Image Problems
by Mich

The sun beats down on my tanned skin, warming my entire body from the outside in. It's bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky, and all of the morning Bay fog had washed away before we even arrived.

"You want some help putting sunscreen on, babe?" Terrence asks. I blush a little, but happily accept; it's much more of a party to get help, even if I'm more than capable of doing it myself. Letting my towel drop onto the rocky sand, I step closer to my lover, letting my hips sway so that he can get a view of my entire body. I know that I'm delicious, that I have curves in every spot he could desire, and his hands, cold with white cream, are almost magnetically attracted to me. Slowly, slower than necessary, he rubs it in around my hips, over my belly, and, in a fast, playful move, inside my bikini bottom to briefly cup the round bubble of my ass.

I gasp and give his arm a slight slap... but he only grins as he moves down my thighs, grazing my calves and feet, before standing back up.

"My back, too," I say, reaching around and loosening my bikini top a bit. I have to hold the loose fabric against my chest as he works sunscreen in to my browned skin, giving me an opportunity to cup my heavy, full breasts in public for once. Feeling a little daring, I glance down at the deep cleavage I'm forming, then look over my shoulder at him, tossing my perfect hair in a way that I know will catch the breeze. "And my chest?"

"With pleasure," he says, and, his hands coming around to caress my swollen curves, I shiver in his embrace, and something about his touch makes my bikini start to grow tighter as I—

"Bing!" My speakers chirped me out of my daydream, and I realized that I had, once more, ignored a bunch of notifications from the sales team—Terrence included, to my embarrassment. Hurriedly closing a few tabs of swimsuits that I could never hope to afford (or fill out, for that matter), I opened my Slack window to see what, exactly, they needed me to copy for them, now.

"need to find the stapler, you know where it is?" was one electrifying request coming from Bruce, the sales bro down the hall. I rolled my eyes and typed back.

"It should be in the conference room, unless Marshall has it."

"k" was the response. No thank you, no acknowledgement. Which would be the same theme of Terrence's emotionless request for that month's office expenditures, and Francine's insistence that I have a slide deck prepared showing development velocity by the next morning. All of it would be attended to by me, then ignored until the next thing that Jeni at the front desk needed to attend to came up.

And that's how my days always were: stupid, silly questions, a spreadsheet or two, and then... nothing. No interaction. Hardly any thanks.

When I had graduated with a degree in business, suma cum laude, I had assumed it would get me a job anywhere in the Bay area. And when that had proved right, and I had slipped in as a lower-echelon sales associate for one of the biggest app companies on Market St., I had thought I was well on my way up the chain. Instead I had been shoved, as ever, to the side of the building, given menial, stupid tasks, and safely ignored.

I was barely anything more than a glorified office manager, now, putting my talents to waste. It gave me a lot of time to wonder where it had all gone wrong, but it mostly boiled down to this: I was so easy to forget about.

It had happened my entire life, really. At my high school graduation the counselor somehow forgot to read my name from the list of graduates. At the DMV my number had failed to have been called while getting a license renewal, two separate times. At office events people would just slip past me, ignoring my small talk or giving me a nod and a smile as their eyes slid past.

Even my attempts to get back into the dating pool failed miserably: my OKCupid account was only messaged by spammers, and the only person that ever swiped right for me on Tinder was an accident, although she had very sweetly apologized. It made me wonder how I had ever managed to date anyone before; maybe all of my exes had just accidentally dated me, too.

It gave me a bit of a complex, I have to admit.

The worst part was all of the attractive, social, popular people that I worked with. From the developers and engineers working on our new and exciting social networking platform, to the sales bros in their tight button-ups, to the project managers in their short skirts and teased up hair, everyone got along and loved each other like a big, happy family. But if they were a family, I was the portrait on the wall of a forgotten cousin.

And it wasn't that I assumed if I was curvier I would get all of the attention: I assumed it was also that I was quiet, and kind of small, and had let myself get talked into this menial job without a promise of moving up the ladder. But when the other girls walked by, their trim tops and filled-out tights attracting the eyes of everyone in the office, I couldn't help but get a little jealous at my complete lack of... well, everything. I had a pretty face, it was just so hard to see with everything else being completely lost in the sea of IKEA furniture.

There were so many things wrong that the company was doing, so many false leads they were tracking down, trying to monetize properly, trying to chase the wrong clients. But nobody would listen to me or ask my opinion.

After work that day I decided to drown my sorrows at the bar across the street from work. I sometimes saw people I knew there when they weren’t at the fancy strip club down the way, especially Terrence, but somehow they never seemed to notice the small, stick-thin girl with the frizzy blonde hair at the bar.

Which is why it gave me so much of a start when the guy who came in and sat next to me started a conversation.

"Celebrating something?" he asked.

"Huh?" tumbled out of my mouth as I turned in surprise. He was a tall guy, sturdily built, with a flannel shirt tucked into his worn jeans and cowboy boots on his feet. An ironic cowboy, in San Francisco? Color me surprised. He nodded at the champagne flute I was holding.

"That's a Paloma, right? You celebrating something?"

Actually, I was, though I would never tell a stranger: three years single, and four years out of college. Both celebrated on the same day. "Uh, no," I said, hoping that the heat I could feel around my collar wasn't reaching my cheeks. "Just a long day at work." Like every day. I complained about it so often that my best friend, Gertie, refused to come out drinking with me anymore, or at least come out after work. Another disappointment, and the thought of it made me sigh even harder.

He smiled, though. "Heh, me, too." He was holding a pint of some sort of IPA, and, in an impressive swig, downed it all.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, playing into his small talk and glancing at his belt buckle. "Doing what, herding cattle?"

He grinned, thankfully. "Almost. Meeting with some VCs. Nobody's too interested in a cattle-tracking app, I guess, even if it would be a godsend."

I almost rolled my eyes at yet another sales bro shopping around his revolutionary idea, but there was something about him that intrigued me, besides his willingness to talk to me and his clean-but-rugged good looks. He had known what I was drinking, for a start. And there was a way his eye kept drawing back to me, tracing the almost straight line from my chest down my white blouse along the straight hipline of my pencil skirt to my dark nylons. Did he find thin, 103-pounds-soaking-wet girls attractive, somehow? Maybe he liked breaking them over his knee, I mused.

But again, he knew my drink...

"Paul N.," he told me, eventually sticking out his hand. Amused, again, at his playful formality, I shook it, feeling the calluses on his palm.

"Jeni D.," I said.

After another hour of small talk, gradually growing more flirtatious, he leaned in for a kiss and I accepted, the warm smell of hay and sweat radiating off of him in the summer heat. Although he had a manly chin and a rock-hard jawline, his lips were delightfully full. The next kiss was deeper, and one of his hands rested on my hip.

"My hotel's just around the corner," he said. Licking my lips, feeling a thrill of nerves, I nodded.

"Well, you'll have to show it to me."

Up until that point I had thought that one-night-stands were not for me. I always wanted a relationship, dreamed of coming home to the same person every night, of growing old together, of holding hands as we died. The stupid romantic in me, the same one that thought if she did well at college and did well at getting a job and did well at that job would eventually be successful, had always dreamed of it. Hell, my most recent relationship, a tall agriculture major named Joshua, had seriously talked about getting married before he had broken it off, and the idea had thrilled me.

But there was something about Paul N. He reminded me a bit of Josh: tall, built, a bit of a country boy. But he was also exciting in some indescribable way. And maybe getting laid was what I needed, like Gertie was always saying. She had no problem picking up a boy and dropping him the next day. Then again, she had no problem actually getting dates.

I could feel the color rising in my cheeks as we silently rode the elevator up, and I glanced over at Paul to see a funny, quiet smile on his face. He led me by the hand to his door, then, once we were in the modest hotel room, kissed me again. It was long, and warm, and I almost whined in desire while my hands hooked on to his belt. Tanned fingers unbuttoned my blouse, revealing the thin, padded bra that I mostly wore in an attempt to pretend I had breasts. That came off in a moment, too. He kissed down my neck, grazing over my erect, pink nipples, and I let myself be pushed back onto the bed.

His flannel shirt, sweaty from the humid air outside, was up and over his head, revealing an equally-tanned torso with a curly forest of chest hair. Leaning over me, smiling down at me, Paul bent in for another kiss, his tongue pushing into mine, his swept-back hair finally coming out of its perfect slick to brush against my forehead. After we parted, both of us smiling, he became tender in a way I found almost too perfect: slowly unzipping my skirt as he went kissing back down my ribs, then letting me undo his belt buckle and take his pants off. When his briefs hit the floor he was already stiff and ready, just like I was hot and warm and surprisingly slick for him.

After then condom was on, I guided him into me and we began to rock together. I realized this was what I needed: some intimacy, even if it was only momentarily, and I felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. Like I was desired and attractive. I knew that I wouldn't cum from the sex, since I never did, but that was okay: just being there, with someone whom I wanted and wanted me back, that was enough.

And then one of Paul's hands slipped down my hip, played across my thigh, and caressed along my pussy lips. A thrill went up through me that I hadn't felt in years, and he began to rhythmically, slowly, slip a slick finger across and around.

My chest hitched and I could feel my spine and toes and lips starting to curl. Oh god, I was actually building. He began to play and twirl across my clit, his gentle, tender fingers working a magic that not even his sturdy, rigid cock could perform.

His eyes shined down at me as I gasped again. "Do you like that?"

"Mmhmm" was all I could say, and we started to speed up in sync, hips thrusting, fists forming on the cheap hotel sheets. God I liked it, his big body above mine, drilling me into the pillows, my hair sticking with sweat to my forehead and shoulders, as the quickening rhythm sent shocks and vibrations deep up my hips and back, his playful, dancing fingers teasing something from my pussy that I couldn't have imagined.

It was the work of someone with experience, someone who knew me deeply, even though we had only just met.

I wanted more, faster, harder, and soon my hips were grinding into his without my asking them to, my muscles straining to clamp down on him harder as I felt an orgasm building and heaving inside. God, I was going to cum, wasn't I? I was, it was coming to press over me, a burning, boiling blanket that was spreading out from where we met and reading out to tingle in my fingers and toes. My mouth was open, my eyes clenched closed, but I could still see Paul's sparkling eyes in my mind...

And, with a gasping, halting sigh, I came.

I was so lost in the moment, in that perfect, intimate ecstasy, that I almost didn't feel that Paul was coming, too, his hips jerking and spasming as he filled his condom—but when I did notice, I peaked again, my O stretching out as my hands came up to grasp the pillow behind me. My slow gasp had turned into a high pitch squeak, like a kettle boiling over, but I didn't care. I had felt something, anything, like I hadn't felt in years.

Then Paul was tracing his hand up my side again, his lips and tongue finding mine as I desperately clung onto him. "You liked that?" he asked, grinning between kisses. All I could do was nod, dumbly.

"It's good to feel desired, isn't it?"

Something about the way he said it, the precision and picking of words, made my brows narrow. "Yes," I said. I could feel myself smiling in confusion, but he only had that knowing grin, still.

"Want to feel it more?"

"Yes," I said, thinking I was catching on. "But maybe in a little bit."

He laughed softly, a tone I hadn't heard from him before. "I mean forever. To never stop feeling like that."

There was a chill in the air and my body froze as I instantly switched into flight mode. I suddenly realized how much larger than me he was, how we were in a hotel and I had no clothes. Paul must have seen the look on my face, because he melted like an ice cube in boiling water. "Oh, no, no, I'm sorry. I'm just proposing something." His hands came up, one hand still shiny from being inside me. "Nothing scary."

I was backing up. "Just a game, huh?" I had heard about this. Guys picking girls up and kidnapping them for their sex dungeons. How would I get out?

To my horror his eyes lit up. "A game! Exactly. One I've played before."

Oh you sick fuck, I thought. "I'm sure you have." I was backing up off of the bed, tangling sheets around me. "Well, I'd rather not. It was, uh, great, you know." But you killed the mood, you fucker. I reached down for my clothes, ignoring his quiet, terrifying grin, and turned for the door...

But it was gone. There was, to my shock, bricks filling up the doorway.

My brain couldn't comprehend it, and I reached out to touch them. "What..."

"Sorry, bug," I heard behind me. It was a familiar voice, a familiar pet name, and I turned to see my ex-fiancé laying on the bed, naked and in the exact same position Paul had been.

Oh god, I'm having some sick dream, I realized.

"No dream," Josh said. "This is just the fastest way to get you realizing what's going on."

"And what is going on?" I asked, unable to disguise the fear.

His eyebrows tented. "Nothing you don't want to." And suddenly his features were flowing, changing. His jawline defined, his chest thickened, growing hair, his skin tanning, hair lengthening. In a moment he was Paul again, and I was stepping back, the cold bricks pressing into my naked back. "I told you, it's a game. You can always quit games."

"Uhhh," was all I could manage to say, and he rolled his eyes while a small smile replaced the grin.

"I should have guessed you would react this way. Maybe we should get you more comfortable." He reached out his hand and snapped his fingers, and there was a... shift. Like a sped-up morph animation. Suddenly, the clothes were no longer in my hands, they were on my body, my skirt once again zipped, my blouse covering my bra. Paul was dressed, shirtsleeves perfectly rolled up, hair slicked back. And we were both sitting in the cheap hotel chairs, two cups of coffee on the table between us.

By the time my brain had taken all of these changes in, Paul had poured one little cup of creamer into my coffee, then cut a sugar cube in half and dropped it in. Just how I liked it. "What ARE you?" was all I could ask.

He shrugged one shoulder. "Someone amused by the things I can't predict. And I can predict a lot." He took the coffee and sipped at it, his brown eyes watching me as I instinctively blew on the hot cup. Somehow, dressed, seated, I was less scared.

Whatever was going on, Paul, whoever he was, wasn't outright antagonistic. If this was a horror movie, or worse, I wouldn't be dressed. He wouldn't be talking to me like this. Would he?

"What can you predict?" I realized I was playing along again, just like in the bar. And, to some degree of horror, I realized I was interested. This was... new. Strange. Magical. And if I was dreaming, that orgasm meant it was a damn good dream, didn't it?

Paul just grinned again. "All sorts of things. Like the fact that you'll at least be interested in my proposition."

"Okay," I said slowly. "What's your proposition?"

His eyebrows wiggled in glee. "You can see what I can do. Change my face, change your clothes, make doors disappear. It goes beyond just those things." He leaned in close. "What if I give you what you want. What you truly, definitely want."

I could think of any number of things that I wanted. A bigger apartment, a dog, a lasting relationship. What did he mean?

On the surface, I was confused. But deep down, somewhere in my animal brain, I knew. I knew exactly what he was proposing.

And I was salivating at the idea.

Paul leaned back and smirked, because he knew that I was, too. "You feel like nobody sees you, and when they do, they don't like what they see. You want to be wanted. Not just to be noticed, but to be desired. To have everyone look at you when you walk past. Just like most of your office does when Francine struts past, or how Gertie seems to be able to pick up any guy she talks to."

"That's what you think I want?" I asked. It was almost precisely what I had been thinking, but how selfish did it make me feel?

"I can make it so that, if someone does notice you, they will always, always like what they see," he said, tilting his head and stirring his coffee. "And not just that. You also want to be sexier than any of them, to have curves nobody can look away from." He took a sip and looked at me over the rim. "Not just slight curves. Not even normal curves."

My heart almost stopped. How did he know that? How could anyone? I didn't think that I had done anything more than daydream about the idea, hadn't even told my longest friend or written it in my diary. But it was an image that had haunted me, had gotten me off late at night when I was almost asleep. A stupid, ridiculous fantasy of an oversized, overstuffed hourglass figure, of having tits so big I almost couldn't hold them, of having a butt so swollen and thick that I wobbled and shook with every slight step. My simple daydream at work had been only the start of a repeated, extended story, one which I had been gradually adding on to since the that I had discovered women grew breasts.

And Paul knew, somehow. And he could make it happen.

Four years of business school didn't leave me high and dry, though. "What's the catch?"

He laughed. "That's the funny part: there isn't much of a catch. Most of the people I play my game with, they don't want one of the parts. They don't want to change, they just want the other part. For you the game only gives you what you want."

I couldn't help it. I was interested. "So how does it work?"

"It's easy," he said, and his smile said that he knew he had me. "For every lover you take, you will... change. Become more like how you wish to be. That means your breasts will grow, your hipline will flower. Your waist will stay as waspish as you wish it to be. And for every inch you put on, it will be that much easier for people to want you, to adore you and shower you with adoration and concern."

It did seem like everything I could ever want. Except... "So I have to keep having one-night stands, like this?"

He shrugged. "Not if you don't want to. The game ends if you decide to stop. Sleep or make love to the same person twice, myself excluded, and it will all be over. Go a day without taking a lover, it will stop. You'll keep your curves you've gathered, any ease you have at gaining attention will continue, but neither will increase by my doing."

So that was the catch, even if Paul wasn't calling it that. The long-term relationship, the true love, that I couldn't keep without ending the game. But was it that much of a problem? I could already see strategy plans laying out before me if what Paul said was true: as the game went on, it would be easier for me to take a lover, wouldn't it? And if I found someone perfect, someone worth stopping for, then I would.

But... it was easy to pick up Paul that night because he hadn't really wanted me, wasn't it? He just wanted to play his sick game. Even if the sex had been fantastic, and I had this new, fantastic future ahead of me, I still would have to pick up someone that night, something I hadn't managed in years.

"Worried about starting, huh?" he asked. "Well, what if I give you a boost? Promise you that, for your first night, you won't have a problem."

I narrowed my eyes. "How would that work?"

He shrugged. "You'll have to start the game to find out." There was that twinkle again. "You can quit at any time, you know. Just don't have sex."

I snorted. "THAT I don't have a problem with." His eyebrows only wiggled again in amusement, and I almost laughed. "Okay, Paul. You have a deal. Let's play." I held out my hand, and Paul's tanned, calloused one took it.

"The deal is made. And you can call me Dee."

His fingers tightened down, then, and I almost cried out in fear when his free hand lifted up by his head, his fingers snapped, and there was an intense warmth...

A tingling, electric pleasure radiated up through me, almost as if I could feel "Dee" playing with me again, and suddenly my top was too hot, too tight. My bra straps were digging into my shoulders, the underwire cutting into my chest, and I looked down to see my white top stretching, buttons straining from what could only be breasts. The growth almost immediately cut off, but god, they existed. Round, slightly plump, my hard nipples cutting through the cheap padded fabric of my bra. My breath was quickening, speeding up, and I realized I was finding it harder and harder to take a breath as my skirt cut in to my stomach. I looked down, past my new cleavage, to see that my hips were pushing outward, just a little bit more. I put my hands on them, feeling the boniness get covered with fat, plumping up and filling me out, even as my pelvis lengthened, bones grinding to make way. My skirt was getting tight, taught, full... then that quit, too.

A thrill filling me, I jumped out of the chair and ran my hands over my new body, feeling my curves, cupping my new, delightful tits. On anyone else it would look like nothing; I would look like a normal girl. But for me it was like I had bloated up like a balloon.

The mirror over Dee's dresser showed me for what I was: someone who had gone from forgettable, almost 2D, to a 3Dee woman. I wasn't a knockout, not a bombshell: my hair was still frizzy and wild, my face still a bit plain. But I had very slight curves.

"Have a nice day," Dee smiled. "I'll see you in a few."

And like that, I was outside the closed hotel door.

***

I wandered home in a daze, the sun only just setting. It felt like I had been with Dee in the hotel for forever, but it had only been for an hour or so. As soon as I got back to my studio I plopped onto the cheap loveseat that filled up most of my place and wondered at what to do.

Feeling almost drunk, I texted Gertie.

"Can you come by? I need to show you something."

Her reply was, as usual, almost instant, and would normally annoy me: "i hope its some new boytoy ;)" Instead, though, it was almost true. I did have a boytoy, didn't I? Or at least I was a toy for a boy.

In twenty minutes Gertie was at my door, hand on her hip, sassy response ready for firing from her lips. She was the complete opposite from me: curvy to the point of being a "big, beautiful woman", her dark complexion balanced out by a died red streak in her long brown hair, and always dressing in the most casual, loose clothes. Today she had on some tight leggings and a cotton top that displayed her fat, bouncing tits between laces.

Ordinarily I would have been jealous of her curves, and maybe hidden a small desire to sleep with my best friend. Today I almost salivated at the idea of matching her measurements, of borrowing something that was maybe a bit too tight in the chest and loose at the waist.

"What happened to you?" she asked, her jaw dropping open in instant recognition of the changes. I flushed when I realized that I was still wearing the top and skirt that had fit perfectly two sizes ago, and now were straining at the seams. I pulled Gertie inside and shut the door.

"Something... weird."

It took some explaining to her, and some reassurances of the weirdness, but there was something Gertie couldn't deny about the changes that had happened to me in the past 24 hours. Dee was real, Dee's magic was real, and she could see it, small as it was.

"So," she said, eyes roaming over me in a way I hadn't ever experienced. "Does that mean you're going to... go hunting tomorrow?"

"Oh god, I have to, don't I?" The idea was both terrifying and thrilling, but Gertie only clapped her hands in excitement. "Finally! Jeni and Gertie out on the prowl!" And then she froze and looked at me. "And after tomorrow, if you someone up?"

I swallowed. "Even more changes."

Gertie punched the air. "This is amazing! We're going to have so much fun!" She grinned and almost sat on her hands. "When do you think you'll stop?"

"Oh," I said, waving her away. "Not before I get too ridiculous." In my explanations I had left out my secret dreams, my long-held desire to truly become incredible. Besides, I didn't know if I would even want to get there. Maybe I would let myself become just amazingly curvy, then decide having tits bigger than my head would be too much to deal with.

Maybe.

The next day at work would have hardly seemed different to the untrained eye. Maybe I was just being hypersensitive to any glances my way, but I could have sworn that Bruce actually formed a complete sentence when he passed by my desk to make sure I had sent out invites for a meeting, and Terrence... Terrence almost actually stopped in front of me. I swear our eyes met, and his deep blue eyes were hypnotic.

But then he moved on, and I reminded myself it was a bad idea to try to pick up a guy at the office, anyway. That would only lead to trouble, especially with these guys. I’d let them go to that "Angel Investors" strip club place, pick up their fancy clients, and ignore me. For now.

Instead I found myself putting on a tight, sleeveless blue dress, one from a wedding a few years prior that squashed my boobs into a tiny line of cleavage and showed off my new hipline, and got dragged to a bar.

"What are you doing?" Gertie hissed out of her mouth at me.

"Drinking?" I asked. "Enticing?" I added, hopefully.

She rolled her eyes as I took another sip of my Paloma. Since it wasn't my usual spot, the cute bartender had balked a little at the request, but still mixed it up for me, pouring the tequila and grapefruit into a tall wineglass and handing it over, her delicate hands almost touching mine for a second. Could I score there, I wondered, before scanning the bar again. Dee's magic probably worked on girls, too, I thought. He had said "anyone" would find me desirable. But a guy was what I wanted, so hopefully I could direct my powers there.

After another sip Gertie's elbow was in my ribs and her eyes on a guy across the way. He was definitely my type: tall, a little built, his hair a bit long. And, even better, he was looking our way.

"Go say something!" Gertie hissed.

"He's looking at you" I found myself saying. It was an automatic response, one I had said for years. But this time, I wondered...

Not hearing Gertie's encouragement, I stood up, pushing myself from the stool and leaving my drink as I walked over to the guy. He was sitting alone in the corner, two whiskey glasses empty in front of him. "Can I get you a refill?" I asked.

He looked at me in confusion for a moment. "Oh, uh, do you work here?"

"Uhhh," I faltered. Oh god oh god. "N-no, no, I just thought you looked like you may want another. And maybe some company?"

His confusion deepened, then a blush came over his face. "Oh! Sure. Yes. Yeah."

My red face mirroring his, I turned around and walked, knees almost knocking, high heels almost toppling, back to the bar. Gertie's grin was nearly luminous in the dim light, but I ignored her as I ordered something stronger for myself and a repeat of whatever Dude in the Corner had. It was a whiskey-coke, so I took my tequila and soda back to him, nearly knocking it back on the way.

Somehow, this was all so much scarier than when Paul (or Dee, whichever you'd prefer) had seduced me the night before. Then it had seemed organic, natural. This time I was steering and it was terrifying.

"You, uh, drinking alone for a reason?" I asked. Trying to sound suave. Trying to sound sexy. Instead just sounding terrified.

"No, no," he said, taking an equally big gulp of the drink. Up close I realized he was a little stooped, his shirt a little sweaty. A software engineer, I was sure. "Just... tired."

"Me, too," I said. "I'm here with my friend, but she was about to leave and I'd prefer to stay." It had sounded more alluring in my head, but I hoped Gertie, who was not good at subtly eavesdropped, could hear the hint.

"Oh yeah?" he asked.

"Yup." I took another sip, then signaled the bartender for another. I needed a lot of liquid courage.

My original guess turned out to be right: he was a developer contracting with such-and-such company, moved here with nobody he knew. His name was Terry, I gave him "Pauline", the fake name Gertie and I had picked. As the drinks went down and my vision became more and more hazy I inched closer to Terry in the booth, until my hip was pressing into his jeans. "Do you want to go dance somewhere?" I heard myself saying. I hated dancing, but I wanted to dance with Terry. I wanted to leave him slobbering, to have him ready to pounce on me. I could see something in his eyes that I wasn't used to, something that drilled through my clothes, trying to see what was underneath.

We went out dancing.

A nearby bar had a lit floor, so after we loaded up another drink I pulled my new friend out, pushing up close against him, letting him feel the press of my new breasts, the line of my rounded butt. I was sexy, more than I had ever felt, better than I had ever felt, and as the night went on I realized he couldn't take his eyes off of me. Yes, he did want me. He wanted to fuck me. He desired me.

My little loveseat got used that night for the first time since Josh. Terry was nowhere near as good as Dee, he didn't have any of the magic touch, the ability to tell what I needed and wanted. But he filled me, he completed me, and he gave me that essence I hadn't known was eating away at me: a longing to feel longed for.

And something about that made my heart quicken, my chest tighten. His fingers digging in to the soft, small flesh of my breasts, his thick but agile cock filling me, my ass riding against the velvety cushion of my couch, I felt another orgasm spreading over me, washing like a tidal wave.

Somewhere, somehow, I heard the snap of fingers...

"Oh," I cried out. "Oh!" It was like the previous night, only faster, harder. I was writhing on the couch, riding it as Terry cried out and pushed against me, as he rode with me, and suddenly his hands were growing tighter on me, the pressure only building. I was growing! More, thicker, plumper, sexier, I was gaining inches in moments. What had only been little bounces on my chest as I wormed on the cushions were becoming small waves while my tits filled out. Terry's hands snatched away as he realized what was happening, going down to hold on to my hips, and there I could feel them also spreading, my thighs thickening as my hips and butt filled in, filled up. I was gaining curves and rounding out, and Terry's eyes were opened wide, then rolling up as he came inside me. I could feel the condom filling up with his desire...

...and I wanted more.

***

Clothes were harder to put on the next morning. Terry was long gone, the number given to him fake, along with my name. There was a lot of guilt there, and I had almost stumbled as I put a 555 number into his phone, but no: I needed resolve. I needed confidence. This was for me.

In the mirror was a completely different woman. Gone was the shy, thin stick that I had been, and instead I was an hourglass of sexiness. My breasts were no longer classifiable as small, instead almost filling my hands. Was I over a C-cup, verging on D? I'd have to be measured to be sure, but they were round and capped in my perfect pink nipples, almost forming cleavage when I wasn't wearing anything. And my ass! It wasn't a flat board anymore, now it was a bubble, a positive heart-shape that was just on the verge of jiggling with each step. And if I took long enough steps to sway my hips, well, they swayed.

Nothing I owned but stretchy clothes would fit me. I still had a few more days at the office until the weekend, so if my conquest of the San Francisco nightlife was going to continue, I'd need to get a much bigger closet if I also wanted to keep my job. An early-morning shopping spree was in order.

After a quick selfie sent to Gertie, I pulled on some sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt, checked the clock to make sure I had time before work, and hopped down into the BART.

It was tricky, down amid the crazies, businesspeople, high school kids on vacation, and hundreds of other standard citizens of the city, not to run my hands over myself. It was all so new, and exciting! My ass wasn't just round, it was delicious. My boobs weren't just big, they were enticing. Braless, they bounced and moved with every motion of the train, even slapping a bit against my naked and sweating chest. My ass was no better, actually stretching my pants out, on display for everyone in the train.

I was just glad I didn't have "JUICY" printed across the back. Then again... maybe I was disappointed.

When I emerged from the train station I had nearly a dozen texts from Gertie, all of them in all caps. I grinned to myself and pledged to read them at work, then hurried into the closest department store. I needed fitting clothes... and maybe a few things a couple of sizes extra. My credit card did the work, and I regretted that I had little more than enough time to try on one blouse (a perfect fit for a size small), then grab some extra sizes (medium, large, and, my breath catching in my throat, extra-large), and a skirt (medium, to my delight), the next available sizes (large and another salivating XL), plus a couple of bras. That almost maxed out my card, meaning I wouldn't have much other than work clothes to wear for the next few days—but by then maybe I would have some idea of when I wanted to stop, and how big I was getting.

Because I was going to get bigger.

A final look at the mirror in the bathroom had me looking good enough to drop my jaw. The blouse was perfect, two buttons down to show off my newfound cleavage, while the short sleeves showed the straps to my new, risqué, black bra. The pencil skirt, meanwhile, perfectly followed the line of my hips and made my newly-puffed ass look plush. Plus, the tightness of the whole ensemble made my hourglass figure absolutely pop, my hips curving outward in a way that made my mouth water.

I needed to find another lover, as Dee put it.

Oh, potentials were everywhere. Don't think I didn't notice people actually looking my way, for once. That one handsome man in the vest on the BART couldn't stop glancing away whenever I'd turn around. A kid in a skateboard shirt with pants around his ass had his eyes buried between my tits. And that petite clerk at the high-end plus size store was looking out at me between black bangs, judging, wanting. Maybe some other time, I laughed.

I almost strutted into work.

It was probably my newfound confidence, but I think it was also a bit of Dee's magic, working its way into my coworker's minds: it felt like everyone was taking a new look at Jeni the girl at the front desk. When Marshall walked past cracking his jokes about football players, he almost paused just to take me in. Francine hesitated to wish me good morning, not quite astonished that I was showing off curves just as round and enticing as hers. And then Terrence...

...well, he DID stop at my desk.

"Hey, Jeni, we have a sales call with that potential client in Hungary, who wants the new API implementation? You've worked with Hungarians before, right? I was just checking your credentials."

I almost swallowed my tongue. Terrence! The big dude in the office, who was featured in so many of my fantasies. His muscles almost bulged from his shirt, his dark curly hair perfectly trimmed, his blue eyes sinking into mine, this time on purpose. Then he glanced lower, tracing a look down my rounded edges... and back up to me.

His voice was measured and calm. It only made sense for me to be, too. "Yes," I said slowly. "I did some interning with a native Hungarian fishing company."

That perfect grin...

"Excellent, how about you sit in on the call? Finally get you doing some sales."

My heart skipped a beat. "Absolutely!"

"Great, see you in ten."

In ten? In ten?

In short, I freaked out.

In the bathroom I checked my hair four times, doing my best to get the frizzy mess into order. I pushed up my boobs, then buttoned up my shirt, straightened my skirt, unbuttoned my shirt, pulled my skirt down lower... how should I look? Should I be impressing Terrence, or the whole sales team? Would the Hungarians want anything in particular of me?

Swallowing my fear, I stepped out of the bathroom and past Terrence's held door to the conference room.

Ten minutes later I walked out with my first real sale under my belt.

"That was amazing!" Terrence cried. "How did you know they'd want to focus on user interactibility?"

"I think I more suggested it to him," I said, as modestly as I could say. Honestly it felt like the moment I had stepped in front of the webcam the client had been putty in my hand. "He was a sweet man."

Francine only laughed. "You did good, girl. Now you just need to keep it up."

Keep it up. Well, I knew one way to keep it up, and it was by extended my influence. I just needed to find the right person.

At lunch I decided to treat myself with another walk down the street, feeling eyes and minds focus on me as I passed by them, hips shaking, tits breathing a little bit of air through my unbuttoned shirt collar. I felt like I could walk ten miles in my heels, but instead I worked my way to an empty diner, only five tables and one waitress, and sat wondering if it was my newfound influence that had won me that sale.

"What can I getcha?" the waitress asked me, and I looked up at the sound of her cute Fargo accent. She was tall, curvier than me, her dark skin clashing with the cheesy pink of her uniform. She was beautiful in a manner that I still wasn't, completely comfortable with herself in a way that I was still jealous of. Her hair was perfect as it fell about her shoulders, her round, firm bust obvious even in the thick material of her dress.

The same nerves that I recognized from the previous night came over me as I realized what I was going to attempt, but I swallowed them. "I'm feeling a bit risky," I said, the words sounding right as they came out. "Maybe a Jack and Coke?"

Her smile was mischievous. "Sounds like a good idea," she said. "I'd join you, but someone else might come in, you know?"

"Sure," I smiled back. My voice was steady, calm. I could feel my nerves returning.

After she mixed the drink I ordered a grilled cheese and sipped at the cocktail. The whiskey burned to my stomach and felt great, and I watched the waitress's bottom bounce behind the counter, where she started up the burners.

"It's just you working?" I asked. "No cooks, huh? They leave you high and dry?"

"Oh, sure," she sighed dreamily. "But I get to do whatever I want."

There was a note in her voice that gave me a thrill. "Whatever you want, huh?"

Almost without thinking, I unbuttoned the next button on my blouse, leaving just the smallest amount of my bra exposed, the tops of my breasts shining in the sun through the window. When the waitress delivered the grilled cheese, I glimpsed at her nametag while she stole a peek down my top. "Clara", it said.

As I ate my lunch and drank another whiskey, I thought about how to approach Clara, watching as she cleaned down the grill. She had unbuttoned the top of her dress, too, giving me a look at her delectable tits. They were definitely bigger than mine, and they bounced provocatively with each scrub of the stove. She knew, right? How I wanted her. And she wanted me.

When she delivered the check, "Thank you <3" was written on it. At first I thought it was just a classic waitress trick... until I saw "anything" written in tiny letters at the bottom.

I reached out and snatched her hand as she removed my plate. "Clara," I said, "do you mind if I look at the back room of this place?"

She paused. "Any... reason?" Her tongue nervously licked at the corner of her mouth.

"I think I see something I like that isn't on the menu." God, it was cheesy. So cheesy. Porn cheesy. But something was still in Clara's eyes, something she wanted.

Me.

She turned the sign on the door to "Closed" and locked it, then led me by the hand around behind the counter and through the free-swinging door. When she turned around to face me I was already reaching for the buttons on her dress, already undoing them. I wanted her as badly as she wanted me, I was sure of it. But then her hands fell on mine.

"I, uh, haven't been with a, uh, a girl before..." she said. God, the poor thing. She couldn't have been more than 21.

I had to giggle. "It's easier, if anything. You know where everything is." And so I unbuttoned my own shirt, showing her that we were almost alike, she was just a bit bigger everywhere, and her hungry eyes ate everything up.

It was definitely easier.

With our first kiss, both of us topless, we sunk on to the cheap rug in the back kitchen, our hands exploring each other, our tongues tangling between our teeth. A cheap thong only barely covered her, and my fingers found a way through it to touch her lips. Her quick gasp told me everything I needed to know: this girl was ready to go.

For a moment I flashed back to my first girlfriend, Emma, another dark-haired, fit girl, who had proved to me everything that I had wondered about my sexuality within my first week of college. We had been together for a year before she broke up with me and transferred out to a different school, but those times were some of my favorite to fantasize about... and she had been just as easy to get off.

Then we were both naked, sitting in front of each other, my hands in Clara's lap. "What do I do?" she asked in a childishly small voice. I almost laughed again, but instead just pushed her backwards, dipping my head to nibble on one of her dark, tasty-looking nipples. Then, as I leaned back, I took her hands and drew them up my body, letting her cup my swollen breasts, then guided her down, tracing my sides to my hips. I was straddling her, our bare legs entwined, her round butt squashing out a little on the rug.

"You don't think too hard about it," I said. "Just do what comes naturally. Like this." I scooted backwards, letting Clara's hands fall from me, and knelt before her warm, moist pussy. With a slow, light lick I had her hips drawing up, then another to get a gasp from her throat. "It's simple," I said, licking at the insides of her thighs between words. "It's what you like."

I got a moan in response as I traced along the inside of her with two fingers, then, massaging and licking, I drew her closer and closer to the edge.

When Clara was shaking, trying to restrain her hips from thrusting, stomach heaving in and out with breath, that was when I drew back up her. I kept my fingers doing their work, but my other hand was free to run through her hair, and my mouth was free to kiss her on the neck, then the jaw, then the cheek. "Do you like that?"

"Mmmhm..." she whimpered.

"Do you want me?"

"God, yes," she said.

"What do you want?" And I pressed harder with my hand, drawing my fingers up and along where I knew she reacted the hardest.

Her eyelids flickered. "I want..."

"What is it?" I asked again.

"I want you!" she said, then came harder than I think I had come in either of my past two nights, so hard that she clenched down on my fingers with her pussy, her legs spasming.

And with her, I felt it, too. Not a full orgasm, nothing like my previous two... but still, there was that feeling of being outside of myself, of waves crashing over me as my muscles lost control for a moment in a deep, resounding joy.

Then I felt it again. That heat, that stretching feeling, as my thighs began to press into each other with rounding, widening curves, as my tits widened and fattened, no longer two little mountains but two filling little globes.

I bit Clara on the shoulder, not too hard, but just enough to stifle my own moans of delight. I was becoming so much more than I had ever been. My skirt was still hooked, but it was growing so much tighter, bulging out, trying to contain my wanton, protruding ass. My tits were free but now big enough to lay on my chest properly. Looking down at them I couldn't believe the sight before me, of my two peaks tipped by swollen, hard nipples. It was an image I would only have imagined a few days before. Two perfect, rounded shapes... I drew my hands over them and shivered at the sensation.

Clara stretched and moaned again, then stiffened. I snapped awake, too.

"I, I have to get back to work," she stuttered, pulling on her clothes. Then, as if seeing me for the first time (and she almost was, wasn't she? The new me) she paused. "Oh wow, you're... gorgeous."

Had she noticed the change? I couldn't tell; the way she was eating up my body with her eyes, roaming from the strained and damp skirt to the heaving breasts overflowing my hands, was almost exactly how she had been before. But there was a slight hint of confusion between her brows...

Then: "Will you come back? I didn't think I was into girls, but you..."

I shrugged, quietly delighting in both her confusion and the swing of my chest with the motion. "Maybe."

But I never saw her again. I didn't want to quit while I was making such strides.

***

The ride back toward work was even more distracting than it had been out to the Mission, for several reasons, all centered on my new dangerous curves. My tits were putting an impossible strain on my shirt, pulling the seams apart, making me curse myself for not changing at the diner. Plus, the new sensations of my curvier, sexier body could almost overwhelm a weaker girl: at first I sat, but then I realized sitting on a cushioned seat with my new, plush ass below me only made me concentrate on how amazing it felt when my thighs rubbed together, when my hands caressed the squishy curves of my hips; then standing, leaning on one of the support bars, the metal slipped between my two luscious ass cheeks, nearly pulling my skirt apart as it attempted to contain me.

And then there were the people passing by: jealous, wanting, curious, everyone wanted a piece of me, even if they were only looking. One particularly aggressive bystander bumped his hip against mine when I wasn't paying too much attention, but his hands never went to touch anything else.

I made an emergency detour to my apartment. I needed to wash the grime from a diner's back room off, I needed to change, and I definitely needed to get myself off.

The shower was exactly what I had hoped it would be: a perfect opportunity to explore myself without the gawks and stares of the public. Not that I minded too badly their looks, I just wanted some privacy to myself. And boy, did I have a lot of self to explore. From my neck down I was a changed woman: the slopes of my breasts widening out, plump and full and perfect teardrop shapes, filling my hands and presenting my nipples for sucking, fondling, adoration. My stomach was still trim, tight, but then I ballooned out below, my hips, thighs, and butt all perfectly stuffed and presented. The water washed down along the new curves of my ass and I followed it with my hands, drawing them over and over the sensitive, delicious skin.

Dee had given me an amazing gift. Confidence, beauty, and curves that I couldn't have ever thought to ask for.

After my shower I found new delights just in getting dressed. Pulling my panties up my legs, I felt a new resistance I had never really experienced before, and had to tug a bit harder just to get the elastic to stretch over my thighs, to pop up over the top of my butt. I had skipped a few bra sizes, too, and found a tiny amount of joy just in navigating my breasts into the G-cups of one of my larger bras. With a larger blouse, a nice, tight skirt, some clean (and perfectly snug) leggings, a fresh application of makeup, and some quick tweaks to my hair, I was ready for work again.

It was Francine who finally clued me to what I had been wondering for days. She stopped by my desk, her small tits (or at least small to me) prominently on display, as usual, and a concerned look on her face. But I swear I could see something else in her eye, some look... something I could recognize easier and easier.

"Have you, uh, done something with, you know... with your chest, Jeni?" she asked.

A smirk fell on my lips. I had always thought of Francine as the alpha bitch of the office, but maybe that was just because I was jealous. "Something, yeah." I couldn't help but arch my back, to feel the weight shift on my chest as my cleavage bulged. "It's only temporary, though," I swore, telling the truth in a way that she wouldn't have suspected.

To my surprise, concern deepened further. "Oh yeah? I think it looks good."

My mind raced. Was this just part of Dee's magic, that now Francine wanted to encourage me, to prop me up? Did she want me that badly?

"Well, thanks," I said. An idea sparked. "Maybe we could get drinks later, talk about it."

To my surprise she flushed from her chin to her widow's peak. "Maybe, yeah. Have a girl's night!" She smiled at that. "Oh, but first, here's the paperwork from the Hungarian sale, great work, and we have a few things for you to look over before tomorrow. There's a meeting with the bosses that Terrence thought you could give input on..."

They were all too easy.

By the end of the day I had several new projects I was involved in, one short meeting with the tops of the company where I had a chance to prove my stuff, and at least four numbers of coworkers, should I want to call on them. The prize would be Terrence, of course: the big man on campus. He had been busy all day, working on putting things in place for a big board meeting early the next Monday. I cursed my luck, but also knew that I had already had my lay for the day, and didn't need to rush things.

Rather than use up one of the numbers in my phone, not knowing when a day would come that one of Dee's lovers would be hard to find, I headed for my regular bar, hoping to meet Gertie. She ordinarily would have broken her rule of "no Jeni immediately after work", but couldn't tear herself away until that night, so instead I cooled off at the bar, drinking a Paloma, and, this time, celebrated for real.

What was there to complain about? If I leaned forward I could feel the bottoms of my breasts touching the bar, while my ass was almost wide enough to spread off of the bar stool. Anyone in the bar would drop dead at the sight of me... and there was only up to go.

Speaking of which, I glanced around, looking for a prospect—and my heart skipped a beat.

There, in the corner, staring right at me, was Emma. I hadn't seen her in seven or eight years, but she looked the same almost exactly: same heart-shaped face, same long, dark hair, same full lips in a dark shade of red...

Taking my glass, I stood up and swayed across the bar, locking eyes with her. She was almost laughing at me, her face full of recognition, when I realized that, no, this wasn't Em, my first girlfriend, the woman who took my virginity and convinced me of my bisexuality, then abandoned me when I proposed a small fantasy. No, she was too... rounded, her face just off, her nose maybe too strong. She was also stick thin, while Emma had always been just curvy enough. And yet she was still laughing at me.

"...Dee?" I guessed. The woman who was not Emma nodded, her lips bowing into a tight smile.

"I thought that would catch your attention," she said, in a voice that was almost-but-not-quite Emma's. I had to admit that she was right, and slipped across from her in the booth. Giving me another knowing look, she leaned forward into her hands, tilting her head like a playful dog. "Still think of her, hmm?"

"Not all the time," I grumbled. Dee laughed again and patted my hand, her light fingers staying just a little longer.

"That's okay, you know. To dwell. She was a beautiful girl, and you got on famously."

I could only shake my head. She even talked like Emma, in that kind of haughty, upper-classy way. "How do you know all of this stuff?"

She shrugged, then lifted a hand to play with some of her hair. The other hand, I saw, was now holding a tall glass of bubbling, reddish liquid, though I hadn't seen her get up. "I just know things. And do things. Of course, I can't know everything." She beckoned at the booth seat next to her. "Come here, I want to see you closer."

I followed her gesture, slipping between the booth seats, hardly caring to even look her in the eyes. Her intense gaze was hypnotic, though, and eventually I fell into it while she roved over me, then touched me, her manicured fingers tracing along the curve of my breast. When she flicked one of my nipples I realized how hard it was, and how weirdly turned on I was.

"You are gorgeous, Jeni," she whispered in my ear, then bent down to lay her head on my shoulder. "God, I could just take you here."

All of my confidence had drained out, and all control seemed to be lost. "Do you want to?" I asked.

She met my eyes and slipped a hand around my back, around my waist, pulling me close. I was drowning in her perfume, in her voluminous hair, in her lips as we kissed. When we broke away she was still smiling. "Maybe. Maybe not." Then she leaned close and whispered again. "Let's go to your place, instead." Her hands lightly pushed me, and I couldn't say no.

The moment my door closed she was pushing me again, shoving me down onto the couch. The motion nearly knocked the wind out of me as my heaving tits crushed against my rib cage. They were bigger than I could have imagined, only just contained inside my G-cup bra, and the beautiful person standing before me was somehow responsible.

She eyed my handiwork like a fine dining critique, that glimmer in her eyes the same as it had been when she was Paul. "Delicious," she said, her full lips teasing around the word. "You are just too good to look at." Then her teeth bared in a gleeful grin and she was leaning down into me, her long, dark hair spreading around my face, her lips finding mine and kissing, then biting, hands finding the buttons of my blouse to set me free.

When I reached for her dark red shirt, sought to find the hem, she slapped my hands away and I instantly fell back. "No," she said, playfully. "I decide when." Then, with a purse of her lips, she reached for the hem herself. "And when is now." The shirt was over her head, showing off her fit, sleek torso, her braless breasts high and firm and small. Then she was leaning in for another long, slow kiss, her hands slipping around behind me, feeling around the waist of my skirt, undoing one hook, then two.

"You never came, earlier, with Clara," Dee said, revealing, as always, that she knew everything that happened to me. All I could say in response was a needful whine; I was already wet with a wanton lust. "Yes, do you think you need to? You want to cum now?" She leaned closer like a conspirator. "Maybe with another person here? Like Emma never wanted to?"

"God, yes," I managed to get between my teeth as my hips bucked on their own. Something about Dee was intoxicating, and it wasn't just because she looked like my former lover: it was the way she spoke, the way she teased, the way she kept rolling her hips, shaking her smooth, flawless body.

My newfound magic that made everyone else unable to give in to loving me didn't have an effect on her, as evidenced by the way she only laughed at my response, then lightly slapped my naked, jiggling breast. "Turn over," she demanded, and I did, getting my feet under me so that I was leaning over the couch. "Good job," Dee said, reaching around my hips, feeling my measurements with her thin, strong hands. "So good," she moaned, leaning in again to my ear. My knees shook at the teasing, at the way she was drawing her hips around my ass, at the light tap of her fingers around my waist as she played with the idea of taking my skirt off. Then, with a little flourish, she whipped it away, leaving me in just pantyhose.

"Dee, please," I said, while my tits hung from my chest, nipples pointing at the couch.

She was grinding her hips into my ass, the rough texture of her jeans against my ass and pussy lips only making me wetter when there was a knock at my door.

"Who—who is it?" I asked. Dee's hands were still on my hips, but I didn't dare look at her face for fear I wouldn't be able to contain a cry for more.

"Gertie, you goof," came the reply, and then the unlocked door began to open...

My heart stopped, and it was only when the Gertie's eyes met mine, nothing between her and me but a few feet of air and my sheer pantyhose, that I realized Dee was gone.

"Good lord, girl, you're so much—"

A frustrated, needful sigh escaped me, silencing her as the door closed and locked behind her. She was wearing casual clothes—for clubbing, probably—but they looked amazing on her curvy body: tight, floral print leggings, a striped jacket on a loose white tank... With her hair all done up, that bright pink lipstick clashing with her dyed red streak, her face quickly flushing, I wanted nothing more than to force her to the floor and get all of my frustrations out.

Instead there was that pleading whine, while my newly-plush ass stuck in the air. She took one step closer, her bright yellow heels clicking... another...

"You're so much hotter," she breathed.

"Yeah?" I asked, finally gathering the strength to turn myself, to sit, 99% naked, on the couch. My tits felt heavy on my chest again, my ass spreading out beneath me. "Do you think so?"

"Oh, yeah, lady." She shook her head, sending her perfectly-straightened hair shaking in waves. "Holy shit your tits are bigger than mine."

I licked my upper lip. "And... and bigger soon, maybe. If you'd..."

"There isn't a question in my mind," she said, and was on me, her manicured hands around my waist, her pink lipstick on my mouth.

"Fuck, Gertie. Fuck me. Make me cum."

"Oh I'll fucking make you cum," she growled, and like that, the atmosphere changed. "Turn back over, like you were when I came in. Let me see that thick ass of yours."

Shaking in excitement and need again, I pushed myself up onto my elbows. She circled me, like a lion, her eyes filled in a familiar want. "Well I still have a few on you, here," she said, then leaned into me, one hand tracing up my naked back, the other slipping between my legs, two fingers lightly pressing in between my labia. I almost came right there, from the pressure alone, but then Gertie was slipping my pantyhose off of my hips, taking care to do it slowly so it wouldn't run, but not drawing it out. There wasn't any teasing, like with Dee. No teasing. Just a goal.

She leaned in, both hands firmly gripping either hip, and this time drew her tongue up me, backwards, darting in for a taste, then back. I realized I was clenching my hands down on my couch cushion as my knees continued to wobble, as that growing tide approached. I could feel it coming, needed it.

"You like that, don't you?" Gertie asked. "God, you love having your pussy eaten."

"Yes," I panted. "Fuck yes."

"Well," she said, "I think I know how to do it pretty good." Then, grabbing my hips, she almost threw me back onto the couch, then spread my legs with her hands, knelt down, and stuck her face as deep as her tongue could go inside of me. The sensations of her mouth, her breath, even her hot head between my legs, all made my senses go into overload. Gertie, whom I had lightly crushed on since I met her, was eating me out. And, judging from the way she would lock eyes with me, licking her lips, the way that one of her hands had slipped into her leggings and was making smooth, rhythmic motions, she loved it.

My orgasm was building, bubbling. I could feel it, almost taste it at the back of my mouth. But it wasn't quite there... I needed more...

"Gertie," I panted. "Gertie... fingers... fingers inside me?"

"As you wish," she breathed, panting for air. "God, you taste so good. How do you taste so good?" Her hand came up, slick with her own moistness, and she slipped a finger inside me. Then a second. "You going to come, Jeni?" I nodded, my back arching. I could feel it, now. It was coming for me. "You want to come badly?" A third of her fingers went in, now, pressure building inside me, filling me up. I had never had that many fingers in, before, and it was like fireworks were going off in my belly, my hips bucking of their own will. Gertie leaned in for another long, slow lick, then another, her mouth closing over my lower folds before her dripping fingers went back to worth, now accompanied by a fourth...

And the crest of the wave hit me, washed over me, my eyes rolling back from the sensations, my legs locking around Gertie's neck, a scream ripping from my throat while I heard her moan into my stomach.

I was only just coming down when I felt the heat on my tits as they crept lower on my stomach, Gertie’s grip on my ass tightening as it plumped between her fingers, and another orgasm took control. This time I truly did scream.

Later, some unknown time later, I heard Gertie's voice through the haze. "That was so fucking hot. Lord, you're so hot."

I turned to see that she was sitting next to me on the couch, her round, warm belly poking out from under her top. She was still fully clothed, I realized, before I turned to see my new tits, to feel them, to glory in them.

Gertie just shook her head. "They're fucking enormous, lady. Bigger than your noggin."

I laughed, hefting one up, feeling the rippling weight of it, the mass of it in both hands as, wobbling, it tried to escape. She was right, probably; they were big enough that I could turn it around and lick one nipple, still bright pink but now bigger, thicker, no longer a tiny little thing capping a nonexistent tit. No one would ever deny that I had tits again.

Then Gertie's hand was touching it, too. Caressing it. "They're beautiful," she said. "You're beautiful." She leaned in for another kiss, and I accepted it, even though something felt off.

"Do you think I could make one of those deals with this Dee?" she asked, but I brushed her aside, standing up to think and almost getting distracted by the way my ass jiggled with the movement. Holy shit was I an hourglass, now, my hips and butt so much bigger, wider than they seemed they should have been. My waist and stomach were still trim, if not a tiny bit softer, but my badonk was probably a big as Gertie's. It was just firmer, rounder, less fat and more large.

But no, that wasn't what I was pondering. What I was pondering was what Dee warned. He... no, she, now, had said if I took any lover more than once, I would stop growing. So Gertie's kisses and touches, as good as they felt, were a no-no if I wanted to keep going on this quest for perfection.

But did I want to? I looked fucking good, didn't I? In the closet mirror, standing in front of a curious, worshipful Gertie, I saw my full figure for the first time: my huge, amazing bust, with tits that hung to my navel and cleavage that didn't need a bra; my round, bouncy ass, a permanent crease beneath the cheeks belying how massive my butt was getting; even my hips, round and stuffed and inviting anyone to dive between my thighs for a taste. I was better than I could have ever imagined looking, more voluptuous than I normally would have dreamed. And a relationship with Gertie... one that went beyond friendship... it was something I had longed for, fantasized about, for a long time.

Then again, how could I pass up the opportunity to get even more beautiful?

I turned around, relishing how my tits swung and slapped against each other, how my hips swished through the air. "Gertie, I love you, but you need to go before more happens."

As delight and desire faded into confusion and anger, I accidentally stepped into the biggest argument of my life.

***

"You ready for the board meeting on Monday? We're really counting on you to sell this to the execs." Terrence was leaning on my desk, leaning INTO my desk, his blue eyes melting into mine, and I was hardly paying attention when I should have been fishing for my required daily love. Instead I was clicking away at emails, typing basic vapid nonsense, thinking about Gertie.

Of course she had been harboring a sexually confused crush on me for years. Of course my newfound confidence had brought something out of her. Of course she wanted to be in a relationship now, didn't see why I wanted to, longed to, HAD to keep going. She wanted just me.

And then it led into more confusion and anger when I realized it might be Dee's magic doing that to her. Had she always wanted me this badly? Were her feelings of friendly affection just being magnified to sexual obsession because of Dee? How could I know it would be worth it, being trapped in a new relationship with an old friend who didn't truly love me?

And besides. It would end it all. Gertie didn't understand that I had hoped and wished for something like this my entire life, never knowing it was possible. I was amazing, sexy, curvy in all of the right places, perfect to hold and cup and stroke... but I wanted to be more.

When the newfound adoration came from other places, of course, it was not quite annoying. Everyone at work was nearly tripping over themselves to do me small favors, first just getting me the door, then offering to do the budget for the week, and now Terrence was telling me how much he knew the board would love to hear from me. There was a growl under his voice, too, one that communicated as easily as an office memo: he wanted me, and he wanted me badly.

I only wished that Gertie hadn't put me in such a bad mood, one that had carried all through the day. I had tried to break out of it by picking out my new clothes, modelling them in front of a mirror. Pulling on those new, dark nylons, feeling them slip up my luscious thighs; zipping my skirt tight around my wasp-thin waist, eyeing the perfect hourglass figure I cut in the mirror as I plumped up my JJ-cup tits. It should have excited me, and instead it only annoyed me.

A drink was badly needed, and it was Friday. After two o'clock I cut out early, hearing a few requests to grab a drink, Bruce nearly stopping me in the hall, but I ducked under him and he bent to my request.

The bar had only just opened up when I got there, but already there was a few construction workers getting drinks, probably clocking out early like me. I sat at the bar, attracting a few stares and even an old-fashioned wolf whistle, and eyed up the bartender. He was cute, in a skinny, blond sort of way, and I still needed to collect a new lover. But no. "Three tequila shots," I said, putting out some cash. "And a lime."

The first shot went down easily, and the second. And you know, after a slower sip of the third, I was feeling much better. Gertie would come around. And when she did, I would maybe be ready to stop: bigger, more powerful, much more sexy.

And if not, well, fuck her. If this whole thing had taught me anything, it was that there was a whole world of people out there I was ready to have love me.

"Another two," I said, not missing the slight slur on my tongue. The clock was already dancing its way past three and moving on toward four, and I hadn't even eaten.

The glasses clicked on the counter and I reached for the first when a strong, masculine hand touched down on the bar next to mine. I followed it up an arm peppered with black hair to a neatly folded red sleeve and a handsome, dark face, only just outlined in a beard. "Drinking alone?" he asked me in a slightly southern voice.

I didn't have trouble focusing on him, but I knew that the time for that was drawing close. "Dee?"

He tilted his head, seemed to give it some thought, then pursed his lips. "R?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, reaching for my extra shot and pushing it towards him. "And yeah, drinking alone."

The handsome man smirked and sat down. "I thought we were picking our favorite letters. Thanks for the shot. Cheers." We clicked our glasses and tilted our heads back, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. His strong features, the way he smoothly walked up and initiated conversation.

This was someone that I actually wanted.

By the time Rami opened the door to his hotel room I was much more drunk than I had planned on being. I realize that seems silly: who sits down at a bar, orders five shots in rapid succession, and doesn't plan on getting wasted? And yet there was still that part in the back of my mind screaming at the stupid shit coming out of my mouth.

"Oh, whoops," I said, as one thick hip bumped against his doorframe. "That didn't used to be there."

He laughed at that, smooth but sluggish with the drinks tumbling in his stomach. I had insisted he catch up on my order before I drank any more, and he had gone to it willingly. "What didn't? The door?"

"No, no," I chuckled with him, stumbling to the bed and slipping off my heels. "No, the, the butt." I modelled it for him, feeling the swing of it, the heft as I wobbled around in my tight, sexy skirt. So sexy, and sexier now that it was so full. With another drunken laugh I slapped one cheek and watched as the wave went through it.

The door was already closed and Rami was already wrapping his arms around my sides, pressing the stiffness of his erection into my ass. He was almost exactly the same height as me, and somehow I found that perfectly erotic. He was my size, only not as round, as bouncy, as curvy. All hard, throbbing lines where I was soft curving ones. One hand slipped into the waist of my skirt. "Mmm, is it?" he said into my hair. "Is it a new butt? You pick it up at the shop?"

Another laugh squirted from my lips and I reached up to hold his face. "No, not the shop, silly. But close. I earned it."

There was a drunken, lusty sheen to his eyes. "With pies? And donuts?"

I grinned and traced down his stomach, unbuckling his jeans. "No," I said, ignoring that inner voice that alcohol drowned out, paranoid that I would tell too many people my secret. LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED TO GERTIE, it shouted. I ignored it and pulled his fly open, revealing the red, perfect cock inside. "With wieners," I said, grinning at the poor joke, and that stupid, loud voice sighed with relief.

He was salty and hot in my mouth, but I didn't care. I wanted him, not just to grow, not just to feel alive and bigger and better, but to have it, to control it. He was sexy and beautiful and smart and I had him in the palm of my hand without even trying. Hell, he had come up to ME at the bar.

"God, how did you get so— get so—" he started, but then he was cumming into my mouth, after nothing more than some heavy petting and a few bobs of my head. I felt like a goddess, far better than the Jeni who had woken up on Monday had been, more powerful than whatever Dee was. It was like my head was clearing, not of drunkenness, but of the petty fights and angers that had clouded it all day.

"So perfect?" I finished for him, my mouth still sticky as I pushed him back onto the bed with a kiss. He willingly accepted it, tongue running in my mouth, hands running around and along my hips while my tits piled onto him, still safe in my shirt. Rami just moaned and looked at me, those same stars in his eyes that I swore I could have seen in all of my previous conquests.

"Take off my shirt and clean my tits with your tongue," I said in a voice more stable than my blood-alcohol level should have allowed. Rami obeyed, not panicking, not hastily, but smoothly, skillfully, his eyes hardly leaving mine while his fingers worked my buttons, then reached around to undo the four hooks in the back. He didn't even hesitate at how many there were; my girls obviously needed a lot of support. When at last they were free, Rami's chest was nearly buried in my tits, my plump nipples hard and ready to be kneaded and pleasured.

And Rami's tongue was out and licking up the long lengths of my skin, hot, moist breath making my toes curl in my nylons. They were so sensitive that I almost pushed his face out of the way when he neared my nipple, for a moment fearing that if I came it would count as making love. But then the pleasure overrode my fear and he had run his agile tongue over the pebbly surface, then, briefly, coquettishly, sucked the nipple into his mouth and gave it a nibble.

I screamed as I came, my back arching, and when at last my eyes refocused I saw that he had sat up with me and was moving on to my left breast.

"Are they," I gasped, "are they perfect?"

"Nnnnyes," he said, at the end of another long lick, which had started under my heaving, jiggling tit, cleaning the sweat away, then travelled down, around the curve, and up, just barely teasing my areola. I was edging again, already, too soon, too soon. My stomach was too tight, I was too out of breath to cum again. But I wanted, needed his worship...

I saw up and Rami looked at me like an obedient puppy before I gave another command. "Take off my skirt and massage my ass... with your fingers, this time."

I let him come to me, finally forcing some awkward out of him as he had to disentangle himself from my legs, then work around behind me to get to my skirt's zipper. But then it was coming down, and somehow a finger was tracing along behind it, sending shivers up my back before he slipped it down around my knees, the cotton making a sensual purr on my nylons.

And then his fingers were digging in, pushing into the piled, firm fat and muscle of my new butt. I collapsed forward onto the bed, moaning in a different kind of pleasure, one that almost wasn't sexual. It was pure and utter joy: tension being released through my hips and ass, my thighs and hamstrings, so overworked with my new body. Rami was a master, even if he didn't know it.

"And my butt?" I asked, when at last I caught my breath and his fingers had slowed to a rhythm I could handle. "What is it?"

He just shook his head, his eyes never leaving my behind. "Perfect."

"Stop massaging me," I said, then leaned into my elbows and flipped hair from my eyes to look back at him. I was sweaty, so sweaty that a movement as slight as that sent droplets flying. My new body had other taxations, it seemed, but I had other concerns on my hazy mind, and Rami's lust-filled eyes were drilling into me as if they were his throbbing, dripping cock. "You don't think it's too big?"

Another head shake. "No. No, it could never be too big."

"You don't think I'm fat?"

He just shrugged and returned to that same soft laugh. "If this is what fat is, then I like fat."

"You only like it?"

He grinned. It was an easy play. "Only in the shorthand. I adore, treasure, revere, love, am in love with, what you are." He leaned in to my ass, and a thrill went back up my body when I realized the mountain of my towering butt could hide most of his body when he was so low. A wet kiss connected with my bouncing, wobbling cheek, and then his face reappeared. "It is all any man could want, I reckon."

I ran a tongue through my mouth, mock serious despite the interest that perked in his eyes at the motion. "But what if there was more? Bigger? Fuller?" Even saying the words was making my pussy throb with need.

"Then I would only worship it more," he said, a near whisper. It was all I needed.

"Put on a condom." It was in his hand, wrapper tearing, red latex covered his throbbing redness. "Come closer." His knees shuffled on the bed until he was right up, pressing against me.

"Fuck me," I instructed. And he was inside me then, with a willingness and excitement that nobody had achieved yet, not even Gertie. Each serious, powerful thrust was matched only by his hands gripping my hips, each frictionless motion inside me pumping up my excitement, my need, my desire to become more. Bigger, curvier, more noticeable, more pleasurable. I wanted every person on the street to look at me like Rami did.

The sober, satisfied part of my brain, tucked away back with the cobwebs and the slight anxiety about my job, heard the snap of Dee's fingers when Rami and I screamed in orgasm.

Panting, wiping sweat from my head and my hair, I remember flipping back onto the bed, while Rami limply fell next to me. "You're not done yet, cowboy," I said.

"Oh, no?" he asked, playfully. "You need to come again? I can make it happen."

I smirked. "No, but... I do want you to clean my sore, satisfied little pussy." And I met his eyes. "With your tongue."

He grinned, the tiredness in his eyes barely traceable, and disappeared back between my thighs. There on my back I couldn't see down that far, with the mountains of my tits blocking the way, but I could feel the hot touch of his tongue on my clit, on my labia, as he gently, softly cleaned me of sweat and lubrication. I was too far gone to cum again, far too tired to even think about it... but I won't deny the pleasure it gave me.

Until I saw that the horizon of my tits were swelling upward, pushing, rising, mirrored only by an increasing weight on my chest and a queer levering feeling in my thighs.

Another lover, I realized, having gotten so caught up in the fucking that I had almost forgotten about why I was doing it.

Grinning, singing in my head, I kneaded my hands into my tits, loving the way they billowed out, squishing into my elbows. Holy fuck was I huge. Enormous. Gigantic. My little JJ bra wouldn't fit me anymore, wouldn't come anywhere close. That skirt wouldn't, either. I wiggled in delight and then almost laughed at the motions it sent through my body, my plumper rear digging into the covers. Remi, to his credit, tried his best to follow me with his mouth, but I soon put a stop to it.

"That's enough," I sighed. "Come back to me."

He crawled back, on hands and knees, and I turned to face him, tits wallowing on top of each other, hips rotating and rotating, rising higher and higher into the sky...

Jesus fuck, I was getting so big. So curvy. My nylons were running, no way in hell designed to hold thighs more than a foot wide. I was shopping in plus size from now on, and my bras... shit, they'd have to be custom ordered. I had a blouse and a skirt to tide me over, but if I went past this—

"Too much?" I asked Rami. His open, salivating mouth told me everything. "Didn't think so."

***

Unlike Gertie, when I told Rami that I needed to go and possibly wouldn't see him again, he didn't mind, instead nodding and grinning like he knew that would happen. He never questioned the fact that I had grown, never asked why I had stopped him from eating me out. He held me closer, laying his head against my pillow-like tits, and slept.

I soon dozed off, too, only waking up to take a massive pee and force down three glasses of water. They didn't stop the hangover from happening, but I'm sure it would have been worse, even with the sizzling sound of eggs and bacon coming from Rami's kitchenette.

"I figured you'd want some," he grinned at me, and I smiled back with a pat to my stomach. I looked down in surprise, then parted my tits to get a better look. My tummy was still perfectly narrow, with maybe a little layer of fat on top which still let my abs shine through. It was the perfect way to expound on my insane curves, and seeing past it to my plush and wide thighs made a thrill wriggle up through me.

Because I was still planning on getting bigger. Larger. Rounder. And I needed tight, sexy clothes, as well as a relatively thin and flat stomach, to show all of it off as my impossible hourglass figure filled and filled. My dream was coming true, even as it was adjusting.

"Thanks for the great night, Rami," I said, ignoring my pounding head. "And the food." I gave him a coy look. "Could you run an errand for me this morning?"

He responded with no hesitation or inattention. "What is it?"

"Pick up a few things from my apartment, and a store nearby..."

With only a word to make sure I was okay, his number in my cell, and some reassurances that he wasn't messing up his schedule at all, Rami took my keys and disappeared.

A hot, sexy man, at my beck-and-call. Delicious breakfast food. A figure that could kill with a look alone. I had almost everything. Now if only I could deal with this headache, I thought. My usual method of sweating it out at the gym was impossible, obviously. I had no gym clothes that would fit, and all of those people staring...

The shy part of Jeni died a little that moment.

Why wouldn't I want them to stare? That was my desire, wasn't it? Staring, longing, wanting. In tight, revealing gym clothes? Of course I wanted that.

I texted Rami what else I needed, and swore that it would be worth it to him. After all, my credit cards were maxed out, and from what I could tell helping me gave him the greatest, deepest happiness.

The fancy hotel shower cleaned me up as best it could, but there was so much to clean. Between my gravid, wobbling butt cheeks, or under my impossible breasts, or around my waspy, delightful waist... The line underneath my ass had turned into a full-blown crease, a cliff to get lost in, and my cleavage could hide entire handbags.

More water and a few aspirin and my headache was mostly combatted, the butterflies in my tummy easy to put off as nerves and not hangover leftovers. After all, I was about to do more than just go to work or flirt in a bar. I was going to go full-on exhibition mode.

Rami arrived with clothes I had bought several lovers and dozens of sizes ago, clothes that I had giggled mischievously as I purchased them and now would only barely fit me. It was what was in his other hand that had me interested now: several paper bags from a fitness store, containing what I had measured to be my sizes.

I was going to fucking slay.

***

The exercise shorts had been easy for Rami to find. After all, tons of women have huge asses, and now that I had joined their ranks, he only needed to dip in to a "Plus-Size" section to find something 4XL. My hefty, heavenly thighs and bouncing ass would have outright rejected anything smaller than that, and though my waist left the elastic a little bit loose, it otherwise was a perfect fit, hugging my curves with a cute tiger stripe pattern. I had thought about asking him to get compression shorts, just so every single detail of my perfect butt could be seen by every onlooker, but there was something hot about how these running shorts were just the tiniest bit loose. It was almost asking a question: can she get bigger?

"No, please god, no," is what the sports bra begged. Turns out that 31O bras just aren't really a thing readily available at every sporting goods store. The next best thing was a 40M with adjustable straps, which I had to pull tight enough to nearly strangle my huge, fat, delicious tits. Rami's eyes had almost popped out when I at last got the hooks to stay in their new positions; somehow I had six inches of cleavage in a bra that was supposed to totally encompass my breasts.

Finally outfitted, I had to bend to tie my shoes and found that my tits, when properly supported, prevented almost anything from happening below the waist—seeing what I was doing alone was impossible, and reaching around them as they squashed up on my knee was too great of a task for my arms (which, I noted, were still thin and sexily dainty).

"Could you tie my shoes?" I asked, doing my best not to sound like a six-year-old. Rami laughed and acquiesced.

And then I was out, out the hotel lobby, out onto the street, walking—no, strutting to my gym. There had been a single moment of fear, a single word of worry that I'd be laughed at, sized up, judged.

But every eye that fell on me only served to embolden me more.

Unlike a few days ago, I was no longer just a "slightly curvy and attractive woman", who caught a few eyes but otherwise was lost in the San Franciscan crowd. Now I was shouting, screaming with sexiness and need, and every person, man or woman, teenager or octogenarian, looked at me and instantly wanted me.

How could I tell? Maybe the unconscious licking of lips. The bugged out eyes that accompanied the slight smiles. The man who saw me, nearly fell, got chastised by his girlfriend, and then was joined by her in staring, both of their hands clenching as I walked by.

And when I walked, I walked. Toe to hip, chest held as far out as my back could support, frizzy hair tossed in the breeze. My thighs rubbed against each other with every step, from my crotch to my knee, and my tits jostled and wobbled in every direction you could possibly imagine, two enormous, delightful sacks the size of Halloween pumpkins. My trim waist was naked, making my impossible hourglass only more prominent, and I made sure to keep my abs as flexed as I could for the show.

Walking with such a proud display was honestly a bit harder than I had anticipated, and after a few blocks the sweat was already trickling down my face and along my back. I was carting around over a hundred extra pounds, according to Rami's scale. All of it exactly where I wanted it.

The membership checker at the door took my card without even looking at it. His eyes, blue and green, were lost somewhere down my sports bra. Him? I asked myself. No, too scrawny. Not my type.

I had seen overweight people in the gym before. They normally got oddly condescending words of encouragement from the regulars. "Hey, great to see you out here!" "Keep at it!" I got none of these, because every onlooker could tell that I didn't want to or need to lose weight. Every pound was in its perfect place.

But did they know that I was there to do some shopping?

Reaching the butterfly machine, I carefully lowered myself on to the padded bench, then turned myself to a veritable buffet of sexy people, all of them running, lifting, squatting in time. All of them covered in sweat. All of them turning to look at me as they passed.

I smiled, a vapid look purposefully pressed into my face. Playing it coy. Seeing if someone would make the first move. Besides, my throbbing headache had returned, was making it hard to put much effort into anything other than squeezing the machine's arms together until my inner elbows were caressing the outsides of my breasts.

The light touch was too much for me to resist, and I felt that familiar sensation of my nipples hardening, making themselves known to the world... only now there was so much more to know. My bra, as tight as it was, didn't rub against my hyper-sensitive skin, chafe on my thick, pebbly nips—but that didn't stop me from tenting the thick, elastic fabric with my thumb-sized nipples. Everyone could see.

And I still didn't care.

A group of college girls, each with dyed blonde hair and perfect bodies, walked passed, then stopped, each of their sets of eyes locking onto my body. One giggled, then all of them joined in, and they fluttered away like gossiping hens. I eyed them back up as they walked away, noting the strange, too-perfect roundness of their asses, the almost spherical shapes of their D-cup breasts.

Before I would have been suspicious, maybe even humiliated. But now I knew what it was that made them all so anxious, so nervous: it was their wants, hidden or new, bubbling up inside at the sight of a body that, unlike theirs, couldn't have been bought at the plastic surgeon.

I wondered if some seed of me would be planted in them, though. A dream or vision of perfection in being bigger and thicker. Would a doctor ever approve implants to bring one of them to my size? Or was I already that unattainable?

Could you imagine that? Jeni having a body not even modern science could achieve.

The butterfly machine worked my arms to rubber, and I realized I was getting no more relief or satisfaction from it. Time to up the stakes: I moved towards the exercise bikes, jacked the seat of one as high as it could get while my feet could meet the pedals, and sat down.

Immediately I found that having a rear as pillowy as mine did have some disadvantages. For one, I was almost completely enveloping the bike seat, with the wide, padded cushion not managing to hold up even a quarter of me. For another, that much extra padding in my butt was giving me inches and inchest of seating elevation; I was so much higher than I had anticipated that I had to swing myself down off of my perch and lower it a few more times until I had just the right height.

And then, when I leaned in, letting my arms and my breasts rest against the arm handles, the little banana-shaped front of the seat so perfectly aligned with my moistening, needful pussy...

After a few minutes I was wiping more sweat from my brow. Each push of the pedals made my tits rise and fall on the front panel of the bike like swelling waves. From this angle, with this much support underneath them, I could actually see my erect nipples, poking out like fingertips. I could also see the mirrors that covered the wall before me, and every single person that passed by and gawked at my beautiful 62-inch hips.

I could only imagine how my ass looked, pushing at my already tight shorts, flexing and bobbing with my motions. The cheap nylon was dampening with every moment as sweat trickled down my naked back, clinging to my flawlessly smooth curves.

I loved what was happening to me in front, reveling in the fact that my chest was so big it was actually resting on bike handles. That alone had me over the moon, my hangover quickly fading into excitement. But my ass: that was my baited hook.

One gym rat walked past, his tank top carefully ripped (probably in an expensive clothing store) to show off his corded, vascular biceps. His eyes only glanced my way as he sipped at his protein shake, and I wondered if he was gay; maybe my powers had no effect on those with no bi-curiosity at all.

It was when he came back in a few minutes, two barbells clutched in his hands, grunting with each lift, that I knew this meathead was mine.

"Hey, uh," he said, breaking the ice like a belly-flopping walrus, "you new here?"

"Not really," I said, keeping it coy. God, I was sweating like a pig, and I had only been exercising for fifteen minutes. "But I don't think I've seen you before."

"Yeah, well, uh, I think I'd notice you." He grimaced as he lifted one of the weights again, making sure I could see the "50" marked on the sides.

I just smiled, this time actually showing him my face. "I tend to stick out." Letting my biking pace slow, I sat up, my voluminous tits dragging across the plastic of the machine before resting on my chest again.

My eyelids fluttered in need and barely contained want, but I don’t think the gym rat noticed. His eyes were lost in mine, the weights slowly falling as he stepped closer. "Yeah, uh, no kiddin'. Say, do you want to—"

I grabbed him by the collar of his ripped top and pulled him in. He smelled a like hot, sweaty man, and milk, and sex. "Fuck? Yes I do. You know a place?"

Gym rat Harper apparently did. He didn't work at the gym, but he had a buddy who had a buddy who knew which offices were being used when and before I knew it I was leading him into a hall, the weights still loosely hanging at his sides. I made sure to swish my hips as much as they could, feeling the fat on my sides and on my front wobble and shimmy with every inch. We passed brightly lit rooms, some blinds closed, a few dark corners, and then, finally, Harper pointed at an open room that smelled like old, stale Coke.

Once inside, door closed, I licked my lips, and he involuntarily mimicked me, before going to set the weights down. "No," I said, commanding, forcing. My hands were at his waist, tracing along his big, needful erection in his constricting shorts. "No, fuck me while lifting them."

Harper nodded, grinning, and started to count reps as I pulled his shorts to the ground, releasing his dick, then pulled the elastic of my shorts out, out, out over my hips, then down to my ankles. I sat on the cheap carpet, naked knees pressing into my contained breasts. "Fuck me now," I said, and he knelt, his chest muscles heaving, biceps bulging.

I didn't dare let my tits out of their cage, already thinking of my next growth. It was so close. Hell, I was already so close to cumming, and he wasn't even in me, yet. I was going to grow... grow more...

My pulsing labia drew Harper's thick, spilling cock into me, thoughts of protection completely tossed to the wayside. My lover was already lost, his eyes locked onto mine while his arms operated, lifting, working, trying harder to please me as my hips lifted and bucked, trying to find that sweet spot with his willing tool. I thanked god that I was still wearing the sports bra, because I suspected my tits would be flying into my face even as I mashed my hands onto my nipples through the thick fabric.

Another lover found. Another growth was coming. I could feel it approaching, around the corner, soon.

And I was crying out, Harper's seed spurting into me, filling me up with warmth as we both came. His rippling, veiny muscles were replaced with stars and flashes, my entire body turning into an erogenous zone for a few brief moments, the pressure of my bra on my tits too much for me to take.

Then it was over, and Harper was growing soft in me, the barbells still going up and down as my command. "Stop, stop," I gasped, pushing him away as a small wave of cum dripped out of me. In an instant that tiny, locked away part of me, the one that still was thinking about Gertie, took the forefront as I realized what that could mean.

"Oh, oh god. Oh god, get out. Get out of here!"

A scared look in his eyes, comical for such a big, muscular man, Harper jumped up, yanking his shorts back up. "I'm s—"

"Get out!" I screamed, and he went, just as my body began to change more, occupying my thoughts and my hands.

A shudder of pleasure, and excitement, ripped all concerns from my mind, and I pushed myself to my knees just in time for my taxed bra to snap open, the hooks giving way to let my breasts drop into my lap. My eyes rolling back into my head, my hands pressed into the overflowing flesh, goosebumps covering my sensitive skin as the tingles and touches sent shocks through my body.

My tits were out of control, rising from my lap, plumping, pumping up. I screamed in excitement, in joy, and fell back onto my rear—which was also growing, swelling, filling up and out. Trying to contain my overstuffed tits in one arm and failing, I turned and sank my free hand into my swollen, perfect posterior. It had stopped rising already, and I wasn't disappointed, as it stuck out behind me like a shelf from my lithe, muscular back.

With shaking, shivering excitement I got a knee underneath me and pushed myself to my feet. There was so much more to push: pounds of breastflesh, inches and inches of hips. But also so much for my hands to explore: the enormous globes of my ass cheeks, now thick and firm enough to provide a sturdy platform behind me. The fecundity of my hips, arcing out from my torso like willing arm rests. And my breasts, well, they may have dropped below my belly button, but they weren't two sacks of dead flesh, stretched and disfigured, but full, smooth, fertile sex symbols, my nipples, now requiring a long stretch to reach, pert and perky and as big as the top of a soda bottle. Perfect for sucking on.

I took an experimental step and giggled in delight at just how much I sloshed from the movement, my breasts wobbling and bouncing on my thin stomach, my hips and ass gyrating and slinking on its own, taking a moment to stop wiggling even as I stood stock-still.

I needed a mirror, and some sexy clothes.

It was then that the rest of my gym rat’s semen dripped out of me and I was brought back to reality. The dreamlike, weird, twisted reality that Dee had put me in—but still my reality, one that I was a permanent occupant of.

I think that was when it really, truly, first hit me. Not with my first changes, not when Gertie and I argued, but there, alone, in the gym's empty (jizz-stained) office: this was all permanent. And if I got pregnant from one of these excursions, I'd be really, truly pregnant, too. For the first time I really, truly pondered if this was all going too far—if this was enough. Rubbing my hands down the long curves of my breasts, kneading fingers into my hips, I knew I was already past the point of "realistic". I could stop here, probably should, before I went too far with someone and caused some real damage.

I mean, what was I thinking? Dragging a dude into a back room, fucking him without protection? Jeni from a week ago may have been incapable of doing that physically, but it also would have been something unthinkable, something not even fantasized about. This all needed to stop.

There was a knock at the door and, in my weakened, anxious state, I actually had a very large moment of panic, my feet jumping for me and the rest of my body following after, tits nearly flying in my face, ass stretching and straining my skin.

By the time the doorknob turned, though, I remembered that I wasn't just growing, wasn't just facing permanent changes to my body: I also had my own weird superpower, didn't I? Anyone who walked through that door, I would probably be able to seduce.

It opened and in walked the one person I wouldn’t be able to unwillingly seduce, but also the one person I most needed to see. He was in his disguise from when we first met: tall, blonde, cowboy-dressed. "Oh," I said, sighing in almost relief. "Dee."

The door closed behind him and Dee smiled, that easy smile that I had almost fallen in love with a week before. "I thought I was Paul," he smirked, and I fell easily back into the flirty rhythm.

"I thought you were Emma's doppelganger," I said, a smile returning to my lips.

He growled playfully. "I wanted you to recognize me," he said. "I sure don't recognize you." Around Dee I had almost no embarrassment, no shame, and he was circling me, eying me up, seeing my handiwork. Catching his look I lifted my thin arms over my head, feeling how my massive breasts lifted just the slightest amount, and gave a small twirl. My fat, juicy tits circled with the motion, spinning out like a sexy carousel, before lightly slapping onto my belly again as I stopped.

"Do you like what you see?" I could already see the answer in his worn jeans, his hard response to my undeniable allure.

"Always. More and more each day." Now he stopped in front of me, one hand on my shoulder, looking down from his tall, sexy height. "Do you?" There was a twinkle in his eyes, and he knew my answer, too.

"More and more..." I breathed. But then the flirtation was gone as my fears welled back up. "I may need to stop," I said, my teeth finding their way to chew on a lip. Dee just smirked.

"You think? You happy with this body? With this image? People are already unable to look away... you can already get any person with the slightest attraction to you that you want." He looked away, and though I knew he was selling me on something, I couldn't help but buy in. "I understand why you might think this is enough."

"Dee," I said, this time reaching out for his arm, that one part in me not wanting to disappoint him. "I'm just worried. That last guy..."

"—he was hot, wasn't he?" Dee asked, interrupting my train of thought as I remembered Harper's flexing abs, his vascular forearms. But I shook the image from my head (accidentally sending my billowing ass into tiny, jiggling convulsions that mirrored the wobbling of my tits).

"...that last hot guy, I didn't even think about making him wear a condom. I'm getting sloppy, Dee."

He only turned back, that grin back on his face. "Deliciously sloppy, aren't you?" Then he was leaning in, lips on my forehead while strong fingers reached down to stroke along my sex, and I was powerless to resist him. I could smell it again: that sweet smell of sweat, mixed with dirt and a little bit of grass. That intoxicating aroma that had convinced me to go to this strange man's hotel room. Then his finger was back up, his finger slick with me and with Harper's remains. "Don't worry, girl, you aren't pregnant. And Harper was clean—or at least in that way."

For a second I forgot who I was dealing with. "You know?"

The smile was instantly infuriating. "I know almost everything. The only thing I don't know is what you're going to do." His eyes locked onto mine again. "Are you going to keep it up? To see just how big you can go? After all, I know almost everything." Now his hands were on my shoulders, my annoyance at him gone in an instant, drunk on the way he was talking circles around me. "I know that this isn't anywhere near where you fantasized about, this overfull hourglass. You want to get bigger, don't you?"

I was shivering and don't know how it had started, my knees bumping against each other, thick thighs squashing. "I—I... No, I never imagined this big…"

"You know you did." Dee's tongue was almost in my ear and my eyes were squeezing shut, desire taking hold of me. "And why not pick up the pace?"

The pressure from his hands was gone, the sudden air in front of me hot and lingering, and when I opened my eyes, I was alone in the room. The single note of disappointment in my heart at once confused me, before I realized just how fucking horny I still was. And, when I saw that Dee had left me a few gifts in his wake, I knew that I still had a bit further to go before I settled.

My tattered, ruined clothes (brand new, but the thought hardly bothered me) had disappeared along with my benefactor, and in their place were neatly folded shorts and socks plus one huge sports bra, all piled next to my tennis shoes. I waddled over, delighting in how my every movement was changing, conforming to my new, perfecting body, then nearly jumped out of my skin for the second time in only a few moments when I saw someone else approaching from a dark corner of the closet. It was a mirror, of course, nothing too harmful for those without low self-esteem. I was dead certain it hadn't been there thirty seconds before.

In it I saw an hourglass-shaped goddess.

What I had seen and surmised from my point of view was nothing compared to what stood before me in mirror. Instead of a distant valley of deep cleavage between two freckled mountains, I saw my breasts for what they truly were: glorious, enormous, rounded symbols of femininity, capped by perfect, engorged nipples that were approaching the thickness of wine corks, both of them flushed and ready for playing, sucking, fondling. My tits hung from my collarbone like two fertile watermelons on the vine, overlarge for their thin, blonde trellis. Gleefully I tried to gather them up in my arms and almost failed, just barely able to clasp the fighting, struggling bosoms in my arms.

And beneath them, my hips were fecund, fertile, exaggeratingly wide and thick and juicy, squishing my sex between my thighs before tapering down to my slightly chubby knees. If my tits were fat and wide, so huge that they hid my arms when held at my side, my lower half was even wider, almost doubling the width between my shoulders. I rubbed one hand up my side, tracing the contour from my hip to my ribs, and the curves were absurd, obtuse, but delightful. And when I turned to see my ass, my wide, perfect, pear-shaped ass, I was almost more excited by the thin, taut, slightly muscled back that rose above it, the perfect shelf forming out from my spine, my two cheeks rounder and wider than anything that should belong on an otherwise thin woman.

Well, otherwise thin apart from the two enormous tits, so big that they almost dominated the view of me from behind, as they rested on my stomach and ribs and arms, spreading out further than they had any right to be.

I stood in front of that mirror for a long time, touching, squeezing, teasing. I almost savored it more because I knew that even this was temporary. There was more to come.

The shorts were size 6XL, simple cotton with a drawstring that I almost had difficulty getting on; they were like a tent, one I had to step in to, then bend down (tits squashing into my knees) and reach blindly for, then pull up, up, tugging the elastic at the bottom of my ass until at last they slipped around the curve and almost tucked around my breasts before, giggling, I squeezed them under my hanging, sensitive skin. My tummy was still so thin and sleek that the waistband had nothing to cling to apart from the wide, ponderous curves of my hips, but I pulled the drawstring as tightly as I could and figured I'd have to make do. After all, there was no way such a narrow garment would dark get pushed down around my ass. Not without ripping open for the world

The sports bra was much better fitting than the one Rami had found for me, something only attributable to Dee's magic—or maybe his gift for picking out clothes. Though the tag had no cup size, it did say "4X" on it, and perfectly nestled the huge globes that were now permanently, prominently attached to me. After pulling the strap tight in the back, thankful I didn't have to deal with dozens of hooks, I was not only presentable, I was also sexier than I had been naked, in that stupid way clothes have. After all, when a woman has two prize pumpkins squeezing up through the cleavage of her bra, a foot of titflesh brushing almost against her chin... well, there's something so erotic about that.

No one would be able to resist.

After blindly tying my shoes, then pulling my hair back into a tail, I was ready to go. Ready to find someone else.

After all... Dee was right. Why not speed up? Something told me if I didn't, my conscience, my conservative, scared, risk-averse brain would take over. I needed another lover.

My walk back through the gym was uneventful. Well, unless you count the dozens of gawkers, their mouths wide at the perfect picture of feminine fertility that I encapsulated. Or the woman, her own tits a very nice, modest size that bounced with every step, who almost tumbled from her treadmill when she looked up to see me strutting past. Or the bodybuilder who turned from the juice bar to make a pick-up line and had his words die on his tongue.

I didn't see Harper anywhere, my own little worshipful gym rat. I didn't care; I wasn't planning on picking up another one of these people. I wanted a different challenge.

I could have any lover I wanted. This was hardly even a question, at this point. But when you can have anyone, what's the point in having just anyone? I could do that at my whim at any point in the future, assuming there was no hidden catch to Dee's game. Now that I could point my finger and find a lover, I wanted to be choosy. Specific. To test it with something even more strange and difficult than a normal, horny weightlifter.

First I needed more clothes. Better clothes. The gym clothes were sexy, in their own way, and a perfect way to compare how much I had grown just from my latest lover, but I wanted to go on a spree, and I definitely wanted to finally put some panties on.

The only issue was that I was flat broke; all of those bras and skirts and blouses from the week had drained out my cards, and payday wasn't for another week. Even with the big raise that I was due, it would do nothing to provide me with more money.

But maybe the attention my new body gave me would be enough payment.

The high-end plus size store was one I had passed by so many times with hardly a look—after all, why would I need to bother? Once I stepped through the doors I realized that I may still have the same problem: very little there appeared it was small enough fit me. The thought that it was the opposite of my previous issue made me chuckle, and it was probably the noise that attracted what I would soon realize was my prey: that cute shop girl I had seen staring at me days before. She was maybe 100 lbs. after you counted her shoes, her glasses slipping down her nose, black hair done up in a bun to reveal her gauged ears.

Her breath caught in her throat, and what should have been a "How can I help you?" squeezed out as "can I help?" Her eyes were going all over me, from my bared ankles up my knees to the edge of flesh poking out from the bottoms of my shorts along the slight curve at my groin to the tight (if slightly softer) tummy to the vast expanse of my day-glo breasts... allll the way up to my smiling, patient face.

"I need some clothes. There's an event I need to go to tonight, you see."

"I... see," the girl said. "Fi," her nametag said. Must have been short for something, but at that point I was already looking away, turning slightly so that Fi could see the full expanse of my body as it swung around. "Uhm, what kind of event? Fancy?"

The look in my eye was undoubtedly a pale imitation to the same one Dee always branded me with, and yet it was enough to send Fi into another little quake of excitement. "Nothing too fancy, I just want to look good. Very good. But you see..." and I sighed, leaning on one arm as it sunk into the pendulous fat of my hip, "I have trouble finding things in my size."

Fi swallowed, her gaze sinking right in with my fingertips. "Yes. We have s... some very fashionable leggings?" It was a question, and I shook my head.

"Leggings are too easy. I need something more. Something better. Something that shows off my assets." I let my fingers trace up the straining cotton of my shorts, drawing it tight, and could tell that my crotch was outlined just perfectly. Fi swallowed again.

"Let me look."

Dresses were too formal and, in my size, provided much too much cover. Skirts were SO what I had worn all week, too neat, too tight. And with leggings also the furthest from my mind, that left proper pants. Fi appeared with stacks and stacks in her hands, meeting me in the dressing room where I had already stripped off my gym shorts to stand in the complete nude. She hesitated at the door, but then I almost saw her drool at the sight of me as she approached.

"H-here..." she said, holding the clothes out. I grinned and reached past my breasts to take them, loving how much of an obstacle they were.

"Thank you, Fi. Which do you think I should try first?" I didn't even look at the stack of slacks and khakis, instead choosing to smile directly down at her. She really was small, if I was taller than her, and that only made her seem even more adorable.

"Oh," Fi said, almost taken aback at the fact I wanted her opinion. "Uhm, I didn't... I don't know." She stuttered and hesitated and I stood with that same serene smile. I was doing this as a favor to her, of course. All of this was a bonus for her. And she drank it in. "You're so beautiful," she stammered out.

"Hush," I said. "Just tell me what to try on." She bit her lip and went to work.

We started with lingerie, as Fi suggested at my total nakedness, and I was not one to argue, although I knew we would never find a bra that fit me as well as the one Dee had provided. Still, a pair of lacy-waisted panties at last fit around my hips, resting perfectly on the rise of my moon-sized ass cheeks. Then it was on to the real goal.

Eventually we found pants that fit me better than leggings, tightly hugging my every bountiful curve: a pair of distressed jeans, the dark black faux-denim sometimes darkened with fake holes worn into the calves and outer thigh. They were sized for 50W, something that truly cannot be called "skinny jeans" anymore... and yet they were perfect, encapsulating everything I loved about my lower half: how tightly stuffed I was, how much I bulged from every seam, and the hint, the slightest clue, that I would be getting bigger. Just getting them on left me a bit out of breath, yet another reminder that not everything happening to me would leave me sexier; a lot would leave me in a much more difficult place than before. But looking at myself in the mirror, as Fi faithfully helped me tug the waistband higher and tighter around my waspish waist, only cemented that fact as something that would turn me on every time I thought of it. Sexiness in the not-sexy.

Tops were easier to try on but even harder to choose from, as I needed something that was alluring, would show off my curves, would leave little up to the imagination in terms of just how fit I was, how much of an exaggerated hourglass my trim waist made me, all while hiding the fact that I was wearing a form-fitting sportsbra. Eventually I settled on a shimmery, velvety tank with straps that crisscrossed over my exposed cleavage, the shadows helping to demonstrate that, no, I was not hiding a couple of squashy exercise balls under my shirt. It was all me.

Fi fetched a pair of shoes, high heels in a shade that matched my new top, and soon was gawking with me in a mirror at the vision that I had become. My hair was still a mess, my makeup hardly touched since the morning, but somehow I still radiated sexiness, and lust, and sheer curvage. Maybe it was my huge tits.

"You're amazing," Fi breathed. "I can't believe how good you look, how amazing you are." She reached out a hand, stopped for just a moment, then touched my elbow. I turned and saw that her mouth was open, her lips wet. "...please..." she said. "...I just." Like a tiny, nervous mouse, she bit her lip. "I just want to... kiss you..."

I smiled. "How badly do you want to kiss me?"

"Oh god," she shivered. "Anything. Please." Her lips quivered in need, her glasses fogged with her breath.

And so it was that for a kiss, my breasts almost enveloping the girl as we pressed together, I got over a thousand dollars in clothes.

In similar fashion I made it through the day. After a free plate of noodles and salad my hangover from the morning was completely forgotten; after a complimentary taxi ride (where my tits were basically squeezed into my face) I made it home to drop off the extra "one size fits very few" clothes Fi had provided me and do something with my face and hair; after a wave hello at some passersby I had borrowed a few twenties.

I could get used to this, I thought as I tucked the cash into my purse and waggled my fingers a few pre-pubescent boys that had stopped roughhousing to stare at me, mouths gaping. With the motion of my fingers their eyes bulged out and one turned to sprint away, undoubtedly looking for a public restroom.

I had all of the power. I could get almost anyone to do anything for me, just by showing them a tilt of my hand. But for some reason I wanted one thing more than anything else in the world.

As the sun set I showed up at the club, butt waddling in the air behind me, chest heaving. I had only walked two blocks from where a coffee had been given to me on the house, but even that far was apt to tire me out, now. There was so much more of me to carry around: my back whining from holding up my delicious tits, my legs burning from lifting their extra bulk. It annoyed, but it didn't aggravate me. This was the cost of getting my deepest heart's desire.

The bouncer at the door was clearly not paying much attention, hardly expecting anyone to show up at a strip club so early, especially a club this expensive. I knew the cover charge; the guys at work talked about it endlessly in hushed tones, the sort of place that the big corporations downtown would go to, the place you'd spend way too much venture capital in one night.

When I asked if they were open and if I could go in, the big dude drank me up, smirked behind his glasses, and said "no cover for you, miss." I appreciated his ability to do something other than stare.

"Angel Investments" was more than a strip club. It was an accessory, a place deals were made and companies were started or killed. The owners knew it, and they catered to their clientele: only the most beautiful, the most amazing dancers. The ones with perfect, curving breasts, with round, bouncing hips, who looked good in or out of clothes, on the stage or in a lap. And they were paid well. Rumor had it the best dancers there raked in $200k a year, more than enough to start their own companies after putting in their time.

It would be difficult to get one of those girls to walk away from the stage, just to be alone with someone.

I sipped my tequila and scoped the place out. All of the rumors were true: every dancer, even the early night ones, were stacked and gorgeous, their faces made up but not overly so, their hair wavy and sparkly but not too much. All of them were hot, and all of them stopped by to let me know that they were so happy to see me there, and they gave private dances at low rates...

But I didn't want low rates, and I didn't want a private dance. So instead I ordered my drinks and sat in my shadowy corner, fully aware how my gorgeous, amazing, intoxicating body was mostly hidden.

When the music changed to a thumping cover of "Relax", I knew that my target was stepping onto the stage. She was 5'10'', with long, fiery red hair to her waist. The color was either natural or a perfect dye job, as it glimmered in the disco lights. Her tits were large—for normal women—and bouncy and made my mouth water as she strutted in her glittering gold halter and matching hot pants, which stretched over her taut, tight ass and hugged the curves of her sex.

We locked eyes and her practiced, memorized dance halted for just a moment, and I knew that "Petal" was mine.

By that time in the evening a crowd had started to form, and though the entire crowd was men, and though all of them were hooting and hollering and throwing twenties and hundreds onto the stage, Petal had only eyes for me. She turned to show that amazing ass to us all, bending forwards so that we could see how her round, swinging tits pull the fabric of her top tight. Then, with a slipping, turning wave, the top was off and sailing to the back of the stage, her breasts contained only in a small golden bikini.

I smirked and lifted my glass to her and, not missing a beat this time, she nodded, smiling, eyes shimmering. With another turn her hands were at her side, gyrating her hips, showing that ass off again, then slapping it. We locked eyes and this time a finger went out, hooking towards me and beckoning.

How could I resist an excuse to show myself off, too? Finishing my fourth glass, I pushed myself up, taking it slowly so that the added momentum on my front didn't pull me from my heels. My glittering top caught the light and I knew that, once again, my body was proudly on display.

This time Petal did stop, her hair swinging around her face, her mouth dropping open for an instant. It was enough for the men to turn from the stage and see who was approaching and their own expressions to follow.

I realized my mistake in an instant. Or was it a mistake? Was this what I had planned? To be in a small space, surrounded by men and women who were all heated up and turned on by music and moves and sweat, to take dozens of lovers all at once, to see just how far Dee's magic would take me?

I moved toward the platform, pushing through the men. They backed away, but I could tell they were barely contained, their erections, already primed by Petal's graceful, unbeatable dancing, ready to burst at the sight of me.

But no. I ignored them. I didn't want a man, or men; I had a woman in my sights. And besides, I could take a shortcut to glorious enormity—but where was the fun in that?

I reached the stage, my butt wobbling and trembling in its tight faux-denim contains, my tits pushing against the cold metal edge as they jiggled and glistened with sweat, and leaned on it, a single dollar bill in my hand. The music was dying, a girl was waiting in the wings... but the DJ had also stopped, was staring at me and Petal as she stood, one hip cocked, to look down at me.

"What do you want?" she asked. It wasn't the cowing, nervous question Fi had asked earlier that day. It was curious, and interested, and horny, but not scared.

I waggled the dollar. "You. Privately."

She looked at the dollar, almost laughed, but then turned back to me. Her eyes traced along my figure, judging, comparing to herself. She was amazing, gorgeous, a model in a stripper's outfit in the most expensive place in San Francisco, worshipped by probably hundreds of men a day. And I outstripped her, with no comparison.

Her tongue licked her lips.

"Here?"

I shook my head, my bosom following behind slowly, ponderously.

"No. My place. Now."

She nodded without a question.

"Done."

After she slid down from the stage, somehow making even that look sexy, Petal took my hand, and leaned in close. She smelled like cherry blossoms, like willow branches, and I inhaled it even as I tasted her, as I felt her tiny breasts press into mine.

The bouncer only nodded at us as we walked out into the night, and I knew that even though my date was wearing little more than a brassiere and boyshorts, I was the more scandalous one on the San Franciscan streets.

The back of the cab was hot and sweaty-smelling and uncomfortable to my bulging, buxom form, but as soon as the doors closed Petal's hands were exploring me, feeling me, making sure I was real. "How are you so gorgeous," she asked. "So beautiful. Was it a job in town?"

I laughed and pushed her hands away, then kissed her again, letting her feel the weight of me on her naked body as we sped off into the foggy night. "No job. Just me."

She accepted that. "What do you want me to do? What do you need me to do for you?"

I shrugged. "I need you to touch me. Please me. Kiss me when I want to or if you want to. And I need you to love me."

Her lips were licked again, bright red and willing. "I don't think that will be a problem."

***

For some reason I expected strippers to be ravenous lovers, insatiable, creatures that lived and died for sex. Either that or bored out of their minds by it, seeing as how they dealt in it on a very similar course as prostitutes. But Petal defied those expectations: she was quiet, and slow, and only carefully touched me, caressed me. I think we sat on my couch for an hour, bodies intertwined, tongues lashing, while she removed each of my articles of clothing with care and purpose, her hips grinding into mine with a slow, steady rhythm.

"Petal, I need to know," I asked after my top was removed, while she nuzzled at my still-clothed breast. Her head looked so tiny compared to it, so small, and when at last the sportsbra was off I pushed towards her until both of my tits surrounded her, rested on her shoulders, losing her face in my cleavage. "I need to know something," I finally continued.

"What is it?" she asked, turning to bite at the soft skin of my breast, her finger tugging, ever so gently, on my turgid, throbbing nipple. I gasped, then found my voice.

"Have you... have you been with a woman?"

She looked at me, and for a moment there was a shine in her eyes. "No. Never. Not before... this." That tongue licked her lips again, and she was bending forward for another deep, long kiss that made me give a tiny, uncontrollable squeak of pleasure.

"Did you want to?" I asked.

"I want to now, girl. Isn't that enough?"

It must have been. My jeans came off, and my new panties next, revealing myself to Petal as I leaned back on the couch, my legs spread, my sex bared. I knew that when I grew again my tits would get too big for even this to be easy access, and that thought alone made me drip with anticipation, with that growing desire.

She leaned in one more time, a hand caressing my side and then digging in to the soft flesh of my backside, fingers sinking in and in while she kissed me, tongue playing across mine, her crotch now slowly pressing, massaging my nipple, thrumming my pebbly areola against the soft sweetness of her pussy.

Then down, and down, and her face had disappeared beneath my tits, but her tongue was on my clip, dipping against it, tracing the perimeter of my sex, her hot breath on my pussy lips, fingers on my thighs, my ass. I was gasping, rocking, my tits pressing against my legs as I felt myself drawing closer, closer, wanting more and more...

And then I was crying out, lightning driving through my body, on fire inside and out. This was what life would be like for me, from now on: getting what and who I wanted, when and how I wanted it. A far cry from the Jeni who was fine with where she was and how she was.

To my delight and confusion, I heard Petal crying out, too, her moans and yells muffled against my luscious thighs, her arm clenching around the thick hold of my leg. Through blurred vision I saw her back arch and realized that one hand was inside her, as well, masturbating herself, getting herself off to me getting off.

It was masterful.

When at last we both came down Petal crawled up, our naked bodies pressing against each other in perfect harmony, small tits and flat ass compared to godlike platforms of beauty and perfection. She nestled in to the space still open on the loveseat and rested her head on my breast, that long red hair spreading out against my pale skin. "That was amazing," she breathed.

My eyes were drooping. Was I that tired? Had my efforts taken that much out of me? I needed to stay awake. I had another change coming...

But sleep took me.

***

My list of "Best Feelings in the World" had been steadily growing in the past few days, from simply "mutual love", "masturbating in a full tub", and "binging on Netflix for an entire weekend" to things as exotic as "having your breasts explode from a shirt" and "being eaten out by a masturbating, hot-as-hell stripper". But now I had to amend that last one with "or being woken up by her sucking on your nipple."

"Fffffffuuuuck," I bit off between my teeth, trying to sit up on the couch and failing as I was overcome with various sensitivities and revelations. First of all, no, Petal was not sitting on my lap as she sent wave after wave of shivers through my body: that weight was, in fact, my enormous, jiggling, succulent, awe-inducing breasts. There was some eighty pounds of titflesh overflowing my lap and wobbling on the couch cushions, and my back was aching as I pushed against them halfheartedly while my eyes did their best to roll back into my head. Then I finally saw the red hair of my latest conquest amassed at the end of one voluminous boob, leaning on my knee as she fit one of my nipples into her mouth. For a normal woman, this would be simple, but I could see that my teats had surpassed any size that would be a comfortable fit between any lips. Petal's jaws were wide to take all of my rosy-red corker in, and (another shiver down my spine, sending waves out into the sea of bosom) her teeth were just lightly scraping, and (my arms sought support and found only pliable, soft flesh) her tongue was lapping at the sensitive nerves, multiplied and bound there, a direct line to my heart.

I was about to come, on the edge, when at last I got a foot up and pushed her away, my turgid, throbbing, wantful tit emerging from her perfect, plump mouth with a gentle sucking sound. "No," I said, panting with the mental exertion. "Not yet."

Even then, before fully taking stock into my new body, I knew it wasn't quite over. I couldn't quite stop.

Finally, at last letting go of my teasingly sensitive breasts, almost evaporating into pleasure when they washed in waves across my thighs and onto the sofa cushions, I got one hand behind me and found only wide, curving, smooth ass. Had I grown that much? No, not completely absurdly; I wasn't quite filling the loveseat from arm to arm.

I almost laughed at the realization that I was already considering being that size, wanting it, visualizing it, as I plunged both hands back and squashed my butt cheeks together, felt the fat press against my thin back, then looked at the red prints in my freckled, pale skin. I was getting absolutely huge, beyond possible, and approaching ridiculous. In wonder I compared the thinness of my arm to the round, plump yoga ball of my one ass cheek. I could lose an arm down either my cleavage or my butt crack. How wide was I? How heavy? And how many of those pounds were concentrated solely in my dominating, demanding sexy bits?

Petal was still kneeling on the carpet, looking at me like a lost puppy, or maybe a curious kitten. My kitten. "Breakfast?" she offered, and I nodded. "It's almost noon."

"Of course it is," I chuckled. "I should get dressed."

Standing up was an effort, a difficult, trying, sweat-inducing, fucking sexy effort. First my tits wanted to drag me to the ground, and no matter how I tried to get my arms around them, I couldn't quite hold their heaving, heavy loads between my arms: I was guaranteed too much for one person to handle. I tried to refuse Petal's help, worried that I wouldn't be able to give in and would instead lock her in as a lover for the second time, but my willpower held, even as her small (so small, only E-cups at most), firm breasts ground into my throbbing nipple, as her side slipped between my cleavage and I realized that my tits alone were straddling her. Once gravity was overcome, and I got enough leverage with my feet, the rest of my body followed, and I realized that my ponderous, wobbling, jiggling ass provided a wonderful counterweight to my top half.

"What will even fit you?" Petal asked, her hand circling around my hip, gently scratching a line around my circumference. I closed my eyes to savor the sensation of her nail, wondering if she was counting the inches of my hips, marveling at how much wonderful curve there was to me. I took a step towards my discarded panties and her hands followed my ponderous bulk, shifting and swaying with my hips from the minute movement. Petal's attention didn't stray, but she still bent down and helped guide my feet (and my toes were looking a little chubby, too, weren't they?) into the fragile garment.

Red lace whispered up my calves and slid over my wide, gluttonous thighs, before the elastic stretched up and out and around my burgeoning hips. Only after I pulled the waistband past the under-curve of my butt did the elastic slip into place, and I could safely tug the lacey edge up and in. The triangle of comfortable, expensive fabric did its best to cover the square yards of space my two beautiful butt cheeks created, but all it really did was draw attention to how much of me there was, to squeeze, to hold, to worship.

In front the panties did little to do what my impossibly large breasts weren’t already accomplishing. Although they were firm beyond belief, sloshing and wobbling no matter how I moved (or didn't), my breasts still drooped down my front, covering my groin and my glistening horniness. Now that I was standing I could almost reach around the wide expanse of sensitive skin, could almost touch one of my erect, throbbing nipples...

I still had things to do. I still needed to go out. My next target was within my grasp, and although I trusted I could probably talk my way out of being arrested if a cop hassled me, there was still that silly part of me that wanted to pretend being this size was anywhere near normal. So if I wanted to go out, I needed to be dressed.

I had Petal fetch the sports bra. I knew it wouldn't fit, I knew that it would hurt to even try to put it on, but that very fact made me long to try, to see if I could be in pain just from being so large. The thought alone made me even more wet.

"Can you even breathe?" Petal asked me with a giggle twenty minutes later. It was a legitimate question; breast was spilling out from the neckline, underboob flowing from below the band. My tits, before bigger than the biggest watermelons, were now filling in that space with several more generous helpings, squashing out into my armpits. It fit, after a fashion; I could move without my tits slapping against my belly, even if I still had to wait for them to come to a complete rest after every step. That was nothing too strange, though: I had to wait for my ass to do the same.

While Petal fried us up some eggs and hash browns, her golden lingerie sparkling in my kitchen, I picked through the clothes Fi had provided me the previous day, laughing some more as I found that none of it would quite fit right. Still, the flowy, v-neck tunic was only a little tight, as it tried its best to be loose on my overstuffed bosom. And the capri leggings, while not one-size-fits-all, would have shown off my panty-lines if the top hadn't been so loose on my middle.

I sent Petal off with a kiss and a promise to text her. I wondered if I would, once this was over. Would I need to? Or could I just pick up and drop whomever I wanted, whenever? Then again, it would be hard to pass up a beauty like Petal, even if she was, relatively, flat and curveless as a 2x4.

Where was I to go next? What conquests did I have to finalize, dreams to fulfill? I could think of a million ideas: traffic cops, governors, executives, any of them would fall under my spell, would be unable to resist the walking sex doll that I had become, that I loved being.

I had Terrence's number...

"Jeni?" he asked, picking up on the second ring.

"Hey Terrence, how's your Sunday going?"

"Uh, okay," he said. He sounded distracted, and I was almost confused before realizing that, no, he couldn't see me. Didn't realize the heights I had climbed since just Friday. How much more glorious I was. With an excited wriggle, I slapped my burgeoning hip with a free hand and was rewarded with ripples rocketing through my ass. "You ready for your big proposal tomorrow? We're all expecting big things."

"Hm, I think I am," I said in what I hoped was a purr. "But I wondered if you'd be okay with looking at my presentation? If you're not too busy for a little one-on-one time."

I could hear his breath pick up over the phone. I guess my powers on Friday had been pretty strong, hadn't they? "That sounds great," he said in a fake casual tone. "I'll text you my address."

"Great," I said. I didn't bother to sound relieved or even overly excited. Instead I had a goal, and an idea twisting in my brain.

***

"Jeni!" Fi nearly squeaked when I stepped, as daintily as I could, through the door. She was wearing light blue today, sleeveless, and it showed off the intricate tattoos down her left arm. "You came back!"

"I did," I smiled, trying not to huff and puff as I sashayed across the store, intimately aware of how hard it was to sway my hips properly, to take small steps so I wasn't tromping my weight down with every footfall. Even though I was a million times sexier than I had been seven days prior, it was much harder work to act sexy. "Because the clothes you gave me yesterday..."

She ran a hand down my shoulder, tripping over the stressed bralines and stretched seams of the shirt. "Oh, no, already?" There was disbelief in her voice, but it didn't meet her eyes, which sparkled in excitement and wonder behind her glasses.

My mouth watered, and I could see her naked, tiny form laying across my tits, her tiny breasts nothing compared to me, her excited eyes soaking me up. "And I'm sure it definitely won't fit tomorrow."

That wolfish, mischievous smile came back, before flitting away with nerves to a flickering grin. "Uhm, we-we had a weird new order come in this morning, from some company I've never heard of. Lingerie for women like... well, like you." She blushed to her ears, and I laughed again at her face.

"Well can I see them?"

Fi hadn't been fibbing when she said the underwear was sized for women like me, and I was unsurprised that she had never heard of the company: the tags only read the letter "D". I almost rolled my eyes before thanking Dee for his silly gift, then actually unfolded the cups of the bra I was holding.

"That one is size... Titan, I guess?" Fi said, furrowing her cute little brow at the tag.

"That only makes sense," I muttered as I revealed a cup nearly the size of a trash bag. Fi had disappeared back into the boxes, coming up with an armful she claimed was labelled "Goddess". "I'll take them all," I said, dream-like. Bras that fit, and panties, too. Perfect for the single girl who wants to feel sexy—at any size.

"About that," Fi said, stammering over her words as she pulled my top over my head to reveal the straining lycra of my bra. "Uh, yesterday, the clothes that I gave you... I probably shouldn't have..."

I turned to look at her, aware that even that movement made my tits bulge and quake in their tight, constricting prison. Fi snapped shut. "Fi, do you want to work here?"

"Uh, uhm, I think so?"

"What if you were my assistant? I'll need one starting very soon, I think."

Her eyes grew wider, if that was possible. "Really? An—an assistant? And I'd get to... to be around you?"

My smile was benevolent, wise, and beautiful. "Of course. And not just around me. Not just helping me put on clothes." The sports bra snapped open at my tug, spilling my tits out onto my flat stomach, revealing my ruby red nipples. "You'd get to help me with EVERYTHING."

A tiny amount of drool escaped Fi's mouth, before she licked it up with a studded tongue. "Then yes. Absolutely."

I jumped a little with excitement. "Perfect! Then please, help me into that bra. My back is starting to kill me."

"R-right away!"

"As for clothes, I'm thinking I will go with a dress today. Plus there are a few more things I want you to grab before we leave here for good. After tomorrow, I'm thinking I'll get everything custom made."

***

The best part about calling up Lyft for a ride wasn't knowing that I'd probably get the trip comped at no charge, but the way that the driver's eyes always popped out of their sockets at the sight of me. It wasn't necessarily the ass (although mine was definitely near the edges of "practical", considering the squeeze to get out of my apartment door that afternoon), but the tits attached to them. The lovely, large, nearly luminous breasts that lead me everywhere I went. And in my new titan-size bra, they had no choice but to lead me: bouncing, wobbling, rippling skin exposed to the world through the neckline of my dress. It was supposed to be A-line, but I don't think anything will ever be A-line on me again, since my hipline stretched the fabric out to form-fitting at two curvy "D"-lines.

I do feel a bit sorry for the drivers, though, having to scoot their seats as forward as possible so that my bust didn't drown me in the backseat. Fi's tiny height was a large advantage, there.

Terrence lived in the Mission district in a spacious loft over a market, and I was thankful for the elevator.

"So what are we doing here, Miss Jeni?" Fi asked, twisting her hands together. She had quit by leaving a note, and I promised her I would stop by to smooth it over in the next few days. If I remembered to, I would.

"Jeni is fine right now, Fi," I said. Then I turned to her. "Have you ever slept with a woman, Fi?"

She blushed and smiled nervously. "A-a few times. I don't think I'm bi, though. E-except with you, I guess."

I couldn't help but laugh again. "That's apparently going around these days. But you like men normally?" The elevator dinged and I slowly stepped out down the hall, making sure to swish my hips, loving how the dress flapped at my round, quaking thighs.

"Well sure."

"Then I'm sure you'll like this man. He's muscular, funny, looks almost like a brown George Clooney."

Her steps paused, then Fi raced to catch up to me. "A-are you setting me up, Jeni?"

I smiled again, my head dancing with delight. "Not quite."

"Come in," Terrence's voice called as the elevator opened up directly into the floor, and I had a very brief moment of blunt honesty from him as he glanced over his glasses at his guests. He was splayed out on the couch, somehow even more attractive than normal in his casualness, a laptop perched on the seat of his slacks. When he saw me, though, truly saw me, the curvy, wobbling, sexy goddess in his elevator doorway, all that disappeared. He tore his glasses from his face, the laptop clunked to the ground, forgotten, and the slacks... well, the slacks grew tight.

"Holy shit, Jeni," he said, all pretense and everything else forgotten but me and the sixteen inches of cleavage visible at my throat. "You're..."

"Amazing? Astounding? Awesome?" I asked, stepping into the loft proper, carefully placing my feet to get maximum hip sway, relishing how my tits followed behind, straining my shoulder straps. My dress normally didn't come with a belt, but Fi (who followed closely behind me, almost hidden by my luscious curves) had found a thin brown number with a flowery buckle that tucked the dress down under the curves of my delicious, delightful breasts, showing off just how impressively hourglass my figure remained, while also letting any viewers see the full curve of my bosom.

"Y-yeah..." Terrence trailed off, standing awkwardly at his couch. "Uh, the presentation tomorrow..." I could see the conflict behind his eyes, the need to tear my dress off, or to fetch me something I longed for, or to just please me—fighting against his deeply ingrained requirement to work, to prepare, to solve problems.

I at last reached his stammering form and lifted a hand up, carefully navigating my arm around the curve of my breast, then letting my elbow almost rest on my soft flesh. I laid one thin, manicured finger on his lips. My teeth were almost chattering in excitement, and somewhere in front of me my nipples were digging into the sturdy material of my titan-size bra. "I'm almost ready for it," I assured him. "There are just a few things I need to do to prepare. Well, a few people, really." Reaching out behind me with my free arm I found Fi's shoulder and pulled her around, minding the way that her bony hip dug into mine, squeezing more delicious flesh against me than I had ever felt before. "This is Fi. She will be joining us for our preparations." I grinned at their mirrored glances, then simultaneous stares that returned to me.

I think what truly made me the most excited was how Fi had already seen me, had already glimpsed me naked, but as I reached up to pull a shoulder strap off of my dress, she still licked her lips in anticipation, still clutched her elbows in barely restrained need. Terrence was only growing to know just what I had become, and his curiosity and desire to see me was only natural. But for Fi it was like the first time, like I could use this carrot as many times as I needed and she would never grow tired of it.

It was no true love, and for a moment I had a pang of regret, of uncertainty, but then it disappeared as my dress slipped down my curves, falling with my belt to the floor.

I stood in my matching red panties and bra, technically clothed but so stuffed full of curvy sexiness that I was practically naked. My audience gawked, and I laughed, a tight, controlled laugh. "Fi, Terrence, please, I want you both to be comfortable, too." Mockingly I poked a finger into my chin. "Terrence, how about you help Fi take off that blouse. Isn't she cute?"

Terrence's eyes at last drank in my new assistant, and there was a glimmer of acknowledgement before they once more filled with the stars I was growing so used to. "She definitely is, Jeni. Nowhere near as attractive as you, though."

I frowned. "Well that's not very nice."

"No, J-Jeni, he's right," Fi stammered, even as she helped Terrence unbutton her shirt. "I'm not embarrassed." Her glimmering eyes turned back toward me. "I can't hold a candle."

"Well," I said, stepping around my prey, looking at their bodies even as my tits wobbled in their confines, as my butt bounced and wove, "tonight we're all having fun together, so you need to see each other for the sights you are. You are beautiful, Fi." And, like I was casting some sort of spell, she somehow was more beautiful: her posture tightened up, shoulders back so that her small breasts, in their A-cup bra, were held a little higher, a little firmer. "And Terrence, I shouldn't need to tell you how hot you are. Fi, help him out of his shirt, now."

Maybe it was just my compliments, or my orders to see themselves as better, but Terrence even blushed as he bent down for Fi's tiny, dainty fingers to undo his flannel shirt. "That's more like it," I said, grinning, reveling in the power I was discovering.  Now neither of them were looking at me, his dark blue eyes locking into her grey ones, and, before I could even order it, Terrence was dipping lower, lips pressing in to Fi’s, and her eyes were closed, kissing back just as hard.

"Now we're talking," I said, stepping in to guide his face away from hers and to my wanting mouth. Like he was in a dream Terrence followed my pull and reciprocated as soon as my tongue entered between his lips. They were warm, and smelled a little like Fi's plum lipstick. I pulled away just for a moment, to tell Fi to take off Terrence's pants, to see what he had brought to the table, and soon she was crouching underneath us, her head brushing against the undersides of my breasts as I pulled Terrence back again. He was bending over, not daring to touch me, but I could see his hands hovering just outside of my sight, so I reached up and brought them down to my waist, where his fingers tightened on to my lithe, svelte torso.

His grip clenched after a few moments, and I pulled away to see that Terrence's jaw was tight, brow furrowed. "What is it," I asked, knowing the answer, then turning, just brushing his naked stomach with my breasts, so that I could see Fi's head as it went in and out of his groin. What a good little assistant I had picked up. I touched the back of her neck and she pulled back, Terrence's stiff cock popping out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting them. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." My pun was lost on them as first they locked lust-filled eyes, then turned to me. I smirked and waved as I walked toward the divider that hid Terrence's bed.

Like two kittens, my pets followed me, Terrence stepping out of his fallen trousers, Fi accepting his hand up. When I reached the queen-size I turned and leaned back onto it, my billowing butt squashing out behind me. My thighs were getting so stuffed, so overfull that I had to pull up my right leg with my hands to get the leverage necessary to cross them... and even then my knee squeezed in to my brassiere-covered tit, pushing them up into my collarbone. Once stabilized I knew the figure I cut, though. Knew that temporary discomfort more than paid for the power I could exude.

"Fi," I asked, "what do you think of my tits?"

"Your...?"

"My breasts." I reached under my most obvious asset with my hands and fluffed them up, like two overflowing punch bowls, and watched the freckled skin wave and wash against each other. The bra had a truly massive underwire, but even that couldn't possibly lift and separate enough to get my cleavage to be anything but a deep and dark line. God, I was so horny, so ready to be fucked, but this playing with my lovers was something new and exciting, and the anticipation of fucking both at the same time was positively burning my pussy alive. Fi's greedy stares, now ignoring Terrence's naked body next to her, only made me want to drag this out longer.

"I... I love them. I-I dreamed about them, last night." Her hands were clenching into fists and then letting go, and my smile widened even more.

"What about you, Terrence?" I asked, whipping my head towards him, letting my hair fly out to patter onto my naked skin. He swallowed.

"I mean, at the office, you were... gorgeous. I've thought about you all weekend. But now..."

My smile tightened. "Good. Help Fi's bra off, please."

His brows went up in mild surprise, but then he turned back toward my cute-as-a-button assistant and reached around her shoulders, fumbled at the two simple hooks for a moment, and then pulled it off. She blushed, covered herself with an arm, but then seemed to remember my earlier command: she was beautiful, stunning, electric in her own tiny, gothy way, and her arms went back to her sides, her shoulders pulling back. The glasses came off, too, and folded neatly into her hands.

I remembered being as tiny as her. As small. But I couldn't remember being nearly this hot. "Fi, do you wish you were as big as me? As curvy?"

She tore her eyes away from Terrence and looked back. "N-no, I don't think so."

"But you don't think I'm too big?" I pouted.

"Oh, no, Miss Jeni! No, not at all. No, you are..." she sought for words. "You could never be too much."

"That's what I thought," I said, leaning forward as I uncrossed my legs, supporting my tits on my cushiony thighs. The band of my bra was held by six hooks, and each came undone by my fingers before at last I could heave my mighty breasts out of the garment and let them sit, naked, on my lap. I pressed a hand into one soft, squashy expanse, a moan barely held in my throat, and traced a finger around my puffy, swollen areola before tapping, with arm nearly stretched out, my throbbing, hard nipple. "Both of you... please me."

One step, then another, my desired pets approached. Terrence knelt; Fi merely bent at the waist. Both pressed their hands into my giving flesh, my curving, perfect breasts, and brought my turgid nipples to their lips, and gently sucked at me.

The force of the sensation almost threw me onto my back, and in my smothered convulsion my tits bounced and jerked. Fi lost me from her lips, but Terrence bit, ever-so-slightly, down... causing me to shout in ecstasy. "Oh, fuck," I gasped when I edged back away from orgasm, and now Fi was travelling up my breast, kissing and biting at my giving, softened skin, travelling inches and feet as she went up and over the curve of my bosom to meet my lips. I kissed her hard, deep, giving into it so much more than the time in the changing room, and my hand found the zipper of her pleated skirt, pulling it free so that she, too, was wearing only her panties. "Take them off," I whispered, pushing myself back onto the bed, scooting one huge ass cheek back, then the next.

Terrence followed like a loyal dog on a leash, attached to my breast at the mouth, and his hands were now massaging my tit, squashing it between them, sinking his fingers in. I threw my head back and lost myself in the feeling for a moment, then opened my eyes back to Fi and pulled her onto the bed, laying back so that she could crawl over my head, then kneel, straddling the tops of my breasts, her tiny, firm bottom pressing into my cleavage. All fear and embarrassment and timidity was gone, only an expectant, shiny look in her eyes as she looked down at me. On my bare chest her tightly shaved lips were spread and wet, and I hooked my hands around her thin thighs, pulling her towards me.

She tasted sweet with an edge of bitterness, like a tiny amount of rind left on an orange, and I licked it up, letting my tongue stiffen and run along her pussy lips to rasp at her tiny swollen clit. Her thighs shook as Fi leaned back, her spine giving way to pleasure even as she rested on my fat breasts, even as her toes pushed and dug into my hips, my spread ass. "Oh, god, Jeni," she moaned. "Don't stop."

I couldn't respond, so lost in the pleasure I was giving, in the feelings coming from my tits that Terrence was delivering. Now one of his hands was grinding, grabbing onto my free nipple; now he was switching, giving my other breast the same adoration and worship he had delivered to my left. I was still burying my face into Fi's delicious pussy, still lost in the electric shocks travelling up my chest, when one of Terrence's strong, firm fingers traced up my own tender lips, my lacy panties the only article of clothing still worn between the three of us. His unexpected, gentle, and completely needed touch made me yelp, and my hips bucked despite myself, sending laughs up through Fi along with her groans of pleasure, and suddenly her hips were convulsing properly, that laugh turning into a ripping shout.

"Ffffuck, Terrence," I said, momentarily removing myself from Fi's ministrations. "Take mine off, too."

"Sure," his voice came through the haze, somewhere behind my little lover and my titan tits, and the tightness on my hips told me that my body was doing its best to fight the elastic of my panties from slipping off, before my vagina was freed to the elements.

My tongue was back to pleasing Fi when her little hand touched my face. "No, let me handle it," she whispered, and was slipping off of me, her agile leg coming up and over me like I was a saddle.

With her gone I could see down the nude canyon of my tits, see Terrence kneeling there, gazing over me in awe, and I crooked a finger at him. "Your turn, executive."

He smiled at that, the laugh that I had harbored a crush on for a full year coming easily, and he leaned forward, hands walking him up the mattress to lay beside me. I took it upon myself to turn towards him and found it a much more challenging task than anticipated, as the enormous weight and mass of my breast did its best to prevent me from flipping it. Only by getting an arm under the flopping weight could my pushing foot get the leverage it needed to move me, and then my tits were lying on each other, two overstuffed pillows almost laying on Terrence's chest. Down lower my hips were free in the air, the fat from my left leg digging into the mattress, twisting my spine until I completed my turn and rolled on to Terrence, his stomach wedged into my cleavage, my ass cheeks jiggling in the air.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" I asked him, the grin still on my face.

He nodded. "More than you could know."

Tiny and firm hands were digging into my thighs, and, sensing what Fi wanted, I pulled my chubby knees up and under me, then pushed myself into a kneeling position. Even there my breasts were laying on Terrence, spilling off of his hard abs onto the couch, nipples pushing into the rough texture of his comforter. I glanced behind me and saw only an expanse of fat, tempting ass, and Fi's arms stretched out so her fingers could dig into the willing flesh.

Even I wasn't so overfull that this position didn't spread my ass, though, and hot breath was spilling out onto my naked pussy.

I took a moment to get lost in the feeling as Fi gingerly, gently licked at my dripping cunt, to feel every part of my body: my ass wobbling in the air, my knees barely able to hold still, my tits throbbing, bursting with anticipation as they hugged Terrence. Then I arched my back and thrust my hips down into Fi's face, pulling my tits backwards down Terrence until, at last, his throbbing dick was revealed from between my titanic breasts.

I bent forward, my hips going even further into the air, feeling Fi's face press into me, her arms tighten as her tongue quickened, darting in between my pussy lips, then tracing around, then quickly rubbing on my clit, and, pressing my tits back with my hands, found Terrence's cockhead with my mouth. He was slick with precum, and hard as a rock, but my touch made his hips buck, his cockhead swell with need. I leaned further down and my tits washed around him, only a few scant inches of flesh in the cubic feet that I possessed, but his moan turned into a loud gasp, the sound making my heart race, that hot feeling of an encroaching orgasm approach as my knees shook, my hands and arms quake. Down and up again I went, letting my tongue run along the length of him, my lips almost reach the tip of his cock, feeling full and complete like I always did when going down on a guy, reveling in the power of getting him off, of being gotten off, of my breasts filling up the space between us, of my massive, sexy ass presented into the air above us—

Like a wolf howling at the moon, I shot off of Terrence's dick and screamed upward at the distant ceiling, my tits following and flowing back up over his prone body even as cum shot from him. Fi's arms were clenched around my thighs, her tongue merely lapping at my clit as I rode the orgasm past feeling and into a whiteness that edged in on my vision.

God, it was so good. So perfect.

When at last I came down Terrence was gasping under me, his hands resting on my breasts, only a little of his seed having escaped to splatter onto his chest. The rest was underneath me, I could feel it, hot and sticky and good.

"That was amazing," I panted, and Fi's tongue lifted from me. "Oh, wow. Man," I said stupidly, temporarily forgetting my place as their leader, their master. But then: "Get this comforter off of the bed, I think it's ruined." Heaving, turning, I crept around until I was kneeling to face Fi, leaning back until my overstuffed ass rested on my heels, my tits freely slapping with a wetness against my belly. She looked at me with that hopeful, prideful look on her face. "That was wonderful, Fi," I said, and leaned forward until our lips met and she hungrily kissed me. Her plum lipstick mixed with a sweet, tangy flavor, and I would have laughed at the realization that I was tasting myself if I hadn't been so deeply enthralled in her tiny form, in pressing my massive tits to her stringy stomach, at feeling her small, hard nipples on my chest. I hardly noticed when I shifted my weight so that Terrence could get the coverlet out from under me, but something drew me out of Fi's mouth and back to reality.

Terrence was standing there, and soon was joined by Fi, still kneeling on the bed, as they waited for me. His cock was already hard again, her clever little fingers were working.

"I need a break," I announced. "You two need to fuck."

It was like watching an avalanche, and I pushed myself back onto the pillows, my pillowy ass hardly needing extra cushion as first they turned to each other, then they met eyes, then one arm reached for a muscled thigh and a hand found a narrow shoulder, their lips meeting, their bodies mashing together, her little legs wrapping around his waist while his hard cock rested between her small, firm butt cheeks. They fell onto the bed together, Fi gasping for breath while Terrence's mouth travelled down her body, biting at her nipples, licking at her naked skin. Her legs were already spreading, his erect dick looking for a place to nestle as he knelt on the bed, and soon she was almost sideways, screaming as he entered her.

The pillows were long gone, and I was dragging my curvy form across the mattress, reaching out like a woman possessed, longing for Fi's taste again, needing her, and her moans were soon being pushed into my mouth even as my fat tits pushed into her, one hand mindlessly digging at my fat, heavy nipple even as she was pounded again and again. Then her voice caught, gasping, and Terrence was grunting, his pace suddenly halted, and both of them came with a ferocity that turned into a scream. Such a loud yell coming from such a tiny woman, I had never expected, but I grinned at the sight of the two of them as I fell back onto my hands, my legs splaying out over the edge of the bed, pointing in a completely different direction from my gigantic breasts.

It was there, resting, that I realized. A hot, prickly warmth had been travelling up my spine for the past minute, hadn’t it? In an instant I knew that I was growing again.

The excitement and anticipation rolled over my body and I closed my eyes, letting myself experience this change entirely from sensation. The sensation as my sides said goodbye to my hands, while my hips spread wider, further, fatter on the mattress. The sensation of my tits stretching out over my knees, naked skin rubbing on naked skin as breastflesh filled me up. I was growing so much greater, so much more... Would words be able to describe me? Would anyone be able to resist the temptation of touching me, feeling me, pleasing me?

Fi had done her part, which still left me Terrence to fuck, to toy with. I could do it there, right then, as I fulfilled my threesome fantasy while also fulfilling my silly, impossible, now-accomplishable fantasy of being the greatest hourglass figure imaginable. Could I pass up the opportunity to get even bigger?

Something about the thought echoed in me, pained me, and a vision of Gertie occurred me. Curvy, silly, loving Gertie. My secret crush for forever. When she had professed her love for me the other day, it hadn't been with these same fake stars in her eyes. It had been real. And I had screwed it up, just like I screwed up Emma with my attempted threesome.

My heart skipped, and I opened my eyes and saw my enormous breasts, so full and round and perfect, filling up the space from my knees to my collarbone. Somewhere out there were my nipples, swaying and prickling in the breeze, two electric lines attached to the weather-balloon sized breasts I possessed.

The groans behind me had stopped, and I turned to look over a shoulder, momentarily distracted by the sight of my lower half. My thighs were no longer tree trunks, now approaching redwoods, and they gave way to hips that blossomed out from my thickened waist and curved into the distance. How wide was I, now? Six feet seated? Five feet standing? Too wide to fit through any normal doorway, that was for sure. Wide enough to stretch from one edge of the bed to the other, I found, as I scooted back onto the mattress, ignoring the drooling looks of my lovers, instead focusing on the rough feel of the sheets on my huge, dragging tits, the way that I had certainly gained a few inches in sitting height, just from my plumped up ass cheeks alone.

Yes, I was enormous. Curvy. Impossible to look away from, and definitely large enough for that Goddess-sized bra, those 8XL leggings. But did I want to go bigger?

I heaved onto my back, my tits washing up to my chin and filling the space on the bed next to me. "Terrence," I called out, as Fi found her place in my cleavage, pulling my nipples to her and finding them too large to fit between her lips, "fuck me harder than you just fucked Fi. WITH a condom."

My ninth lover went at it with a newly invigorated energy.

***

The elevator creaked as we crept higher. "Is everything perfect, Fi?" I asked. My assistant, from her position at the control buttons, turned and looked me over, her eyes glistening with lust behind her specs, but still acutely aware. With one hand she reached out and tugged my pencil skirt a little lower. "Thank you," I said, graciously, but still smiled: it was a game. That was all this would be.

I had dressed as properly as I could—or at least had been dressed as properly by Fi and Terrence. I wouldn't be able to do much on my own in that department, not without some major changes in my life, but I was okay with that, and so were they: finding out which clothes would fit me, lifting each breast ponderously to fit into the "Creator" sized D bra. It took both of them just to get their arms around one fat, heavy tit, but it was worth it. The breasts that I had woken up with were second to none, none in the entire world, and filled the entire bottom half of my vision when they were properly supported. Waving, heaving, bouncing, I couldn’t imagine what each one weighed. 200 pounds? 300?  All I knew was that, with moderate strain on my back, I was able to stand, lifting them, feeling them, even in their giant, comfortable bra, pressing into my torso from my chin down to the tops of my meaty, fatty thighs.

My thighs. So heavenly soft, so sweetly thick, pressing into each other and pressing into my pussy just by standing with my feet shoulder-width apart. I had laughed at the size of the skirt when Fi had unfolded it, and unfolded it, and unfolded it, revealing a rectangle of cloth long enough to cover a picnic table—but when I stepped into the circle, and it had been pulled up over my hips, and secured with four or five zippers that cinched it in toward my wasp-thin waist, I realized that it was just how big I was, now. Thicker than a boulder. Wider than a car.

My hips pushed out toward either side of me, solid platforms that extended further than my arms could reach. My ass trailed me, cheeks like giant, fluffy beanbag chairs, wallowing against my calves with every step. But in front of me... my tits. My worshipful, needy, wonderful, jaw-dropping tits. They filled my vision, they filled my tent-like blouse, and they filled the minds of anyone who could see them, with my hard-as-ice nipples, like thick, red fists, prominent no matter what I wore, no matter how horny I was.

Of course, I was always horny. How could I not be? With the looks my assistant was always showering me in, the stares of everyone in the street, the lips licked, the services rendered free of charge. I had everything I could want, without any effort.

All except Gertie.

I had called her that morning, after I was ready, after Terrence had made me a delicious breakfast of French toast. I sat on the couch, this time filling it from arm to arm, my legs spread so that my tits weren't pushing against them and suffocating me. Even sitting down, just breathing, I was always wobbling, jiggling, moving, like momentum couldn't escape from my curvy, delicious body.

But I got myself together and called her. And, despite myself, there was a hitch in my voice when she answered. "It's me."

"I know, Jeni," she said.

"Look, uh..." I couldn't find how to ask. How do you ask someone if they love you really, or if it's just weird magic? Then it dawned. "Can we video chat?"

There was a pause, and I could see her there, nibbling her lip, all confidence and bluster that normally filled her gone. "Why."

"I need you to see me, I think."

The worst part was, she knew. She knew that Dee had made it so that my body naturally hypnotized people. So she knew what I was asking, or at least could guess. Then again, maybe she thought I was trying to overcome her. To fill her with lust.

"Okay. I think I need to see you."

Relieved, I pressed the button and held the phone out, as far up and away from me as could be. The video showed me, as much of me as possible: horizontal freckled flesh of my bulging, beautiful bosom, which showed a footlong line of cleavage off the edge of the camera. Behind me was the black of my skirt, a round bulge that squashed between my back and the couch cushions. But, perched between it all, was me. Same old Jeni. Frizzled blonde hair, stupid freckles on my face. A light touch of makeup.

When Gertie's face appeared, still looking like the same old Gertie, she sighed. "You look beautiful, lady." There was longing on her face, but not insatiable lust. Her eyes glittered, but with tears, not stars. She was still herself.

"I'd look more beautiful with you here, I think," I said. Knowing what it meant.

She knew, too. "You mean... you're ready to stop?"

I nodded. "I think so." I knew so. Or at least, I told myself that. "After work? You want to get together? Maybe at the bar, assuming I can fit in the doors?"

She laughed. "Sure. I think I need to see you for real. Not in a camera."

My heart flew, and for a second I was that self-confidence-less front desk worker again. "Oh good! Oh, thank you, Gertie." But then I was back. The new me. "You'll like what you see, I'm pretty sure."

"No doubt, girl."

But that was behind me, now. What I had in front of me was a presentation. New changes. BIG changes to the company. The elevator dinged and Fi held the door while I slowly, laboriously stepped out. I was wearing flats, so it was much easier than my walking had been the day before, or at least would be if I didn't weigh probably twice as much.

Each step was an earthquake that I couldn't present, a Jeni-quake. My tits bounced and stretched and tried to ruin my 20X top. My ass wobbled back and forth, up and down, forcing my skirt to ride up on its own. I held my hands in front of me, the portfolio tightly trapped to my stomach, but my tits were basically resting on top of it. One step... another... The black tights that encased my legs whispered against each other from groin to ankle, my legs too sturdy and thick and curvy to not touch.

Double-doors approached, and opened, held by Terrence, as we ponderously made our way down the hall. Inside were the twelve people that controlled my company, and while at first they turned, bored, as soon as their eyes met me something went alive inside them. Twelve men and women, some old, some probably younger than me, sat up straighter, fixed their hair, licked their lips, clenched their fists. They all wanted me, straight or gay, bi or not. Chairs tucked in so that my exaggerated form could drift past, one step at a time, one jiggling maneuver, and Fi circled the table, handing out folders with my proposals.

I reached the front of the room, turned, and stopped.

There was Paul N. The dude in the flannel shirt, the cowboy boots. Dee. Sitting at the table like he belonged with all of these suits, grinning at me. He tilted his head and, directly, intimately, stared at each of the eleven other board members. I had to follow his gaze, and realized this would be the most difficult part of today. Not showing my proof of concept, not declaring my intentions to run the company. My challenge would be not telling these people to all fuck me, one at a time. Not growing greater, sexier, more lovable and enticing. Not filling this room with my bountiful, sensitive breasts, or popping all of the seams in this tiny skirt as my ass grew tastier, plumper, erotically larger.

After all, wasn't that my true fantasy? Not just getting curvy, not just having control, but becoming so much that I couldn't help but be touched and felt and loved? How else could this fantasy end?

In my purse I felt my phone buzz as Gertie texted me.

I couldn't decide if I was going to ignore it, and four feet away my nipples stiffened and grew in excitement.