Farm Girl (17 Parts) (Patreon)

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Note: This is a female version of Farm Boy.

Summary: A high school senior, Megan noticed that her older sister has been dipping into the chemical on their parents' farm, and has been gaining a lot of weight. A bit disgusted, a bit curious, Megan tries the chemical hormones herself, and experiences the best high of her life. She quickly introduces the chemical to her two best friends, and the three progressively get addicted, all while experiencing incidental changes, such as butt growth, breast development, belly expansion, in addition to other, stranger, things. Contains: Female: pregnancy, breast expansion, multiple breasts, breast-belly, butt expansion, weight gain, drug addiction.

This story is a work of fiction. As specified throughout the story, all characters featured in this work are 18 years of age or older.

1.

Megan watched blankly as her parents and her older sister, Amy, fell into another argument over breakfast that morning.

Ever since her senior year of High School, Amy had started putting on weight. At first their parents had ridden it off as holiday weight, but Amy had gotten bigger and bigger until she was twenty-years-old and had a sizable belly stretching out her tops.

Megan stared at the way Amy's belly bobbed in the t-shirt she had it squashed into. It was weirdly round; the perfect shape of a ball. Their parents had at first suspected pregnancy and taken Amy to see several specialists, but the diagnoses were always the same—fatness.

"I don't see how it's any of your business," Amy shouted at their parents from across the kitchen table.

"Think about your future, Amy!" their mother cried back.

Amy scoffed. She took one more bite of her butter-drenched toast, before she turned and walked off, holding the side of her belly as it bobbed in her top. Megan found the whole scene to be bizarre. She chewed some eggs as her parents muttered angrily amongst themselves.

Yes, Amy was undeniably turning into a lardass, but what did their parents care? Meg found herself siding with Amy in the belief that Amy was an adult and her weight really wasn't anyone's business but her own. Sure Amy was a disgusting slob, but Megan hardly saw why that mattered. Amy kept her grades up and had never committed so much as a parking violation. Their parents should have been counting their lucky stars rather than bitching about Amy's inadequacies.

Sighing and shaking her head, Megan got up and pushed the remainder of her meal aside, having lost her appetite by then. She walked outside and strolled through the overgrown yard surrounding the farm house in her usual early morning ritual. Megan was eighteen, and as with Amy, it seemed that her whole life had been laid out for her with little input on her part. She was just passing one of the cattle barns when a shuffling noise gave her pause. All of the cows were usually released into the pasture during the day. Megan frowned in suspicion. She approached the door, and eased it open, just slightly. Inside was Amy, her backpack flung down on a work bench, as the college student rummaged eagerly through a bag of fertilizer...or was that the growth hormone? Amy's face was completely buried in the canvass bag. Megan heard her take a long snort.

The bag dropped to the ground, some puffs of green powder exuding out of it. Amy stood stiffly for a moment, her pupils visibly dilating. She then fell backwards, collapsing on some hay bales as several inches of her flabby stomach bulged out from the taxed hem of her shirt.

Megan was astonished. Though Amy's eyes remained slightly open, she was unconscious as far as Megan could tell. She's getting high off the hormone,Megan thought, with growing disgust of her sister's antics. She quietly closed the barn door and hurried off to school, trying to erase Amy's sprawled image from her mind.

And yet Megan could not stop thinking about it. She wondered if the hormone was the cause of Amy's localized weight gain. She wondered what kind of high Amy was experiencing—and how any high could even be worth it to blow up as though there was a volleyball under one's shirt.

How had Amy even gotten the idea to start snorting the cattle product? What the hell had she been thinking?

It was pure madness and none of it made sense. No matter how much Megan ran the scenario in her head, things just didn't add up.

"Hey, Amy?" Megan said after school that day. Amy was slumped back on the living room couch, flipping through channels on the television while mindlessly shoveling potato chips into her mouth. Her round belly sat in her lap. It seemed to shiver slightly.

Amy shifted uncomfortably. "Brat?" she greeted, not looking up. She chomped on a fresh handful of chips.

Meg grimaced. She lifted her gaze from Amy's gut. "Is everything...okay with you?" she said awkwardly.

"It was till you showed up," Amy snarked.

"It's just that—you've been acting kind of funny," Megan went on.

Amy finally sent a glance her way. "What is this, an intervention?" she spat.

"No, it's just..."

"You're becoming just like mom and dad. You always were such a kiss-ass." Amy struggled slightly as she heaved herself up to her feet. "What are you going to tattle on me for snacking?"

"No, of course n—"

"Get out of here before I kick your ass."

Megan felt herself sneer. "Wouldn't that entail catching me?"

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," said Megan innocently as she turned to leave.

"That's what I thought," Amy called after her breathlessly. "Take some advice, Meg. Mind your business. Or just stay the hell out of mine."

Megan walked out of the house, her face flushed in irritation. It was obvious that she would be getting no answers directly from her sister. She found herself walking back to the cattle barn. She looked around and slipped inside.

The barn was now fully populated with the heavily obese cows her parents raised on the farm. The Sturge family was renowned for its quality meat, and provided ninety-five percent of the meat products to the state and the four others that bordered it.

Megan gently pushed her way through the moaning inventory, occasionally petting the head of a cow or stroking one's flank. She finally made her way to the back of the barn, and the cabinet housing the feed, treatments, hormones, and other cow-rearing products. She wrenched it open, her eyes automatically darting to a low shelf and the sack of growth hormone Amy's face had been literally buried in that morning.

Megan crouched down and gingerly undid the drawstring. She dipped her pointer finger into the bag, withdrawing a thin trail of green powder which she held as far away from her face as possible. She stared at the innocuous-looking chemical for a while, and the tiny iridescence crystals that seemed to litter it. Finally, she brought her finger within two inches of her nostrils, and took a weak, short, smell of the substance.

The world tilted, crashed, then tumbled forcefully. She felt as though she'd made the goal, kissed the guy, and cured death all at once, and everyone adored her. She experienced an almost sexual release, and a rush that lit her skin aflame. It tasted like soft, buttery chocolate, as it invaded all her senses and oozed from her pores, accompanied by the sweetest song, the softest moans, and the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.

When she came to, her skin was wet and tingly, her head buzzing, and her heart racing. She raised her fingers to stare at the residual green powder, and was almost tempted to lick it, but somehow she stopped herself. "Oh my god," she said hoarsely. This was insane. It was— It couldn't be kept to herself.

Megan didn't know how long she had been unconscious, but when she pushed her way out of the barn, the sky was dark.

She collapsed to her usual seat at the kitchen table, hardly aware that she had missed the first half of dinner. Across the table, Amy peered at her with a suspicious look.

"Where have you been?" her mother asked, plucking a piece of hay off Meg’s sweatshirt. "You're a mess."

"Just took a walk," said Megan as she shoveled mashed potatoes into her mouth. She was starved.

"At least one of our daughters is interested in exercise," said their father pointedly.

Amy rolled her eyes.

Megan hardly noticed the conversation that followed. She couldn't stop thinking about the powdery green hormone. Even the lingering remnants of the high were enough to keep her occupied. One of her hands unconsciously slid up to her ribs, her fingers pressing tenderly into her skin, and she could barely restrain a groan at the warm tingling sensation this roused. Her jaw slackened and her eyelids fluttered.

"You okay, Meggy?"

Megan was startled out of her reverie. She dropped her arm and looked around to see that both her sister and father had already vacated the table, her mother standing to collect dishes.

"Yeah," she mumbled as she hastily shoveled down the rest of her meal. With that she left.

-

The first thing Megan did after she excused herself to her bedroom was get her two best friends, Sam and Jane, on a three-way call.

"Guys, you wouldn't believe the high I just experienced. Best shit I've had in my life. Shut up Jane—I knew you wouldn't believe me. Come over and try it yourself." A pause. "Fine, tomorrow after school." She hung up.

-

Megan was impatiently tapping her foot throughout her final class period the following day. When the bell finally rang, she didn't even bother to look for her two friends. She simply went outside, got on her bike, and rode back to her parents' farm. If Samantha and Jane didn't take the proffered bait, it was their loss. More for me, Megan decided.

In only minutes, she was unceremoniously dumping her bike by the gate, walking through the cornstalks, and checking out the barn. Thankfully no one was around, not even Amy. Megan pushed her way into the barn and headed straight for the cabinet in the back. She reached inside and pulled out the heavy sack or growth hormone, her hands trembling slightly as she stared down at it. Her pulse raced. She couldn't wait. She began to carefully untie the drawstring.

The barn door banged open. "What's this about Meg," said Jane as she walked inside, Sam following.

Megan turned her attention to her friends. One of her hands absently slid up to rub her flat chest through her T-shirt.

"Seriously, what is that?" said Sam, looking amused. She nodded to the sack still clutched in Megan's grip.

Megan hesitated. "Try it first," she suggested.

Jane broke into giggles. "Now I know this is bad."

"Amy's been doing it for ages, and she's still alive, isn't she?" Megan argued. "It's just some dumb chemical we use in the cow feed. If you're not interested, it's your loss. But I know how I'll be spending my afternoon." Megan was practically salivating at the thought of it.

"You're really serious about this stuff," said Sam in intrigue.

"Yeah I am. Best high of my life. And it helps to have my own personal test dummy." Megan waddled in place, indicating her sister's hefty frame. The other two sniggered.

"Fine, I'll try it," said Sam. "Just a pinch."

"Give me a full dose," said Jane.

"Still kind of establishing that," said Megan as she opened the bag. "Just get some on the tip of your finger and take a whiff. Be careful. This stuff is strong."

Megan first waited for her friends to get a sample of the green powder each, before she lowered the sack to the floor and took a bit for herself. "Ready?"

The others nodded.

"Alright. Three...two...on—"

-

When they came to, they were all sprawled on the hay-strewn floor, and Megan was embarrassed to realize she had peed herself a little.

Jane was already out of it but Sam seemed in a daze.

"Christ," said Jane shakily. "You weren't fucking around."

Megan just shook her head as she struggled to catch her breath.

After getting themselves off the ground, Megan and Jane tried to rouse Sam, who blinked up at them in confusion a few times. "Fuck," she hissed.

"I know," Megan agreed.

"Megan, that was—that was more than a high. That was fucking insane."

"I don't care what it was. It felt good," said Jane, licking the residual hormone off her finger. Her body went stiff and she shuddered a few times.

Megan rolled her eyes. "What did I tell you guys," she said as she took off her sweatshirt and wrapped it around her waist.

"Meg, you can't keep this to yourself." Jane' words were frenzied. "You have to share. I need mo—"

"Let's pace ourselves," said Megan. She felt like she had much better control after doing the drug the second time. "And of course I'll share. But this stuff's too strong to do twice in one day. And my parents might get suspicious if you two are hanging out all night and half their supply has disappeared."

"Then when?" Jane entreated. Sam was still in a stupor.

"Same time we always let loose," said Megan lightly. "After school."

2.

Megan absently rubbed her chest with the heel of her hand. Her skin there felt more sensitive, and tingled from time to time. She wondered if it was a side-effect of the hormone.

It had been several days since Megan had introduced her two best friends to the incredible high brought on by the growth hormone, and the trio had quickly fallen into a routine of meeting at Megan’s house after school and taking a hit of the drug.

To mitigate the risk of Amy, or worse, her parents catching on to what they were up to, Megan would shovel small portions of the drug into disposable ziplock bags and meet up with her friends on different parts of the farm.

The three friends had experimented with the dosage. Even in tiny amounts, the hormone usually left them flat on their asses and in a daze. Larger amounts did not seem to change the intensity of the high, though it did cause it to last somewhat longer.

The friends continued to keep the inebriating effects of the drug an absolute secret, as they didn’t want to risk an intervention, or worse, having to share.

Even Megan was having regrets about that. She was aware of how much of the hormone Jane snorted down lately, and Meg found herself continuously worrying about whether there would be enough for her in the near and distant future, despite the fact that the concern was ridiculous. The farm had an abundant supply. And if her parents had noticed there were shorter amounts of the hormone than usual, they had not mentioned it.

On the plus side, Megan, Jane, and Sam had quit weed entirely and were closer than ever. Lately seemed to suffer the munchies—an extreme case, at that. But all three endured far less griping from their parents and school officials for carrying the acrid weed aroma around on their clothes.

Megan found herself snacking constantly. She was putting on weight—but thankfully, not too much of it. Her chest particularly was getting softer, so she was far from minding. In the meantime, she used her sister as a shield. Whenever one of her parents seemed to take notice of how much she was eating lately, Megan would subtly maneuver the conversation to Amy’s fat indolence and ballooning body.

It worked perfectly.

“Amy and your parents still fighting?” said Sam conversationally one day.

Meg, Sam, and Jane were hanging out in a dilapidated old shed on the far side of the farm behind the chicken coops.

Megan snorted. “Always. She’s even threatening to move out.”

“Intense,” said Jane, as she licked the chemical residue off her finger. She then shuddered.

Megan watched Jane as she blinked her dilated pupils. Jane always licked the chemical residue after a high. Megan had never tried it. It just seemed to take things a step farther than was logical or necessary.

“I was waiting all day for this,” Sam moaned, smiling as she enjoyed the inebriation. She was slumped back against the wall in the corner, ass perched on some old sofa cushions. “It’s like I’m finally realizing how dull and shitty life really is. I don’t know how we survived without this stuff.”

Megan didn’t either. And she had to agree, getting high was the highlight of her day. School had been a never-ending, mind-numbing experience. She wasn’t even looking forward to the upcoming weekend, except for when she could get high again.

Megan rubbed at the pins and needles sensation on her chest, restraining a groan. It felt uncomfortable but also incredible. She felt her breathing thinning, her stomach warming. She continued to absently press into the softness with her fingers. It felt like heaven.

“A hit in the morning wouldn’t hurt,” Jane mentioned. She took another lick of her pointer finger but the residue was all gone.

“What…no,” said Megan distractedly. “I don’t think—wouldn’t that be taking things too far? It we’re taking two hits a day each, my parents might start noticing something’s up.”

“Have you met your parents?” said Sam.

“Sam…”

“Seriously, Meg, this stuff is harmless,” said Jane. “We’ve been taking it every day for two weeks straight and haven’t had a single negative effect. Just a pinch is all we need. And your parents are the airiest people I’ve ever met. They won’t notice, and if they do, I doubt they’d care.”

Megan barely realized she was still gently massaging her chest with her fingers.

“Plus, the stuff is inexpensive,” Jane went on.

“You looked up the prices?” said Megan. Her mouth had gone dry.

“Yeah...” said Jane, looking abashed. “Just did a little browsing online. Nothing serious. It’s sold by a farm supply company called Relco. I thought of ordering it myself—you know, to take some of the burden off your parents’ supply. But Relco sells exclusively to local farms. If I try to make a personal order, it will probably raise some red flags.”

Megan swallowed. Her thoughts were racing. She was already devising schemes in her head. She was thinking of how easyit would be to order farm supplies on her parents’ behalf. They probably wouldn’t notice a thing.

But then Megan looked down at the hand on her tender chest and slowly lowered it. She wasn’t the only one who was putting on weight. Sam seemed to have the strongest reaction to the drug, and the lethargy was carrying into her daily activities. Her shirts were starting to fill out. She was developing a small belly.

It eerily reminded Megan of when Amy had first started putting on weight. But that was silly. On Sam it was just a harmless little gut. Sam had always been small and mousy, so any amount of weight gain was sure to be blatant on her. And who was to say that it was even related to the drug use? It could have been purely coincidental.

Megan’s scrutiny shifted to Jane, who looked the same as always, compact and athletic. She was wearing leggings and a jersey and showed no detectable changes in her weight.

“A hit in the morning seems reasonable,” said Megan.

-

It was a few days later, and Megan was only getting softer. Particularly in the chest area. One night she sat in her bedroom and stared down at her bare chest. She had never really had real breasts, always being thin and flat-chest. But now her chest held two mounds of fat that were rounded, and had even begun to droop slightly. It was all so new and weird, but not unpleasant. Sometimes Meg would fold her arms over her chest, then hiss in discomfort at how tender the flesh there was now.

She dropped her arms again. Her nipples were hard and pink, areola round and puffy. Shaking her head, Megan got up and jerked on a shirt, but once she did, her shoulders stiffened.

The sensation of the cotton brushing on her nipples as she moved about was highly…bothersome, in a way that made her want to rub her nipples as though to scratch an itch, and made her groin heat with arousal.

Megan ran her hand through her hair. She felt annoyed by her ridiculous dilemma. It just made her want to be high at that very moment. Then she wouldn’t have to care about stupid things like breast growth.

She glanced at the way the mounds stuck out in her shirt. She would need looser clothes if she didn’t want the developments to become too noticeable.

Deeming her easiest course of action to be to grab some of Amy’s huge tops while she was snoozing, Megan exited her bedroom and headed to the one down the hall. The house was dark, and silent, though Megan could see that Amy’s door was ajar, light pouring out of her room. Raising her eyebrow, Meg peeked inside.

Amy was awake. She was slumped against her headboard, most of her belly bulging out of her stretched shirt. As Megan eyed the mound, she couldn’t help noticing how huge it looked. Huger than ever. Amy’s gut seemed double the size that it had been at dinner that evening, making her look as though she was hugely pregnant. Not just that, but it just looked odd. Amy’s belly button was protruding outwards, and it was swollen, and pink, at least the size of a golf ball. Weird as fuck. At present Amy was breathing heavily as she rubbed and squeezed the nub with her fingers, her belly heaving. It had a small plate of pink around it that made it almost look like a…

“Ohhhh…ahhhh…” Amy panted. Her body tensed up and then her belly button began to…spurt?

Megan’s jaw hung open as she watched her sister’s navel spray a white fluid, Amy groaning and shuddering beneath her swollen mound. Amy’s was actually producing some sort of liquid. In fact, it looked like— “What the fuck?” the words fell out of Megan’s mouth.

Amy stiffened, her eyes darting to the door. Sweaty and flushed, and still seeping what looked like milk down the underside of her belly, Amy twisted her face and released an infuriated scream, “Get out!”

Megan hurried back to her bedroom. She closed and locked the door.

In the minutes, and hours, that followed, Megan couldn’t sleep, and for good reason. All she could think about was her sister writhing on the bed beneath her massive belly as it freakishly squirted fluid skywards. It was horrifying and bizarre.

By the early hours of the morning, Megan had convinced herself that it had all been a dream. Some bizarre illusion. Maybe she really should try to ease up on the drug.

She chucked awkwardly to herself as she got ready for the day. She winced at her reflection in the mirror when she saw the dark circles under her eyes. She pulled on a new sports bra and a loose t-shirt then made her way to breakfast.

Amy looked livid. She was slumped in her chair, fidgeting every now and then. She shot Megan a threatening glare, which wasn’t at all unusual, once Megan really considered it. And best of all, her belly wasn’t the huge globe it had appeared to be in Megan’s dream, instead back to its usual fat state, stretching out the baggy shirt Amy was wearing.

Megan breathed a sigh of relief.

Amy kept her eyes down throughout most of the meal, and didn’t even take the bait when their parents antagonized. Megan gobbled her breakfast down as quickly as she could before hurrying out to the shed to meet her friends.

“Is anyone else having freaky dreams?” said Megan nervously.

Both Jane and Sam gave her odd looks. “No,” said Sam. “Why?”

“No reason,” said Megan, her face falling.

The three took their morning hits. By then they didn’t even pass out. Megan noticed Sam absently tugging down the front of her shirt. Jane’ pants seemed tighter than usual, the seat stretching over her ass.

Megan gulped as she self-consciously adjusted her own top. “Ready for the math test?” she said, attempting to sound wry.

Jane blinked out of her daze. “Hell no,” she grinned.

Sam echoed the sentiment.

Laughing amongst themselves, the three walked off to Janes’ car and headed to school.

3.

Days passed, and things continued to develop, oddly.

Megan’s chest was only getting bigger and plumper, and for the first time in her life she had full breasts, ones that even rivaled the size of some of the girls in her high school. It was such a change from spending her adolescence as the flat-chested girl.

At first Megan took to just squeezing herself into her increasingly tight and ill-fitting bras, but when the bras just got to be too uncomfortable, she started wearing layered undershirts. She felt suffocated otherwise.

The material felt uncomfortable on her tender flesh and achy nipples. She found herself fidgeting a lot, feeling overheated, constantly wanting relief. But she was scared of her parents finding out just how much she was developing.

She just couldn’t deal with them fretting over her the way they fretted over her sister. Or worse, people at school finding out about her seemingly belated puberty. It was her last year of high school and she preferred to graduate without being sexually harassed.

Her friends didn’t seem to be faring much better than her. Megan discreetly eyed them that afternoon as the trio gathered near one of the barns.

Sam’s gut was getting worrisomely large. It now resembled a forming beer-gut, stretching out her shirt, though it looked rather firm. Sam didn’t make any comment about it, she just scratched at it from time to time. As naïve as Sam was, it was hard to tell if she even noticed it. If it was bothering her, she didn’t mention anything. Meg wasn’t even sure if Sam acknowledged the weight gain as odd.

Jane had put on weight as well, and like Megan and Sam, it seemed localized. In her butt. Jane’ butt was expanding, sticking out, stretching out the seats of her pants. Jane had taken to donning sweatpants either to reduce the blatancy of her ass growth or because her other pants just didn’t fit her anymore. She also took to wearing baggy shirts that she pulled down over her ass, but there was little hiding the protruding mound.

Unlike Sam, Jane seemed distinctly uncomfortable. But just like the other two, she made no mention of the embarrassing changes her body was going through.

God, Megan thought as she stared at her friends. Their growth was so obvious. Was her growth obvious? Did everyone know what was going on under her shirt?

Megan dismissed the idea. It wasn’t as though breast-growth was all that odd, anyway. She was eighteen, but still growing. And anyway, her chest was hidden well enough. She had already adjusted her diet to decrease her calorie intake. Things were going to be fine.

They stood in a loaded, hesitative silence. Megan wondered which of them would be the first to address the elephant (elephants?) in the room.

No one stepped up.

“You have the powder?” said Jane, getting straight to business. They were always jonesing by this time, after a long day of school.

“Let’s go,” said Megan, pulling the sandwich bag full of powder out of her pocket.

It wasn’t just embarrassment that kept the trio from talking about their bodily changes. It was the burden that came with acknowledging their changes as side-effects, and the potential solution to that. Stopping the drug. No one wanted to risk it. Things were just so good at present. What did a little weight gain matter anyway?

-

Early one morning, Megan awoke sweating heavily. It was before sunrise, and it didn’t’ take her long to realize what had roused her. Her body was hot, her chest tingling, and her nipples aching in pain but also in need. Her loins were tingling, and she was so close to the cusp, she found herself gasping.

She needed to cool down. In just her pajama shorts and a tank top, Megan got up and shuffled out of her bedroom, heading for the bathroom down the hall. She crossed her arms over her bloated chest in case she bumped into anyone. She locked herself in the bathroom and climbed into the shower, dousing herself for just a minute in cool water. Her nipples stung more, and her fingers twitched to touch them, but the water was pacifying enough that she was able to resist.

Megan got out of the shower, toweled herself off, and waited a few moments until she stopped shivering. She got dressed and paused to survey herself. She stared at the way her breasts bulged out in her shirt. They were full and soft—they had to be B-cups by then. Her nipples protruded out visibly in her shirt, and the mounds were honestly perfect. Sometimes she wondered why she was fighting this anyway. People would accept her late development, even see it as normal, probably.

Still, she tried not to touch them in general. She tried not to pay too much attention to them but they seemed to be growing bigger every day.

Lightly shaking her head, Megan left the bathroom, making a beeline for her room, but she couldn’t help noticing the beam of light down the hall where her sister’s bedroom door stood ajar. Megan found it so typical that Amy would make the same mistake twice. Of course, the first time had been a dream. …hadn’t it been? Megan felt her legs moving, felt herself drawing closer to the strip of light, as though magnetized by it. It made sense that Amy would be up this early. She had college midterms this week. She would be heading off to the library for some last-minute studying. It was probably entirely innocent.

Megan continued to covertly approach her sister’s bedroom door. Maybe she wanted confirmation that Amy’s weird, massive, belly-breast—thing—hadn’t actually been real. Maybe she wanted…something else. She didn’t know and she was too distracted to really think about it. She laid her hands on the doorframe, took a deep breath, and peeked through the opening.

Amy wasn’t sprawled back in bed beneath a beach ball of a belly as she had been in Megan’s dream about her.

No.

Instead Amy was standing upright, back straining to support the same beach ball of a belly, the massive one, that looked at full-term with triplets (albeit more jiggly), the belly that seemed to inexplicably shrink down in size during the day, but was egregiously massive at present.

Amy was straining into some sort of material contraption, face red as she struggled to wrap it around herself, her belly. It was maybe a girdle of some sort, a…was it a…maternity girdle?

Amy was panting heavily, struggling, fumbling. She backed into the wall, leaning on it for leverage as she grunted and puffed out frustrated breaths until finally she managed to close the first latch on the girdle.

Gasping for breath, face red, Amy closed the remaining latches, until her mound was tightly compressed, so much so that Amy could hardly seem to inhale. A patch of moisture bloomed on the face of the girdle, and Amy cursed quietly, laying her hand on the side of her mound. Lightly shaking her head, Amy pulled a huge T-shit over herself. She had gone from looking hugely pregnant to just beer-fat again, her belly looking quite large, but nowhere near as obscenely massive as it actually was in reality. Megan could only stare gaping, speechless as Amy wiped some sweat from her brow. Megan wondered how long her sister had been growing. How long she’d been trying to…hide it, in this way. Megan felt herself backing away from Amy’s bedroom door. As quietly as she could, she slipped back into her own room, where she lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, absolutely stunned.

-

Megan wished it had been a dream. But now she knew that both instances that she’d spied on her sister had been utter reality.

The following afternoon she sat in her bedroom, still a little dazed by the morning’s events. Sam and Jane were present, riding out their highs, slowly coming out of it. The trio had begun to worry less and less about the prospect of getting caught, now routinely getting high in Megan’s bedroom with Megan’s parents downstairs only a few dozen feet away.

Meg gazed around at her friends. They looked entirely content, Jane perched in Megan’s desk chair, and Sam slumped back on a bean bag. Megan herself was sprawled across the width of her bed. “Do you think we should stop?” she blurted out, even as she licked some residue of the drug off her finger.

Sam and Jane looked at her in shock.

“Hell no,” said Jane, getting up.

“Are you insane?” said Sam, struggling a bit under her weight.

And they were right, in fact, echoing the sentiments that filled Megan’s own head. She looked at Jane’ plump ass—a nice ass at that. Not that Megan was gay or anything. It was just a fat, plump ass that looked juicy in its perfection. It looked as though it was surgically enhanced, as though Jane had gotten implants or injections. It stretched out Jane’ tight leggings, the material hugging the mass and sinking deep into her crack no matter how much Jane fidgeted for relief.

Sam was a different story. She was just getting round, her belly firm and bulging, making her look seven months into a pregnancy. Sam often hiccupped or patted her mound fondly. Megan sometimes eyed Sam’s stretched shirts, looking for the protrusion of the odd massive nipple that Amy’s belly had developed. But Sam’s belly button remained inward as far as Megan could tell, and her belly didn’t have the characteristic softness of Amy’s, but remained firm-looking. Megan didn’t know whether or not to see this as a good sign.

“You’re right,” she said absently, glancing down at her shirt, where her breasts were uncomfortably confined, yet still beginning to puff her top out, because there was only so much the layered undershirts could hide.

She could no longer imagine her life now without the daily highs. It was indisputably worth it to feel this good, this happy and unburdened, and she just couldn't—couldn’t—go back to the way things had been before. She didn’t think she would survive it.

So if she continued to grow, that would just be incidental to her new self. The high was more important. “Just kidding,” she murmured.

-

Amy’s shirt was wet all the time, even in front of their parents. She was…leaking, and dripping white stuff—her, her milk—all over the place, and her parents didn’t know what to think about it. Maybe they were baffled. Maybe they thought it was sweat. Megan found the whole thing to be weird and fascinating, that her sister had developed a giant breast where her lean midsection had once been.

Amy tried to keep to her bedroom most of the time. When she wasn’t, she could be seen huffing and puffing, flushed and huge, even with her girdle on. She was blowing up, and their parents’ frustration had turned to anguish. They were worried about Amy’s health. There was talk of specialists, therapists, even consults with bariatric surgeons. After one final fight, Amy had had enough. She made on her threats and left. Megan couldn’t blame her.

It was actually kind of a relief to the uneasiness Megan felt whenever her gaze had crossed her sister’s expanding body.

It had made Megan uneasy about her own changes, her own—breasts. Would they just keep growing? They hadn’t stopped yet.

The mounds were as plump as ever, and incredibly tender. They were full Cs by then, and were stubbornly pushing into visibility despite Megan’s efforts to conceal them. Most of the day Megan either felt uncomfortable or aroused by the heated mounds. Her grades were near perfect, her spirits higher than ever, but her breasts remained a constant distraction that resulted in her thinking about them constantly, and fidgeting to touch them. And hell, it might have been time to indulge.

4.

She tried it in the early hours of the morning, still mildly disgusted with the thought of it. But the more her mounds grew, the more they got in her way, in her eyesight, the more sensitive they felt, the more they begged to be touched, just experimentally, just to see what happened.

And so Megan did it. She lightly glided her pointer finger over her nipple, releasing a shuddering breath as she did, her shoulders rolling back slightly. She did it again, this time with both nipples. She tried grabbing hold of the pink nubs and squeezing slightly as she rolled them between her fingers.

“Oh.” Megan trembled, and had to release them, surprised by the jolt of electricity that shot through her stomach. She stared down at her nipples, which felt tense now. Both had hardened. But it wasn’t just that. They had distended slightly, now visibly swollen. Megan panted quietly.

Unable to stop herself, she reached for them again, and kept going, squeezing, stroking, rolling, and tugging. She got harsher as she gained confidence, her hips twitching as her loins tingled. She couldn’t believe how stimulating this was. “Oh god,” she hissed, then she pressed her mouth closed, squeezing her eyes shut. This was almost better than rubbing her clit.

Megan didn’t last long. Her insides tightened up, her body arching as the most intense orgasm she’d ever felt tore through her being. She swore, then quickly covered her mouth. She sank down, warm and gasping, as sweat poured into her sheets and pillows.

There was a light knocking on her bedroom door. “Everything okay in there?” her mother called.

Megan’s eyes darted to her clock. She withheld another curse. It was already time to start getting ready for school. “I’m fine,” she called, then winced at the hoarseness of her voice.

Her mother sounded doubtful as she responded, “Breakfast in fifteen.”

Megan listened to her footsteps pad away, then she scrambled up, still unable to process the significance of what she had just experienced. It was only as she was looking for a loose enough shirt that she noticed her nipples were…dripping. A fluid that was warm and white. Milk.

She stood there gaping down at herself for a while, before more footsteps outside in the hall snapped her out of her reverie. She quickly grabbed up a towel and began to harshly wipe away the droplets, shuddering slightly at the new sensations of arousal this roused. It only took a few dabs, and all evidence of leaking had disappeared. Megan breathed a sigh of relief, figuring that it had been a one-time thing. A fluke. She quickly got dressed and headed for the kitchen.

Breakfast felt awkward.

Megan sat hunched in her seat, decreasing the visibility of the hot, flushed breasts hidden under her shirt.

If her parents had noticed her weight gain, they certainly weren’t pestering her about it. Maybe they had learned their lesson from their experience with Amy.

“More eggs, hun?” her father offered.

Megan accepted. She took some extra juice and milk as well, feeling rather parched.

She still felt numb from the orgasm. It had been almost—spiritual in its intensity. She wanted to tell someone—maybe her friends. But what could she really say? That she had tweaked her boobs until she came? Megan hastily dismissed the idea.

After breakfast, she went to school, hardly focused on what was going on around her, just pushing through the school day in her eagerness to get home.

She and her friends hung out in one of the hallways before sixth period, waiting for a class to start. She could see some other students in her periphery pointing in her direction—no, pointing at Jane and Sam, while sniggering. Yet Megan could hardly notice or care. She knew that her friends were in similarly numb states.

After school ended, Megan sped off home, not even discussing the plans for the evening with Jane and Sam. It was always the same anyway. They would come by in an hour or two.

Right then, Megan just needed a moment to herself. Once she got home, she burst into her room and quickly pulled up her shirt. Her breasts were sore; aching for freedom. She impatiently jerked off her layered tank tops and undershirts, breathing a sigh of relief as the heated mounds made contact with the cool air.

They were really hot lately. And her nipples had been stinging all day. She wondered if it was from all the attention she had given them earlier. It had certainly been worth it. Megan’s hand idly drifted towards her chest, but she stopped herself, instead lowering it. She had to think this through. She pulled her top-layer shirt back on, groaning quietly as the material dragged against her nipples.

Suddenly the bedroom door banged open. Before Megan could figure out what was going on, she suddenly found herself standing face to face with her two friends, her round breasts bulging blatantly in her T-shirt, unrestricted.

The three stood in silence, staring at each other. Actually, Jane and Sam were gawking at Megan’s chest. Megan didn’t know what to say and could feel heat rising to her face.

Sam spoke first. “Your parents let us in.” Scratching her round belly, she finally detached her gaze from Megan’s chest.

Megan crossed her arms. “Right.”

“So…” said Jane. “Do you want to get high?”

Leave it to Jane to get straight to the point.

“Um, yes,” said Megan decidedly. “I have some here in the desk.” As awkward as she felt about the growth, she couldn’t help being a little relieved that it was out in the open to Sam and Jane. The layers were getting unbearable with all the heat and tenderness lately. It was nice to be able to relax in her own home. “Lock the door, will you?”

She heard the lock snap as Jane or Sam locked it.

Megan pulled a plastic baggy of the green powder out of her lower desk drawer, from where it had been buried under a pile of papers and other paraphernalia. She turned back to Jane and Sam, ignoring the jiggle of her mounds, and held out the bag. “Help yourselves.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Jane.

They each took a pinch.

-

When Megan came over her high, she was embarrassed to see that her hand was buried in her shirt, caressing one of her boobs. She quickly retracted it, and looked around to see if the others had noticed.

Fortunately, they had not. Sam sat in a daze, her face vacant, as Jane blinked around, just getting over her own high.

“Ohh…” Sam gave a quiet groan, as she pressed the heel of her hand to her round belly, where it was stretching out the shirt she was wearing. Megan saw the mound ripple, as though with movement, but she blinked a few times, certain she had imagined it. Sam just belched and closed her eyes as her hand gently massaged the front of her gut. It was getting huge on Sam’s short, scrawny frame. Megan would have sworn that Sam was pregnant, but Sam was adamant that she was a virgin.

Jane shifted on the beanbag, fumbling slightly on her plump ass. She sighed and resigned herself, leaning back. Then she gave Megan a long look. “What happened to you?” she said languidly.

“What do you mean?” said Megan.

Jane raised both eyebrows and nodded towards Megan’s chest. Megan felt a little defensive. Just before she could retort about Jane’ own growths, she felt it.

The pulse of heat in her nipples. The tingling, stinging, and sensation of wetness. She looked down to spot twin patches of moisture growing on her shirt. “Oh no,” she whispered, crossing her arms to hide it. She winced. Why the hell did she keep lactating?

“Oh, don’t hide them,” said Jane, as Sam opened her eyes to watch the scene. “You look great.”

Megan felt a nervous laugh escape her throat. “Do you think it’s the drug?” she blurted out. “Our—changes?”

“What do you think?” Jane laughed back. “My ass is about to blow.”

“You look like Nicki Minaj,” Sam sniggered.

“What about you?” said Megan. “You look pregnant!”

“You finally grew tits!”

Megan could hardly breathe, it was all so ludicrous. By then, tears were streaming down her cheeks.

It took a while for the three to calm down, partially prompted by Megan’s father knocking on the door. That was rather sobering.

“You girls alright in there?” Megan’s father called.

“Yeah dad,” said Megan, catching her breath. “Everything’s fine.”

They waited until they heard him walk away.

“So…” said Sam, wiping her own eyes. Her free hand continued to palm at her round gut. “What do we do?”

Megan frowned slightly. It was something she had been contemplating for a while now. She was sure they all had been.

After a loaded silence, Megan decided to speak. “What can we do?”

It was the answer in itself.

She waited to see if the others had any other ideas, but they didn’t. They were just as helplessly addicted to the drug as she was. She knew they all needed help. But she couldn’t bring herself to seek it out, and apparently, neither could Sam or Jane.

“How are you guys holding up?” said Megan nervously.

“Well, my parents are on my ass about it,” said Jane.

She was rewarded with another few chuckles, before attention shifted to Sam.

“Okay, I guess,” said Sam shyly. “Kind of uncomfortable. My parents are putting me on a diet, but I’m just so hungry all the time. I get the munchies, I think? And so I sneak food. Like, all the time.” She reddened, but continued to absently stroke her gut.

Megan nodded in understanding. “Does it…does it have a nipple?” she heard herself blurt.

“What?” said Sam.

“Never mind.”

“No, what are you talking about?” said Sam.

“Your stomach,” said Megan, her throat dry. “Uh, your belly button. Has it come to resemble like, a nipple, or something?”

Jane and Sam stared at her as though she was insane.

“She must still be high,” said Jane.

“I think that’s clear,” said Sam.

Megan gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah,” she mumbled.

5.

Things were getting weirder.

Aside from trying to deal with the plump, round, occasionally dripping, C-cups on her chest, Megan had developed an itch directly beneath them, on her ribs. She scratched at herself impatiently at night, and discreetly during the day, the skin taking on a pinkish hue. It was just another thing to deal with. Megan suspected the weight of her often-sweaty tits was irritating her skin there.

Megan received her order of some new bras. She withdrew the first slinky pink item, rather admiring it as she strapped it on. She supposed the relief outweighed the weirdness and discomfort of trying to hide her breast growth all the time. Megan stared down at her perky mounds in the C-cup bra. To her surprise, her breast-flesh was bulging somewhat against the cups, as though the bra was slightly too small. Megan closed her eyes and tried not to think for a moment. She then got some of the hormone and got a little high.

It was easier to process this debacle when she was at least slightly inebriated. She appreciated no longer having to quaver from the sensation of her nipples rubbing against the insides of her T-shirts when she was alone in her room.

Her ribs were still so itchy. She was developing a bump on her skin under her right breast. There was another bump on the opposite side, once she really explored it. She’d tried creams and lotions she found in the medicine cabinet, and though they cooled her skin temporarily, they had yet to resolve the issue.

“Damn Megan, your boobs are beautiful,” Jane mentioned one afternoon.

“I think they’re getting bigger,” said Sam as she indulgently stared.

Megan glared at them as she fidgeted under her shirt. Her breast-flesh was bubbling heavily over her bra cups by then, the skin on her upper ribs still itchy and now slightly puffy from all the irritation. “Thanks?” she said in annoyance as she adjusted herself again.

She knew they were growing. They seemed to throb and leak every night the moment she sank in her bed, as though sensing she was alone, sensing the idleness of her wandering fingers. They were hot and achy and drove her insane. And touching them, tweaking her nipples, continued to be the most luxurious sensation in the world. Even at that moment, her nipples were bulging hard in her shirt, swollen and tender, practically begging to be touched. Megan closed her eyes and tried to breathe. If she started to leak, her friends would just get worse in their weird commentary.

“I think they’re D’s,” piped in Sam.

“Shh…shut up,” Megan groaned, but it was no use, they were seeping. Her nipples distended as she moaned quietly, wiping sweat from her brow. Her friends were left gawking.

Jane awkwardly cleared her throat. “They look good, Meg.”

“They’re ridiculous,” Megan retorted. Especially on her slim frame. And they were getting harder to hide at school and during family meals. The bandages compressed them, but painfully, and not very adequately. Sometimes, when they were engorged, she felt like they’d just burst.

Jane started, “Yeah, but—”

“What’s with this obsession with them, anyway?” Megan complained.

There was a beat of silence.

“I can appreciate a nice pair of boobs,” said Jane.

This caused Sam to laugh and Megan to smile, the tension dissolving somewhat.

Megan sighed and lightly shook her head as she gazed down at the way her chest was stretching out her T-shirt. “Do you mind if I…they’re just so hot.” Not waiting for an answer, she pulled off her shirt, releasing a quiet hiss as her hot skin was exposed to the cool air within her bedroom. Milk was dripping directly from her bra, her hard nipples perfectly outlined against the straining wet material. Megan uneasily bit her bottom lip as she surveyed herself. She knew her nipples were large, almost unusually so. And she knew that she was lactating a lot lately. It was getting bad, and she didn’t know what to do. Tearing her gaze away from her chest, she attempted to change the subject. “Sam, you’re fucking huge.”

Sam and Jane seemed to snap out of their reveries as their focus was also pulled away from Megan’s chest.

“I know,” Sam shrugged as she lightly patted her gut.

That was putting it lightly. Sam looked as though she was pregnant, like, very pregnant, even due with child. Her belly didn’t even come close to resembling weight gain, especially when the rest of her body remained slim, save for her chest, which was getting fuller lately.

“You should see a doctor,” said Jane.

“Hm. Probably,” said Sam, as she continued to lightly stroke her abdomen. She seemed strangely content in the face of so much uncertainty.

Megan lightly shook her head as she went and prepared herself another hit.

-

In another few weeks, Megan was struggling to minimize the appearance of a fat pair of DDs on her chest.

It was just insane how perky and plump they were. Nowadays her parents were doing double takes or giving her concerned looks. As much as Megan tried to conceal the mounds, their largeness was getting kind of obvious.

Her friends helped her to feel better, if just by way of their abnormalities.

Sam was starting to look like a whale. She was even beginning to waddle. It was bizarre. She looked as though she had a beach ball attached to her torso.

All her shirts strained to contain her, some of them on the cusp of tearing right open. Her pants and skirts were jammed low under her firm gut, barely hanging on.

Sam puffed and panted wherever she went, always flushed pink and sweating profusely. When she wasn’t in motion, she laid, practically squashed beneath her mound, looked utterly exhausted.

It remained a mystery why she had still yet to seek medical attention. Every time one of her friends suggested it (lightly, and awkwardly, but with a hint of urgency), Sam gave an eerie look and vaguely agreed (though she never did).

“I don’t know guys,” she said one afternoon where she was sprawled, uncomfortably, on her usual bean bag in Megan’s room. “I just feel like—like it’s fine. You know?” She fumbled, trying to get comfortable. Her belly was trembling even when she was not moving. The first few times she had seen it, Megan had been certain it was her imagination. But it wasn’t. Sam’s belly moved. Even at that moment, Megan could see Sam’s skin press out beneath her navel.

“Sam, I think there’s something very wrong with you,” said Jane, and Megan had never seen Jane look so nervous.

“There’s something wrong with all of us,” said Sam dismissively. “Your ass is completely insane. And Megan has the fattest rack I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey,” protested Megan, uncertain of whether to be flattered or insulted. Her rack was pretty fat. At present she was trying to rub at her sensitive under-boob flesh as discreetly as she could. The skin had only gotten puffier and more irritated over time, tapering in an unusual way, like two soft little mountains directly beneath each of her large breasts. She wondered if she was getting cysts or something. Just another problem to add to the pile. At least the issue was hidden by her tits. That was the one bright side, she supposed.

“Yeah…” Jane conceded, looking increasingly uneasy. Her ass was truly massive. Megan didn’t even know where she found pants. It looked like she had two volleyballs stuffed in the seat of them, ass cheeks wobbling around after her in the most sexually confusing way imaginable. “I’ve been getting these weird growths. On my head, actually.”

Megan blinked and lifted her gaze. Jane’ head looked no different than usual. But Jane was reaching into her wavy brown hair, fingering something.

“They’re like…bone spurs, or something,” Jane continued. “I may actually have to go see a doctor.”

“Seriously?” Megan got up, and touched Jane’ head without thought. It was true. There was a little spike that was hard, like a bone. Jane took her wrist, and directed her fingers to another one, on the opposite side.

It was only then that Megan noticed that Jane was getting an eyeful of cleavage in the too-small tank top Megan was wearing. Her breasts were practically stuffed in her friend’s face.

“You are shameless,” said Megan, stepping back. She self-consciously adjusted her top, nipples aching.

Jane sarcastically blew a kiss. Sam laughed at them.

The trio bantered a bit, then fell into discussion of other things, Megan happy to steer the conversation away from their ever-changing bodies.

-

Megan didn’t know how nursing women could even tolerate this. Her breasts were so achy yet she couldn’t stop touching them. And the more she touched them, the more they seeped. It was an endless cycle of torment and arousal. And it was driving her nuts.

Her rash was getting out of control. The irritation was so constant and disruptive, Megan feared she might actually have to go see a dermatologist. She examined herself in the bathroom one evening after several days of trying to ignore the problem, but in actuality, fidgeting and pawing at herself through her clothes. She lifted her plump, leaky tits in her hands and examined the puffy flesh beneath them.

Her jaw dropped.

On the skin just beneath each breast, a small mountain had formed, topped off with a pink bump she had thought to be a mole or a cyst or something. But now it looked very defined and distinct, and was almost painfully sensitive when she isolated her touch to just that spot.

She gulped as one actually seemed to…harden. It looked like—it was—it was a second pair of breasts.

“What the fuck,” Megan wheezed out, dropping her arms, and causing her fat DDs to slap painfully down against the small pair of breasts just beneath them. She thought she was losing her mind, so she quickly checked again, then lowered her breasts, and walked across the room, running her fingers down her face and through her sweaty hair.

This was impossible.

She was losing it.

She had never seen or heard of—anything—like it before.

How was this—how could—She sunk down the wall, face in her hands as she drew up her knees. She felt her heart pounding. She didn’t know how to deal with this

-

An hour later, Megan found herself at Sam’s house. She felt dazed and sick, and just wanted to be high, but she didn’t want to do it alone. She didn’t think she could handle being alone at that moment.

Sam didn’t seem to be doing too well herself, though her ails were more physical. She was groaning and bitching, continuously clutching at her side. She complained about her back and hips, and how she couldn’t get her body to relax.

The girl looked massive. Her belly button stuck out like an oven timer. She looked practically crushed beneath her mass, small and mousy as the rest of her was. When she stood, she leaned heavily on the wall, and arched, so her gut stuck out even farther.

Her hips looked wider today, oddly enough. And her belly, somehow lower. She would clutch at the underside, and tense, and curse lightly every while. “I feel like I’m going to burst,” she whined, palming her heaving mass.

Megan passed her a hit, and as Sam took it, it looked almost as though her belly swelled somewhat.

6.

Jane came over just as they were sobering up from their latest high.

She was wearing a pair of tight black leggings which her butt was stretching to drastic extremes, the material riding up her crack, as her ass-cheeks bobbed, actually bobbed behind her.

Megan found herself staring, sort of entranced by the rocking and swaying masses, big as basketballs behind Jane’ back.

Sam was sprawled on the bed, somewhat more relaxed, though she still tensed up and twitched every now and then.

Megan finally tore her gaze away from Jane’ backside. “This stuff is really messing with our bodies,” she heard herself blurt. “I mean—my hormones—they’re going crazy. Really weird stuff keeps happening.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m gonna try to quit.”

Her friends gave her blank, dubious stares.

Jane repeatedly reached into her hair, rubbing, scratching, her face screwed up in uncertainty.

-

Megan’s boobs were growing.

All four of them.

The lower pair was progressing much more rapidly than the upper pair, but each of the four mounds was undeniably getting fatter and fatter.

She was seriously jonesing. She tried to distract herself with school work and video games. She often went to Sam’s house, where Sam was uncomfortable, irritable, and in a small amount of pain.

Sam would fumble against her mass. She looked ludicrous and deformed. Her belly was practically as big as she was, and she could hardly get up, not without the aid of Megan and Jane supporting either side of her. She had taken sick leave from school.

Sam’s pain wasn’t constant. Her belly tensed every so often, causing Sam to grimace and groan and clutch it, before the episode passed and she was panting, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” even though the claim was ludicrous.

She was blowing up, mutinous and uncomfortable, and somehow resistant to her own body. She just said she was okay. And she wanted to get high, again and again, as though to subdue the discomfort. She outright refused to see a doctor. Then one day, as she tried to heave herself up, she collapsed to the floor and lay there moaning and clutching what she could of her mass with her hands.

Sam’s belly jerked, and she released a scream. Megan was frozen in shock as Sam floundered on the floor.

Jane must have been more lucid than Megan was, because she heaved her ass out of her chair with some effort. “Call an ambulance!” she said, hurrying to Sam’s side.

Sam was writhing, her gargantuan belly jerking and heaving forcefully like a rocking boulder. It genuinely looked like it was about to burst.

Snapping out of her reverie, Megan managed to get on the phone despite her pounding head and excessive sweating. Through the withdrawal, she somehow stammered her way through her friend’s predicament.

Paramedics arrived in moments, and Sam—well, she—delivered.

-

The doctors were amazed. Sam was stunned.

She had given birth to quints, and with no medical attention during the pregnancy or fertility treatment preceding it. On top of that, she kept claiming to be a virgin. The whole situation was ludacris and baffling, and Megan…was rather queasy.

She hadn’t seen Sam in days, not since Sam had been carted off to the hospital and become famous (or infamous). Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Megan saw Sam sometimes when she turned on the news, her friend looking weary, pale, and overwhelmed.

It was a lot to take in. So much so that Megan found herself hitting the hormones again.

What if the drug had somehow changed Sam, at a biological, anatomical, physiological level? The thought was terrifying and nausea-inducing. Then again, Sam could have been lying about the whole virginity thing. But somehow, it didn't fit the mousy girl’s personality.

Jane seemed almost as stunned as Megan was. She sat and stared off, persistently scratching at the top of her head, where the bone spur things were worsening. “This stuff is really messed up,” Jane mentioned one day.

“Yeah…” Megan agreed. Daily, she tried to resist the drug, and failed. It was the only thing that felt remotely right anymore.

She continued to try to hide her growing breasts from her family, but her efforts increased in futility alongside her size. It got to the point that she couldn’t be bothered to care much anymore. She impatiently jammed her tits into tank tops that steadily shrank against her girth. Half the school already ostracized her, the other half looking at her like the freak she was. But Megan didn’t care about that either. All that ever mattered was her next high.

-

It was an entire month since her departure that Sam showed up again.

She was no longer towing an enormous globe of straining flesh, but looked very fat around the middle. Rounded, but softer.

Her belly bobbed and swayed somewhat. Reliably, the rest of her was still small and thin.

Sam looked flustered, awkward, and weary. She was inexpertly clutching a baby in one of her arms.

The baby gave one look at Megan and released a high-pitched wail. Megan cursed as her upper breasts immediately started squirting, soaking through her shirt. It was bizarre, like the baby had activated something in her.

“Damn it, Sam!” Megan snapped, hugging her chest. Even her hidden lower nipples were aching.

Sam threw her a frown. Jane just stared from Sam to the infant, then back again.

By that point, Jane’ bone spurs seemed more like two little horns protruding from the top of her head. “Surprised to see you back,” Jane looked at Sam as though she was an alien. Then she added awkwardly, to Megan’s surprise, "Can I... Can I hold...?”

Sam unceremoniously dumped the baby into Jane’s arms. “I’ve just been really overwhelmed lately,” she said, looking helpless. “I thought we could just hang out. It’s been a lot of stress.” Her eyes trailed about the room, as though she was looking for something. “So what are you guys up to?”

Megan fidgeted in her wet shirt.

Her upper breasts had become E-cups by then, and served as a sort of overhang to the developing lower pair. They were B-cups, but Megan didn’t think anyone had noticed them yet. She folded her arms over her lower mounds. She wanted to change into a dry shirt, though it would be pointless. The baby was still gabbing and she was still leaking. “Can you control that thing?”

“Meg, that’s my baby,” said Sam wearily, plucking the infant back out of Jane’s arms. “And it’s a she.”

With that, Sam unbuttoned the top of her blouse and stuffed the baby against her chest. Megan couldn’t help gawking. It was so weird that Sam had become a mother all the sudden.

Sam’s breasts were round and full, but not that impressive. C-cups at best. Megan tore her gaze away as the sound of the baby suckling filtered through the room.

“It sucks,” Sam supplied, though no one had asked. “Not only was the labor just awful, but now I’m their twenty-four hour buffet. I don't want to nurse but mom says I have to.”

The silence went on, Megan and Jane left speechless by the awkward train of the discussion.

“So…do you have any powder?” Sam asked.

Megan snapped out of her reverie. “You’re kidding, right?”

Sam looked desperate, almost pained. “I’m not,” she said.

Megan’s attention shifted back to the newborn suckling on Sam’s chest. “Should you really be taking drugs while you’re…”

“How am I supposed to know?” said Sam impatiently. She rubbed her face with her free hand. “Does it look like I care right now?”

“Sam, isn’t the hormone what got you into this mess?” said Jane uneasily.

“Are you going to give me some or not?” said Sam irritably.

The behavior was so uncharacteristic for her usually meek and mild-mannered friend that Megan was rendered mute again.

But after a moment, Jane lightly shook her head. She retrieved a baggy of the hormone from the desk on the far side of the room and handed it over to Sam.

“Thanks,” said Sam faintly as she accepted the bag. She was practically drooling as she opened it.

She took a sniff, and momentarily froze, her eyes closing as a hum escaped her throat. She stood there like that for at least a full moment, before gingerly making her way towards the bed, still clutching the infant to her chest. She sat down heavily, and reclined, and sort of just zoned out as she stared at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, while remaining distinctly mindful of the baby against her.

After that, things went back to normal. Or as normal as things could be after a teenage girl randomly popped out quints.

Sam relied heavily on her parents to look after the babies. Sometimes she would attend to her breasts with an electric pump, the sight of which made Megan dizzy. But she mostly hung out with Megan and Jane in the evenings, and they spoke lethargically of dubious plans to leave their small town someday. Possibly sooner than later.

Megan had somehow gotten into college. She wondered if her strong grades for the first half of the school year had counterbalanced her apathy in the latter half.

People were talking about orientations and ISBN numbers, and all she could think about was how her four tits were getting bigger and bigger, the lower ones pushing, heaving the other ones upwards, and it was like some terrible nightmare that her freakish anomaly would soon be blatant on her chest.

In a weird way, she was jealous of Sam. Sam had effectively birthed out her abnormalities in the form of five babies. Even Jane seemed to have it better that Megan. Yes, Jane’ ass cheeks were absolutely massive, but it wasn’t as though she had four of them. Woah, that would be trippy.

Megan felt as though she spent a lot of her time tugging on her shirt hems as her tops were drawn higher and tighter. Her upper breasts were unnaturally perky, sticking up uncomfortably atop the shelf that the lower ones created.

Megan’s upper breasts were blatant and huge, and she no longer made any efforts to hide them, because it was absolutely futile to try to disguise volleyball’s sticking out from one’s torso. Her lower breasts had to be C-cups by then, and were undeniably starting to peek out beneath.

Her parents just seemed numb, disturbed, mute. Astonishingly, they hadn’t said anything. But really, what could they? They were awkward and mortified and could hardly even look at her anymore. Their daughter was transforming, and they were helpless to stop it.

One morning, her mother did finally address it.

“What’s going on with you?” she said, gazing at Megan, then back down at her scrambled eggs. “Have you just been…um…do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Megan weakly responded. “I mean I just…I don’t really know what’s going on.” Her face was hot, and she was so embarrassed, she sort of wanted to die.

But somehow she had opened the flood gates, literally. Tears poured down her mother’s face, which just made everything so much worse. Megan failed to evade as her mother closed in for a tight hug, and it was as uncomfortable as it was stimulating, the whole thing altogether horrifying. Megan patted her mother’s arm as she grimaced and struggled for dear life not to start squirting milk, thus exacerbating everything (including her humiliation).

After that, her parents went into options, as Megan sat and vacantly nodded in her flustered, tender state. They started consulting specialists. Apparently they couldn’t afford treatment for a potential hormone imbalance or her “cosmetic issues” as it was not considered medically necessary by her insurance. They promised they would start saving for breast reduction surgery. Apparently they hadn’t noticed the lower pair yet. But then, Megan spent most of her time with her arms folded against them.

Though Megan nodded and indulged them with short, auspicious responses, as she retired to her room that evening, she laid down, feeling very doubtful that any treatment would be helpful. Especially considering the fact that she was still using.

She took her late-night hit of the hormone and dozed away.

7.

Megan tried to bandage her lower breasts down, but they were just so tender. And they were getting unquestionably large. It hardly helped. So she kept her arms folded against them most of the time, inconveniently enough, heaving up the upper pair, but it was worth it if it helped to hide the lower pair just a little better.

Most of the time, Megan was flushed and fidgeting. She felt stimulated and uncomfortable beneath the bandages and her layers of clothes. She was constantly sweaty, and dazed, hardly paying attention to anything aside from the conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure caused by the compression. The bandages always felt as though they were tighter by the end of the school day. It was almost unbearable to be squeezed and compacted in such a way.

She suddenly had huge breasts. Two pairs. She had transformed from a skinny tomboy to a girl with huge, bobbing tits, and the rest of the school didn’t really know how to react to it, other than to point, giggle, or gawk at her continuously. Some teachers and students thought it was a foul joke. Others just seemed utterly confused and concerned. Megan was sure that the varying reactions to her appearance would have bothered her were she not continuously riding at least a low grade high. As such, she could barely pay attention or care. Not until things got physical.

Megan was roughly shoved in the hallway one day after school. She was so absent to the world around her that she failed to register that someone had not deliberately pushed her, but had unintentionally bumped into her.

“You prick,” Megan told the offender as she followed him into the men’s bathroom while in the process of hammering him with her small fists, this broad, tall…guy. He shoved her into the wall.

“‘the hell is wrong with you?” He sneered at her.

Megan vaguely recognized him to be one of the hockey players in her year. He was fairly new to the school, and Megan didn’t think they had any classes together.

His name was, maybe, Roger, and it was odd for Megan to see him in this context. Roger usually spent his time bullying other people. Fat kids, and kids with bad skin, or ugly faces. Poor kids and kids with disabilities, or lisps, or the ones who ceaselessly talked about how cool their parents were. The weirdos, goths, and freaks with no friends. Roger bullied the stand-outs, not the ones who stood indifferently on the sidelines. Not kids like Megan.

Oh, Megan registered, belatedly. She had become one of those kids. Infuriated, she attempted to hit him in the crotch, but at the last minute, he caught her hand.

Rogers free hand roughly grabbed her upper right breast. “You started it,” he told her as she gasped. “What the fuck do you have stuffed under here? This can’t all actually be your…” Roger trailed off.

Megan was shuddering, her knees close to buckling beneath her. Her breasts were outrageously sensitive to her own touch, but she hadn’t anticipated that the touch of another person, even rough and sloppy, would completely send her body into overdrive. Her panties were rapidly moistening, heat pooling in her stomach as her tits ached and tightened, nipples distending significantly, almost painfully. She could feel the areolas puffing out, could feel her milk surging the bloated tissue. She had no hope of containing the dam. “Oh god,” Megan breathed as milk poured into her shirt.

“’The fuck?” said Roger, pulling back against the flow of warm wetness. But he furrowed his eyebrows and returned to his rough investigation, as he groped at Megan’s chest, feeling the masses, the bloated tenderness and the round heft of them. Impatiently, Roger began to jerk up Megan’s shirt. “No way,” he said. “No way these are real.”

“Stop!” Megan tried to pull away, but her legs were jello, and she just ended up tripping on her own feet and slumping down the wall. Roger followed her, crouching down, staring at what he had uncovered. Megan’s shirt had been drawn up under her chin, and her upper breasts were on display, bulging heavily from the E-cup bra straining to contain them.

“Holy shit,” Roger breathed, then he reddened slightly, quickly withdrawing his hands. His eyes trailed over the bulging bandages tucked beneath Megan’s upper mounds. “Cosmetic surgery?” He looked at Megan as though she was completely insane.

“No, I…” Megan wasn’t sure why she would disagree. It was probably a better explanation than what had actually happened—that she had mysteriously sprouted them while snorting cow feed over months.

She imagined a scenario where she was so desperate for attention that she would invest thousands of dollars of savings into getting ludicrously huge breasts.

Roger’s continued to stare at the bandages. Without thought, he brushed over them with his thumb. What he thought was just swollen flesh and a surgery wound was another set of breasts. Even through the layers, the contact was insanely arousing. The lower mounds were so new, and sensitive, practically starved for attention. Just as Roger’s hand finally pulled away, just as he was backing down, it happened. Megan’s lowered breasts tightened, and pushed, and surged, as though to follow Roger’s hand. Megan cried out as the bandages pulled and squeezed her, face reddening and ribs compressing. “Fuuhhhh…ngghhhhh…” She groaned, twitching, until there was a tearing noise, and the bandages rapidly came apart.

She gasped for breath, face red, body shuddering. It was just too much, too stimulating, the sensation of her lower breasts pushing and throbbing while squished beneath the upper pair. By instinct, Megan reached down and quickly lifted the upper pair to alleviate the debilitating pressure. Twin spurts of milk splattered forward, causing Roger’s jaw to drop. But Roger’s attention was quickly captured by the masses beneath them, his eyes becoming impossibly wide. A choking noise escaped his throat.

Megan couldn’t see her lower breasts, but she knew they were bigger, and growing. She could fucking feel it, and it was all she could do not to reach down and squeeze them. She could feel them throbbing and fattening, beginning to press together in a new forming line of cleavage. The pressure was impossible to tolerate, and she was sweating buckets just trying to stand it. “I t-think…oh god…th-they’re gonna…”

They were engorged. They were fucking engorged. Her milk was coming in, and she needed release.

Megan shivered. She tried to slide her hands down, but it was so awkward and uncomfortable, but her lower nipples were stinging, flesh aching and tingling. She shifted slightly, guys shivering as she moaned and tried to hold herself upright. Roger was still busily gawking at Megan’s lower pair of breasts.

“What…the fuck…have you done to yourself?” Roger said slowly. “I mean, fucking, how? You’re—‘the fuck.” He seemed to be at a loss for words outside of obscenities.

Megan opened her mouth, intending to excuse herself, but all that came out was a whimper. Her groin was sopping. Every move she made left her hips twitching as electricity shot through her lower belly. She needed to get away but wasn’t even sure how.

She yelped when she suddenly felt warm hands on her lower breasts.

Roger’s hands.

He began to rub and squeeze the flesh, as if to see if it was real. Megan heard herself release an undignified squeak. It was the most mortifying situation she had ever been in. If her friends could see her now, she would never live it down.

“Please,” she gasped out, wanting more. Megan shuddered as Roger’s fingers zeroed in on her nipples. “T-they need to…” Megan gulped. “T-think they’re gonna…”

They squirted. She could feel it—then see it. Thin, sweet little streams of pale milk, not the dark, thick fluid that the upper pair produced. But milk all the same. It was her first time lactating from them. Megan sighed in sweet relief, leaning more heavily on the wall. She thought it would only be a small amount, but if anything the output seemed to be increasing, her flesh tingly and warm. Roger’s fingers continued to roll and squeeze the nubs. She felt herself arching against the touch.

“They’re really full,” Megan said dumbly, she wasn’t sure why, it just sort of came out of her mouth.

Roger gave her another speculative, and confused sort of look. “You’re a fucking mutant, Sturge.”

“Nnghhhh…yeah…” Megan agreed.

And then Roger did the unthinkable. He leaned down to Megan’s lower left tit and took a long suck.

“Oh fuck, oh f-f-fuck.”

Megan came.

-

Megan was a flustered, disheveled mess by the time she made it home, arms folded against her torso yet doing little to hide her bulging breasts.

They were swollen and sore, throbbing and growing, pushing mutinously against her arms.

They bobbed uncomfortably as Megan finally made it to her room. She sunk down the wall, slumping on the carpeted floor, and immediately pulled up her shirt, gasping for breath as the four sweaty mounds were exposed to the cool air.

She didn’t actually want to touch them. They were so sensitive, she was on the brink of tears. But Megan found herself gently, gingerly cradling the side of one, avoiding her nipples, just laying her hand against the hot flesh. Something had changed. She felt it blatantly. Her upper breasts were now sitting atop the lower pair, no longer hiding them with their mass. Heart racing, Megan climbed up with a groan. She hesitated, then walked to her full-length mirror.

Beneath the fat pair of E-cups on her chest, proudly sat a pair of plump, round Ds. They had gone up two cup-sizes just that afternoon, and were rapidly catching up to the upper pair in girth. Her lower-breasts were unquestionably large now, and could no longer be hidden.

It was uncomfortable, all four sitting there, stacked and jiggling. Megan went to her dresser and dug around. She pulled out one of the new bras she had purchased online, and grimaced as she latched it around her, easing her upper breasts into the wide cups. They still bulged against them, but it would have to do.

Megan looked again, this time unearthing a strapless bra. It was a smaller sizer, and was slightly stretched from when she had outgrown it when using it to support the upper pair. This time, Megan put the bra on her lower pair of breasts, hissing in discomfort as she adjusted to the confining material. But it was an improvement, and it offered the support she needed at that moment. Breathing thinly, Megan threw another glance to the mirror, at the odd arrangement her four breasts in their two bras made on her chest. She then got on her bed and carefully lowered herself across the mattress. Her chest heaved and milk poured from all four breasts, sometimes stopping, but continuing again.

Megan reached up and plucked her lower right breast out of the cup. She lightly squeezed her nipple, her face heating, and a thin stream of milk squirting into the air. It was already thickening, getting whiter, and making a mess. But the pressure was intensely painful and arousing, and the milk was coming so fast, she knew she would rapidly go up several more cup sizes if she didn’t—well—milk herself.

So Megan plucked out her lower left breast, and repeated the process, squeezing and milking every few minutes or so, releasing the building warmth of the bulk. She was exhausted, but stayed up between dozing, repeating the process again and again. It was hours before she could tell that the milk in her lower breasts was no longer developing faster than it was naturally oozing from her nipples. With that vague assurance, Megan finally allowed herself to fall asleep. She didn’t get up when she heard her friends ringing the doorbell, or later, when her parents came home from work. She was drained.

8.

Megan abruptly fast-tracked her transition to college, feigning an interest in higher education that she had never exhibited before. Of course, she was motivated entirely by panic.

She signed up for early summer classes, skipping the orientation process altogether, and she found an apartment near campus online, not even seeing the place before she digitally signed the lease.

She did the whole thing while hiding out in her bedroom, interacting as little as possible with other human beings, her parents included. Whenever they knocked on the door to check on her, she claimed that she was busy searching online for an elusive textbook, or pretended that she was sleeping.

She didn’t even tell them about her departure until after she was already gone. She called her parents and claimed to have spontaneously taken a five-hour day-trip to do a last-minute interview for a paid internship at the university. She had been hired on the spot, and her employers had insisted that she start the very next day. Therefore she had no time to go home and say goodbyes and such.

“Megan, this is all so sudden,” said her mother, sounding baffled on the other line.

“I know,” said Megan, hoping her voice seemed at least remorseful. “I didn’t want to bother you and dad at work. I thought I’d be back before you came home. Honest.” She gave a frustrated-sounding sigh.

“So you’re not coming home? …At all?”

“It would be great if you could ship over my stuff.”

And like that, Megan was gone. She didn’t say goodbye to her friends. She didn’t get her final report card (but suspected she didn’t want to see it anyway). She had moved into her very own apartment, and was funding her rent payments through her modest savings and extreme frugality. It was a relief. She signed up exclusively for online classes once college actually did start up. Her grades were back up, and she largely kept to herself, in her apartment. At times, she did mourn the fact that she was missing out on the traditional college experience. But then she would get high and wonder why it mattered.

Megan kept up with her parents, during phone calls that she spaced out scrupulously. She made sure to let more time pass between each interaction. They were still prattling on about doctor’s appointments and surgery consults. There was even talk of selling the farm.

She just wished they would stop fretting about her. She could suddenly relate to how Amy had felt before her own abrupt escape.

The gaps in contact continued to get larger and larger, and her parents hardly noticed that she was steadily fading from their purview. She ended up moving to a cheaper apartment, but didn’t update them on the address. She made sure to return their calls belatedly, sometimes after a full week had passed. She made it the new normal, and their standards for her continued to crumble without their notice.

When she did speak to her parents, Megan was sure to always say how amazingly well she was doing (even when she wasn’t). She implied that her body was “really improving” (whatever that meant). Progressively, she pacified their concerns. The medical talk went away, and was all but forgotten.

Megan never told her friends what had happened—not about her encounter with Roger, or even the second pair of fat tits now protruding out on her torso. She didn’t think she could handle the combined vulnerability and humiliation. Maybe it was best if she was just forgotten.

Oddly enough, Megan maintained a weird acquaintanceship with the one person who did know her secret.

Roger went to college one town over.

Megan was surprised the first time she received a message from the other teen. She almost hadn’t responded. But ultimately, she had, and it was weird and hot, and mortifying, but they were casually interacting.

It wasn’t before long until they were both back at Megan’s apartment, talking about high school, as though it was long enough ago to even warrant reminiscing. The interaction as a whole hardly made sense. The two had never been friends in high school, had not even been in the same circles, and had not gotten along as far as Megan could tell.

The conversation trailed into an awkward, but heavy, silence. Roger’s eyes would continuously flicker downwards from Megan’s face. He couldn’t keep them up. Both knew very well why.

Megan’s breast growth had steadied and slowed down, but it had never ceased entirely. At present she had two round, plump pairs of EE-cups bobbing on her chest. She had forgone the trial of squeezing into a bra, yet her four mounds were still high and perk, swollen nipples bulging evidently into the material of the loose T-shirt she was wearing. The mounds were huge on her slim frame, and they were altogether impossible to disguise by that point.

“God, it’s so hot,” Roger breathed.

Megan felt her nipples stiffen more, pushing out to the point that it was almost painful. She had milked her tits thoroughly prior to Roger’s arrival, but somehow felt fully engorged again. She tried not to shift too much. She was feeling so sensitive, she could hardly stand it. “I can…I can turn on the aircon—” Megan started, when Roger impatiently grabbed her shoulders, and leaned over her, breathing heavily.

Megan arched slightly, allowing her four mounds to push into her shirt, causing her to shudder as her groin went hot. It had been so long since she had been touched by another. In fact, she hadn’t been touched since Roger had done it the last time, in that high school bathroom. Just the thought made Megan whimper. Her breasts had become a source of pure, unadulterated pleasure, and was beginning to rival even the drug in its potency.

“They’ve gotten bigger,” Roger noted breathlessly. He dipped one of his hands into his pants, and began to stroke shamelessly. “How much bigger are they going to get?” His other hand continued to hold Megan’s shoulder firmly, maintaining a distance between them, though didn’t seem to properly account for the mass of Megan’s breasts, because they were close to stroking into Roger’s chest, as Megan arched farther, almost desperate. They wobbled gently. Megan panted and squirmed, and screwed up her face as she struggled to regain control.

“Don’t…don’t know…” she said in response to Roger’s question. Her nipples had finally reached far enough to graze Roger’s chest, as she wantonly rocked them. Milk was seeping, staining their shirts, but Roger hardly seemed to mind.

“Can you put on something hot for me?” Roger asked. “Some nice bras, or—”

“Fuh-fuck off,” Megan retorted, finally breaking away from Roger’s hold and launching forward, smacking into Roger’s chest with a sharp burst of arousal that left her panties wet.

“Shit Meg, can I…?”

Megan didn’t even know what Roger was inquiring about, but she nodded hurriedly.

Then Roger’s fingers were rubbing gently into the fatty flesh, as Megan whimpered and wondered why the fuck they had wasted a full half hour talking in the first place.

The pressure grew harder, Roger rubbing and squeezing as milk dripped or squirted depending on the force, and Megan sunk beneath him, as Roger hoovered above. He allowed his hot breath to press against one of Megan’s nipples, causing Megan to groan.

Megan felt her shirt being peeled off. She felt the kisses and sucks, and almost wanted to tell Roger to stop, but also, who gave a fuck about a little residual engorgement, when it felt this good to have Roger’s face buried in her four breasts. The mounds had proven embarrassing and useless, but then there was this.

-

Her phone was giving off a melodious chime that just cycled continuously. Megan groggily dipped her hand under her pillow, grabbed it up, and shoved it against her ear. “Yeah?”

“Meg?”

Megan was suddenly wide awake. “Shit Sam, how did you get this number?” she blurted as she shifted herself upright, absently cradling the side of her lower left breast with her hand. She looked around the dark room. To her relief, Roger was gone.

“Your mom gave it to me. Was I not supposed to call it?” said Sam, sounding hurt.

“No Sam, I just—I’m a little surprised,” said Megan awkwardly, wondering if it was too late to just hang up.

“You didn’t even tell us you were leaving,” said Sam.

“Yeah, well the job, it was really sudden, and…” Megan found herself rambling.

“Don’t bullshit me. You could have called.”

Megan swallowed. “Yeah, I guess I’m just not so good with goodbyes. Sorry, Sam.”

There was an awkward pause as Megan held her breath. She continued to absently rub the flushed flesh of her mounds, each of them tense and a bit prickly in their engorgement.

“So…how are things going with you?” Sam finally asked.

Megan looked down at herself. “Um…college is okay,” she said, trying to evade the matter of most relevance. Her face twisted as the pressure spontaneously surged, all four of her nipples starting to drip. She distractedly squeezed one of the nubs with her free hand, hissing out as it squirted. She struggled not to groan. “I’m in the middle of midterms right now. How are things going with you? And Jane?”

“I’m okay. Still with my parents.” Megan could practically hear the shrug. “Jane actually moved out on her own. She got a…job.”

“Oh?”

“As a stripper.”

“Wah…woah…” said Megan, trying to bear the arousing sensations and confused feelings, all while tweaking her tits. All four squirted. “Fuh…”

“You okay?” said Sam.

“Yeah,” Megan managed. “I mean, just…what the fuck?”

“I know.” Sam laughed. “But she’s actually really good at it.”

“You’ve seen her?” Just the thought of Sam watching Jane strip made Megan want to simultaneously crawl into a hole and finger herself.

Sam was still laughing. “No, I mean, she showed me a move or two.”

“What a one-eighty.” Megan just couldn’t imagine the tomboyish Jane stripping, but she supposed stranger things had happened, as she looked at the four mounds wobbling on her chest.

“Yeah, well…keep in touch, Meg. Maybe I’ll head out to see you some time.”

“That would be…” Megan trailed off, because she didn’t quite know what that would be. It would be something.

“Talk to you later.”

“Later,” Megan responded, as she contemplated changing her number. She hung up and slumped back against her pillows.

-

The price of the drug was progressively increasing. Megan did an extensive search of the ingredients, but it seemed to be a trade secret.

Most of her money went towards tuition, housing, and general living expenses, and she barely had anything left over for petty spending let alone an expensive drug habit.

Megan was digging around for a textbook one day when she noticed that her apartment had a particularly large closet.

She tried putting it online for rent as a Quaint bedroom. Cozy and well-insulated.

She was surprised by the flood of responses she got from desperate college students in various stages of financial purgatory.

A sophomore named Paige insisted on coming to see the place that very day. Megan draped herself in a variety of large, amorphous winter coats she had purchased for just these sorts of situations. Paige arrived at the apartment, smacking gum loudly. She glanced over the place with little interest and no inquiries.

She was at the cusp of being overweight in a cutely voluptuous way, dressed in a short skirt and a tank top. Unreservedly, she tugged some of her skirt out of her ass crack.

Megan started, “The utilities are usually—”

“I’ll take it,” Paige cut her off, drawing some of her long, unruly hair out of her face. She then dug into her purse and pulled out a crumpled wad of cash, before handing it over. “First month and security deposit.”

Megan opened and closed her mouth, before recovering. “Welcome, roomie,” she said, as she took the money and counted the varied bill types.

9.

Megan tried to keep the noise level down in case Paige was home. It was admittedly hard to tell when the other girl came and when she went.

It was 2AM and Megan was in her room, playing video games, industriously trying to focus despite the frequent twinges and her shuddering abdomen, a consequence of Roger, who was presently knelt down between Megan’s spread thighs, his tongue doing ludicrously wonderful things to the four fat nipples that topped off Megan’s breasts.

Roger could drink and drink.His thirst was relentless. Though he could only suck one nipple at a time, he could still rub and squeeze at other ones as the tension in Megan’s body built and she struggled to keep pleasured sounds from escaping her.

“Uhhh…” The controller dropped from Megan’s hand as an orgasm tore through her core and left her trembling. She could feel the growing wetness in her leggings and the short squirts of milk bursting up from her breasts. Roger pulled off one of her nipples with an audible popand smirked up at her.

Megan groaned and leaned towards him. The kiss seemed almost accidental. It left Megan briefly stunned.

“That was nice,” Roger murmured, pulling Megan back and examining her. Megan’s four nipples were still dripping, breast flesh almost contracting. Smiling, Roger began to get up.

Megan panted. “You’ve been by twice a week,” she said breathlessly.

“So?”

“It’s a…a lot of stimulation,” Megan said, looking down at her sweat-soaked body. With a languid sigh, she leaned heavily against the back of the futon.

“It’s a good thing if you ask me,” Roger said, tauntingly trailing his hands along Megan’s waist.

Megan’s breasts were round, heaving, and somehow all still engorged. Megan whimpered as one arbitrarily squirted. “Ohhh…” her face reddened. She unconsciously pushed her breasts outward.

“Want me to stop?” Roger asked, already kneeling back down.

Indeed Megan did, but she couldn’t get herself to say it. It all just felt too fucking amazing.

Rogers wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer, and went back down on Megan’s nipples. Megan could do little more than groan as she covered her eyes with her arm and slumped back into the cushions.

-

All of Roger’s attention was undeniably causing growth, yet Roger made her feel so ridiculously goodboth physically and emotionally, Megan had little hope of resisting him. Roger didn’t treat her like the freak that she was, and that in itself served as an allure.

When Roger wasn’t around they seemed to have phone conversations almost nightly that always just descended into more perversity. Roger would ask questions like, “How big are they now?” and “Are they growing?” or “How much bigger are they gonna get, Megan?” Megan could never seem to formulate a decipherable remark. She’d manage things like, “Big,” or “Yeah,” and sometimes, “Lots.” Anything she said just turned Roger on. The boy couldn’t get enough, to the point that he was almost possessive of Megan’s breasts.

One time Roger said that he wanted them to go out together. The thought was unnerving and ridiculous. Roger had clearly lost his mind (if he’d ever had one).

Things were escalating. Another night, Roger urged Megan to connect to him by webcam on a site called vidSwoopso they could see each other while they were apart. Megan was decidedly apprehension about the notion of getting on the internet with her secret. But it was a private connection, and something was undeniably exciting about the whole thing.

“They’ve been really full,” Megan said late that night as she looked back at Roger on her computer screen. Roger’s arm had disappeared at the bottom of the screen, but based on the frequent jerks, it was fairly obvious what he was doing. “I usually pump them twice a day, but now I’m up to three times.” Even then, Megan’s four breasts were leaking, seeping into her shirt, which was drenched and dripping. She resisted the urge to reach up and cradle the sore mounds. “If I don’t keep up, I’m going to go up another cup size.”

“Fuck…” Roger muttered breathily.

Megan reached down to the hem of her shirt and steadily dragged it up over her head. She was wearing a pair of strapless bras, her large nipples visibly erect, plump breast flesh clearly bulging over the cups. “I don’t think I can handle them getting any bigger,” said Megan, half in pleasure, half in anguish.

Roger’s breathing quickened.

“Sometimes, ohhh…” Megan groaned, one of her nipples stinging, desperate for relief. “Sometimes I actually have go get up in the middle of the nn…night. If I don’t keep up I’m gonna get huge. You’re turning me into a fucking cow, Roger.”

Roger came. Megan could tell by the way his eyes lowered and body shuddered, before he hunched down, gripping his desk.

“I’m coming over,” said Roger definitively.

“Fuck,” Megan panted as she weakly nodded then closed her laptop.

-

Things were rapidly getting out of hand. Everything was tight and straining on Megan. There wasn’t a single bra she wasn’t overfilling. It was Roger’s fault. The worse Megan’s condition got, the more it just seemed to turn Roger on. All the stimulation wasn’t logical or practical. And yet it felt so good, Megan was still completely incapable of refusing it.

Their webcam sessions were almost nightly by then. They didn’t even talk sometimes. Some nights, Roger just wanted to watch her go through the process of getting dressed or undressed. He liked to see the way Megan’s bras strained and her shirts stretched. The one time Megan couldn’t even manage to button herself into her regularly-used night-shirt, Roger had nearly popped a blood vessel.

Tonight, they were doing something new. Roger wanted to see the process of Megan pumping. Awkward as it was, Megan couldn’t help getting a little turned on. She had come a long way from trying to milk herself with just her fingers in high school (or just ignoring the growing pressure). Megan now had a pair of automatic breast pumps with tubing that trailed to large collection bottles, so the process was entirely hands-free.

Megan settled down in front of the camera and went through the process of attaching the suction cups and turning the pumps on. It was usually a comfortable enough process, but with Roger intently watching her, Megan couldn’t help getting aroused. Her face twitched or reddened when one of the sucks drew too pleasantly on her nipples. She breathed long and hard, trying to temper herself as she leaned back, unintentionally tugging on the tubing. She closed her eyes, imagining greedy mouths, Roger’s mouths, four of them sucking her four nipples simultaneously. She arched and grunted, but was distracted by a banging noise. Megan opened her eyes just in time to see one of the bottles topple over.

“Crap.” Wrenching herself out of her reverie, Megan quickly leaned down to collect the fallen bottle. It dripped a bit on her keyboard, but thankfully the cover held. She panted and steadied both liter-sized bottles. She wiped some sweat from her brow and shuddered when she was reacquainted to the rousing sensation of the pump sucking her. She hardly realized that Roger was talking until he shouted the words:

“Meg, you went live!”

“What?” said Megan, turning back to Roger, the blood draining from her face.

Roger was cutting in and out, his screen flickering. “You—live streaming. Pressed—control key—accident.”

It took a moment for Megan to process the remark, face blank, breasts gently rocking with the pulls of the pump. She was certain she had misunderstood. But as she stared at her computer screen, she could see comment bubbles popping up, text remarks from unfamiliar pennames, that said:

‘What the fuck?’

‘Weird shit.’

‘I’m in.’

‘Good cgi. What movie is this fr…’

‘Who the fuck watches stuff like…’

‘freak, kill yourself…’

‘this is hot. Who is this?’

Completely horrified, Megan slammed her laptop shut. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck…” She whispered, gripping her face, trying to rationalize this to be a bad dream or prank, or anything other than what it was. Edgily she stood, three of the suction cups detaching and one staying firm. She hardly noticed as she knocked over the milk bottle again, the cap bursting off as it made impact with the floor. She stepped in the puddle of milk as she paced. Her cellphone rang continuously, the name Roger lightly up the screen of it.

She had gone live. Megan had fucking gone live with her huge fucking tits. Her four tits. Everyone had seen it. They—they fucking knew what she was.

Growing more nauseous by the moment, Megan curled up in bed, not even bothering to finish pumping herself.

-

This was Roger’s fault. Everything was Roger’s fault.

Megan was getting calls from him continuously, but she ignored them all. Sometimes Roger would send pleading messages:

Its no big deal Meg =)

Ur face was bearly on screen

No one even knos who u r

Call me u hoe D:

Megan srsly CALL ME!!

But Megan’s mortification never mitigated. It just grew as she faced the enduring consequences.

Her email was absolutely flooded with messages from vidSwoop users who had caught her unintentional livestream. Her email address had been public, but fortunately, was also obscure enough that no one had connected her penname to her real life identity.

The messages varied widely. Some were cruel, abusive, and insulting, while others were just confused or humored. One email consisted entirely of laughing/crying emojis. Some people appeared to think that the video had been some bizarre prank she’d done in an effort to go viral.

The smallest division of the commentary was just intrigued, and inquired about future videos. A user whose penname was TheWiggler even offered her money for another video similar to the one Megan had accidentally streamed.

That message was so baffling, Megan momentarily forgot about her panic. She was completely puzzled that there was a good deal of positive feedback.

In the end, Megan shut down the whole email account, and deactivated her account on the video site, which had also been flooded with messages. She took to hiding out, which wasn’t much of a change from her typical day to day behavior, except that there was a marked increase in her drug use.

Megan had never been sure if Paige had ever actually moved in, but now on the occasions that she did leave her room, she spotted the odd sign that Paige had been around in the form of a designer bag, diamond earrings, or some other thing. Paige was doing well judging by her expensive tastes. Megan wasn’t sure why someone with a $10,000 purse would be renting out her closet, but she supposed it was none of her business.

It sucked that she had to cover herself up so much more than usual—pretty much every time she left her room. Megan knew that her chances of bumping into Paige were slim, but she didn’t want to risk having her tits out in the open. She’d already fucked things up with the webcam incident, so she didn’t need to further increase the level of fuckery (and exposure).

One evening Megan awoke from her doze to the doorbell ringing repetitively. A glance at her cell phone told her that it was just after midnight. She heaved herself out of her bed, barely remembering to pull a baggy jacket around herself, though it really wasn’t that concealing on its own. It was the best Megan could come up with in her groggy, somewhat inebriated, state. With an irritated sigh, she dragged herself to the door of her apartment and opened it without much thought. “Roger,” she said in surprise at the sight of the other teen. “We can’t do this anymore.” But just the sight of Roger had Megan’s tits aching, nipples distending, pushing out for attention.

“Why the hell not?” said Roger, holding the door with his foot before Megan could close it on him.

“We fucked up.”

“You fucked up,” Roger countered. “It had nothing to do with me. And you need to calm the fuck down. It wasn’t even a big deal.”

“How could you say that? I—I was exposed!”

“Don’t you think if anyone was able to identify you, it would have blown up by now?” Roger was stepping closer, invading her personal space, and Megan found herself backing farther into the apartment. “What are you doing in that shit?” Roger scowled at her jacket, before gripping it roughly, and beginning to pull it open.

Megan’s cleavage was flushed and heaving, pressed together and protruding in the inches of her jacket Roger was steadily opening up.

“God, you fucking cow,” Roger breathed.

“Ahem.”

Both froze. They turned to see a disheveled Paige standing outside of her door in nothing but a transparent red teddy.

Megan gawked for a moment, before recollecting her state. She quickly tried to hide herself behind Roger, desperately hoping that Paige hadn’t noticed anything odd. “Sorry for the noise. Didn’t realize you were home,” Megan squeaked.

Roger looked confused. Intrigued as well. “Sorry?” he offered.

Paige just gave them an unimpressed look, threw back her mane, and returned to her room.

“Who’s that?” said Roger. He had quickly resumed his efforts to get into Meg’s jacket. She barely managed to drag him towards her room.

“New roommate.”

“Oh.”

“She’s kinda cute, isn’t she?”

“What? I guess. Not really my type.” Roger started kissing down Megan’s collar, and for some reason it was more satisfying than ever before.

10.

Megan lost a bet.

It was the only reason she was doing this. Under normal circumstances, Roger certainly couldn’t have convinced her to go a full day without pumping.

Megan was getting hot.

“Remember, you can’t leak a drop,” Roger growled during their last phone conversation that morning.

“You’re just trying to get me huge,” Megan griped back.

To that, Roger had no retort.

Megan was not sure why she was even doing this. It was entirely stupid. And arousing. But mostly stupid.

She struggled to get her college assignments done with the distraction of the four heavy, pressurized EEE-cups bobbing on her chest, all warm and sleek.

Even her face was flushed. Megan found herself constantly wiping her hand down it to get the sweat out of her eyes. She could feel the weight of her milk, pushing, stretching her. Her back was sore, her nipples aching, desperate for release.

She had already missed her morning milking, and was due for another at that moment. With the pressure she was under, she wasn’t sure how she could do the full day. Her boobs were practically throbbing. One of her nipples stung, and she grunted out, arching. “Mmghhhhh…” Megan groaned, shifting in her seat. But somehow, she managed to relax, and to not release. She panted quietly and resisted the urge to cup the tender mounds.

Her computer buzzed. Megan reluctantly minimized her homework and answered the web call.

“How are the girls?” said Roger pleasantly, leaning back in his desk chair.

Megan shot him an irritated look. “Did you need something?”

“Just checking in. Why the bad mood?”

“It’s just kind of hard to focus,” said Megan breathlessly, tugging at her collar.

“Let me see.”

Of course, the camera was focused only on Megan’s face. Megan entertained the idea of just torturing Roger, but reluctantly, she shifted her laptop screen so that her torso was in full view.

She was wearing an old tank top that was tightly stretched over her four heaving jugs. The material was completely soaked in sweat, and her fat nipples—much fatter since she had started, er, nursing Roger rather regularly—bulged out against the material, hard, distended, and desperately keen. The pinkness was visible under the semi-transparent fabric, and they protruded with such definition that she might as well have been topless.

Despite it, Megan didn’t give Roger the satisfaction of a full strip show. She tried to breathe evenly. “It’s a little uncomfortable,” she understated.

Roger sounded weak, “You’ve got this, Meg.”

Megan almost laughed. “Are you sure you’ve got this? You’re about to bust a nut.”

“Don’t worry about me, Megan. Worry about those growing tits and how fat they’re gonna be this evening.”

Megan’s face fell. She struggled to catch her breath and not squirt milk with every deep inhalation. “I’m going to leak eventually,” she managed. “I can’t exactly stop it.”

“You’ve got this, Meg,” Roger repeated, sort of in a wistful way.

“God, you’re such an idiot.” Megan minimized the screen.

She gave up on her school work. For what had to be hours, she just leaned back in her desk chair, eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to move an inch, not even to get in her bed or somewhere more comfortable than her present position. She was so full, so heavy and tight. She was hot, her heart racing, flesh tingling, as her nipples distended more, contracting and stinging. It was so uncomfortable, she could feel her eyes beginning to water.

She was hot, her panties soaked and groin tingling. But she didn’t want to touch herself. She knew she would come rapidly, breasts spraying, and she wasn’t sure her body could take such an explosive release at that moment.

When Megan opened her eyes and took a glance at the clock, she could see that she was approaching the time of her evening milking. She felt unfocused and dazed. She could readily tell that she had gotten bigger. Her breasts were visibly swollen, her shirt close to tearing. “Why am I doing this?” she rasped as she panted and fidgeted, fingers twitching to grasp onto her mounds. She felt feverish. Carefully she straightened and watched her nipples shudder.

Her cell phone rang, causing Megan’s attention to snap to her desk. She stared at the unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. She accepted the call, bringing the phone to her ear. “…hello?”

“Megan.”

Megan was shocked to hear her sister’s voice. Amy sounded winded on the other line.

“Amy, what the…I haven’t heard from you in like a year,” said Megan in bafflement.

“I know. Sorry sis. I just—can I borrow some money?”

“I…er…what? No—I mean—I don’t have any,” Megan said, completely disconcerted. “Amy, are you alright? W-what’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine. I just, I gotta go.”

“Amy?”

But the call had ended. Megan stared blankly at the screen. “’the hell,” she muttered. She began to call the number back when a sharp stinging sensation brought her back to her present predicament. The phone clattered to the floor. “Ohhhhh…” she groaned, twisting in her seat. Why had she even agreed to play this stupid game? She hunched forward. “Ngghhhh…fuck…” she breathed, grunting and clutching her face. Her computer buzzed. Megan realized she had never closed the application when she heard Roger’s voice. “Meg?”

Megan lifted her head. “God, Roger,” she mumbled, face red, shoulders shuddering. “I’m so fucking tight,” she panted, chest heaving, huge, and positively straining.

Roger just drank her in for a moment. “Fine,” he said, so softly that Megan almost didn’t catch it. “You can…”

Megan didn’t need to be told twice. She tore off her shirt and gave in, arching, and completely splattering her computer screen as she released a long erratic moan, her body spasming. Her tits bobbed and squirted as she gripped and squeezed at them. They were definitely bigger, and Megan didn’t know why she was turned on, but she was. She continued to cup and knead her flesh, not caring about the discomfort, just wanting the milk out of her. “Fuck, look at what you did to me,” she breathed. “Look at how huge I’m getting.”

Roger came with a moan and a grin.

-

As soon as exams were over, Megan found herself dealing with a frequent house guest. “Milk is for babies,” Roger remarked absently one day.

He was presently teasing Megan’s chest with his tongue, not quite at the nipples. Megan’s head was back as she tried to enjoy it, and tried not to rock against Roger’s jeans, but it was hard, when she was practically being straddled by the other teen.

“Why are you producing so much baby food?” Roger muttered on Megan’s skin.

It was a bizarre topic to bring up, and it brought Megan out of it a little. “Uh…”

“Is that what you want, to be full of babies to feed?”

“N-no.” Megan was a little disturbed, but for some reason she thought of Sam heavy with the quints, looking like a stuffed pig. “Nnghhh…” Roger finally flicked Megan’s nipple with her tongue, as Megan remembered how huge Sam had gotten right up to the final moments of containing her kids. She’d been a whale. Round to bursting.

“You’re making more and more milk. You want to be full, want to feed…” Megan thought of herself in Sam’s position, bursting with babies, and it was disturbing, but still arousing, seeing herself huge and round, tits leaking, back arched, belly shoved outward, red and flushed and sweaty, the size of a beachball, packed with babies. Four tits plump and ready.

“Lemme fuck you,” Roger urged.

“Uhhh…” Megan groaned.

“Fuck you full.”

“God…”

“I want you huge. Practically bursting.”

“F-fill me,” Megan begged.

He did.

-

Thankfully he used a condom.

Megan was still dazed. She had kept Roger at arms-length for a reason, but now it was official. They were fuck buddies. And she was beginning to fear that they were forming a relationship of some sort.

Inconveniently enough, Megan wasn’t one for relationships. And Roger just wasn’t her type; he was too selfish, too perverted.

Megan tried not to think about it. Instead, she did the powder. One day, she found herself so high that she actually walked into the wrong bedroom.

It took her a moment to process what she was seeing. Paige’s room seemed less like a bedroom than some sort of amateur…film set. Lights beamed down from massive lamps, and a camera hung from two different angles. Paige lay back nude in the midst of it all, and was wantonly pleasuring herself with an enormous dildo, her writhing image reflected on her laptop screen.

She was live streaming. Megan could tell by the endless trail of text populating the comment box, the scroll bar shrinking and shrinking as it was pushed up by rapidly populating comments.

Paige was live streaming herself masturbating.

Then Paige caught Megan’s eye. Megan thought Paige would scream or curse and cover herself up, but instead she threw a grin and a wink.

Megan backed away, her reflexes slow, but still active enough to get her the hell out of there. She shut the door behind her and stood frozen for a moment. What the fuck? was all she could think. Did Paige even live here? Or was this apartment to some sort of…studio, to her? Also, what the fuck?

Megan went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee, not sure if she was too high or not high enough. The image of Paige’s wriggling, supple body cycled relentlessly through her mind.

That’s when Paige entered the room in a robe. Megan’s eye’s shot downwards. “Sorry,” she managed.

“No big deal. Just a job.” Paige smiled, sitting across from her.

Megan looked up. “That’s your job!?”

“Yah,” said Paige aloofly, pulling a large wrapped wad of gum out of her purse. An actual wad. It was clear that it had already been chewed. “What did you think I did?” said Paige as she stuffed the already-chewed-gum into her mouth. Megan winced.

Megan opened her mouth and closed it. Paige sat there and leered. Megan slowly sipped her coffee.

She was definitely too high for this shit.

-

When she got back to her room, Megan immediately went on her laptop.

She went online and did some research, discovering that several platforms, including vidSwoop, apparently, hosted content creators whose content was nothing more than softcore porn. And the creators were able to get paid, not only in ad revenue, but subscriptions.

There were men and women, even intersex and transgender people. They came in all shapes and sizes, and their audiences varied widely in size.

“This girl is making what? 8k a month?” Megan muttered in disbelief as she browsed the public page of a little blonde woman with a pixie cut dressed entirely in leather. Seriously, she was pocket sized. And a freak, apparently.

Megan leaned back and contemplated. Distractedly, she wrenched down the zipper of her jacket, letting the puppies breathe.

“What if…what if I—I—”

Megan hesitated, then did a hurried video search under terms like ‘multiple boobs’ and ‘extra breasts,’ and stunningly enough, there were videos. Only a scant amount. Less than half a dozen, all on an inactive account. There was an animated short clip and a couple of bad CGI jobs, but each had a surprisingly decent number of comments.

Megan’s heart was racing, her face hot. She looked down at herself, then back at the screen. Her bills were piling up, the cost of the drug only increasing. What if I…no. No. She cut off that train of thought.

Hurriedly, Megan shut her laptop.

-

Later that day, Megan did a test video. She was wearing two strapless bras that didn’t quite fit her, and a spandex skirt. She sat on camera, shifting uncomfortably, and feeling self-conscious in ways she never felt under Roger’s stare. This is stupid, she decided, hovering her mouse over the Go Live button, squeezing her eyes shut, and actually clicking. It was terrifying. She didn’t want to look. But somehow Megan convinced herself to open her eyes.

Her face wasn’t on screen. She had made sure of that, her body only visible from the neck down.

The comments popped up slowly, one by one, but increased in pace as she sat there frozen and mortified.

What the fck?

This girl again?

lolwat?

How does she even…

This is so freaky.

wtf am I watching?

Really good makeup work.

Rly kinky

Disgusting. Why is this on my feed?

omg this is so hot

girl don’t stop making videos.

Can I lick them? Can I put my face in them?

So stupd so fake.

shake them pls want to see them jiggle

post more of these

Megan didn’t know why, but she shifted her laptop screen for a closer view. She didn’t even want to think about why she was turned on. She found herself not thinking about a lot of things lately.

hothothot

looks so Real

LOL

omg this is amazing

jigglejigglejiggle

the fact that im still here says a lot about…

Megan closed the application, breathless, flushed, embarrassed and exhilarated. She felt antsy, hands trembling slightly.

They moved automatically, shoving her upper bra down, allowing her breasts to push free. She closed her eyes and began to stroke the fat nubs as she leaned harder back against her seat.

11.

Megan and Roger were playing video games, Megan doing her best to focus on her game character.

But it was hard, when she was so distracted. Roger was always distracting, even when he was sitting back, with his legs crossed, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he quickly navigated the weapons inventory for his character.

Megan thought it was the anticipation. Of Roger putting his mouth on her tits, and whatever else Roger planned to do with her. The game was just foreplay; just a form of torture, Megan suspected. Because Megan felt jittery and wet, and Roger was being completely nonchalant about it.

That’s when Roger mentioned, “I saw your video.”

Megan took a sharp breath, her face reddening with alarm and mortification. Roger had seen her VidSwoop livestream. Megan’s game character died, and she was left trying to figure out from Roger’s impassive expression whether he was angry, disgusted, or amused; would he mock—?

“You gonna do it again?” Roger asked, not taking his eyes off the game, fingers still working rapidly on the controller.

Megan choked. “Do you…think I should?”

“Yeah,” said Roger, now giving a lazy smile, though his attention was still focused on the screen. “You had a good view count. Next time you should try a paid video.”

Megan just stared at him for a moment. Finally, she tore her gaze away, got up, and went over to her full-length bedroom mirror.

She wasn’t wearing bras, though she hadn’t thought they would be of use for very long that night. Her four round breasts bulged out against the thin material of her shirt, full and perky despite that they were each FF-cups by then. Her nipples were large and hard, rubbing against the cotton in a way that made Megan shudder. Releasing a shaky breath, Megan went over to her desk and opened her laptop. She went to her VidSwoop account, and right there, before she could lose her nerve, she posted an announcement.

New livestream coming up. Tune in this Thusday evening.

It only took a few moments before comments began to populate beneath her post. She had accumulated hundreds of followers in only the past week. Some of the comments were disparaging, but most were excited and praising. Megan bit her lip as she reflected on it all.

Her computer chimed as she got an email alert. Megan found a message from Sam. It was brief. An invitation to come by and visit before spring break was over. Megan frowned as she considered it, all while continuing to read. The final sentence made her blink: “Yeah, anyway, looks like I’m pregnant again.”

-

Coincidentally enough, Roger kept up the fantasy.

“I’m gonna fill you with babies,” he muttered against Megan’s shoulder as he fucked her. “Put those huge tits to work. Look how fat they are. A damn milk factory. Time to breed you, keep you busy.”

Megan’s head was spinning, the conflicting nature of the words causing speech to fail her. She couldn’t protest, she could only groan.

“You’re gonna be as big as a fucking planet. Be my pregnant cow. Everyone is gonna see and know what I did to you. You’ll be straining to contain them all.”

Megan imagined cradling a huge belly, straining and groaning, like Sam. She imagined her four tits seeping as her mound squashed against her weary, shuddering body. She imagined her body rocking as Roger fucked even more babies into her.

All four of Megan’s nipples squirted. No they actually sprayed between them, making a mess. Roger laughed. “You’re really turned on by this.”

“Nn…no,” Megan feebly protested, red.

“God, I wanna fill you, Megan. Give you so many babies to feed and make fat with your tits. I know you want it too. You want to be round and bursting like that girl on the news. That’s—nngghh, that’s why you’re making all this milk.”

“Uhh,” Megan arched, and sprayed, and came the same time Roger did. She could feel her tits pulsing, nipples contracting. Roger pulled her against him as Megan’s nipples continued to seep, and Megan murmured indecipherably. Roger rubbed her back soothingly.

It was still dark when Megan awoke to someone impatiently knocking on the front door. She blinked a few times, and rubbed her head. Somehow she managed to pull herself out of Roger’s arms and out of the bed. She pulled on some shorts and her puffy winter coat, which made an odd combination. Finally, she left the room and padded across to the front door, snapping up the light switch in the process. She put an eye to the peephole to see who was on the other side.

To her shock, it was Amy.

Megan immediately unlocked the door, already speaking as she opened it, “Amy, what are you doing h—” Megan broke off in a startled huff as she saw the state of her sister.

“Hey,” Amy greeted, with a wry, but strained, smile. “God, that took you long enough,” she ground out as she staggered inside, shoving past Megan with just her belly. Amy gripped her gigantic abdomen. It was immense. It looked fucking larger than Sam’s had been just before she’d given birth to the quints, Amy’s t-shirt straining at the seams to contain it.

But then Amy hefted the t-shirt up, revealing that she was wearing a—a pregnancy girdle? Gasping and whimpering, Amy rapidly unlatched it, and her belly blew up, surging forward, growing substantially as Amy nearly lost her balance, her hands gripping to support the huge mass. Her huge shirt slipped up inch after inch, no longer able to negotiate the massively swollen expanse. Barely able to walk, Amy wobbled to the couch, and dropped down across it, twitching and moaning as she cradled the small bolder on her torso.

Megan was speechless.

She watched Amy’s belly heave and bob. Amy tugged down her shirt, which seemed fruitless and ridiculous. Trying for any modesty at all was absolutely ludicrous given the bizarre and extreme nature of Amy’s affliction. She could only stretch the shirt down just enough to hide the massive, tangerine-sized protrusion that Megan knew was a nipple. At present it was visibly contracting, and oozing milk that looked weirdly thick as it slid out from under Amy’s shirt. Amy gasped, her hands flying to the underside of her gut. She groaned and arched, and finally, the shirt slid. Revealed was the huge, gleaming, swollen pink nipple, dimpled in the middle where milk oozed sluggishly. The nipple blew a milk bubble that steadily swelled and popped, before more milk slowly trailed down the bottom of Amy’s massive midsection.

“T-tight,” Amy groaned out, shuddering. There were tears on her cheeks. “The milk just kept getting—ughhh—thicker. N-now it’s hard to get it out.” She whimpered and fidgeted, fingers desperately massaging into her bloated flesh, though that seemed counterproductive to Megan. Amy’s chest had developed two perky D-cups under her shirt, but it was nothing compared to her belly, which was on full display by then.

Megan’s bedroom door opened and a yawning Roger emerged in only his briefs, his lean body on display. “What’s going on?” he said, as she wandered over to Megan. He spotted Amy over the back of the couch and his jaw went slack.

Megan remembered the days when her sister had been a star athlete in high school. Popular, attractive, and sought after by all the guys. But now Amy was…this. It was completely bizarre. Finally tearing her eyes away, Megan looked at Roger beside her, who was still gawking. For some reason irritated, Megan jabbed him with her elbow. “Hey, that’s my sister.”

Roger blinked and tore his eyes away from Amy’s giant belly-breast, looking utterly confused.

Amy managed to sit up just slightly, her huge mound shifting against her lap.

“Amy, this is my friend, Roger. Roger, this is Amy,” Megan hastily introduced.

“Right,” Amy managed, still flushed and sweaty, still presently oozing. “E-excuse my…”

“I, uh…” Roger trailed off. He lightly shook his head. “Er, no worries. I mean…you know Megan has…”

Amy looked confused and a little desperate. It seemed to take effort to focus on anything other than her body.

Comprehension dawned in Roger’s eyes. “You don’t know? Show her, Meg.”

“No!” said Megan more forcefully than she’d intended. She unconsciously hugged herself protectively.

But now Roger was pulling at her coat, trying to wrench it open, and Megan was too disoriented to put up much of a fight.

Suddenly, Megan’s own four tits were on display, in the thin tank top she was wearing, stretching out the semi-transparent material. Megan felt her cheeks heat up and it was Amy’s turn to gawk.

“You…” Amy started.

“Is this a genetic thing?” Roger cut in. “Are you guys mutants or something? Not that I’m complaining.” Roger looped his arm around Megan’s back, his hand idly cupping Megan’s lower right breast.

Blush worsening, Megan shoved Roger away.

Amy seemed momentarily for a loss of words. Finally, she stiffened. “Yeah, genetic,” she said curtly, though Megan could see the accusation in her eyes.

“Amy, what’s going on?” said Megan. “Are you okay?”

“Obviously no,” Amy huffed out, shifting her attention back to her throbbing midsection. “This was mm…manageable, but lately I’ve been having trouble pumping the milk.” There was another translucent white bubble that swelled and popped. Amy heaved a heavy sigh, trying to relax her body. “It’s too thick. I had a friend helping me but we…nghhh…got into a f-fight, and...” She tensed again, cradling herself. She couldn’t seem to keep her hands off of it.

The three young adults were so caught up in the dilemma that they didn’t hear Paige’s approach until there was a surprised squeak to the left of the room. In tandem, they turned to the living room entryway.

“What the fuck,” Paige breathed, as she looked from Megan to Amy then back again. “How high am I?”

Megan’s lungs compressed and she found herself hugging herself again.

“Well, fuck,” said Roger lightly.

Later that morning, Megan awoke with a groan. She had hardly gotten three hours of sleep.

“You okay?” said Roger groggily beside her.

“Tight,” said Megan, face twisted. For once, she didn’t want to think about tits. Not her own or anyone else’s. Of course, that was tricky when hers required so much attention.

Her breasts were full and hot, the tank top now uncomfortably tight against them. Megan gingerly peeled it off, grunting when the cotton dragged on her distended nipples.

Roger sleepily reached around her and rubbed his hands into the tingling flesh, causing Megan to seize up and gasp. She quickly grabbed Roger’s hands, stilling them. “That’s—not helping.”

“Mmmm,” Roger hummed, face buried in Megan’s nape.

Rolling her eyes, Megan sat up. She reached out for the breast pump she kept clean and ready on her nightstand, and carefully attached the four cups. She leaned back and closed her eyes as she pumped her breasts, her body relaxing except for the occasional twitch as the minutes passed. At an awkward twinge, she hissed and kicked out, her hand going under her shorts.

Within the half hour, Roger was fully awake, and Megan was boneless. She had fingered herself twice, and feared she was enjoying the process of pumping more than she should have been.

“Still at it?” said Roger.

“I don’t think it helps at a certain point,” Megan mumbled, turning off the pump. “I’m probably just stimulating,” she said uncertainly.

Roger just smiled.

The two began to get cleaned up and dressed. The pair of bras Megan tried on weren’t fitting. Her flesh was bubbling over the material. She was left conflicted between going braless while dealing with the sensation of her nipples against her shirt, or enduring the sensation of the pair of too-tight bras squeezing into her flesh all day. Either prospect was unappealing, and yet she had to choose one.

Roger just seemed amused. “I can buy you new ones,” he said as he gazed appreciatively at Megan.

“It’s not about the money,” Megan grumbled, taking the bait, lingering in the room, because Paige and Amy were just too much to deal with at that moment, and she wanted to defer it.

“What’s it about,” said Roger, slowly cornering her, meeting Megan’s lips with his. “How hot you’re getting?” he mumbled between kisses. “How huge your tits are becoming? You beautiful fucking cow.” Megan’s breasts squished between them. Megan grunted as Roger cupped one roughly.

“Don’t know…how I feel about you calling me that,” Megan muttered, her breathing thinning.

Roger just chuckled and Megan allowed herself to be consumed by sensation.

She would deal with the rest later.

12.

Megan squirmed on the bed. She released a groan. “You should stop.”

“Why?” said Roger, his voice muffled on Megan’s tit-flesh.

“What if I get like her?” said Megan.

“Who?”

“Amy.”

Roger paused and pulled off. “Your sister? Meg, you don’t have a tit-gut, unless I missed something.”

“This is getting out of control,” Megan blurted, fumbling somewhat to get out from beneath Roger. “Amy said her milk just kept getting thicker. Is my milk…how is it? Has it changed or anything?”

Roger smirked. “Want to taste it?”

“Eugh, no,” said Megan, to Roger’s increasing amusement.

Roger grabbed hold of her, leaned down, and gave one of Megan’s nipples a long indulgent suck, causing Megan to arch and curse.

“Mm,” Roger gulped, and licked off the stray droplets. “I don’t think it’s changed,” he murmured against Megan’s areola. “It’s really creamy. Sweet. But I think it’s always been this good.”

“Creamy?” said Megan.

Giving another suck, Roger pulled off Megan’s nipple with a harsh tug and a wet pop. Megan grunted and twitched.

“It’s fine, Meg. You’ve had no issues.” Roger pinned her down to the mattress, nipping greedily at Megan’s four fat tits, kissing every inch of the plump flesh in an almost loving manner. “God, you drive me crazy. Meg…Megan?”

“Mm?” Megan noticed that her eyes were closed. She opened them partway.

“Can I fuck your tits?”

“Gross,” was Megan’s instinctive response, but then, was it anymore sleazy than the other things they got up to? Megan blinked up at the ceiling.

“Can I?” Roger asked again.

It was different. Weird and kinky. She imagined Roger thrusting into the fat, jigging flesh. It freaked her out a little.

But hell, she’d try anything once.

-

Megan was still flushed when she left her room an hour later, freshly showered and a little tender. She was wearing a tank top that didn’t properly fit her, like most things, the cotton hugging her chest, cleavage bulging against the neckline. She felt weary but good. Tingly. And really hungry, possibly from all the milk she was producing. As Megan headed for the kitchen, she threw a glance at her sleeping sister on the couch, squashed beneath the massive mound of heaving flesh that had become of her abdomen.

When Megan got to the kitchen, Paige was there, and Megan couldn’t manage to meet her eyes. Instead Megan grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, forcing herself, truly struggling, not to scuttle back to her room and hide. She made herself some cereal, all while feeling Paige’s stare on her form. She uncomfortably tugged at one of the bras she was stuffed into.

“Do you really have to wear bras?” Paige asked blithely. “Is it for our benefit? They don’t even fit you.”

Megan threw a glare at Paige who responded by rolling her eyes.

It was true that Megan was bulging heavily from all sides of the two bras, ready to burst out of them under her tank top. If anything, they served to prevent her nipples from rubbing into her shirt, which was a sensation she didn’t think she could handle at that moment. The bras were admittedly uncomfortable, and the extreme tightness probably negated from the benefits. “I have to get new ones, yeah,” said Megan stiffly, hating how hot her face felt.

Paige sat at the table and stirred her coffee while continuing to shamelessly stare at Megan’s tits in fascination. Megan was already dealing with one person obsessed with her breasts, she didn’t think she could handle another one. Just as Paige opened her mouth to undoubtedly ask another awkward question, Roger walked in, all cheeky and refreshed.

He kissed Megan’s lips full and long, causing Megan to grunt in surprise. Roger pulled away and Megan eyed him as he sat down and happily dug into Megan’s cereal. Sighing, Megan got another spoon. She joined Roger at the table and they shared the bowl.

Roger lifted the cereal box, regarding it. “Do you know what this would taste great with?”

“Shut up,” Megan snapped.

Roger gave a crooked smile and added more cereal.

This was new for them—having breakfast together. Not sneaking around, hiding from Paige anymore. It was new and nice, but uncomfortable and odd. It was more domestic than before.

There was a long groaning noise from the living room. Megan frowned. “I’ll check on her,” she said, but as she got up and walked to the door, she could feel Paige and Roger trailing her.

Amy was awake.

She was still sprawled on the couch, though propped up somewhat on the arm. She had an automated breast pump that must have come out of the worn backpack she had arrived with. She’d somehow managed to attach it to her massive belly-nipple, and the machine was humming, but at times, also sputtering. It was jamming up. Amy was red and panting on the couch, her face sweat soaked as her belly heaved and shuddered. It trembled as Amy strained, and she seemed to be…pushing? Still, the pump wasn’t working, and the milk came out in a slow ooze at most. Amy huffed and threw the pump aside. For a moment, she began to flail and fumble, leaning forward, struggling against she mass of her abdomen, seemingly attempting to actually plant her lips on her own bulging navel.

“You okay?” said Megan in uncertainty.

Amy gave a choked gasp and flopped back, not even sparing Megan a glance. “There’s just so—much,” she panted out. Her belly jerked and she groaned. “More than I can…nrrghhhh…” A vein throbbed on her temple as she pushed. Her belly quaked.

“Amy, calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself,” said Megan.

“My—my friend,” Amy responded. “I—god—I have to c-call her. She…she used to help me. Like your friend. Like—Roger.” Amy gave another long groan, her belly shuddering and her back arching off the couch. The mound was full, red, and visibly throbbing. Megan began to legitimately fear that if Amy pushed herself enough she might burst.

“Amy, stop it. It’s not working. It’s not coming out, so stop trying to force it—”

But Amy just released another long grunt, and reddened, and strained. She looked like a woman in labor.

“We need to make her sleep, or—or sedate her, she—she needs to relax—” Megan rambled. She thought of the drug. Maybe if she gave Amy a little of the hormone—

“I have some xanex,” Paige piped in.

“Get it,” said Roger.

Paige hurried off to her bedroom.

It took twenty minutes for the pills to kick in, but soon Amy was lying limp on the couch again, her body relaxed and eyes unfocused. Her belly continued to throb, but not with the perilous tremors from before.

It was ominous in its hugeness. It seemed like it protruded out even more now that all of Amy’s muscles had resigned. The belly-breast seemed like an independent, living being, the way it pulsed and seeped. Megan stared at it uneasily. “What do we do?” she said.

“I don’t know,” said Roger. “I think she needs some way to drain it. Maybe we should take her to the hospital.”

“Are you nuts?” said Megan. “They’ll turn her into some lab experiment.”

The group decided to think on it. And by think, avoid the issue entirely. Megan joined Paige at the kitchen table with a pile of textbooks, and spent a few hours on a research paper. When her tits started to ache, she went to the bathroom to pump, then went back to work on her long-neglected coursework. In the meantime, Roger ate their food, chuckled at his phone, and sometimes muttered about lacrosse practice or some internship he was applying for. Megan was immersed in a particularly grueling calculous equation when she heard Roger say, “So I hear you do web porn.”

“Yeah, so?” said Paige.

Megan slowly looked up.

“Looking for a live show?” Paige winked at him.

“Nah,” said Roger, smirking back. “Megan could probably use some tips though.”

“Christ, Roger,” said Megan, at her wits end. She was beginning to realize that Roger was completely intolerable when he wasn’t sucking or fucking her.

“You’re doing web-porn, Meggie?” said Paige, turning to Megan with wide eyes.

“She wants to keep it discreet,” supplied Roger.

“Good luck with that,” Paige snorted, eying up Megan’s tits for the umpteenth time. “God, I should have known. I’m sure those freaks go crazy over you. Four huge porn-star tits on a tiny body. Hell, even I’m getting a little hot just thinking about it.”

“Fuck you,” Megan told her with a smile. She turned to Roger and was about to tell him where he could shove his lacrosse racquet, when the sound of the front door slamming shut pulled her from her train of thought.

Megan got up and went to the living room to find that Amy was gone and so was her stuff. All that she’d left were a few splatters of thick-looking milk on the floor.

-

Megan did another free video, completely topless this time, and feeling all the more mortified. She felt stiff and unnatural as she sat there on camera. She got a huge surge of views, but as the minutes ticked by, viewers dropped off, losing interest.

obvs fake, one of them said.

The nervousness was crippling, but Megan tried to relax. She needed to open up. Acting before she could allow herself to think things through, Megan moved the camera so that in addition to her torso, her face was visible. At least, the lower half of her face.

“It’s. Not. Fake,” she said firmly, and hesitated. “My name is M…Melanie. A few months ago, I found myself with an odd affliction. My boobs kept expanding, then I—I fucking grew two more, somehow. Now it’s all just—growing, constantly growing.” She absently reached up to cradle one of her lower breasts. “Then there was milk and…god, they’re always so full…” She trailed off, breathless, abashed, and it was strangely intimate, talking to the viewers, revealing herself like this. The view count was stabilizing…no, rising. It was increasing. Megan absently rubbed her tingling breast. She was due to pump them soon. She had to…what if she... Megan squeezed her swollen nipple and a squirt of milk shot out.

The view count leapt. Adrenaline rushed her. Before she could stop herself, Megan lifted her other hand, and squeezed both nipples of her lower breasts in tandem. Right there on camera, she started to milk herself. It was humiliating. It was a mess. She tugged and squeezed, arched and gasped, and the numbers skyrocketed.

-

“I’m not sure what the appeal is,” Megan mumbled in Roger’s car a few days later, sort of hating that he was the only person she felt comfortable enough with to confide in. “I can start charging for my videos, but I can’t offer viewers anything they haven’t already seen in a free one.”

Roger was focused on the road. “I’m sure people would be willing to pay.”

“I don’t know,” said Megan. “There’s nothing new. It’s stupid.”

“Then do something different.”

“I’ve done everything. Jiggle them. Squirt them. What else?” said Megan, her face red.

“They’ll tune in,” said Roger.

“Why?”

“The same reason I do.”

“It’s different. We actually…”

“They’ll tune in to see you grow.”

Megan blinked. She opened her mouth then closed it. She felt the heat building on her cheeks.

“It’s the biggest appeal. They’ll want to see the…progress.” Roger pulled into the back of the rest stop parking lot. Megan couldn’t look at him. Her mind had gone blank.

“Want anything?” he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. The tank was still ¾ full but Roger probably wanted to take a piss and grab another of those nasty protein shakes he was always guzzling.

“I’ll come in,” said Megan, zipping up her impossibly thick jacket.

Megan still wasn’t sure why she had agreed to spend the week at Roger’s parent’s vacation cabin in the mountains, though it wasn’t as though she’d had anything better to do. It was about a five hour drive from the city, and the two were halfway there.

Megan followed Roger inside the qwicmart, where Megan grabbed chips, soda, candy, and some of the other crap she’d been craving lately. She was just pulling a pint of ice cream out of one of the freezers when she heard a noise that made her freeze.

A baby crying.

The effect was instant. Her breasts tightened and seeped, her body trembling and her breathing thinning. “Fuck.” Megan dropped her items right on the floor and hurried out of the mart, ignoring the stares of the other patrons.

She got back into Roger’s car and leaned down, hugging her torso, trying to clear her mind and breathe through it, but she just kept hearing the crying. And her tits were still seeping hard, practically squirting, milk sluicing down her torso, rapidly soaking through her shirt and even her jacket. The mounds heaved, bobbing gently up and down.

The driver’s side door opened.

“Sorry,” said Megan quickly. “I’m making a mess.”

“It’s okay,” said Roger as he sat down. He lowered a bag to the back seat, and Megan could see that he had purchased a lot of the stuff she had dropped. Roger gave her a thoughtful look. “You were really affected by that baby.”

“Shut up.”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Lean back.” He reached over, lowering Megan’s seat.

“No, I mean—someone will see,” said Megan, hardly resisting as Roger unzipped her jacket.

“It’s fine,” said Roger, sliding up Megan’s shirt, climbing over her, and going to work on her four tits.

13.

Roger purchased Megan an assortment of custom-made…clothing. Lingerie, specifically. It was kind weird, and Megan had half a mind to deck him. But it was also kind of exciting. Megan observed herself in the mirror in the four-breasted bikini top she had put on. She wondered what the manufacturer had thought when Roger had submitted the order. Megan snickered. Then she thought about how turned on Roger probably got just at the thought of Megan wearing this.

Admittedly, it wasn’t just lingerie. There were also…maternity bras, which were so very soft and comfortable, yet awkward, and kind of weirded Megan out. That she was a young woman, a college student, was wearing a double-breasted maternity bra, which was meant for…meant for people who decidedly weren’t her.

All of it was dizzying, but Megan just went along with it because pleasure always seemed to accompany the weirdness. A lot of it. It’s going to be a long week, Megan thought, as she pulled a robe over herself and stepped out of the master suite, through the french doors, and onto the deck right outside of it.

The air was brisk but the hot tub was on. Roger was already waiting inside of it.

“This is really corny,” Megan noted wryly.

“Super corny,” Roger responded, watching her intently.

Megan shed the robe. She was wearing the custom bikini and a pair of swim shorts. She found it hilarious the way Roger immediately pressed his lips.

“You have issues,” Megan noted, grinning. “I can’t control this, but you…you’re something special.”

“Come here,” said Roger.

Megan climbed into the hot tub and sort of enjoyed how possessive Roger was becoming of her. How much attention Roger gave her. Her tits, specifically. And turned out, it wasn’t just bathing suits and lingerie. There were custom made tube tops, bandeaus, and more for Megan to try on. Each new outfit seemed to turn Roger on more than the last one. The outfits did nothing for Megan except to keep her mildly entertained.

It was also weird to—unintentionally—flaunt her boobs. Usually she was wrapping them, pushing them down, trying to hide them under layers of baggy clothes. So to look in the mirror and see her four tits bulging against a neckline, cleavage on generous display, was a little jarring. It was embarrassing, but fun as well, torturing Roger. Getting whatever she wanted from him.

“Focus on the bottom ones,” Megan groaned one evening while Roger was kissing her breasts.

“What?” he said.

“You’re always sucking the top ones. They need attention to,” said Megan, pushing Roger’s head down, to his clear amusement. He obliged and Megan just groaned.

It was a week of nonstop sucking and stimulation. Roger was at it all day, every day, touching or groping her boobs. Megan would wake up to sucking them, and fall asleep to Roger groping them. It was insane. Megan’s nipples were deliciously sore, and she couldn’t get enough.

Between sessions of fucking, kissing, and groping, the two lazed around. They ordered food in a lot, and ate junk, Roger finally taking a break from his strict athlete diet, and Megan just giving no fucks.

They even agreed to stay an extra three days. They were cutting it close with the new semester, but it just felt so good to be at the cabin taking a break from the world.

It was one of their final days, and Megan was getting ready to lounge in the hot tub for a few hours. She was pulling on the string bikini from the first day there, Roger’s favorite of the things he had purchased, when Megan found herself struggling somewhat. She paused to look down at herself, at the way her boobs bulged against the cups, in fact, she could barely get the thing on. The material was uncomfortably squeezing, and just couldn’t seem to accommodate all of her tit flesh. Before Megan could fully wrap her mind around this, Roger chose that moment to stroll in.

Roger immediately noticed the issue. He stopped to stare. “Megan…” he said.

Megan felt herself redden.

“Oh my god Megan.”

“I know,” Megan responded, cheeks hot.

“They’re growing, oh god. Look how much they're growing.” Roger attacked them with nips and bites as Megan unintentionally arched into the contact.

“Oh fuck,” Megan whispered as she was pushed into the wall.

Roger was insanely turned on. He had Megan try on everything, and it was all too tight. Megan was not sure how she hadn’t noticed it before. She must have been going topless most days. All her clothes were straining, her breasts bulging to get free of them. Her four mounds were stretching out bandeaus, or bubbling over the necklines of her tank tops. Megan was embarrassed and horrified, but mostly aroused. She hated that this turned her on, but god, it did. It really did.

Then they were fucking and kissing. Roger was groping and touching. He paid special attention to the lower mounds, pushing Megan flat on the bed and drinking indulgently. God, Megan was growing her tits. Like a plant or farm animal, she was nurturing it to more fertility, more abundance, more girth. More and more milk.

Megan was breathless, trembling slightly. “What the hell are we doing?”

“You look amazing,” Roger murmured between kisses. “Gorgeous. Your body is incredible. I fucking can’t get enough.”

Megan was getting massive. In the morning, she squeezed into a too-tight tanktop, her swollen nipples rubbing into the cotton in a way that made her groin tingle. The mounds bobbed on her chest, all four fat and full and bloated, even though she had pumped before she got out of bed. Roger couldn’t seem to take his eyes or hands off them. He never stopped touching them. Megan loved it, but she knew she needed a break. Things were getting out of control.

That afternoon they watched a movie on the couch together. It was a relatively tame activity. Megan was leaned into Roger, and Roger was cupping her breasts gently. Megan was getting used to the constant contact on her boobs. She fidgeted somewhat, panting.

The mounds were sweat-sleek, round and heaving. She could feel them pushing. Stretching. She could actually feel them expanding as they grew progressively more engorged.

They were so hot. So heavy. Her nipples were huge and hard and ready to squirt. Megan tried to readjust herself, but now Roger’s hands were digging into her even though he had not moved an inch.

“You okay?” he said.

“Yeah…” said Megan breathlessly, but she couldn’t go on. She needed to pump. She pulled herself out of Roger’s arms and felt his gaze on her back as she left. Both knew that she shouldn’t have been due for another pumping for at least a few hours. Megan suspected she would have to add a session to her regular routine.

-

It was a long trip home, and Megan felt completely overstimulated. Roger had wanted to make the best of their final day at the cabin, and Megan was suffering the consequences.

She was so tight. She was trying her best not to pant, but she was completely soaked in sweat, and it was obvious that she was uncomfortable. Her breasts were flushed and full, and her nipples began to leak on their own. Roger pulled over several times to suck her enough for Megan to get through another hour without feeling like she was about to burst. It was a relief to finally get home and shed the now way-too-small jacket

Paige was walking by. She paused to stare. “Holy crap,” she said.

Megan grimaced at her. “The trip…might not have been the best idea,” she said breathlessly. Her tits each looked like honeydews, nipples huge and distended. She had barely been able to fit into anything for the trip home, the tank top she had on stretched at the seams, her tits all but popping out of it. To top that off, Roger seemed practically addicted to her. Megan had barely been able to pull herself away when Roger had dropped her off at the building. “Damn, he did a number on you,” Paige noted.

“It was—mutual,” Megan gasped out, struggling to contain the milk.

“Then it looks like you had a little too much fun.”

Megan bit hard on her lip, her faced twisted. “I think—I think I’m going to lie down,” she managed, and headed gingerly for her room.

-

Megan did her first paid video. It felt dirty and weird, but there was definitely a response to her increased size. A huge response. She felt overwhelmed and embarrassed, but there was just so much online support. She was showered with so many compliments that she began to feel comfortable in her own skin for the first time since this whole thing had started. The cash was flowing in, and she was starting to feel weirdly…confident. People commented relentlessly on her boobs, and it was clear that the latest bout of growth hadn’t gone unnoticed.

whoa, when did they…?

they’re huge!

wat the hell have u been eating?

They grew!

how much did they grow?

How much bigger you gonna make them?

Maybe u went 2 far? There just so…

Fuck, dis is incredible.

Can we have more frequent updates? Like, daily?

Oddly, no one even mentioned the charge for the video. They hardly seemed to care.

“They’re always really…full,” Megan said, speaking for the first time, trying to sound relaxed and not terrified. She could feel the milk pressing hotly at her flesh even then. Megan had figured talking to her viewers might be a way to engage people more, yet it increased the risk of someone somehow identifying who she was. “I’m up to pumping them four times a day, otherwise they get so tight, then they get bigger.”

The comment section exploded, new lines of text scrolling down the screen faster than Megan had any hopes of reading it. “I better…I better get pumping. Be sure to comment, subscribe, and look out for my next video,” she said breathlessly, before cutting off the live stream.

A few days later, Megan had Roger on.

Roger had no reservations whatsoever. He even went ahead and revealed his face, even though Megan was always so meticulous about keeping her own face hidden from the nose upward.

Without even a hint of shame, Roger got down and started to suck Megan for all the viewers to see. He seemed to get lost, kissing, licking, sucking indulgently, and Megan couldn’t help releasing a small groan. She just pulled Roger closer, held him to her chest, noting that he was a sick pervert, then realizing that she was one as well.

The response was even bigger than the last time. Megan’s audience was only growing, and she felt strangely proud of the very strange thing she was building.

-

Megan finally got around to visiting Sam.

Sam looked well into her new pregnancy. In fact, she already looked due, though Sam assured that she was only six months along. Megan just stared uncomfortably, sort of mortified with herself when she thought about how she had been indulging Roger’s weird sexual fantasy. Megan remembered how she had thought about Sam. Thought of becoming like Sam, and gotten turned on.

Now, it was just awkward. Megan tried not to think about it anymore.

“God, high school feels like it was so long ago,” Megan muttered. “We were just dumb kids.”

Sam snorted. “We still are.”

Megan tried to remember a time when her life wasn’t ruled by sex and highs. Her stomach lurched, and she cupped it, wondering if she had eaten anything sour recently. With all the junk food she had been throwing back, it really wasn’t a surprise that she had indigestion.

Her attention shifted back to Sam, who was huge with another litter, her belly practically squashing her. Megan flushed. “How does it feel?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Tight,” said Sam immediately. “Stuffed. Uncomfortable. Heavy.” She groaned, cupping her gut, and arching, pushing it farther outward, farther than Megan thought was logical.

Megan swallowed.

“But it really turns me on,” Sam breathed. “Like, I’m always really fucking horny. Sometimes I just—I just like, come. You know? Just daydreaming or something. God, it’s fucked up.” Sam continued to fidget under the huge mass perched against her. “I can’t believe how huge I am…mghhh…about to pop.” Sam kneaded her palms into her mass with a sort of desperation. “Fuck, I’m not ready for labor.”

Megan gulped, staring at the heaving mound. “But you have time.”

“Nghh…yeah…not sure how I’m gonna last another three months at this rate.” Sam continued to rub, face flushed. “I know I’m an extreme case. The babies seem to come in threes for some reason. Well, this time it’s quads. They’re really packed in there.”

“Yeah...”

“And the doctor said they’re big babies. Don't know how mom expects me to nurse. I’ve only got these things.” She motioned to the respectable B-cups bulging on her chest. “Can't produce that much. Gonna have to use formula.”

Megan’s face was flaming.

She was actually surprised that Sam had yet to ask about Megan’s layers of bulky clothes topped off by a huge winter coat. Then again, Sam had always been kinder than Jane. She didn’t prod or harass, she let people come out with things on their own. On top of that, Sam already did know about Megan’s huge tits from high school. She just didn’t know about the second pair Megan had kept hidden all these months.

Revealing herself not only to her sister, but also Paige, had been far more than Megan thought she could ever do or handle. Sam was a new challenge, but Megan was committed to opening up. She had decided before the visit. She needed people in her life with whom she could share her secret, not to hide away like a hermit for the rest of her life.

So Megan drew a deep breath, and began to undo her jacket. She started to shed the layers.

14.

Megan stripped down all the way to her tank top, which was stretchy, and hugged her torso. Every curve of her upper body was on display, and once Megan dumped her coat to the ground, Sam was left gawking at her for seconds…minutes.

Megan knew she was red. “I grew more boobs,” she blurted out, ludicrous as that sounded. Her lungs felt compressed, like she couldn’t get enough air in. “I’m a mutant,” she added with a shaky laugh.

Sam was still staring, her jaw hanging slack. “Shit,” Sam huffed out after the longest time. “This is crazy. It—it kinda looks good on you.”

“What?” said Megan, completely astonished. It was one thing for Roger to say it, and another for her subscribers to tell her, and then even for Paige to intimate it—but now even Sam thought it looked good?

Sam shifted awkwardly beneath her massive swell, then sighed and slumped back as though resigned to the weight. “Yeah, girl. It’s weird. They’re huge. But it kinda looks—good, somehow. Like, it suits you. I mean, it’s sorta hot.”

Megan’s face heated more. “I was so scared to tell you,” she blurted out. “It’s why I’ve been avoiding you. It’s weird, and freakish, and god, it’s getting so hard to hide them. They just keep growing. And Roger’s no help—”

“Chill out,” said Sam, as she idly rubbed her hands into her belly. She laughed a little. “They’re just boobs. What, did you think I would freak out?”

“Kind of,” said Megan weakly.

From there they talked and talked. They never ran out of things to discuss about the past few months. Talking to Sam was easy. Sam was laid back and kind, and Megan found herself truly admiring her friend for the first time, even when Sam would pause to appraise Megan again, and Megan’s feelings of vulnerability would surge a little.

“It’s cool,” Sam said with an easy smile. “Kinky as hell.”

Megan just laughed.

“Ohh…” Sam’s belly quivered and she tensed somewhat, panting.

“You okay?” said Megan.

“Yeah... just, just the pressure,” said Sam. There was a subtle roll of her belly. She panted quietly, continuing the rub the mound. She looked so huge and weary. She released a grunt, and her belly bounced slightly. “Nrrgghh…never get pregnant.”

Megan gave a nervous chuckle. “I don’t plan to.”

-

“You gonna put a baby in me?” said Megan shamelessly that night as Roger fucked her.

“Fuck yes,” he answered.

“H-how many?” Megan asked.

“One for each tit. No, five or six, to keep you on your toes.”

“Five or six?” Megan groaned. Sam was pregnant with four, and she was huge. If Megan had six, she would be massive. Her voice quavered. “I’ll be gigantic.”

“Mmmmm.”

“A fucking pig.” And she could imagine it. Herself toting a huge stomach as she waddled around, struggling not to drop.

-

“I’m gaining weight,” Roger mentioned one day, a wry look on his face.

Megan looked at Roger. She didn’t see a difference. Still, she found herself weirdly amused and turned on by the idea. “No one told you to swallow.”

“Ha, ha,” said Roger sarcastically, joining Megan on the bed, and he never did stop. He always swallowed.

Over the days that followed, Megan paid attention, and she did start to notice the little gut Roger was developing under his jerseys and jackets. Megan rubbed it every chance she got. She saw how Roger’s belts had begun to strain. And for some reason, Megan wanted him to get fatter. She wanted to make Roger fatter, knowing that it was her milk that did it. It was just a turn-on.

Roger went away for a few days to visit home, and when he came back, he seemed a bit miserable.

“What did your parents say?” Megan couldn’t help asking.

“They weren’t impressed,” he responded wearily. “I’m gonna have to start hitting the gym more before lacrosse season starts.”

But Roger continued to indulgently drink Megan’s milk, and he continued to get fat.

-

Megan was weirdly gaining confidence.

Since the initial budding of her second pair of breasts, she had seen herself as a freak, and had been determined to hide it. But suddenly she was getting praise and admiration at every turn. People told her she was hot, gorgeous, and the object of their wildest fantasies. All of the positive reinforcement must have been going to her head because Megan found herself going out one night without her many layers.

To say that she was comfortable in her own skin was an overstatement, but she was definitely…progressing somewhere. She was trying to fight through the self-resentment and mortification, at least for the night.

She and Roger took a bit of a road trip. It was a few hours, but Megan thought it would be worth it. Megan had an oversized cardigan strewn over her shoulders, though it didn’t conceal much. The tight fit of her tank top was visible, the way it dipped low into the cleavage of her upper breasts. At one point, Roger had pulled over just so he could bury his face in it. The plump outlines of both pairs of Megan’s breasts were readily apparent in the top. Megan had finished off the outfit with a pair of black leggings, and she felt a strange mixture of excitement and terror.

Roger couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Megan, much as he tried to focus on the road. “How are they doing?” he asked, licking his lips.

“Okay, for now,” Megan said.

“God, you look so good.”

Megan gave a shaky smile, and just tried to shift her attention away from the amorphous black coat she had lying in the backseat, just in case she lost her nerve.

Roger pulled up to the club. He got out, and after an internal countdown, Megan convinced herself to as well.

“God, this place looks sleazy,” said Megan.

“It’s a strip club. What did you expect?” Roger laughed.

They went to the entrance, and the bouncer made a perfunctory grunt for their IDs without really looking at them, instead eying some bums on the corner. Megan and Roger quickly provided their fake IDs, and the bouncer gave them a rapid once-over, then his eyes bulged.

His eyes were pinned to Megan’s huge tits. And huge they were. They wobbled gently with Megan’s breathing, all four stretching out the tank top she was wearing. Megan felt flushed and tense, and suddenly regretted ever coming out like this—

“G-go ahead,” said the bouncer, choking slightly.

Megan gave a nod and ducked inside. She could hear Roger following.

Megan’s nipples were stinging. It was the stress. She suddenly wanted the comfort of feeling Roger sucking her. There had to be a bathroom somewhere. “Want a snack?” she asked. Megan glanced back at Roger, pointedly cupping one of her lower breasts, lifting it slightly.

But Roger’s eyes were ahead, wide and rapt. Megan could see something bright reflecting against his pupils.

“Meg, look.”

Megan turned forward and finally paid attention to the stage ahead, and the various strippers of varying genders dancing half-nude or bare naked for the two dozen or so patrons that littered the club.

Megan saw Jane for the first time in a while, and her friend had certainly changed.

Jane was wearing only a bikini top and a small, tight pair of shining silver shorts, showing off her lean body and her huge bouncing ass that strained the pants and must have doubled in size since high school.

It was huge. Bouncy, juicy, absolutely ludicrous in the way that it bulged out behind her, bobbing with her every move, about ready to blow out of her shorts. It looked completely insane yet gorgeous and strangely alluring. Megan suddenly wondered if this was what people felt when they saw her.

“Woah,” Roger managed, and nothing more, seemingly mesmerized by Jane’s pole dance and huge bubble-ass. Megan was gawking, her face frozen in a stunned expression. Thankfully, the venue was dark. Jane had yet to see them.

“Yeah,” Megan heard herself respond weakly. “She…grew.”

“Damn,” Roger breathed as he dropped himself into a seat.

-

They were allowed backstage after the show, and Megan suspected it was because the bouncers thought she was part of the entertainment. Everyone was ogling her, eyes wide, jaws hanging. Their fingers twitched as though they wanted to touch, but thankfully, no one ever did.

Watching her childhood friend twerking her hugely swollen ass on stage had been a very different experience. As Megan spotted Jane backstage, up close, she felt even more awkward. Jane was breathless and sweaty, and had yet to notice them. While talking to another dancer, one of Jane’ hands had reached down to cup her own ass, supporting it somewhat. The booty-shorts looked painfully tight, and offered little in terms of coverage. Up-close, Megan could see that the huge wobbling ass wasn’t the only oddity Jane was displaying. Jame’s hips looked much fuller, and there were two—horns?—protruding out of her hair.

“Jane,” Megan blurted.

Jane stiffened, and turned in Megan’s direction. She looked completely shocked. “Meg.”

“Hey,” Megan managed, her face flaming as Jane’s astonished gaze took in Megan’s form.

“God, Sam wasn’t kidding.”

“She told you?” said Megan.

“I thought she was fucking with me.”

“Yeah…this is all…”

“Weird shit,” said Jane. “But the money’s good.” She was still indulgently staring at Megan’s four breasts.

It was uncomfortable. “Your show was great,” said Megan. “Roger thought so. Didn’t you Roger?”

“I…er…” was all Roger could say.

“Yeah, you liked it?” said Jane with grin. She was shameless, as always. God, this was so fucking weird.

An older guy was passing by, and Jane waved him over. He was somewhat beefy and wearing a cheap suit.

“Boss, this is Megan,” Jane said. “The friend I was telling you about.”

Jane told her boss about me? Megan thought, completely disturbed as Jane’ boss took his turn to eye Megan up.

“Meg, this is Ted,” Jane added.

“Megan, great to meet you. Take my card. I have work if you ever need it,” said Ted, weirdly unfazed by the dimensions of Megan’s body. “You look very familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“No—er—no,” said Megan, her thoughts immediately going to her video channel. “I just have one of those faces.”

“Hmm,” said Ted, looking amused and self-satisfied. “Jane, you’re back on in three.”

“Yeah,” said Jane. “Fuck, Megan. It was good to see. We have to catch up properly some time. When I’m not at work.”

“Yeah, of course,” said Megan feebly.

Then Jane walked off towards the stage as the others watched Megan seep heavily into her shirt. Megan gathered just enough energy to drag Roger to the bathroom.

The reunion had been more than her body could handle.

-

One day, Megan did a Q&A. She was constantly changing things up and adding new things. It kept people interested, and kept her income increasing.

“Yeah, it does feel good to release the milk,” Megan said awkwardly in response to one of the messaged inquiries. As usual, she was only visible from the lower half of her face downwards. “It even looks good to some people, but all the growth is obviously an issue in my personal life.” Megan was flushed while talking. She felt flushed most days lately. And full. She rubbed the side of one of her breasts gently, breathing evenly, arching slightly. She was dressed in a tiny, skimpy, double-breasted bikini top. Another gift from Roger. She didn’t know why, but she wanted Roger to suck her. She wanted Roger to permanently be sucking. Megan released a low sigh. “Next question,” she managed, her eyes trailing down to a short sentence submitted by another one of her top supporters. Megan immediately regretted reading it aloud before reading it silently: “Are you going to have a baby?” Megan blinked a few times, face reddening. “Er…I’m not…”

Now comments were trailing down the screen, people enthusiastically voicing their thoughts on the query.

when? when?

ur getting a little belly.

i think, I think she’s having a bb.

“Of course not,” Megan said coolly. “No plans. It’s not on the agenda.”

You can tell us.

yr all glowing

are you preg?

babybumpbabybumpbabybumpbabybump…

Megan’s bikini top was feeling incredibly tight. She dragged it down, all four of her nipples squirting hard. She grunted. “Have I…have I really gained weight?” She must have been distracted with the video channel, school work, Roger, and everything else going on. Now her tits felt close to bursting, still releasing forceful, erratic squirts. “Well, this wraps up the Q&A,” she said quickly, closing her laptop, and staggering to her bed. She dropped back and hastily connected her breast pumps. She turned on the machine, her whole body shuddering. She covered her eyes with her hand, releasing a long moan, and came untouched, hips twitching.

There were tears on her cheeks. She didn’t know whether it was the pleasure or the fear. Her free hand slid to her stomach and indeed found a curve there.

15.

Megan was horny, like, really horny. She seemed to have a chronic need for Roger to be sucking her tits or pounding her, and Roger was all too eager to please. They were fucking more than ever before. On top of that, Megan’s appetite had continued to surge. She was eating constantly, and mainly junk food. Roger was amused, and Megan’s steady weight gain only seemed to feed into the weird dirty talk. Talk of knocking Megan up, getting her plump with babies. Lately those fantasies were more unnerving than arousing to Megan, and even made her a little bit queasy.

Megan’s tits were blowing up. They seemed to be engorged no matter how much she pumped, and at times, would just start squirting randomly—like, while she was reading a book or something. It would happen unexpectedly, and she would go red and hastily fumble for her pumps.

Megan was hot all the time. Not just her boobs, but her body as a whole. Roger just brushed off the changes—Megan’s pigging out, squirting tits, bulging stomach, and her ceaseless need to have Roger’s dick in her. Roger didn’t even seem to register any of it as odd. After all, Megan was constantly changing, constantly growing.

And Megan was terrified. Her stomach was still getting…larger, and felt oddly firm rather than fat. She could see the growth in her full-length mirror, and her hundreds of followers were quick to point it out every time she did a livestream. Finally, she caved, and ordered a few of those home pregnancy tests from an online store. It took only a few days for them to arrive in the mail. Megan peed on every one, then just waited with her face in her hands, moaning indecipherably, and cursing. Her four nipples gushed profusely, breasts throbbing, strangely keen.

It probably took an hour for Megan to peel her hands away from her hands. She lifted each of the tests in turn, hands shaking as she read the results.

Positive.

Positive.

Positive.

“No, no, no,” Megan moaned, grunting as her tits began to positively spray, making a mess in the bathroom. She thought of Sam. Thought of the burden. Megan thought of herself, huge and flushed, body arched, stretching, belly quavering, tits leaking. She imagined her belly wider than the rest of her, like a bolder, pushing out several feet as she tried to balance the mass of it. Her boobs would be stacked atop it, nipples fat like marbles, squirting, as her body swelled and strained. She thought of how Roger would look at her, eyes hungry.

Megan groaned as her breasts squirted yet more. She arched, desperately wanting to purge the burden, but she seemed to produce milk faster than she could release it these days. She was continuously engorged and only swelling. God, this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Megan refused to acknowledge it as real. She couldn’t undergo such a drastic transformation on top of all the breast growth she was already dealing with. She couldn’t deal with babies.

The tests are wrong, Megan decided.

This couldn’t be happening.

And so it wasn’t happening.

-

Megan was getting chubby.

She looked good though. Roger admired the sight of the other teen lounged on the couch of the apartment, watching TV while stuffing chips into her mouth. The tight, worn tank top Megan had on showed off generous cleavage, her four seeping tits, large nipples bulging in the wet material, and the swell of a gut she had started to grow in recent weeks.

Sloppy as Megan looked, Roger couldn’t help wanting her even then. He was hungry for Megan’s milk. Practically addicted to it. He could hardly even control himself around Megan. And he couldn’t stop thinking about Megan’s tits, drinking them, and not stopping. Filling his stomach. Drowning in Megan’s milk. “This is toxic,” Roger muttered.

Megan looked up from her show. “What?” she said, voice muffled from her full mouth.

Roger looked down to regard himself. Patted the softness of his own gut. “This is unhealthy. You’re making me unhealthy.”

Megan swallowed the food in her mouth, then scowled. “Seriously?” she said.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

"So when it’s me fattening up, its sexy, but when you gain a few pounds, it’s a huge problem.

"It’s different." Roger didn’t have a condition. And he was on a sports scholarship.

“No it isn't,” said Megan.

“I want to break up,” Roger said, though he wasn’t even certain they had been dating.

Megan looked similarly confused, then irritated. Her eyes gleamed just for a moment, but then she blinked, and any hint of sadness was gone. “After what you did to me?”

“I didn’t—” Roger stammered. “You grow, you leak, you grow some more. This was happening well before me, and you haven’t exactly been complaining.”

Megan’s eyes fluttered and face reddened, her hands going up to cradle the four huge tits on her chest. Roger watched them bob gently, a bit hypnotized. He watched the four nipples swell and distend, pushing harder into Megan’s shirt as she released a small grunt.

Roger was hard. “We’re bad for each other,” he managed.

“Fine,” Megan hissed, her voice pained or pleasured, eyes squeezed shut. “Whatever. It was fun, I guess.” She arched and whimpered. One of her hands slid to her plump stomach.

“Yeah,” said Roger weakly, unable to move an inch. And so he stood there, indulgently staring, through Megan’s slow process of coaxing her body to calm down. Eventually Megan was glaring back up to him. Roger felt himself approach and lean over her. Megan’s eyes fluttered down in anticipation.

Roger pressed their lips together in a soft kiss. With that, he pulled away, grabbed his jacket, and left.

-

Rather than panicking, Megan just went numb.

Her schoolwork took a hit, her assignments low quality or just getting in late, but Megan could hardly bring herself to care anymore.

She also got a lot worse about being discreet, and found herself paying the price almost immediately.

Late one evening she left her apartment just to make a quick stop at the 24/7 convenience store around the corner. She threw a baggy jacket around her shoulders, only to realize it wasn’t too baggy on her lately. But Megan was so jaded, she just went about the errand. It was almost 1AM, after all. “Can I pay by card?” Megan said as she arrived at a register with her basket of unhealthy snacks almost spilling over. That’s when someone grabbed her shoulder.

“You’re her!” said an unfamiliar voice.

Megan turned around to see a thin, middle-aged man with wide, almost crazed, eyes, and he was staring at Megan’s chest. Megan’s face heated.

“Sorry?” she said.

“Double-boobs. Melanie from VidSwoop. I would recognize your voice anywhere. And—and your lips. And, oh god.” The stranger’s eyes were pinned to Megan’s chest. There was a prominent curve under the jacket and the man knew what was beneath. “I have to see them. Please let me see them.”

Megan’s heart was racing. “Sorry, I think you’re confusing me with someone else,” she said, trying to control the situation as the cashier looked on in confusion. The store seemed mostly empty, just the three of them, and another patron or two wandering the aisles. Megan felt frozen in panic. This was unprecedented. No one had ever blatantly recognized her before.

Then the stranger grabbed her. Grabbed Megan’s tits though her jacket, causing her to gasp. Milk gushed as the stranger squeezed the tender mounds.

“So soft,” he moaned as Megan grunted and reddened. “You haven’t posted in a while, but fuck, they’re bigger. Oh god, how—how’s the baby? You’re getting so big all over.”

Megan shoved the man off her and fled, allowing her grocery basket to crash to the ground. She didn’t stop running until she was back in her apartment building, by which point her jacket was soaked, her stomach was aching, and she felt like she might throw up. She folded her arms over her gut, willing it to settle down.

She felt hot and dizzy as she steadily made her way up to her apartment. She dragged herself inside and locked the door.

When she got to her room, Megan sunk down against her mattress, stared at the ceiling and focused on catching her breath.

-

Maybe Roger had left at precisely the right time, because Megan’s belly was beginning to blow up.

It didn’t take long until it had grown into a respectable bump. It had come out of nowhere. It seemed too soon for her to be this far along. She cupped the mound uneasily.

“Um, Meg?” called Paige’s voice behind her, causing Megan to go rigid. “What’s going on?”

Megan folded her arms over her waist, though she suspected it did little to hide the mound these days. “Nothing,” she said, cheeks warm as she walked out of the kitchen and locked herself up in her room, where she seemed to be spending most of her time. She still couldn’t believe how much she was growing.

Some mornings she would wake up and swear she’d had centimeters of growth since the night before. The inches were sneaking up on her. She needed a tape measure to prove that something weird and sinister was underway. There was constant pressure, her clothes beginning to strain at the waist, buttons pulling apart to make way for her swelling body. One evening, she felt so uncomfortable, she had to just sit down. She twisted her lips and cupped her navel, fidgeting slightly. She felt like…oh…it felt like…

Megan yelped as something popped. She half-laughed, half-sobbed when she realized what had occurred, drawing up her shirt with shaking hands to stare down at her now-outward protruding belly button. “God,” she muttered.

She felt so full, and all the time. It was a different pressure than the sensation of the milk. This was harder, heavier, unyielding, and terrifying. Was this what Sam had to deal with? Megan just panicked internally, still vaguely in denial. She didn’t know what to do. What was she supposed to do? Talk to someone? She didn’t think she could face it.

Instead, Megan got increasingly reclusive. She ordered all her meals in, her diet becoming 100% takeout. She stopped doing her online videos, but she had enough money saved up to get by for the time being. When Paige saw her, she would give odd looks. Maybe she thought she was becoming like Adam.

Megan huffed a laugh. No, this was certainly worse.

-

Megan was sprawled back on some pillows one day, getting ready for another of her video game binges. She reached for her controller, and found herself grunting, truly struggling, then just slumping back, gasping a bit, her hand still controller-less.

She came to realize how inflexible she had gotten lately. How heavy and awkward, and just generally burdened. How big.

Megan regarded herself. Her four breasts were flushed, swollen, and unattended. They were burning hot and felt as though they were pulsing, four nipples stinging, and seeping, and just unnaturally large. The mounds had surged up a couple of cup sizes, but she must have stopped caring, except when the tenderness and achiness kept her from getting sleep.

Her belly was huge. Fuck, she looked really pregnant. Her shorts were shoved low by the swell, her straining shirt only pulling down halfway over the mass. She hadn’t bothered with bigger clothes. She just outgrew the things she had. She could have been at term, at the size she was. But she didn’t like to think about it.

With some struggle, Megan heaved herself up from the bed, grimacing as she was reacquainted with the slight waddle she had developed recently. She made her way to the kitchen where Paige was eating a lunch of leftover Chinese takeout. Paige lowered her fork and looked up from her phone. Her tongue dipped out of her mouth and dragged over her bottom lip. Megan stood there in mortification as her eyes roved up and down her body.

Paige’s brows rose. “Heh. Do you want to talk about it?” She looked vaguely amused and a little sadistic.

“Um, no,” said Megan. Yet she continued to stand there. She leaned on the counter and frowned down at her body.

“I can call Roger,” Paige offered.

“No. This—it’s under control.”

“Um, are you…?”

“I’m pregnant,” said Megan snappishly, voicing it aloud for the first time. She rubbed her face.

“Congrats?”

Megan’s moved her hands to massage the sides of her belly without really registering it. “Right,” she said, still red with embarrassment. “Fuck.” What had she done?

Hadn’t this been the fantasy? Yet there was something decidedly less erotic about living it, dealing with the fact that she was going to have an actual baby, by herself, with no plan. She should have called Sam but she was still paralyzed by fear.

“Megan, it’s okay,” Paige said, being uniquely kind.

Megan wasn’t sure why, but it helped a little.

16.

Megan kept growing.

She absorbed herself in food and video games and continued to do a scant amount of school work. Things were getting so bad, there was a risk of expulsion. But Megan could hardly bring herself to care anymore. She was in a strange, numb state of avoidance. She tried to ignore what was going on in life outside of her games.

She was surprised by how much she grew. It seemed like too much, but she was still growing. Her boobs were still squirting, leaking, and swelling, and Megan couldn’t help fingering herself several times a day. She would think about Roger inside of her. She was getting fucking needy. Eyes widening, Megan released a whimper as she came, before slumping back, gasping against the mattress.

Most of Megan’s time was spent in bed propped up on several pillows. Her thighs would be spread, legs curled slightly, sort of cradling her belly while avoiding getting crushed beneath the heavy mass. Her huge breasts heaved where they were stacked on the mound, pressing into her chin at times. Megan was continually breathless and flushed, and the pressure seemed to be increasing every day. So was the strain, her skin hot and prickling. She felt packed to bursting and it was getting harder to bear.

Then one morning, Megan awoke, and realized she had gone from what she’d thought to be maximum capacity to a whole new extreme. She gasped and grunted, face contorting as she fidgeted for relief. She was just so tight. Too tight. It was uncomfortable, almost painful. She was almost scared to move, it was just too much.

There couldn’t just be one in there, she was way too big. How many were there, then? She had to be close, right? Megan didn’t know, she couldn’t calculate it. When had she and Roger started fucking, anyway? Megan stared in anguish at the huge globe attached to her body.

“Nrrgghhhh…” she grunted, as the pressure just got all the more impossible to tolerate.

Her face was hot. She found herself truly straining, straining to bear it all. Her hips shuddered.

“Fuhhhkk, fuck, fuckk,” Megan grunted, quivering, arching, searching for relief.

She estimated that she looked bigger than Sam had ever been, even bigger than Amy, but not swollen with milk, packed with fucking human beings. A strangled cry came up Megan’s throat. She was in stress, but not in labor. She was just straining. Her body couldn’t contain them. She was just too tight.

The door burst open, and there stood Paige in her night shirt. “Fuck, Megan, are you alright?”

“God, I need to give birth,” Megan managed, feeling tears run down her cheeks. “I need to feed them.” Her four nipples squirted.

Paige came over, tried to placate, but it was no use. Megan’s belly was throbbing forcefully, almost jerking, as she grunted, cried, and rambled. “Need to give birth, need to now, n-need to give birth Paige, I need them out my me, need my babies, need to feed them.” She was gonna pop. “Oh god,” Megan wheezed, shuddering, hyperventilating.

She must have blacked out at some point, because when Megan found herself lifting her eyelids again, the room was dark, as though the sun was just about to set. The bedside lamp was on though, and Megan was surprised to see Sam sitting there beside her.

“Ughhhh…” Megan groaned, regarding herself.

The blanket had been pushed down so her bare abdomen was exposed, in all its massiveness. And it was gleaming with…something. Creams. Oils? The pressure was still severe, but it wasn’t completely intolerable.

“Helps, right?” said Sam. She was no longer pregnant. She must have given birth. It was bizarre how quickly Sam seemed to have reverted to her small, mousy form, aside from a gentle curve to her belly, and a full pair of C-cup breasts bulging on her chest beneath the loose shirt she had on. “I was wondering why I couldn’t get in touch with you…” Sam mused aloud.

Megan choked out a sob. “S-Sam,” she managed, feeling so very pathetic and exposed. She looked down at her huge belly, eyes burning in shame. It shuddered. “I—I n-need them out of me.”

“You’ll have your babies soon,” said Sam, surprisingly gentle compared to how Megan remembered her in their school days. Maybe it was just something that went along with maternity. “Soon you can feed all of them,” Sam continued. “Not yet. Just a little more time. We need you to calm down.”

Of all the people Paige could have called, it seemed she had made the right decision. Megan felt the latter end of her breakdown mitigating. “God,” she huffed out. “F-felt like I couldn’t breathe for a minute.”

“It’s…a lot,” said Sam, eyes pinned to Megan’s orb. It was like a bolder, a massive ball bulging out, impossibly huge on her narrow body. It was wider than Megan was, practically crushing her in her position sprawled back on some pillows. Her thighs had gone numb. Megan tried to shift them.

The mound quavered with movement, Megan’s face twitching. Her nipples squirted hard, and she gasped for breath. “D-didn’t even know this could happen,” Megan managed.

“It’s okay,” said Sam simply. “You’re doing fine.”

It was weird to talk like this, in the dark room, on a subject that was so very intimate. Megan felt terribly vulnerable.

She felt like further explanation was warranted, but she didn’t even know where to start. She didn’t want to. If she thought about Roger, she was sure she’d just go numb again. “Always thought pregnancy was your thing,” Megan mumbled.

“Now it’s our thing,” said Sam, half joking. She reached out, and hesitated, before resting her hand just below Megan’s navel. “It’s almost over. Then you get to deal with being a parent.” Sam smiled and rolled her eyes.

Megan frowned at the thought.

-

Paige gave Megan something, some sort of herb to calm her down. She swore it was okay for the baby—more likely babies. And Megan had been so anxious, she’d actually accepted it.

Now she felt strangely mellow. It wasn’t unpleasant, just not very productive. She gazed aimlessly at the ceiling. Every so often, Paige or Sam would come in to check on her.

Megan shifted and fidgeted on the bed under the constant strain of her condition. She was continually trying to adjust herself as one limb went numb or another began to ache.

Her shirt only pulled down over her four breasts—and not completely. Her belly bulged out, huge and bizarre, practically bigger than she was. Megan was too flustered and overheated to bother trying to cover it up with a blanket. She was left to gaze uneasily at the nudges and kicks as they manifested on her tight skin. Frequently, she moisturized what she could of it with the salves and oils Sam had brought. But Megan’s hands couldn’t even reach most of the expanse of her belly anymore. So Sam, and sometimes Paige, helped. Megan would close her eyes and put her head back to endure the awkwardness of the contact.

There was a knock on the door. Two light taps. “Meg? Someone’s here to see you,” Paige called.

Megan furrowed her eyebrows. “What?” she said, putting her hands on the mattress behind her, shifting up somewhat, too baffled to properly react. Why on earth would she want a visitor in her state? And who could it possibly even be, that would just be allowed to come in, and—

Oh.

Roger entered the room.

He looked so young and uncomplicated in his team jacket and sneakers.

Megan was young as well.

But Megan was becoming a parent.

“Fuck,” Megan wheezed out, face burning hot. Her hands scrambled against the huge expanse of her belly, as though to cover it, but the prospect was ludicrous.

Roger looked astonished. He stood there gawking in silence, and to Megan’s mortification, she felt tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.

“Fuck,” Roger echoed, walking to her side. He took Sam’s vacated seat. “Did I—? Are you—? W-why the hell didn’t you tell me?” said Roger, still marveling, then blinking hard, and gaping some more. “I got you pregnant?” he said, voice cracking a little. Suddenly they were both crying, and Roger was leaning over to press a kiss to her lips. Megan didn’t know whether it was right or wrong, but she didn’t fight it; couldn’t have if she’d wanted to.

They didn’t talk much after that, they just sort of tried to absorb each other’s presence and the bizarreness of the situation. The first time Roger laid his hands on her belly, her face went bright red again.

“God, they’re mine Meg,” Roger said, rubbing gently. Eventually he got up and sat on the bed opposite Megan, legs crossed so he could face the mound directly. “Does this help?” he asked, indicating the oils on the bedside table.

Megan nodded.

“Is it okay if I—?”

She nodded again.

Her eyes fluttered as Roger began to rub the salves into her skin. Megan breathed heavily. She could feel her eyes watering again, to her frustration. She was just so fucking hormonal like this. And Roger’s return—it was just a lot for one day.

“Relax,” said Roger, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Megan grumbled back. She whimpered, fidgeted, and released a long huff. “It’s been—a lot. A lot to take,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Megan, feeling practically buried under her mounds in her overwhelmed state.

Roger took his time with the massage, often pausing to take in movements within Megan’s flesh and under his hands. He spread the salve slow and methodically, and Megan became surprisingly comfortable—more so than lately, at least. It had to have lasted at least a half hour, and she found herself dozing off, before Roger said, “The pumps?”

Megan blinked groggily up at him.

Roger shot a long glance to Megan’s four breasts. “Looks like you can use them.”

Megan’s breast were bloated and full, probably fuller than they had ever been before, because they were tight, tender, sore, and almost too-round, nipples bulging prominently. They squirted any time Megan made a move.

“Yeah, okay,” Megan mumbled, thinking that pumping might be helpful, but then, it might not have much of an impact. Megan found pumping also served to stimulate, and rile her body up in general. She was already perpetually horny as it was, and the thought of hitting orgasm, though pleasurable, seemed exhausting.

“You always did say you’d put a baby in me,” Megan noted wearily.

Roger gave an awkward chuckle. “Yeah, I did,” he said, and he regarded Megan, eyes dark. She was familiar with that look and found herself silently baffled. She honestly looked like a whale. Was Roger actually turned on by her in this state? Megan swallowed.

“Did you lose the weight?” Megan asked, more to distract than anything else.

Roger opened the flaps of his jacket. “Not really,” he said with a shrug. It wasn’t much, a little pudginess under his jersey.

“Ah.”

“Neither did you.”

A short, hysterical laugh escaped Megan’s throat. “Clearly.”

“How are the girls?” said Roger.

Megan knew Roger was referring to her tits. Megan looked down at the four mounds stretching her shirt almost to tearing, the fabric now soaked to transparency by the strain.

“The least of my worries,” Megan said, rubbing her face. Roger got the pumps and gingerly drew up Megan’s shirt. Helped Megan attach them one by one. Roger’s tongue dragged over his bottom lip and Megan tried to relax even as her groin started to heat up.

“God, you look so good,” Roger muttered like he was voicing a thought, causing Megan to bite her lip.

Before Megan could be dragged down that rabbit hole of a conversation that would likely entail questions like— “were they back together?” “what did ‘together’ even mean?” “did Roger actually want to try something physical?” “did Megan?” “wasn’t this whole situation just batshit nuts?”—Megan’s eyes caught something in the corner of the room. A tiny, blinking red light. She focused harder, trying to find the source, and saw smooth, sleek edges. She managed to make out a camera. There was a hidden camera, and it was directed to the bed. Megan was being recorded, half-nude and completely exposed. Her jaw fell.

17.

“You haven’t posted in months,” said Paige blithely. “Your followers were desperate for new content. Do you know how much money you’re bringing in with this stream?”

“Turn—it—off,” said Megan, face hot and heart pounding. She couldn’t believe Paige. The audacity!

“You’re kidding, right?” Paige crossed her arms and leaned back on the doorframe. “That would be like throwing away money.”

“I don’t care!” Megan retorted, breathless and furious. “Paige, this—this is personal!” She broke off to groan and grip her flanks, face contorted in discomfort.

Roger was baffled, looking from one girl to the other.

Sam entered. “What are you fighting about?”

“Meg’s throwing a fit over nothing.” Paige smacked her gum.

“Paige, she can drop at any moment.”

“Drop? She’s about to explode.”

Megan released another long groan. Her mountainous belly was protruding freely for all her followers to see, bobbing with her gasping breaths and grunts of discomfort. The mound was wider than her flanks, her belly button the size of a golf ball. She was implausibly massive, completely stuffed with baby. The tank top she had on only pulled over her four huge volleyball-sized breasts, and barely. It was stretched to transparency against her sweaty body, inches of her lower breasts pushing out under the tautly stretched hem. Her shorts were pushed low by her massive midsection, while feeling extremely tight at her hips, which had seen inches of growth in recent days. The bedsheets were bunched at her feet, but even if they were covering her, Megan had doubts that they would offer much to conceal her condition.

Megan was under too much stress to continue to fight with her deranged roommate. Words were proving useless anyway. She would cut off the stream herself. Before really thinking about it, she somehow pushed herself off the bed, nearly losing her balance once the massive weight of her belly was hanging in front of her. Megan watched it heave up and down, face reddening, sweat pouring. This had been a mistake. One of her hands slid to the underside of her belly. She found the other swinging behind her to clutch her back.

“Meg, what are you doing? You shouldn’t be on your feet,” said Roger, already up and wrapping an arm behind Megan in support.

“Ngghhhh…” was Megan’s only response, her belly tensing and tightening, seeming to shift and push forward right before her eyes. Oh fuck, was all Megan could think as she balanced, whined, and leaned into Roger’s support.

A pressure inside of her burst, and there was a splash of fluid. Tears leaked from her eyes.

“Get that off her,” someone said, and Megan felt hands touching her, guiding her, pulling at her shorts, supporting her belly. Felt herself being lowered to her knees. Her four tits tightened and began to spray milk, the overstressed tank top finally beginning to tear. “What’s happening?” was all she could manage through another groan.

“You’re amazing,” Roger murmured against her ear.

Megan was crying. Pain shot through her stomach, back, and hips, but she already knew.

She was in labor.

-

Megan was exhausted.

She couldn’t believe she’d just had seven freaking babies.

They were all a healthy size. Oversized in Megan’s opinion.

She felt weirdly gutted. Deflated. Empty. Her belly was still round and fat, but no longer a bolder pinning her down. But the weight was still there in the form of the seven babies presently covering her body, four nursing, one sleeping, and the other two just quietly sobbing in a way that was painful to listen to. She wished she could feed them all simultaneously, but she only had four breasts. Two too many, to be perfectly honest. Not that she hadn’t gotten used to the extra ones. Grown to appreciate them. Roger certainly did.

“Megan, fuck,” Roger murmured beside her, continuing to stare at the infants, sort of mystified, even though at least an hour had passed since Megan had created them.

“Yeah,” Megan whispered, because she was equally stunned. She’d just given birth. She was a parent. It was a lot to process. She wasn’t sure if she ever would.

Her breasts only seemed to be getting fuller and heavier, filling more to meet the demand of seven hungry mouths. She was glad she was lying down. She didn’t want to think about the strain the huge masses would be on her spent body. I’m a college sophomore, Megan realized, dazedly. How did she expect to juggle coursework with nursing and caretaking?

“We’ll figure it out,” said Roger, as though reading her mind. Roger absently rubbed Megan’s arm though his eyes never shifted from the newborns. “God, Megan. You’re fucking amazing.”

Megan rolled her eyes. You only mentioned twelve times, she said, quietly satisfied. Only, her lips didn’t move. And her eyes were closed now.

“Go ahead. Rest. I’ll handle this for now.”

Megan would have expressed her reluctance were she not already halfway to dreamland.

-

It was a few weeks later, and Paige had moved out. She said all the crying was disruptive to her peepshows (and apparently she required sleep at night. An odd notion to Megan who was mostly fueled by caffeine and a chorus of screams).

Roger hadn’t technically moved in, but he was there all night every night, and most days as well. The two were doing most of their coursework online, though Roger still tried to make lacrosse meets.

Megan’s tits were the size of basketballs and she was almost always nursing. They were full and heavy, and she had to lie down almost hourly. Sometimes they got so tight, she would wake up crying, and Roger would push her back into the mattress, and relieve some of the tension until the babies were up and wailing to feed.

It was strange, the first time Roger had sucked her since the birth. Alternating from feeding her children to feeding Roger—it was an entirely different sensation, and a bit confusing, so Megan preferred to avoid it, though that wasn’t exactly working.

“God Megan, I didn’t even imagine you could get this big,” Roger murmured to her in the dark of early morning one day when everything was blissfully silent. At least for the moment.

Megan squirmed against Roger, grunting slightly as some of Roger’s weight shifted against her chest. She hadn’t imagined getting to this size either. But she was quickly learning to have no expectations when it came to her body’s capacity for growth.

Megan’s belly was still plump and round, making her look as though she was still quite pregnant, maybe with one child rather than a fucking litter though. Roger indulgently rubbed Megan’s belly, hand kneading into the doughy bloat of it. In the meantime, he kissed every inch of Megan’s four huge tits.

“God, you look so hot,” said Roger breathily. “Can’t wait to get you pregnant again.”

Megan’s four nipples squirted, groin tingling. Despite her body’s reaction to the notion, she tried to gain control of the situation. “Are you nuts? You’re never doing that to me again.” She breath shuddered, and she unconsciously arched as Roger ran his tongue along the cleavage of her upper breasts. “We have seven,” said Megan shakily. “I have to finish college and—and do shit besides nursing.”

“I was just…talking,” said Roger, pulling back and meeting Megan’s eyes through the dark. He didn’t look very sincere or convinced, himself. “I didn’t actually mean it.”

Megan frowned, sighed, and shook her head. She closed her eyes and leaned back in a cue for Roger to continue. He did.

“It ishot,” Megan admitted weakly. “Sometimes. When you…when you talk about stuff like that.”

“Mmmm,” Roger hummed.

Megan went rigid when Roger put Megan’s upper left nipple into his mouth and gave a forceful suck.

“But seriously. We’re never doing that again,” Megan breathed.

Roger hummed again in what Megan presumed was agreement.

Of course, there had never been much self-control between the two of them. They were eighteen and nineteen, and not the most responsible. Not the most restrained.

-

Megan belatedly noticed that she was off the hormone.

She never really registered when she had actually quit it. It had to have been sometime early in the pregnancy. It wasn’t a conscious decision. The addiction had just vanished, replaced with panic, stress, and perhaps a supplemental addiction to daytime soap operas.

What had previously been an impossibility had become the easiest thing in the world. She had her babies to thank, she supposed.

After six months of nursing, Megan’s boobs, thankfully, went down to a more manageable size. By manageable, they were HHH-cups, and resembled ripe honeydews, but she would take it. It was a relief to not have to haul around four full mounds each the size of a basketball anymore.

Perhaps in her current state, she could have fit into a particularly amorphous jacket, or several layers of baggy sweaters, but Megan stopped trying to hide her abnormalities. It became a frivolous concept when she was so busy with juggling school, caretaking, and nursing. She couldn’t further complicate things by trying to be covert about her body.

She got used to the stares, the gaping, and the pointing. The snorts, the snickers, the shrieks—even the occasional attempts at groping.

She just couldn’t care anymore. She didn’t mind her breasts. And she was decidedly preoccupied. On top of everything else, she was still trying to figure out how to introduce all this—her four breasts, boyfriend, and seven babies—to her family. She hadn’t contacted them in at least a year. Had they heard anything about what she’d become?

-

Megan snapped out of her reverie at the sound of footsteps. “Thanks for coming,” she said, eyes meeting Janes’s. “You look—you look great.”

“Thanks,” Jane grinned. “Sober four weeks.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Couldn’t have done it without Sam’s help. And yours too. Thanks for putting up with my three AM phone calls.”

“I was up anyway,” said Megan with a snort.

Jane chuckled. “Sam wanted to come. But I told her she better skip this one. You know she’s preggers again?”

Megan hesitated. “Yeah…” she responded. She absently ran her hand over the curve of her belly.

Both girls turned their attention towards the apartment door they were outside of.

“Did you knock?” said Jane.

“No answer,” said Megan.

Jane turned the knob. “It’s open,” she said, brows rising.

“After you,” said Megan. She never passed up an opportunity to walk behind Jane. In addition to the horns protruding from Jane’ head, she had developed a tail, a cow-tail, protruding just above her ass. It swished occasionally, and just drew extra attention to the huge globes Jane had bobbing behind her. They had only gotten larger since Megan had seen her at the club. Just massive. Probably bigger than each of Megan’s boobs had been at their peak size.

As they walked into the apartment, Megan’s attention was roughly pulled away from Jane’s ass.

The place was a mess, furniture askew, damp spots on the floor and walls, dirty clothes and dishes lying around the living room where they had entered. There were four or so people in the room, among them, Megan’s sister. It had taken a while, but Megan had managed to track Amy here, and Megan was shocked by the sight of her older sibling.

Amy looked delirious, mouth ajar, drool pouring down her chin. She was sprawled back on the couch beneath her massive orb of a belly which had only inflated since Megan had last seen it. Some girl was leaning on Amy’s belly, mouth spread wide over Amy’s navel, Amy’s belly-nipple filling the girl’s mouth. The girl was nursing, but Amy barely seemed to register it. Amy was gazing at the ceiling, mumbling indecipherably.

“Get off her,” said Megan, her and Jane moving forward to pull the girl off. Once Amy’s belly-nipple was free, is released a forceful spurt, then just began to ooze a thick substance that looked more like pudding than milk.

Up-close, Amy’s belly was massive. Bigger than Megan’s at the height of pregnancy. Bigger than Amy, Megan thought. It was visibly pulsing and looked incredibly strained. There was no way her sister would be able to get up. The mound was huge, practically crushing her.

“Woah…” Jane murmured, staring.

Megan looked at the other people around the room. They all seemed to be in their twenties, perhaps college classmates of Amy’s. One guy had to be four-hundred pounds, and had his face buried in a canvas bag of what looked like more hormone. A girl was hoovering around nervously. She had a big, bouncy ass that looked unnatural, two nubs pushing out against her shorts in the center of each cheek. Ass-breasts?

The girl they had pulled off Amy had huge boobs. Just one pair, but they had to be the size of basketballs.

Megan just shook her head. “Get out of here!” she yelled. “Get yourselves some help!”

The hormone addicts froze up just for a moment before they all scrambled for the door.

“Don’t come back,” Jane added, locking the door after them.

Megan sighed, again regarding her sister. “Amy? Amy, can you hear me? We’re gonna get you cleaned up.”

The End