exfansion

[exfansion]

"The last ingredient of the potion is 12 ounces of freshly induced breast milk from the brewer herself." She looked at her other two cauldron mates. "Nose goes?"

Amara whimpered and whined, struggling against the vines that held her against the wall. Bruises were just beginning to flower on her wrists and ankles as she tried to free herself yet again. Every twist, every writhe was uncomfortable, not just from the tightness of her bindings, but from how that motion translated through the rest of her body, specifically the enormous milkbags that now hung from her chest. There was a part of her that had wanted to be bigger, but her A cups fit her frame and she wasn't the complaining type. The gigantic tits that now jostled with her every movement were far beyond anything she had ever imagined for herself. They pulled down on her chest with so much weight; Amara genuinely couldn't believe they were that heavy. She wasn't sure she could reach her nipples, even if her arms weren't held back. Those cute little nubs had swollen, too, growing in proportion into thick, aching, quivering teats, half as long as her thumb but just as thick.

"You guys! We're done, okay? You already took twelve ounces of mmmmilk! Just let me go and change mmmme back, okay? I feel weird..."

Eva stood over the cauldron, the dull purple glow of the concoction illuminating the look of concentration on her face, while Stella made her way back towards Amara, empty flask in hand. She tutted softly, shaking her head. "Done? No, no, no, we're not done! The instructions say from the brewer herself. Except there are three of us! So it stands to reason that we'll need thrice as much milk!"

A low, keening sound rose from Amara's chest, her brow furrowed pathetically. "Thirty-six ounces? Are you crazy? That's mmmoore than a quart of mmmmilk!" Amara licked her lips. They tingled and her voice was starting to sound strange. "Shouldn't we have just done 12 ounces from each of us?"

When Stella approached, she reached out a hand and gently cupped one of Amara's gigantic, milk-filled udders. "What are you worried about? You're clearly capable of making enough?" Amara couldn't respond, too busy being overwhelmed by pleasure at her friend's sensitive touch and fighting back the instinct to let down her milk. "Besides, Amara, Vacca Vaccārum suits you so well! Your little horns look so cute!"

Amara's eyes shot open. "Horns?!" In her shock, she attempted to look at them, turning her head back and forth. The absurd motion sent Stella into a fit of laughter before being soothed, calmed, and slightly entranced by the hypnotic wobbling of Amara's tits. Amara rambled, completely overwhelmed. "No, fuck, I can't have horns! Please! You have to undo the spell! It's doing sommmmething to m-mmoooOO!"

Milk splashed against the bottom of the flask as Stella pinched Amara's thick teat, the sudden rush of pleasure detailing Amara's tirade. Her hips trembled as arousal trickled down the inside of her thighs. Her eyes rolled back; her tongue lolled out. Stella couldn't help a chuckle. "That's a good little cow. Just relax, Amara. We'll undo it. Eventually. We just need a little more for the potion."

Only rough panting came from Amara's throat, her transformation and arousal clouding her thoughts. She could only watch and whine as Stella went back to the cauldron, milk sloshing in the flask in her hand. Her milk. Another cow-like groan rose from her throat, distracting her from the pressure at the base of her spine. Silently, she prayed that her friends would undo the spell soon, not knowing what sort of permanent damage it could do. And she prayed that they wouldn't want to taste her milk for themselves.

[exfansion]

Here's a weird idea: what if your boss orders you a new office chair, but it turns out to be a high-tech breeding bench that holds you in place for robotic insemination. The device pesters your coworkers to leave semen samples, and they do just to shut it up (or maybe they love the idea of you stuffed full with their babies). You're confused and humiliated as you swell up with every sample. The device is programmed to announce how full your womb is and how full your teats are. Your coworkers accept that you're the office babymaker now, and talk about you as if you're a finicky printer when you struggle with your first of many births.

This is a fun one! I love the idea of being the only one who doesn't know what's going on until I'm swollen with everyone's babies, so maybe the device doesn't make its announcements until I'm decently far along. But first I don't even realize I'm pregnant at all, I'm just trying to hide and deal with this sudden weight I've been gaining. I'm already embarrassed about getting fat so fast, and everyone seems to be staring at me all of the time, but maybe it's my imagination because I'm self conscious. I'm in denial as I feel the first flutters. I don't want to be pregnant, and how could I be? But I can't deny it for long, and I'm horrified and humiliated when the device announces to the office how well bred I am.

I get big fast, with at least one baby from each of my coworkers stuffed into my womb. Soon I'm waddling around the office, panting and blushing from the exertion and embarrassment. My boss and coworkers pat and rub my belly without asking, talking about me like I'm not even there, talking about how well production is going and what a lucrative quarter it should be when I finally pop. The device announces that my big, swollen milkers are full to capacity, and they discuss how well I'm exceeding the projections while opening up my shirt so they can suckle and drain me.

The babies kick and roll inside of me constantly, and even if everyone couldn't already see how massively pregnant I am, the device announces how far along I am and how big my babies are getting. There are meetings about my progress, and the staff discuss goals for next time, and how they can exceed production by filling me even more. I'm present for the meetings, but no one asks for my input or addresses me at all. All I can do is lean back in my seat, huffing as the babies move, rubbing my boulder of a belly, completely overcome by being turned into a baby factory for the entire office.

When my water breaks, right in the middle of the office in front of everyone, the reactions are casual. My coworkers nonchalantly check my dilation as if they're checking their email. The first baby is huge, and takes forever to even breach my cervix, and my coworkers press on my belly and make me squat as if they're troubleshooting a finicky printer while trying to make me crown. I end up laying in the middle of the office, my legs spread as I struggle to birth the first baby, my coworkers taking turns drinking my milk and watching me labor while drinking coffee and chatting about how long it's taking for me to get this baby out.

[exfansion]

i think its so fucking cool that my partner doesn’t give a single fuck where we are, they will start rubbing my tcock through my pants. even if i start squirming around pretty obviously. sometimes they’ll latch onto my neck while doing so. we’ll be on the side of a car in a parking lot and they’ll start touching me and say something like “you’re crazy, what if someone sees?” even though they started it.

[exfansion]

The milk pumping room closest to her apartment was under maintenance, the one on the other side of her building was usually busy, and she wasn't sure she could make it to the second floor without some sort of leak.

"Thank you Mmf f-for helping me out oh fuck that's good with this. Just, uh, let me know if I owe you aahnn~ a-anything."

Will put on a warm and friendly smile. "Nah, don't worry about it. Always happy to help out a neighbor." The massive, milk-filled breast slipped from his grip, tugging down on Traci's torso as gravity took over and it hung freely beneath her. A few errant droplets splattered into the half-full bucked beneath her as she leaned over, resting her head on the edge of a table. The muscles in Will's arm tensed and flexed as he stretched his fingers. There was still a lot of milk trapped in Traci's breasts and he couldn't afford to let a cramp stop him now.

The red in Traci's cheeks was a mixture of roughly equal parts embarrassment and arousal. "I'm usually so careful, " she said unprompted, but it did little to assuage the guilt and shame. "But I was in meetings all day at work and I told myself that I was going to stop on my way home but I completely forgot and then I guess there was some kind of accident in the milking room upstairs and I was already bulging out of my clothes from being so engorged, I really didn't think I'd be able to make it to the room in the east wing and..." The memory of frantically pounding on Will's door and begging him to milk her before she lost control was fresh in her mind, forcing Traci to bury her face deeper in her arms in embarrassment. "A-and, well, you know the rest."

Will took a deep sigh and rolled up his sleeves again before returning to his work. His fingers curled around one of Traci's nipples, long and thick in his grip, and pulled. A fresh spray of milk splashed into the bucket and a powerful moan ripped out of Traci as she threw her head back, her eyes wide. As soon as she regained a semblance of control, she dove down the safety of her arms again, blushing so hard her cheeks ached. Will cleared his throat. "You know, it's really nothing to be embarrassed about. It happens; I get it. My girlfriend used to be the same way." His hands fell into a steady, familiar rhythm, tugging and releasing, tugging and releasing. Traci's hips trembled.

"O-oh?" Traci tried to at least stay politely engaged, even if being milked turned her brain into pink haze.

"Mmhmm. She wasn't quite as big as you, her breasts just barely covering her bellybutton, but she was productive. It just made more sense to milk her here than to have her fight for space in the milking rooms. More practical, for sure. I got pretty good at it, I like to think. She certainly never complained."

"She- Mmmf! F-fuck... She's lucky to have you... Is she around? I'd love to m-meet her."

Will's expression didn't change, but there was a soft air of sadness around him. "No, we broke up a little while back. I told her that I was more than happy to help her but she felt guilty about how much she was making. Called herself a burden, especially as her supply started going up again. We talked about it later and I can see in hindsight that she was just trying to put distance between me and her, but it still hurt when she said that she felt more like livestock than my girlfriend. I wanted to make it work, but one morning I woke up to a note on her pillow. Now she's one of the Proud Milkers down at Dorosky Valley Farms. I visit her from time to time, just to check in on her even if we are officially broken up, but I guess it's been..." The milking paused as math turned over in Will's head, his shoulders slumping. "Sheesh, maybe four months since the last time I was there? Huh. I didn't even realize."

Traci didn't know what to say, especially since opening her mouth would pretty much guarantee that her only response would be a moan and that didn't seem appropriate. Will seemed like a nice enough guy and he was really good at draining her milk. Conversation lapsed as Will confused on filling the bucket, the only sounds being the rhythmic splashing of milk and Traci's occasional whimpers and moans.

Eventually, though, he managed to get them mostly empty. Women like Traci were never truly dry. It was enough, at least, to last her until the morning. They avoided eye contact as Traci slipped herself back into her bra and walked towards the door. As Will opened it for her, she turned to him, suddenly looking up at him and painfully aware of just how close he was, particularly to her gigantic, hip-reaching breasts. ".... Uh, thanks. Thanks again, I mean. You really saved me. I super appreciate-"

Will held up his hand. "Don't worry about it. If you ever need any more help, you let me know, okay? It's just not in me to leave a pretty girl when she's in need."

Traci's breath caught in her throat and a fresh round of blushing rushed into her cheeks. She dragged her gaze away from his bright blue eyes only to have it land on his hands, those strong, masculine hands that had just been tugging expertly on her sensitive, swollen, needy- She shook her head, shutting her eyes, to try and dislodge those thoughts, the motion making her bust slosh between the two of them. "Y-yeah, sure, I, uh... I will. Promise." She only made it a half-step out the door before pausing, turning back over her shoulder. "Hey, uh, Will. I still owe you for this. For your help. Maybe, um, if you'd like, I could..." She braced herself. "Buy you dinner sometime."

The widening of his smile melted her. It was a miracle her knees didn't give out underneath her. "It's a date, then. You know which door is mine." His wink very nearly did her in as he turned and shut the door behind her. A few seconds passed before Traci realized she had been gawking at his closed door, committing his apartment number to memory, suddenly rushing up the stairs to her own apartment. She already knew which restaurant she'd take him to. And what she'd wear underneath her outfit for when she brought him home.

[exfansion]

"The last ingredient of the potion is 12 ounces of freshly induced breast milk from the brewer herself." She looked at her other two cauldron mates. "Nose goes?"

Amara whimpered and whined, struggling against the vines that held her against the wall. Bruises were just beginning to flower on her wrists and ankles as she tried to free herself yet again. Every twist, every writhe was uncomfortable, not just from the tightness of her bindings, but from how that motion translated through the rest of her body, specifically the enormous milkbags that now hung from her chest. There was a part of her that had wanted to be bigger, but her A cups fit her frame and she wasn't the complaining type. The gigantic tits that now jostled with her every movement were far beyond anything she had ever imagined for herself. They pulled down on her chest with so much weight; Amara genuinely couldn't believe they were that heavy. She wasn't sure she could reach her nipples, even if her arms weren't held back. Those cute little nubs had swollen, too, growing in proportion into thick, aching, quivering teats, half as long as her thumb but just as thick.

"You guys! We're done, okay? You already took twelve ounces of mmmmilk! Just let me go and change mmmme back, okay? I feel weird..."

Eva stood over the cauldron, the dull purple glow of the concoction illuminating the look of concentration on her face, while Stella made her way back towards Amara, empty flask in hand. She tutted softly, shaking her head. "Done? No, no, no, we're not done! The instructions say from the brewer herself. Except there are three of us! So it stands to reason that we'll need thrice as much milk!"

A low, keening sound rose from Amara's chest, her brow furrowed pathetically. "Thirty-six ounces? Are you crazy? That's mmmoore than a quart of mmmmilk!" Amara licked her lips. They tingled and her voice was starting to sound strange. "Shouldn't we have just done 12 ounces from each of us?"

When Stella approached, she reached out a hand and gently cupped one of Amara's gigantic, milk-filled udders. "What are you worried about? You're clearly capable of making enough?" Amara couldn't respond, too busy being overwhelmed by pleasure at her friend's sensitive touch and fighting back the instinct to let down her milk. "Besides, Amara, Vacca Vaccārum suits you so well! Your little horns look so cute!"

Amara's eyes shot open. "Horns?!" In her shock, she attempted to look at them, turning her head back and forth. The absurd motion sent Stella into a fit of laughter before being soothed, calmed, and slightly entranced by the hypnotic wobbling of Amara's tits. Amara rambled, completely overwhelmed. "No, fuck, I can't have horns! Please! You have to undo the spell! It's doing sommmmething to m-mmoooOO!"

Milk splashed against the bottom of the flask as Stella pinched Amara's thick teat, the sudden rush of pleasure detailing Amara's tirade. Her hips trembled as arousal trickled down the inside of her thighs. Her eyes rolled back; her tongue lolled out. Stella couldn't help a chuckle. "That's a good little cow. Just relax, Amara. We'll undo it. Eventually. We just need a little more for the potion."

Only rough panting came from Amara's throat, her transformation and arousal clouding her thoughts. She could only watch and whine as Stella went back to the cauldron, milk sloshing in the flask in her hand. Her milk. Another cow-like groan rose from her throat, distracting her from the pressure at the base of her spine. Silently, she prayed that her friends would undo the spell soon, not knowing what sort of permanent damage it could do. And she prayed that they wouldn't want to taste her milk for themselves.

[exfansion]

Despite her best efforts, covering her face and keeping away from her contagious and increasingly milky roommate, Amanda's shirts grew tighter and tighter. She could deny it all she wanted, but she had already been exposed to the Hucow Flu and it was clearly wreaking havoc on her body. She told herself that her sudden predilection towards salads and vegetables was simply an attempt to be more health conscious. She muttered aggressively towards the dryer for shrinking her clothes despite drying them on the coolest setting, refusing to acknowledge that her clothes were only tight around her breasts. While the claim that the late hours she spent moaning and kneading her growing tits was the result of a change in her hormones, she never went the step further to recognize what had gotten her hormones to change so dramatically. And it didn't help matters that she found herself staring at her Hucow roommate while she drained her swollen udders, first staring in disgust, then in curiosity, then in awe, and finally in envy. She bit her lip every time she looked at the milking machine, knowing instinctively that it would relieve the growing pressure inside her bosom.

She had to get out of there. Clearly, it wasn't safe. Maybe she could find a friend's couch to crash on for a couple of days. Someone who hadn't been exposed. Someone who could help her get some new clothes, clothes that fit and clothes that didn't have a pair of strange stains on the front of them.

[exfansion]

Prolactidine wasn't the first thing that she thought of being passed around at parties, but this was her first time going to this sort of party.

The bathroom door slammed shut, only slightly muffling the booming bass from the other side. As loud as the music was, Danni couldn't hear it. Her heart was racing, pounding in her head, blocking out everything else. Even if she could have heard it, there were much bigger things to worry about. Two things, actually. Two big, soft, wobbling things that were much bigger than they had been just half an hour prior.

"It's just Prolac! One hit won't hurt you! You don't wanna be a spoil sport! God, fuck you, Emily!" Danni paced back and forth as much as the tiny bathroom would allow, each panicked and furious footstep making her swollen bust wobble inside her top. She shouldn't have let Emily drag her out. She should have just done what she did in high school, stay in her room and read or play video games or whatever other bullshit. She wasn't meant to party. She wasn't meant to be in the in-crowd. The fact that a single hit of prolactidine did this to her was a sign from the universe that she had made a mistake.

Danni's eyes flicked back and forth between her reflection and her cleavage, both of them seeming entirely unreal. She had been a B cup on a good day and now her cleavage was big enough to bury her whole face! The sudden mental image of shoving her head between her tits made her shudder, though the way her nipples began to stiffen didn't exactly match her initial reaction. Between the panic and the adrenaline, arousal began to seep in. Danni's eyes fluttered closed and she could easily picture her newly massive tits being suckled, being worshipped, being f-

BZZZZZZ!

The vibration of her phone snapped Danni out of her trance. She reached for it, wincing as she felt her breasts swing, something they had never done before tonight. A text from Emily:

Yo, Danni! Where you go? What happned?

Danni felt her frustration return, holding her phone up and snapping a picture in the mirror.

This is what happened, bitch! The fuck am I supposed to do now?

There was an apprehensive silence as she watched the dots dance on the screen, waiting for Emily's response. For a split second, Danni thought about putting her phone between her tits to feel the vibration of the next text, but it arrived before she had the chance. Danni rolled her eyes.

Take another hit!

[exfansion]

A woman's lactation fetish amplifies itself when she actually begins lactating. It doesn't take long for her to start drinking from her own supply, which makes her tits grow bigger - and thus, more productive.

This spirals to the point of her subsiding solely on her own milk, and growing to the point that she is nothing more than a mindless, overproductive, lactoholic cow solely fixated on pumping out more milk.

I was always told "be careful what you wish for" and, if I'm completely honest, I don't know why anyone would!

For the longest time, I wished I could lactate. I didn't have high hopes for my little B cups but I did everything I could do to make my wishes come true. I took pills, rubbed on lotions, spent hours and hours a day hooked up to breast pumps. I knew that making milk is a hormonal dependent thing, so I made sure to flood my body with hormones, letting the pumps suck on my tits for hours while my hands busied themselves between my legs. I just wanted it so badly! I was elated when my tits started growing, swelling at first before properly growing in size, but it wasn't enough. I needed milk. That was the whole point! I'm not afraid to admit I got a little obsessed, especially when I started to get that deep, aching, engorged feeling in my chest. I knew I was so close and it drove me crazy! I lost entire days, hooked up to pumps, having so many orgasms that I lost my ability to count them. When my milk finally came out, it practically erupted from my nipples. I made quite the spectacle of myself, moaning like crazy as milk arced from my nipples.

But I couldn't stop there, could I? I kept moving the goalposts on myself, kept being greedy. It wasn't enough to just make milk, I needed to make more. Always more. It was a huge revelation when I realized that drinking my own milk made me grow bigger, faster. Pretty soon, I couldn't stop. I'd spend an hour drinking from my own swollen, engorged tit while a pump worked on the other, chugging the full jar afterwards. It felt so good to grow and even better to make more milk, so it didn't take long before I completely surrendered to it. I didn't even bother with any other kinds of food. I just kept drinking and growing and growing and drinking. The thought of eating or drinking anything else made my stomach turn. It wouldn't taste as good, it wouldn't make my tits bigger, and it wouldn't make me make more milk, so why bother? I had my udders and my milk and that was all I needed.

I'm pretty sure I lost my job at some point. I'm not actually sure how long it's been. Days kinda blur together when you spend half of it asleep and the other half blissed out entirely, bucking your hips while the suction on your nipples makes you lose your mind. That's all I do now, milk, cum, and sleep. I can't stop. I don't want to stop. I just need to keep getting bigger. A few more inches and I won't be able to reach my nipples to unhook the suction cups. I can't wait!

[exfansion]

I was recently given an offer to give up an inch of my height for a cup size increase... I mightve overdone it... but maybe I should keep going

Overdone it? But you look so cute down there! Sure, you've lost a foot in height and shot halfway down the alphabet in sizes, but I think it suits you! And, at that height, you're giving just about everyone a perfect view down your newly minted cleavage.

And it feels so good, doesn't it? It feels good to be so big, at least in one area. They bounce and jiggled so much and they stretch out all of your clothes. The rest of you is so small; it makes your tits look even bigger! It's impossible for you to hide them. They're just so obviously massive!

It's so tempting. Just another inch traded wouldn't hurt. You'd hardly miss it! But, of course, one inch becomes two becomes four becomes eight and so on and so on. Isn't there something wonderfully thrilling about losing half your height and having your breasts double in size? They might be kind of hard to carry around, but that's alright. I'm sure you could find some nice people to help you lift them. You'll have to repay them, but with tits like those, massive and wobbling and making up half your body mass, I'm sure you can think of a way.

[exfansion]

I really didn't understand why the bottle said to avoid strenuous activity for 48 hours after ingesting the growth pills. Like, what, were my titties going to be stressed out when they grew? And I just kinda assumed that "strenuous activity" was, like, lifting heavy boxes or playing a sport or something or, um... A-anyway, I didn't think that running on the treadmill for half an hour counted as strenuous.

In hindsight, that potentially should have been more obvious.

Nothing seemed wrong, at first. In fact, the first few minutes on the treadmill, getting up to speed, felt great! I had a ton of energy, kinda out of nowhere! I was working up a sweat and I thought that I might actually hit a new personal best! Maybe, I dunno, five minutes in, I started to feel a little off. I had this kind of weird tightness across my whole chest. I just chalked it up to deep breathing, but it only took a few more minutes to get noticably worse. I kept trying to push through it, but now it was starting to get seriously distracting and a little bit worrying. So I hopped off the treadmill and made my way back to the changing room. Even as my heart rate slowed, though, the tightness just got worse. It was like each breath was making it tighter but breathing out didn't make it better

When I finally got back to the locker room, I gasped. My jacket looked like it was about to burst open! Another minute or two on the treadmill and it might have. Slowly, I dragged down the zipper, my jaw dropping along with it.

Holy shit.

My tits were fucking huge!

The sports bra I had on was pushed to its absolute max, more tit spilling out of it than contained by the overworked fabric. The pills were only supposed to make me go up a cup size or two, three at the most, but my tits had clearly doubled in size and they were still growing. I held my breath and watched, eyes wide, as they continued to swell, my sports bra creaking as it struggled to stay together. I didn't know how big I would end up but, as my open mouth curled into a grin, I knew I didn't want them to stop.

[exfansion]

can you do more more unwilling/forced growth🙏🙏

I can, but I don't think you're going to like it. See, I assume you wrote this because you wanted to read about someone being forced to grow. And, well, the first person I can think of in that scenario whose growth would be most unwanted would be you.

Struggling against the straps that hold your arms above your head does nothing but chafe and bruise your wrists. With a matching set of straps around your ankles, you're not leaving this table until your captor wants it. You have no idea who's brought you to this place, or even where "this place" is. There are no windows, no clocks, just a single fluorescent light overhead and a heavy metal door in the far corner. You nearly drove yourself hoarse screaming for help when you first woke up, but there was no response. Whether the walls were too think or there was simply no one else around you to hear your cries, it hardly matters. You're trapped now, helpless against the person who brought you here.

You don't even know who it is. They're fully adorned in surgical gear, gloves and gown and mask and hairnet, leaving you only their eyes and their forehead as a way to recognize them. You don't even know how high off the ground the slab is, so you have no way of knowing how tall their are, either. It might not even matter; they could be a complete stranger. There are moments, when you look into their eyes, that you think you might know them, but there's no way of knowing for sure. That might just be hope. No matter how much you yell at them, berate them, plead with them, their only response is a brief, pitiful look, and then back to tinkering with their equipment.

A loud, metallic click makes you jump and, as an electric whir fills the room, the machine slowly begins pumping out fluid. Your eyes follow it as it moves through the plastic hose to join the IV drip feeding into your left wrist. Preempting your inevitable protest, your captor places a gloved, surprisingly strong hand on your arm, pinning it in place as the liquid makes its way into your blood stream. Your heart begins to thunder in your chest, panic and adrenaline flooding your system. You want to fight, you want to flee, but you can do neither, just flexing your hand in a vain attempt to grab the plastic tubing.

At first, you think the fluttering in your chest is just from the fear, but it quickly morphs into a sort of pressure and, strangely enough, it doesn't seem to be coming from inside your chest, but on top of it. You pick your head up and look down. Your hospital gown shifts. Maybe its your breathing. You hold your breath, your heartbeat making your whole body tremble. The pressure only grows and, with it, your gown starts to bulge outward. You can feel the thin material dragging over your chest. It feels foreign. It feels sickening. It feels strangely good in a way that you're not ready to admit. You shift your torso, watching the bulge in your gown not just shake, but wobble.

Your head snaps up to your captor, demanding your release, begging to know what's happening to you, but they simply pat your head. You shut your eyes and tell yourself it's a fantasy, a dream, a nightmare. None of this is real. You're at home, in bed, where you're safe and you're definitely not growing a pair of enormous, gigantic-

RRIIIIIIPPP!

TITS!

Your eyes shoot open at the sound of your hospital gown shredding open. When they were just lumps under a paper-thin cover, you could lie to yourself, imagine they were something else. But now you can see them. You can see how they slope upward, soft and full, to a pair of swollen, throbbing nipples. The harsh overhead light creates small shadows in the tiny valleys of stretchmarks that lead outward from your chest. And now that you can see them, your mind has no choice but to finally feel the full weight of them, sitting heavy on your chest. Each deep, panicked breath causes them to rise and fall, to wobble and shift, still steadily growing bigger. You have no idea how big they might be; you've only ever seen tits like this from the front, from pictures and videos burned into your mind. You never thought you'd see them like this, let alone the idea that they'd be your own. An instinct you didn't know you had activates and you attempt to reach our to touch them, only to fail and remind yourself that you're still strapped in.

The first sounds out of your mouth are thin and try. As you swallow, all of the anger and fury in your voice from earlier is gone; only fear remains. "How... how big am I going to get?"

Their eyes narrow slightly and it takes you a moment to realize that their response, behind their surgical mask, is a simple, horrifying smile.

[exfansion]

putting on a zip up hoodie and struggling to zip it up over your huge tits and once you finally do it immediately unzips itself and your enormous jiggling udders burst out

[exfansion]

god. yesterday i toyed with a fakeboy’s big clit for an hour. first i just stroked it gently until she was stiff and erect for me. then i teased the tip with my tongue until before i took the whole thing in my mouth and sucked hard, tugging it with my teeth and pulling off with a pop. it caused her engorged clitty to get so swollen and puffy. it looked so spankable i couldn’t hold myself back. i slapped her plump clit until it was red and throbbing, and she couldn’t stop moaning like a whore and begging me to hit harder. her pathetic painslut cunt was soaked and i could easily shove two fingers inside her. fuck it was so hot. i alternated between sucking and slapping her pulsating clitoris while i fingerfucked her pussy and it made her squirt all over my hand like a little whore. her punishment for that was getting her clit locked in a pump until she was screaming for release :)

[exfansion]

Despite the fact that you had months and months to grow accustomed to it, your body still struggles to cope. You can feel the weight pulling down on your spine, pressing into your hips. Shirts that you had bought with the thought that you could never possibly outgrow now struggle to stay over your rounded, domed belly. No matter how much you pull, how far you attempt to stretch the fabric, they still expose a strip of skin around your middle, a smoothed bellybutton, and the reddish stretchmarks that will never fully fade.

It sticks so far out in front of you; there are precious few directions that you can look where your rounded middle does not encroach on your view. Reaching for things on high shelves was never easy, but with this pregnant belly in the way, it becomes nigh impossible. Even just crossing the room comes with a signature waddle, one hand on the small of your back, making the short trip from the couch to the kitchen and back all the more embarrassing. The weight is constant, even when seated, actively pinning you down and threatening to keep you there permanently, rendering you helpless and immobile. Trying to rock yourself up onto your feet allows you to feel just how round it is.

And there are other changes, too. Your breasts have never been larger and their aching is near constant. You can feel them swelling, getting ready to feed the child growing inside you. You haven't yet begun to leak so, day by day, you feel the tightness grow, wondering how much pressure your tits can withstand before milk begins to drip from your nipples. Even those have changed, darkening, thickening, becoming more sensitive. The temptation, the morbid curiosity to suckle on them yourself or at least make an attempt, grows by the day as well.

Pregnancy cravings have also introduced a layer of fat to your entire body, thickening what was there before and making you look softer than you've ever been. You can feel the flab settle in your hips, already widened by the reshaping of your pelvis, as well as your ass. It covers your belly in a protective layer, encouraging further the growth of your breasts. It even finds its way to embarrassing places such as the underside of your chin or the growing pad just above the slit whose needs put you in this mess in the first place.

When you stand in front of the mirror, you don't recognize the person that looks back at you. That must be someone else. Someone whose skin is marred with the signs of growth, carrying the promises of more. Someone whose appetite has made them softer, rounder, heavier. Someone whose hormones have forced their hips to widen, their tits to grow and swell, their middle to bloat with child. It's always staggering when you look down at yourself, hand on your belly, and face the reality of what you've become. Your old body is never coming back. What, will you go to the gym with a newborn to take care of? Once you have someone to feed, the demand will only encourage more milk and require larger breasts to hold it all. Your hips have widened down to the bone. This is who you are now. At a glance, everyone will know: you are a mother.

And you still have eight weeks to get even bigger.

[exfansion]

Put lactation drugs in my food so that way I get embarrassed when my tits start leaking in the middle of the store randomly one day

[exfansion]