DISCLAIMER: This story contains adult elements. It is not to be read by anybody under legal age, or by anyone living in an area forbidding such stories by law, or by anyone offended by the idea of reading about breasts growing, or people having sex, or other such stuff. The characters are fictional. Nobody's names had to be changed to protect the identity of real or pre-existing fictional people. The preceding was only a disclaimer. If this had been an actual illegal offense, like posting this story in a public or for-profit forum without the author's permission, you would have seen FBI agents and a SWAT team jump out of the bushes and yell, "You're under arrest!" Please send all compliments and complaints to your local Congressman, or better yet, me at [email protected]. We now return you to our regularly scheduled adult story.
Stewart Piede had just gotten a summer job working at the Alfalfa-Storketta Dairy of Santa Patricia, California. He was a handsome man, 6 feet tall. He was set to start his senior year at Sonora State University in three months. His short red hair and broad, muscular shoulders looked well-suited for his strong, blue-overall-and-red-flannel-shirt-clad body. As he entered the barn, he meet an attractive-looking 5-foot-8, 24-year-old woman. She had shoulder-length black hair (worn into a rather conservative bun), fiery hazel eyes, a trim waist, wide hips, and skinny legs. She wore a white lab coat and silver-rimmed glasses. It was obvious to Stew that she was his new boss.
"Hi, my name is Ginger Enspyce," she told him. "I'm in charge of engineering for Alfalfa-Storketta. You must be the new man we just hired."
"Yeah, I am," Stew told her. "What do you want me to do?"
"You will milk the cows every day. But first, you must administer this new treatment I just developed to the cows every morning," Ginger explained, holding up a small syringe full of mysterious blue fluid. "Each syringe should triple milk production for three weeks. I've got plenty more in the farmhouse, just to be sure you have enough."
"Farmhouse? I didn't see any farmhouse on the way here. This barn is the only building for ten miles around!"
"No, silly. Just check it yourself. And get some more, while you're at it. I just plum forgot we have 10 cows instead of just one."
Stew left the barn, and found a farmhouse about 100 feet away. That's funny, he hadn't seen it earlier. Could this possibly be one of those continuity errors in BE stories his mother had warned him about while he was growing up? Never mind, Stew thought to himself. He entered the farmhouse, found dozens more syringes with blue fluid stored in the cupboards next to the canned asparagus, and put several into his shiny metal pail. Now wait a minute, Stew thought, there hasn't been any mention of a pail in this story. How did I get one? These inconsistencies and silly events were too much for Stew's feeble brain, and he decided not to dwell on it.
Stew returned to the barn, and found Ginger busily writing notes on a clipboard. "Well, ma'am, here's the syringes you asked for. Now how do they work?"
"Details, details, Stew. Does the gal in a BE story have to know everything? Now get to work."
"But you invented this yourself, miss. If anyone knows how it works, you should. And how did you know my name? I haven't told you that yet."
"Oh, Roy told me. He's my pal, you know."
"Roy? Who's Roy?"
"Roy Del Frink, the author of this inane story. He's the guy who tinkers with all the details. In fact, if he hadn't ordered me to create this fluid, you and I wouldn't even be here."
"What are you talking about?" Stew protested. All of a sudden, a handsome man entered the barn. He was 6 foot 4, 24 years old, with a long muscular build, brown eyes, long brown hair that partially covered his brown-rimmed glasses, and wore brown jeans, brown sneakers, and a brown "I wrote this BE tale and all I got was this lousy T-shirt" T-shirt.
"My name is Roy Del Frink, Stew. I created you, that's how I knew your name. And this brown outfit wasn't my idea. These editors at some stupid big-breast magazine decided we needed a tale with a man dressed in all brown (and with all-brown features too), and it had to be one of those silly 'lady's-boobs-grow-humongous-at-a-dairy-after-accidentally-injecting-herself-with-an-experimental-hormone-designed-to-increase-milk-production' stories. Man, I really think those are dopey, but they threatened to fire me if I didn't write it, so here we are."
"Gee, and you think you have problems, Roy! I'm caught in a dumb BE story with a lady whose breasts are smaller than houseflies, and I don't even know how to inject the hormones so that we can start the action!" Stew complained.
"It's easy, Stew. Just pick up a syringe, stick in into the side of the cow-"
"Left side or right side?" Stew asked.
"It doesn't matter! Why are you asking me?"
"I'm trying to cover the bases, Roy. I don't want Ginger to sue me because I didn't inject her properly, and thus she lost all hope of income from being a character in a BE story before she even got a chance to start in this lucrative career."
"Fair enough. Anyway, you stick the needle into the cow's side, and the cow should instantly triple milk production. Furthermore, her udders should triple in size, along with her mammary gland."
"Wait a minute," Ginger protested. "I thought cows had two mammary glands."
"Check a cow yourself!" Roy yelled. "God, you're the stupidest BE characters I've ever created. They only have one mammary gland, and the udders are attached to it."
"Of course! It all makes perfect sense now," Stew said.
"Now do your job, and inject the cows," Roy said.
"Okay, you're the boss."
"No, he's not! I'm your boss!" Ginger yelled.
"Who's responsible for making you his boss?" Roy asked Ginger.
"The CEO of the Alfalfa-Storketta Dairy of Santa Patricia?" she said.
"No! ME! I created Alfalfa-Storketta, based on a real life dairy in a town based on Santa Patricia. And why hasn't anyone asked me why this story takes place on a dairy in California, and not Wisconsin or some other dairy-producing state in the Midwest?"
"Well, why not?" Stew asked.
"Because I'm from near Santa Patricia ," Roy replied. "And I wanted to show that 1.) I know the local geography, 2.) I know the local history, and 3.) there are plenty of dairies out here in California."
"How'd you do that?" Ginger queried.
"Do what?" Roy inquired.
"Speak with those right parenthesis. And I thought I heard the first period after the right parenthesis, not before."
"I heard it before," Stew chimed in.
"Oh, that's the magic of being the author," Roy said proudly. "I can do whatever I want, including editing my own mistakes before the characters can catch me. Ginger, it seems my word-processing program isn't fast enough to beat your ears. But now, I want this stupid blabbering about nothing to end, and the story to continue. Stew, inject the cows."
"Okay, whatever you say." Stew then pulled out the first syringe and stuck it into Ginger. He managed to empty the remaining needles into Ginger, one by one.
"Why did you do that, you imbecile?" Ginger yelled at Stew.
"Well, I was told to inject the cow, and you're the only person here who looks anything like a cow."
"I MEANT THE COWS IN THE STALLS! THIS IS A DAIRY!" Ginger screamed at the top of her lungs.
"But I told him that, not you!" Roy protested.
"It doesn't matter now!" Ginger accurately replied. "What matters is that my breasts are gonna puff up like puffed rice, and my nipples will expand like those things that expand. Wait, why am I saying dumb things like that?"
"Because the editor was offended by my original analogy. I said, 'puff up like the editor's ego', and 'expand like the editor's wallet'," Roy nonchalantly replied.
"Well, he had a good reason to be mad at you," Stew told him. "Now what happens? How big are Ginger's boobs and teats gonna get?"
"Since you injected her 12 times, exactly 531,441 times as large as they are now."
"How'd you figure that out so fast? Especially since there are no calculators in this story," Ginger asked.
"I was a math major in college," Roy answered. "Now she'll swell up with milk any moment, so you'd better take her coat off and start squeezing her like mad."
"Okay," Stew replied, "what's my motivation?"
"WHAT'S YOUR MOTIVATION?" Roy screamed at the top of his lungs.
"Yeah, why do I wanna do this? I wish to look my best for the camera."
"WHY DO YOU WANNA DO THIS? You're a horny male in a BE story. If that isn't reason enough, I give up. And don't treat me like a director. This is NOT a movie!"
"Sorry," Stew apologized. "I guess I don't know what's going on."
"You sure don't, Stew. Keep this up, and I'll have to write your cousin Drew into your place."
"Oh no, not Drew!" Stew shouted. "He'll just mess it up, like all his relationships. At least he's funny, sorta. And he hated the Piede family reputation for thick-headedness, so he changed his last name to Carey before he made it big in Hollywood."
"Fine. Just do the task I created you for, Stew, and I'll let you stay."
"Okay, Roy, you don't have to tell me twice."
"But I just did!"
"Fine, I'll do it," Stew sighed. He ripped off Ginger's lab coat. She was wearing nothing underneath. Her naked form looked beautiful, except for her flat chest. Stew started pulling at her nonexistently-small nipples. After a few moments, Ginger's teats felt hard. She screamed in ecstacy, as thick white fluid came out of herself. Roy, horny male that he is, couldn't help assisting his amazingly stupid character. Within an hour, ten bucketsful of breast milk left her body. Then everything stopped. Ginger's nipples returned to normal, and Stew stopped rubbing her. The hormones had finished their task.
"But my breasts and nipples are the same size they were before! I thought you told me I'd get a half-million times bigger than I am now," Ginger protested.
"Oh, Ginger," Roy said smirking, "I like you, you're so sweet, but you're almost as dumb as Stew. You didn't have ANY breasts or nipples to speak of before this tale started. And half a million times zero is still zero."
"Gee, I never thought of that before," Stew honestly observed. "But this is a BE story. How can you call it a BE story if there's no breasts expending?"
"Because MY breasts are gonna grow," Roy said proudly.
"But you don't have any breasts. You're a man," Ginger replied curtly.
"Well, it just so happens I have a unique condition. I turn into a woman whenever anybody says 'fish sticks' in my presence."
" 'Fish sticks??!!' That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Stew queried.
"You said the secret words," said Roy. "Now watch me change. I knew you'd do that, so I came prepared. I put on a bra and panties today."
Roy removed his outfit, revealing the ladies' undergarments he mentioned; a lacy brown bra and a brown G-string. Just as he finished this, his body started changing. His Adam's apple disappeared. His armpit hair almost disappeared. His body softened, and his facial features turned more feminine. The hair on his legs grew shorter and thinner, almost disappearing entirely. His skin tone brightened, and his muscles gradually shrank to almost nothing. Fat starting migrating from his waist to his chest, hips, and buttocks. He shrank several inches in height. His penis started growing into himself, and a vaginal opening grew into its place. His testes migrated into his body, and turned into ovaries. He could even feel his prostate gland shrink and fall into nothingness. Eventually, Roy turned into a very attractive looking woman 5 foot 6 inches tall, and measuring a striking 34B-22-37. Stew and Ginger started blankly the whole time, mesmerized by the transformation.
"Are you just gonna stare at me, or are you gonna inject me so we can let the REAL BE start?" she asked Stew and Ginger.
"But-wa-wah-HOW-eh-what shall we call you?" Stew spewed at the woman standing where Roy had been.
"I have thought about this ever since I decided I was a woman trapped in a man's body last week, and you shall address me as 'Roda Dale Frink,' " she replied.
"But I thought it was spelled 'Rhoda,'" Stew said.
"It's my story, I'll spell the name however I want," the new lady replied.
"Okay, Roda, I'll go to the house and get more for you," Ginger replied.
Ginger put her lab coat back on, left the barn, and entered the farmhouse. Instinctively, she headed for the bathroom. She found a few syringes floating in the toilet, and placed them into the metal pail. Wait, that doesn't make any sense, Ginger thought. I didn't bring a pail with me. And according to Page 1, the syringes had been stored in the cupboard, next to the canned asparagus. Was Roy (er, Roda) just messing with her mind? Her addled brain found it all to be too much, despite the fact that it had just invented this hormone. She returned to the barn.
Roda was getting impatient, and tapped her brown 3-inch high heels against the ground. "Well, it's about time you came back! I was getting bored writing stupid thoughts to go through your feeble mind. Now inject me, and let the fun begin."
Ginger administered all 6 of the shots she'd found into Roda. Immediately, she felt the effect. Her breasts swelled as large as cantaloupes, and Ginger, lesbian slut that she was, couldn't help but fondle them as they got larger. And still they were growing!
"Hey! I am not a slut!" Ginger complained.
"Very well, Ginger," Roda replied. "Now rub my left teat, and let Stew do the right nipple, so that the milk can leave my body."
Stew and Ginger did as Roda told them. After all, Roda was the author, while Ginger and Stew were her characters. As her expanding tit-flesh grew larger and larger, her bra broke, falling to the ground. Shortly after Roda's breasts passed La-Z-Boy® size, Stew and Ginger were having a hard time keeping a hold on Roda's five-inch and ever-enlarging, ever-rising nipples.
"Now how, brown cow?" Stew sneered.
"That was uncharacteristically clever of you, Stew. I'll be sure to commend you to the editors for that. The two of you can start climbing my boobs until you hit my nipples, and don't forget to continue squeezing. You'll find mountain-climbing equipment out back."
Stew and Ginger found ropes and picks where Roda said they'd be. They returned to the barn, and started mounting her ten-foot-tall tits. Suddenly, Roda screamed in pain.
"Idiots! Don't forget- you're climbing expanding rock-hard flesh, not rock! By dropping the picks into me, you're hurting me. Screw it, this isn't going as well as I'd hoped. Just grab a hold of me, and get on top of my unrealistically oversized breasts. Reach down, and start squeezing me from above."
Stew and Ginger succeeded in this task, and felt themselves rising in the air as they started pulling on nipples a yard long and a foot around. Clumsy Stew almost fell into Roda's expanding cleavage twice, however. After 30 minutes, enough milk had been extracted to fill five buckets, and Roda's breasts were each as big as a house. Literally; each stretched over to the farmhouse, and was clearly larger than the whole building! Her nipples were now larger than her whole body had been before the hormone injection. The areolas were each ten feet in diameter, and as dark as her body hair.
"But how'd you get outside? You were in the barn when the hormones kicked in," Stew noted.
"I'm the author. Can't I be allowed to be have certain liberties with this story? Now, I'd like both of you to have sex with me."
"Why?" Ginger and Stew asked in unison.
"Because if you don't, I'll write you both out, and replace you with competent characters!"
"Okay," they sighed. "We'll do it."
Stew fell into Roda's cleavage, and inserted his 7-inch member into Roda's crotch. Ginger started rubbing Roda's enormous breasts furiously. Because of their enlarged size, Ginger could only get at them by hovering in her cleavage (ten feet off the ground!) and grabbing at them from the middle, spreading her arms out as far as she could. All the stimulation was causing Roda to feel hornier and hornier. Stew started to rub her clitoris, which was no easy task from inside her cleavage. Roda's super-colossal mammaries had grown unbelievably sensitive, so although Ginger couldn't cover more than a tiny fraction of their size (nowhere NEAR the areolas, let alone the nipples), it made Roda shiver down to her spine. In a few minutes, she couldn't contain herself, and she started dripping all over Stew's penis and her own well-sculpted thighs. Her rock-hard six-foot nipples also started dripping another six bucketsful of breast-milk.
Roda started cleaning herself off, with help from Stew and Ginger. Stew and Ginger crawled out of Roda's massive cleavage. Roda knew she'd have to be ready for breasts way too large for walking, and she came prepared. Remembering she was in control of this whole story, she made two large flat wagons form under her breasts, and two horses pulling these wagons. With a couple tons of weight off her back, she ordered her horses to move in the direction she wanted to go.
"Wait! Where are you going?" Stew yelled.
"Oh, I've just been named Most Promising Newcummer by the magazine this story is appearing in," Roda replied gracefully.
"But how?" Ginger wondered.
Roda giggled. "Well, not yet, but when they see these babies, I'll be a shoo-in!"
"But what do we do? Don't leave us hanging here!" Stew yelped.
"I've already taken care of that, guys. The breast milk that Ginger and I produced is almost magical. Any man who drinks it will see his penis grow in size an inch every time he sips it. And he will immediately become overcome with rapture. He'll be unable to contain his desire, and he'll spend the rest of his life having sex with the most beautiful women in the world! Well, you two enjoy yourselves. I'm off to the photo shoot! Hope they have an extra-large camera!" And with that, Roda was gone.
Stew and Ginger just stared at Roda as she walked off naked into the sunset. Then they looked at each other for several minutes.
"It's gonna be a long summer," Stew finally said. "And the worst part of it is, I'm lactose-intolerant."
THE END