completely nonsensical, like a dick far too big to fuck someone with, a boytoy gaining muscles spontaneously, a girlfriend with hips as wide as a doorway?

At that point I just wanted to know what other depraved things people wanted and I wanted to fulfill them, to earn their love and worship.

Then I realized Jessie was pushing herself up with her feet, too. Angling her ass up higher. My cock ran along her body, slipping between her ass cheeks and pulling backwards. I realized what she was going for and opened my mouth to say something, but she interrupted me.

“I was so disappointed when you started turning into a girl. I wouldn't be able to fuck you, I thought. But when you revealed you had a pussy without losing your dick, well, my dreams had come true.” Rapture was in her eyes and I realized she was looking past me, looking at the past few months. They must have been a bizarre rollercoaster for her. “And then I found out that your dick wasn't just still there, it was fucking growing. So I prepared myself.”

She gave me a sly look. “I noticed that missing vibrator, you know. But by then I was moving on to bigger things. First ten-inchers. Then bigger. I had to be ready for you.” Her face turned red with a blush. “I had Ryan Parks fist me. I came as soon as he was in, imagining it was you.” She closed her eyes and breathed in, then out, and I realized the head of my cock was resting right in her pussy lips, their soaking folds getting extra-drenched with precum.

Then she pushed herself down on me and our worlds exploded.

I had only started having sex the day before, but I had gone through two growth spurts since then, more than doubling my length. I hadn't fully pondered it yet, but I figured vaginal penetration as something I wouldn't really be having, at least not with me doing the penetrating. But this, with my new cock, which sure as shit felt like it was covered in three times as many nerves, was even better than I could have imagined. It was like my entire body was enveloped in massaging, pleasuring hands, making sure that I couldn't think about what was going on as I was taken care of in the deepest, most sexual meaning of the phrase.

Jessie's knees were on the bed, her body leaning over me as she gasped and choked and tried to push me even deeper inside. I did my best to look and saw a sickening amount of my cock was missing, at least ten inches, while Jessie's vagina lips were stretching to their limit just to sink in that far. That was me. I was doing that. I was making her pussy absolutely strain wider than imaginable, gobbling up my monster futa dick.

I was grinding and humping upwards without even thinking, my hands massaging and pulling at my tits, my entire body completely out of my control. Jessie was in the same boat, I realized: those strangled gasps were her attempts to scream in ecstasy, parents-be-damned, but she was experiencing too much. Stimulation overload. Just like me, almost.

“Oh, god, Jessie,” I panted, pushing against her with my hips and slipping another half-inch inside. She choked back another scream. “What if, what if I get—you pregnant?”

It was like a bomb went off. Her entire body writhed in a smooth motion, from knees to hips to chest, and the pure whites of Jessie's eyes popped up as they rolled back while her mouth gaped and closed like a fish. She was coming with a force I had never seen before, harder than any orgasm I had experienced, and her insides were pulsing along with it with such an immense pull that drew me so into its desire that I almost was surprised when semen spurted out from Jessie's vagina like a sink with a blocked faucet. I'm cumming, I distantly thought, and all energy dropped out of my body while I gave in to the waves of sensation washing through me.

When I was able to open my eyes again I realized the newfound pressure on my chest was Jessie, collapsed against me, her arms wrapped around my breasts and torso, embracing me. She must have felt me move, because she turned her head up towards me and we were kissing again, our lips and tongues blindly seeking each other.

“This is so good,” she mumbled as I brushed sticky, sweaty hair from her eyes. “Oooh, god.” I felt her vagina muscles flex and pulse and realized I was still inside her, even as my dick softened down to a “reasonable” size. “I can't believe I could get you in me.”

I chuckled softly at that. “Not all of me. And probably not for long.”

There was a dreamy smile on her lips, and she reached down between our legs, letting her free hand continue to massage my tit. It was heavenly, but even pleasure like that was becoming background noise to the insanity of pure sex. Jessie grasped my dick, still too wide for her to fully wrap one hand around, and removed it with gentle tugs, her eyes rolling up in contentment. “No,” she groaned. “I'll get all of you. Some day.”

Sure, kid, I thought, leaning back on my pillow with my sister on my chest, ignoring the wet puddles that surrounded us in my ruined bed. Some day. But if my guess is right, I'll be even bigger in just a few hours.

Working up a semi just thinking about that, I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasant touch of Jessie's hard little nipples on my single massive breast.

***

I woke up a half-hour before my alarm, excitement pouring out of my ears. I wondered if it was my subconscious that had awoken me, waiting for a particular sensation and awakening me when it happened. But it wouldn't have taken five hours just to grow, right? After all, with Jerry it had only taken about an hour and a half, maybe two.

Whatever it was, my eyes shot open when I realized that Jessie was laying across me, arm splayed across my chest, and still her hand was only just reaching my far nipple.

My tits were huge. They were huge before, of course, but now we were approaching some point of no return. The area between “realistic” and “biological experiment” had been passed: the one Jessie's head was resting on was literally squashing out to the size of a pillow, pushing the other tit off of my ribcage to spread on the still-damp mattress. Between Jessie's gently grasping fingers I could see a dusky red nipple, at least two inches thick if not more, capping on top of a veined but smooth areolae wider than a stretched-out hand. And puffy, too! There was an obvious line on my tit where puffy flesh began to extrude out, and I could trace my finger along it to send shivers through my body.

My sister moaned in her sleep, so as carefully as possible I removed her arm and rolled her over, then swung my legs over the edge of the bed on the other side.

The head of my soft dick hit the floor just after my feet did.

Excitement gripped me as I pushed my tits off of my lap and held them there so I could look down my cleavage at my cock. I had expected to see an enormous softie—what I saw instead was the base of a dick that completely enveloped the area of my pelvis just above my mons pubis. From the start of my inner thigh to my opposite leg I was all velvety, dark dick skin. It pushed over my fat scrotum, both testes the size of oblong volleyballs, and dangled between my calves, my pink head bouncing against the carpet every time I breathed out.

I let go of my tits and they sloshed back onto my thighs, bouncing back already, forming delicious curves from my collarbone almost to my knee.

Behind me Jessie stirred. Blowing a sheaf of my hair from her face, she traced a finger up my back as she sat up, then gasped with joy. I turned proudly to face her and instead realized she was looking down at herself.

“Oh my god oh my god,” she breathed, and I just gaped. Beneath her hands was a round, fat tummy, completely out-of-place on my thin, soccer-playing sister. Almost perfectly round and big enough to be mistaken for a pregnancy, it barreled out from under her taught shirt, forcing her bottoms down to fight against expanded thighs. She was moving her hands all over her thickened middle, pushing and squashing it to her heart's content. “It really happened. I'm pregnant!”

“What,” I said. “No you aren't. Pregnancy doesn't work like that,” I noted how her belly was acting more like tub of fat than a taut, pregnant stomach. “Besides, we fucked just a few hours ago, Jessie.”

“Mmm, maybe,” she said, trying to lean over far enough to rest her ear on her stomach and failing. It wasn't big enough, but she sure tried, her plump little tits pushing out against her top as she did it. “But this is just how I imagined it would be when I was little. I would see pregnant ladies and want to be like them. And now I am!” She beamed at me and suddenly seemed to notice my own changes at the same time. The joy in her face turned to the familiar sexual desire. “So is this it?” she asked, but it was more of a “fuck me” growl. “Or...” her eyes flicked past my turgid nipple to the horizon of my hardening cock.

Yeah, even that was turning me on. I don't think it was necessarily the presence of Jessie's almost-pregnancy that got me going. Preggo chicks had never done it for me before, but then again, neither had muscular dudes. I think it was more her own desire for more of it, combined with the way she looked at me. And besides: who knew what fucking her would feel like? Rubbing my tits over her smooth, giving belly, comparing their size alone to her enormous food baby.

I shook my head. “Not... now,” I said, almost in pain from it. “We need to get to school. That's the next step. I need to see Whit and Jerry and maybe a few other people.”

Jessie stuck out her lip. “I need to share you? Well,” she continued, leaning forward as she swayed her hips to make her nine-month belly swing below her, “I guess that's okay. As long as I get you sometimes.” She leaned in and kissed me again, her stomach pushing my fat tits apart. “And besides,” she breathed on my cheek, “who knows if anyone else can fit you inside of them?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but as Jessie pushed herself off of my squishing bed and walked towards the door, I realized her sashaying hips weren't just plumper like I first thought: they were pulling her pants apart because her hips were, in fact, wider. Not wider like Whit's, all flat and blubber, although Jessie had definitely put on weight back there, but structurally.

Fuck, maybe she could fit me. At least a few inches. A fraction. A percent.

I needed to get dressed, possibly for the last time. Going from my history I wouldn't be able to fit inside the house within a day.

First I tried to take a quick shower, but things were too hard to be quick about any more. My hair got everywhere and was a heavy, sticky mess of half-dried cum, the water running over my tits constantly almost brought me to orgasm, and there was just so much more of me to clean. Under my breasts, inside my foreskin (which now was big enough to fit both of my hands, as I, giggling, found out), around both of my heavy balls. I found that I now waddled when I walked, my legs just naturally taking a wider gait than one normally would expect.

Luckily all of the sex I was having was making it much easier to manage my erections when outside of a “fucking” situation, even as I became more and more sensitive to touch and temperature and every other goddamn thing that could affect my epidermis, and I wasn't reduced to a kneeling, masturbating wreck in the hot, steamy bathroom. Once I was out, my magical, flowy hair dried in a matter of minutes, and I was able to steal back to my room just as I heard my parents murmuring from down the hall.

I looked through the bottom of my drawer and at last found the pair of panties I had thought hilarious when my mom had come home with them: the v-line ones more than a foot long in the crotch. Once I had slipped them over my hips I was somewhat pleased to see that they did supply some support to my bulging scrotum while still pulling my soft cock, which was thicker than my puny girl arms, down and out of sight. Of course, the shape of the crotch meant that my balloon-sized balls still were half-visible as they squashed out to the sides, and I'd have to either take very wide steps or be satisfied with them bouncing against my thighs.

My bra, meanwhile, was definitely too small, and it was the largest one we had. The cups were the size of casserole dishes and still I overflowed them like they were only half-cups, my mug-sized nipples just barely poking over the tops. Still, it kept them off of my stomach as they hovered over a foot in front of me, probably more. This entire thing was putting my sense of scale way out of whack.

The largest blouse hanging in my closet wasn't really a problem: Mom had bought them far, far in advance, probably because white shirts are way cheaper than gigantic custom bras. I buttoned it up over my tits, my smile splitting my head open to realize that even this was only just wide enough around the chest to encase my boobs. My firm, sexy nipples were still clearly there, just trying to scream their existence to the world, and each small step I took to rebalance made the entire ensemble bounce and jiggle everywhere.

I pulled my skirt up my thighs, pulling the catch tight, and realized that I wouldn't be able to get close to the building. Ms. Hawker would be on me like tits on a hooker. The skirt normally would have hung down a little past my knees—I had upgraded after my flight from the school the previous day—but even that couldn't hide my hanging package. Like some perverse flag, a wide stripe of white separated two flesh-colored curves that escaped out from under the hem, purple veins crossing their surface. My balls were hanging just too far down. Even if I could manage to get them higher, maybe with a second pair of panties or some duct tape, the obvious bulge that ran from below my belly-button and over the crest of my scrotum was going to be impossible to camouflage, even in the tartan fabric.

This was it. This was my life, now. From my platinum blonde hair to my curvy little body to my pointed chin to my heavy hanging breasts to my dripping pussy to my penetrating, pulsing cock, I was a sex pot, a human whose only purpose could possibly be for fucking. Sure, maybe I could get some sort of job somewhere that required talking, but even typing on a computer would be too hard, what with the huge sacks of delicious titfat in my way.

My plans didn't require me to have a job, though. My incredibly short-sighted, pretty stupid and fantastical plan only required me to fuck.

I should have been trying to figure out what to do, but instead I was interrupted from my fantasy by a knock. Before I could turn the door opened and I was relieved to see Jessie poking her head in. “Holy shit,” she said, then halfway composed herself. “I think we should get out of here before Mom and Dad notice too much about me. They'll ask questions.”

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. “You don't want to scream from the rooftops that you're in love with your sister?” I asked. It seemed to go against the incestuous lesbian she had been the night before.

Jessie just blushed, though. “Not... not right now. Maybe once they can't do anything about it.” She came in and I saw that she had chosen to wear a heavy sweater, one that was far too big for her, and it nicely hung down even past her newly-widened hips.

“Nice thinking,” I said. “But isn't it a bit too warm for a sweater?”

“Now who's being stupid?” she asked. “It's cold as hell outside. Have you looked out the window?”

In truth I hadn't opened my shades in weeks for fear of people seeing the ridiculous things I was getting up to in my alone time. I cracked them and saw that everything was covered in frost. “Colder than a witch's tit out there,” I muttered, before getting an idea.

“Are Mom and Dad up yet?” I asked. Jessie shook her head. “Good.” I rubbed my hands together. “Could you get me a bag of ice?”

***

Twenty minutes and one text message later Jessie and I were climbing into Jerry's car. Once seated I gratefully pulled the five-pound bag of ice from my snatch and dropped it to the floor, ignoring the smell of sex sweat emanating from it. My idea had worked perfectly, shriveling up my balls to a more manageable size of two footballs while also causing my dick to lose at least six inches as it shrank. It was enough to get me out of the house with only a few sympathetic comments from my mother, who insisted we make another appointment with Dr. Phillips that afternoon. He offered to meet me in the nurse's office at my school, which I found strange, but I had to agree just to get out of the house. Jessie was thankful, as well, mostly that my newfound growth had completely distracted from any possible suspicion at the heavy belly behind her sweater.

Jerry, meanwhile, was speechlessly licking his lips as his eyes roved over my chest line.

“Holy crap, Jerry, when did you turn into such a fucking hunk?” Jessie asked, wrestling the sweater over her head. Apparently even in the extreme cold her new body weight was making her overheat. Underneath her white shirt was working just as hard to stay closed, but inches of her fattened flesh were visible in gaps between the buttons. Jerry's eyes flickered to the backseat from her movements before staying there.

“Ah, you had sex with Jessie?” he said. I didn't detect the expected disgust in his voice, only a vague annoyance. “Shit, no wonder you're bigger.” He growled and the muscles in his arm, also barely contained by a newer shirt, worked as he gripped the gearshift.

“Don't worry,” I said, laughing at his half-jealousy. “We're all going to have a lot of fun today.”

I slipped the ice pack back into my panties as we approached the school and made my way to first period. The first part of my day was the least involved, but also would be the hardest, probably: I needed to be seen. I needed to make eye contact with people. I needed to interact with them, to see how much power I had over them even before any sexual contact.

As it turned out, I had a lot.

In two periods I had found out a number of things. First of all, just by looking pointedly at someone I could catch their eye, get and hold their interest in me. It may have just been the tits sitting on my desk, taking up all possible space for a pencil or a paper. Maybe it was the almost-hidden assortment of monster-sized male genitals slipped under my skirt. Something in me whispered that if it was just my hyper-exaggerated body I would be getting different kinds of looks. Curiosity or annoyance or something. Embarrassment, even. Maybe blank stares. Instead I looked up and realize that an entire table was trading glances with me, an odd, piercing look in all of their eyes. The girls blushing and looking away, the guys brushing back their hair and adjusting their shirts. Everyone constantly shifting in their seats as if they were uncomfortable, opening their mouths like they were going to say something then getting confused and walking on their way or returning to their work, forcing themselves to ignore me.

I tried not to let them.

“Hey, Chris, could I borrow a pencil?” Bite my lip.

“Miranda, I like your bag, where did you get it? We'll have to go there some time.” Pop a hip out.

“Ugh, wasn't that class boring? I just wanted to scream.” Absentmindedly play with my nipples.

Less and less subtle as the day went on. I was getting horny just thinking about all of the potential sex slaves around me, and I could see that just by interacting with them, by giving them empty promises of social gatherings or private time alone or just some spark of a relationship they were suddenly roped in and wanting more.

I tried not to think about where this power came from. Obviously just being extremely attractive didn't make an entire population of a school, freshman to seniors, fall at your feet. And it wasn't just them.

“Are you talking in my class, Corey?” my History teacher, Miss Cheney asked. There was an edge to her voice, so I bothered to stop trying to flirt with the cute boy next to me and turned my head to face her. She was attractive, in a way some young moms are. Curvy hips, hinted-at breasts, in-shape. Her hair was in a ponytail but I wanted to see it spread out beneath her on a bed as she got soaked with my juices.

I smiled sweetly, making sure to furrow my thin eyebrows. “Oh, I'm sorry Miss Cheney, I just got completely distracted.” I fumbled with my breasts on my desk, trying to push them back into my chest so I could make a show of trying to take notes. The embarrassed red of a blush on Miss Cheney's face showed me that it worked.

“Er, well, then I'll continue,” she stammered, at last taking her eyes off of my tits and getting back to the projection behind her.

Two periods and two breaks were all I needed to get as much of the student body, and probably all of the staff, talking about me, following me with their eyes, trying to figure out how to get me alone.

I sent a text to Whit, letting her know to meet me during the next break. She was probably jonesing hard for more of me, considering we hadn't seen each other in over 24 hours. When I saw her standing in front of some lockers I realized I was jonesing just as bad.

We had last seen each other halfway through her second growth spurt, and I remembered that I had never seen the final results. Turned out that Whitney had grown a hell of a lot more than I had expected. The morning before she had just been overly bottom-heavy, but this morning she was absolutely pear-shaped. Her butt stuck out behind her like a shelf, showing that her school skirt was still too small even though she had moved it up a few sizes. Her hips had widened along with her ass, and not in the “skeletal structure” way of Jessie but in a “fat growth” way, creating a dramatic turn from her still relatively thin tummy out to thighs almost as thick as her waist. With another growth spurt Whit would have trouble walking through doors. The black thigh-high socks she had on were stretched to a much lighter color before they ended just below her shortened hemline, and though I had never been much of a socks person I wanted so badly to fuck her with those on.

Her fists sat on her naked hips—her skirt was pulled so tight that it was riding down—and her toe was tapping, making her entire lower body and her forgotten swollen breasts (probably D-cups by then but I'll be honest and admit that all other boobs looked tiny compared to mine) shimmy with motion.

“Come on,” she said impatiently and turned to waddle as quickly as possible to the nearest exit. My cock was strangling itself in my panties and so I tried not to get hypnotized watching her butt gyrate as she talked in front of me. I tried hard not to pay attention to the motion of each individual butt cheek, both of them the size of a chair cushion on their own. I averted my eyes from the way they bounced with each step, the crease between her butt and the backs of her thighs visible under the flap of her skirt to anyone who looked. I salivated at the thought of her ass crack poking its tip over her straining waistline, the gentle curves of her tops of her cheeks deliciously described to the air below the tail of her shirt.

Although there were many things to distract me, all of them centered around Whit's engorged backend, I still couldn't help but notice all of the eyes tracking my movements, noting where I was going.

We made it to the field and I was waddling almost as quickly as her, knowing that the ice pack was completely melted, my dick choking itself out in its elastic prison. Off in the distance was a morning PE class, but they paid us no mind as we beelined to the shed, which was surrounded by a number of gardening and maintenance implements. I focused on them, looking for the lawnmowers, the football stuff, the cans of gasoline. Everything that I remembered from the day before had been removed and pushed (or maybe even carried) out of the way. Just like I asked.

I made it to the door after Whit, and she pulled me inside by the front of my shirt, both hands getting more than a few fingers worth of soft, inviting boob. I was pulled into a deep, desperate kiss, my chin angling up so that I could get at her mouth, around her neck, my hands pushing down her skirt and digging in to her giving flesh. We stumbled in, still connected by the mouth and our arms, and I almost tripped over the wrestling mats that had been laid on the floor.

Someone behind me pushed the door closed.

“God, I need you,” Whit insisted as she pushed my shirt off of me, the buttons slipping through the buttonholes like they had been waiting to all day. My tits were almost sitting on top of my useless bra cups by then, but they were unhooked with a grab of a hand. Then some fingers undid the clasp on my skirt and it fell to the ground, along with my stretched out, dripping panties.

My dick was hardening. A new dick, a bigger dick. I wanted it to get bigger, to see it in its might. It was pushing itself up Mount Whitney, spreading her thighs so that she was wrapped around its long, thick presence.

I was still almost lost in her touch, in her scent. Lost in her mouth and her hands on my breasts, lost in the delicious touch to her hips and her soft, slightly curved belly.

Then a mouth licked up my dick, already squeezed between Whit's fat legs, and I spurted about a half-cup of precum.

Hands were helping me to the ground, Jerry's strong hands, Whit's excited hands, Jessie's shaking hands. I was kneeling, still being kissed and nibbled at by Whitney, but now giving in to the erotic feeling of two people massaging and enveloping my dick. God, how long was it? Over two feet. Hell, it was almost two feet soft. It must have been over half of my height, thicker than a bottle of coke, especially near the middle at its thickest.

I knelt and felt my enormous balls almost providing a cushion along with the length of my dick as it spread on the ground. My naked tits rested on it, too, providing a third point of contact and easy places to hold on to for dear life while I found pleasure like no other. My nipples were so engorged with horniness and excitement and anticipation that I couldn't hold an entire one in my hand. They were softer now that they were so big, not the cutting points that they used to be, but still sent shocks of a fierce joy through my body as I squeezed and played and kneaded them. My body was almost not my own, guttural grunts and moans of longing popping out of my mouth as my lungs squeezed, my breath pouring in and out.

My pussy was exposed behind me as I rocked on my knees, back arced in lust. My juices were pouring out of me, dripping onto my balls and sliding to the floor.

Then a tongue licked along my saturated labia and I screamed for the first time that day.

It was unbidden, my entire body flexing as my first orgasm wracked it. I could tell it wasn't a full-on dick orgasm because I was still conscious, still trapped in this prison of paradise, trying to make sense of what was happening. Whit was in front of me, now slightly pushing me back as she lifted one tit to her mouth, her tongue extending to—

“FUCK. AH, FUCK.” I came again, this time feeling more than a little bit spray out of my cock. It was a mile away, wherever my dickhead was, beyond the magnificent mountain of Whit. Probably Jessie down there, considering there was now a half-hearted attempt to blow me as two hands worked up and down with my loose foreskin. No mouth could possibly fit over my cockhead, not by the sensitive feeling of how small this mouth was comparatively. But I didn't give a fuck, because it felt so good, just like the two hands holding my hips, rolling me backwards on my knees so that—

“Ah— AAAAAH FUCK! Oh, FUCK. YES! FUCK ME. FU— FUHU— OHNNN god.” I hadn't even realized the tongue pleasuring me from behind had disappeared, and it was replaced by something greater. Something hot and hard and long and felt like it was penetrating me straight through my core as it pushed against a spot inside me I hadn't even tried to touch. I was virtually sitting in Jerry's lap, my fat balls squashing as I rode him while I leaned back against his hard, swollen chest. Whit was leaning into me, too, her mouth working against one nipple, biting and licking around it before switching to the other. Her naked pussy was writhing on top of my dick, flexing as I pushed in and out to Jerry's rhythm. The friction alone must have been enough to get her off as she suddenly clamped down on my tit, her other hand clenching and wringing into my soft skin. My eyes popped open wide at the amazing feeling and I realized I could see over Whit's ass to Jessie, now crouched on all fours, her naked stomach almost touching the floor, as she pushed herself backwards at my dick, then, with a little push, slipped my swollen cockhead inside.

The Hallelujah Chorus played.

I could feel all three of them intimately. Each muscle twitch on Jerry's chest, each tiny flex of his arms as he guided me around on his penetrating cock. Every nibble, every stroke, every jiggle as Whit pleasured herself on my body. Every orgasm and gasp and cry of joy as Jessie came and came again, working her way down my enormous, fantastic erection, every inch stretching her wider, testing the limits of her new, elastic vagina that I had gifted her with. All three of them came time and time over. With me on my back, Jessie on top with me stroking her stomach, Whit eating me out below, Jerry fucking my face while his cock ran down my seemingly bottomless throat. With Whit straddling my cock again, this time in reverse, sucking me off while Jerry fucked her in her fat, plush ass, Jessie behind me providing me a pillow while biting my shoulders and ravaging my tits. With many other positions, each leading into the next without any kind of thought, everyone touching and licking and sucking on anything they could, with me as the focal piece.

If I had counted I'm certain I came more than all of them combined. From that first moment when Jerry had started to please me with his tongue I had been in an almost constant orgasm, my body shuddering and wracking itself, cum spilling from my monster cock in spurts and dribbles.

I never did end up cumming in a normal “guy” way, but it felt better than any normal orgasm had ever felt. Instead of a lightning strike it was a thunderstorm, static shocking my body all over, constantly, semen sometimes pouring from me like a hose, dripping from almost every orifice.

It didn't all end in a sudden collapse, it's just that our love-making reached slower and slower tempos, more and more sensual and tender loving taking the place of the frenzy we had started with. Gentle kisses, long, luxurious licks up the body, down the length of my dick. I was softening but I was still cumming, my screams replaced with extremely satisfied groans, Jessie's with little squeaks, Whit's and Jerry's with growls.

When it all eventually stopped, Jessie's head on my bosom with a nipple filling her mouth, Jerry's on a thigh nestled up against one of my swollen, blue testicles, Whit hugging my limp dick like a Teddy bear while Jerry's hand stroked her long butt cheek, I realized that my mouth was hanging open, my tongue hanging past my lips as I panted. I carefully pulled it in, feeling the string of saliva break and dripple down my chin to mingle with the sweat that dripped from my naked body. I wiped at it, momentarily displacing Jessie with my movements before she settled back into my cleavage, sighing.

No thoughts could enter my brain at that moment. I was covered in a joyful, shiny cloud. If I could do this every day, constantly, from waking up to sleeping, I would be happy for the rest of my life.

Jessie's belly pressed into my thigh and I smiled. She was so sexy now, sexier now that she was happier with herself, and content with being with me. Then I realized it was continuing to press, to push harder against me. And Jessie's shoulders were plumping up a little, putting on weight as I watched. The same was happening to Jerry, his shoulders actually pushing his head off of my other leg as they got too big, too packed full of muscle to let him lean down that far. His finger was still tracing a path down Whit's ass, which was quivering as it grew, fattening and gaining in height and width and breadth. The inverted Y where her back met her ass grew more defined, then spread as the fat in her cheeks rounded out further, creating a defined edge while she lay on her front.

I reached for a cellphone; somebody's lay on the ground nearby. We had been having an orgy for over two hours, from the look of it, but all I could think about was how I wanted more.

The phone rang in my hand, and not even knowing whose phone it was, I answered. A male voice started to speak, some sort of excitement in his voice, but I didn't care. “You should come to the equipment shed,” I breathed. Panting at the thought of another cock inside me, of another tongue worshipping my body, I didn't wait for a response. “At the—at the back of the field.” Even the idea of a new hot body pleasing me was making me get erect, was sending a cascade of sticky wetness out from my slick lips. “Bring friends!” I gasped. The other line hung up.

I didn't stop to think about who it was on the other line at all. If it was a student, great! I would fulfill their fantasies and give them a body they'd never thought of. A teacher? Bring them back with their whole class while and I'd fuck them all, alphabetically. A parent? Maybe they could bring the PTO. I wanted more.

My tongue was in Whit's asshole, doing things I would have gagged at a week before while both Jerry and Jessie ravaged my nipples, when there was a stern knock at the door to the shed. I barely had time to groan before the four of us were blinking in the sunlight at a trio of adults standing in the doorway. When my eyes adjusted I realized that at the forefront stood Mr. Hartman, his hand was on the shed door, his mouth open. Ms. Hawker stood just behind him, arms crossed over her tweed-covered bosom, while Dr. Phillips's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

“What do—” stammered Mr. Hartman, just before he seemed to get an inkling of what he was seeing beyond “four naked teens”. Instead he was seeing four images from four dreams: a musclebound bodylifter, his erect penis pointing into the air over his head; a plump, pear-shaped fertility idol, come to life and moaning in pleasure; a gravid, glowing mother-to-be, her stomach round and jiggling and only pushing her flabby breasts closer to her chin; an intersexed, sex-crazed goddess, pleasing and being pleased by her three servants, surrounded by glowing white hair, shining with sweat from her swollen breasts and enormous genitals, and dripping in ecstasy from cock, cunt, and lips.

Her mind springing to life, Ms. Hawker, as usual, jumped into action. She grabbed the principal and family doctor by their collars and dragged them into the shed, then slammed the shed door closed behind them. She took position between the two stunned colleagues and, arms crossing again, raised her voice, threading it with authority.

“Miss Lauer, find your clothes and get dressed. That goes for you, too, Jessica, Jerold, Whitney. Once you're dressed and cleaned we are all... we're all...” Her eyes had slipped between the upraised butt cheeks of Whit's enormous ass and locked eyes with me, eyes filled with desire and control and pure, unadulterated horniness. “...all...” Underneath Whit, pressing between her hanging tits, thrummed my erect dick. Ms. Hawker licked her lips, a decidedly un-robotic look for her, and her eyes dropped from mine to gaze below Whitney's chest. “...we're all...”

But we never found out what we were all going to do once we dressed and cleaned up. Licking her lips as saliva poured into her mouth, Ms. Hawker, instead of smacking us with a ruler or ordering us out of the door, started to unbutton her blouse, revealing a nude-colored minimizer bra. One unsteady step forward, then another, and she was starting to kneel when I realized the doctor and principal had followed, undressing themselves as they came, revealing the hairy flab that I expected from Mr. Hartman, the trim muscles of a maintained fitness addict from Dr. Phillips.

They were all under my control. Just the sight of me, basking in my glory, meant that they were mine.

The realization dropped through my stomach like an atom bomb, and I felt any reservations leave with a finality of a shutting door. Mine!

The revelation alone made me finally come, blowing jet after jet at the three wanting mouths and eyes. I screamed with pleased and excitement, while my sister and my best friend worked my nipples with their lips, their teeth, their tongues. And when I was done coming I realized that six was far better than three: an extra pair of breasts to fondle and nibble and suck on, an extra pussy to play around in and feel up, two more dicks to swing and lick and be filled by.

And as we fucked in a mass of sweaty skin and swollen parts, I grew and stretched and filled up, becoming easier to please with each extra square inch.

At some point Ms. Hawker, who insisted we call her Kimmy, found my school top in the corner and buttoned it over her high, meaty breasts, plump and young and free to bounce on her naked chest. The top only had a little bit of cum drying in the corner, and her skirt still mostly fit over her round, bouncing behind, so she was the one most able to leave to get food. “Anything for you, Corey,” she breathed through beestung lips and a curtain of bright red hair; a far cry from the iron grey bun of before. If I hadn't watched her change, I wouldn't have guessed her a day over eighteen.

“Anything for you”, Mr. Hartman growled. He couldn't leave because he would freak out anyone who saw him: his mouth and nose combining to form a muzzle, his fat stomach covered in brown fur, an obscenely thick cock jutting out from beneath it.

“Anything.” This last one was almost a plea as Dr. Phillips hefted one of her heaving, lactating breasts to my lips, that I might suck and please her some more. I obliged, knowing that if this pair didn't get emptied soon, one of her other two pairs would be almost painfully full soon. Jessie had been trying to help the girlified doctor with her heavy load, but it seemed I was the only one that it felt good to have suck on one of her six teats.

All six of my servants were perfect and beautiful and almost painfully erotic to me, all of them desirable in ways I hadn't considered before this had all started. The way it was almost difficult for Jerry to do the easiest tasks without muscles getting in the way made my dick start to stiffen, or how Whitney was starting to take up a corner in the shrinking shed with her ass cheeks spreading out behind her, or when Jessie's stomach began to push across the floor while she lowered herself onto me, my grotesque dick feeling like it should be ripping her apart.

More.

Kimmy returned with five pizzas and six kids, all who had been in detention. Thinking they were being set free by a hot new teacher, she had led them back across the field in the dimming light to the shed. The doors opened to reveal me, my back resting against my pillow-sized testicles, proud dick spreading tits bigger than me apart as it curved away from me, past my toes. Any nerves or fears were erased almost as soon as the four boys and two girls saw me, and soon they were joining my ranks, making me fill with joy and ecstasy as I did the same to them. Hemlines burst and pants ripped and buttons ripped off as they each made their first steps towards perfection, towards their deep, dark needs they fantasized when they thought nobody could see inside: bigger breasts, bigger dicks, longer feet, rounder cheeks, a mermaid fin, a squirrel tail, Rapunzel hair. I gave them all what they wanted and they gave me what I need as I stretched and spread and filled the shed.

“My queen,” Jerry said after each had made their offerings and reamed me from every direction, after I had come and come again and grown my fill, my nipples scratching at two sides of the shed simultaneously, my cock head tasting the fresh air as it emerged from the door.

“Yes, love,” I moaned as Hartman licked and nibbled my fleshy cockskin with his sharp teeth. I called everyone my love, because they all were.

“I don't know if you remember,” he said, while his long, fat cock rubbed against the sensitive skin of my left breast. There were also three tongues on the sensitive skin of my right breast, and Jessie's fingers were spreading the sensitive skin of my labia while scratching over the sensitive skin of my stretched scrotum. I have a lot of sensitive skin. “There's the Halloween dance tonight,” Jerry continued. I looked up at his face, which anxiously looked down on me, brows tented in concern, embedded in muscle that surrounded his head: gigantic and striated pecs, flexing and pulsing delts, grotesquely bulging traps. It was so strange seeing nervousness anywhere near a body like that, a body that parodied the ideas of manly musculature.

Shaking my head to stop the drooling, I focused on what Jerry had said. “The dance! Yes.” Images flashed into my head: slutty devils and nurses and kittens, Ghostbusters and cowboys and maybe a fake Chippendale dancer or two. Parent chaperones and a lot of staff and most of the kids in the school, all gathered in one place. Ready to worship me.

“We should go,” I said simply, and every head in the shed, as one, snapped to attention, then started to work together to help me move. Hands lifted from my throbbing erection, letting it rise until my shiny cockhead bumped the threshold of the shed. My dozen followers pushed unsteadily to their naked feet, stepping around drenched, discarded articles of clothing and empty pizza boxes to surround the mat that my form rested on. As one they bent over, those that could, and took hold, then raised me up. Several of the boys and one of the girls had, like Jerry, selected for increased muscle mass; if it hadn't been for them, I don't know if my great gelatinous breasts would have been able to move. Many of the helping hands were only holding on ceremonially, as I'm sure Whit, with her ass almost scraping on the ground behind her, and Jessie, who had to hold up her sagging, stuffed belly with one hand, were not helping very much at all. But up and out into the air we pulled, then up we lifted, until I was suspended above their heads, my nipples hardening in the chill October air.

Two of my followers pressed into my escaping flesh as we walked, to help hold me in, as I held onto my throbbing, insisting futa cock for dear, rapturous life.

We entered the school through a side double-door, trouping naked through the halls, dripping body fluids and similar evidence of love-making. The trail led through the pristine halls, past lockers and empty classrooms, over discarded flyers advertising the dance. We went up a small set of stairs, then through another set of doors where I could hear eternal joy waiting for me to the tune of Three Dog Night and hundreds of voices talking and laughing.

They died down in a wave once my harbinger, the deliciously slutty and nubile Kimmy Hawker, threw the doors open. Students and teacher and parents stared in disbelief as I was carried past, straight to the stage where my Home Ec teacher from the previous year stood, clutching a microphone for dear life.

I drank it in. The Game of Thrones cosplayers, the Queens of Hearts, the Tin Mans, the fairies, the firemen, the slutty firewomen, the werewolves. I locked eyes with five, ten, dozens, a hundred of them as I was carted through the room. The music died down as I looked at the DJ, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, and read the eternal desire writ there.

My procession mounted the stage and laid me down, where I wrestled to my feet. I can only imagine how I looked then, how my would-be worshippers saw me. Did they see a bizarre, mutated version of a beautiful girl, or did they see all of my alluring features? My snow-white, silvery hair as it cascaded down my back and across the tops of the mountains of breast flesh in front of me, tickling the tips of my turgid nipples that stood out like luscious red headlights. My graceful arms and perfectly petite fingers that, even now, were playing up and down the length of cock that they could reach, tracing the ribbed veins that encircled its insane girth, wider now than either of my legs, bulging away from my torso like an overinflated balloon. My perfect, round ass, which curved down to two flawless pussy lips, swollen and slick with need and want, and my two enormous, heavy testicles, which were large enough to rest on the floor, to push my legs apart if I tried to stand over them.

I locked eyes with every person in the room, one at a time, seeing how even ones I hadn't laid my gaze on were stiffened to attention, quivering with lust. I had them all: fat and thin, short and tall, boxy, pear-shaped, hourglass, muscular, skinnyfat, gay, queer, lesbian, trans. I would give them what they wanted and become what they wanted, forevermore.

With one pristine fingernail held to my perfectly moist lips, I pretended to consider them all, holding them in rapt attention, then pointed to the first five on the left. “You may come up and pleasure me. Then the next five in line.” I smiled and knew it was a hypnotic, perfect smile, one that would entice everyone that ever saw it. “Form a queue. We have a lot to do, and I want to have time with each and every one of you.”

The first new worshipper, some guy in a janitor suit smeared in fake blood, was already ripping the cheap nylon to shreds and pulling his stubby erection out. I cooed and rolled a little forward on my swollen, needing balls, presenting my snatch for him, ready to take his wants and make them my own.

I had found my new place in the world. And, soon, I would have it.

***

That night I took the school, all on-duty staff, and all of the kids at the dance. The next day the city was mine, as first concerned parents, then news reporters, police, and anyone in between who saw me, heard about me, or even smelled me. All found what they needed and wanted. At that point the National Guard somehow figured out what I was doing, and tried to mobilize against what they didn't prepare for: their hearts' ultimate desires. I had an army at my feet, an army of impossible people: some as big as houses in their muscles alone, some taller than buildings, some with bizarre comic book powers; it was an army that I didn't need. One wiff of the smell of my cum could turn someone to my side, one glance at my awe-inspiring mass would make the onlooker come running to sink their hands in, to massage, to find bliss in my bliss. All found what they needed and wanted. Once they did, my power would grow, their power would grow, and a little number somewhere in a counter would go up one. But that was okay: all found what they needed and wanted.

What do I want or need? I need more. Ever and always, more.

You've orgasmed, right? You know how it grips your whole body, makes you tense up and your blood drain and everything go tingly? It only gets better for me, with how unstoppably massive I am. Still the dainty little girl, looks like she is probably just entering high school despite being in her mid-twenties, only the vast majority of her body mass is contained in the organs that grip and pull and explode with joy as they orgasm. The normal orgasm, multiplied by a million, a billion, an impossible amount. And it's near-continuous, for me, that writhing, seizing pleasure, as an army massages and sucks on my nipples, moves along my cock in waves as it clenches and shoots impossible jizz that froths out from my churning, working sperm factories. And I provide near-endless orgasms, as my worshippers dance in cum or rail me again and again with dick after dick or pleasure themselves on my endless, gigantic body.

I took over the city, then the state, then the country. The continent. People have come from all over the world to get what they need and they want. They need me, need me to satisfy them and give them as much as I can. They want me, want me to fulfill their fantasies: bold and bizarre and beautiful.

So come out of hiding and help me grow more, become more. Endless orgasms with this nearly endless body. Maybe I could give it to you, if it's also what you desire most in the world. I can promise you'll be happy: everyone is.

Especially me.