Short Skirt/Loooong Jacket
The clock was ticking. My alarm was about to go off. I had about ten seconds left.
My hand began to rub faster, I frantically clicked through picture after picture, my breathing began to hitch in my chest. Just as my alarm went off, a final warning telling me I had about two seconds to leave my dorm before the point of no return to getting to class on time began, I came. Sticky jizz spurted carefully into the tissue I had ready.
This, unfortunately, is how my tale begins. With me in a situation most people would like to pretend doesn’t happen. At the time, I was a 19-year-old college sophomore, had no girlfriend, and my dormmate/best friend happened to be at a class. I was horny, the internet was free. What more could you expect?
Pulling my pants back on and quickly clicking closed the pictures of large-breasted coeds, I grabbed my bookbag and headed for class. I was almost late, but my trusty alarm never fails; I managed to hold the door open for the professor. Sliding into the seat next to my dormmate, Brian gave me a grin.
“How’s the right hand, Greg?” he asked sardonically.
Paranoid, I looked all over for any trace of my actions the moment before, but Brian just laughed. “You are the easiest person to get, man! I didn’t actually know you were doing the dirty! What, did you just get finished?” Meekly, I nodded, and he laughed again. Luckily for him (but everything was always lucky for Brian), the professor was still setting up her slide show. “My God, Greg, you’re lucky I didn’t decide to skip last class, or I would have walked in on something neither of us wanted to see.”
Class started there, with the pretty and young Dr. Warner engaging us in a history of Feudal Europe. Halfway through, Brian apparently decided that our conversation hadn’t ended. “Dude,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, “we need to at least find a girl to hang out with us, or something. This is just sad, on both of our parts.” You see, while Brian was lucky in all other aspects, he just didn’t have the luck with the ladies. He’s a pretty good looking guy, average height, soccer player build, short black hair. It’s just no girls ever seemed interested in him. Then again, I was pretty much in the same boat, with the exception of the good luck in all other aspects. Little did I know.
I guess it started then, but who really knows, at this point? All I remember was a raging hard-on creeping up my leg. “Geeze,” I thought, “I just got you off! What more can you expect from me?” Uncomfortable, I did my best to shift my member to a more tolerable position. Brian must have seen the not-so-subtle movement, because he glanced up at me and grinned again.
The next thing I noticed was my shirt not sitting right on my shoulders. I have a bit of a thing about my shirt falling exactly centered, so I did my best to adjust that, too, when I realized it was tighter than normal. My undershirt, too. “What the hell?” I thought. “These shrink in the wash?” My jeans, however, felt looser than before, which was strange, considering my erection. I looked down to see what the matter was and didn’t see what I expected. First of all, my boner wasn’t lying flat against my thigh, but was kind of half-cocked (pardon the pun) in my jeans. That meant my jeans were looser! Then I looked past them and saw that I could see my ankles, normally something I kept hidden: my jeans would go straight to my All-Stars.
I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes, then realized there was no way my hair had been long enough for that this morning. “What the hell is going on?” I whispered to myself, and noticed Brian looking at me sort of sideways. And looking down on me. I think it was there that I decided things were really messed up; Brian and I used to be the same height.
Standing up, I slung my bookbag over my shoulder and made a bee-line to the door. I didn’t know what was going on, but I didn’t want to be in public for much longer. I felt Brian’s eyes burning a hole in my neck as I left, and the rest of the class snickered a bit; the laughter was probably due to my pants, which had now crept up to my calves and were baggier than they had been that morning, so that they flapped a bit as I walked.
The hand that pushed the door open was not mine. It was thinner, more slender. When I got to the bathroom, another hand came up to open the door, and this one was even more slender, with none of the knobs around the knuckles like my hands. The bathroom, in an unusual stroke of luck, was empty, so I dropped my bag to the side, locked the door, and looked at myself in the mirror.
Just as my eyes came up I saw my hair complete its changes from a brownish, short style to a bright red-blonde that was long enough to frame my face. My facial features had changed, so that my nose was small and pointed, my lips were puffier, my eyes larger, the shape of my face, overall, more rounded. As I watched, my height continued to drop, by now at least half a foot shorter than I was before, and still slowly falling. My overall frame was much slighter, now, none of the soccer-player muscle I had before. My arms had noticably shortened, and it was easy to see that they were pretty thin in my now skin-tight short-sleeved shirt. Traveling further downward, my waist had thinned out, but my hips had apparently grown out, the only shape of my lower body visible below my billowing jean-shorts.
The shape of my body alone was enough to make me realize it, but, as I watched, the protrusion in my pants slowly sucked into my body. I pulled the waistband away and saw as my three-inch erection became a two-inch erection. My balls were already gone.
I was turning into a girl.
With some remorse, I saw the last of my penis melt away into the top of a slit that I knew traveled along the curve of my torso. There was an odd halting feeling as my height finally reached its lowest, which turned out to be around five feet. My jeans, which were now mid-thigh, stopped shrinking, before abruptly turning a red plaid. The two pant-legs fused together in the middle, becoming one tube that started out thin enough at my waist before blooming out into a short skirt that finely showed off my new hindquarters. It was a big, round butt that I saw beneath that plaid skirt, a juicy one not unlike the tails I had lusted over an hour earlier.
I looked in the mirror and saw the girl of my dreams looking back, a pixieish red-head with a cute, mischevious face, a willowy waist that rounded into a large backside. The only thing she was missing was a huge rack.
As I thought it, I saw one change happen and felt another. What I saw was my flat chest swell just a little bit where it counts, and what I felt was my undershirt slide up my torso, shortening vertically, and along my arms, horizontally. Under my tight shirt in the mirror, I could see the cloth split down the middle and the shoulders string out into thin straps, which all came up to cover the lumps now protruding slightly from my chest.
And then the changes were complete.
For some reason, I looked at my reflection with satisfaction: I may have small boobs, I thought, probably not bigger than a B-cup; but I am still one sexy chick.
Impulsively I unbuttoned the top three buttons of my shirt, showing what cleavage I had.
Then I freaked out.
“What the FUCK?” I screamed, in a newer, feminine voice. It was higher, but not screechy, I subconsciously catalogued. “Why the hell am I a girl?” I ran my hands through my hair and found it thicker and springy, almost instantly going back into the short (for a girl), slightly messy style it had started out in. “What should I do?” I asked myself. Leaning forward, palms on the counter, I contemplated my reflection. I still looked about 19, I decided, despite my diminuative stature; it must have been the face. I also noticed that, by leaning forward like that, I could stare right down my shirt at my small tits, encapsulated in a black bra.
“Damn,” I thought, also surprised at my suddenly calm demeanor. “I AM hot.” I turned around to look at my butt, saw it captured perfectly in the short skirt. I lifted up my arms so that my shirt would follow and saw how my smooth, narrow waist and tummy blossomed out into my fine, womanly hips. I even felt myself getting turned on by my own body. My new body, sure, but my own body. I didn’t know if that made me a lesbian, or what, but I didn’t care. I wanted to see some titties.
Almost tearing off my shirt, I revealed my small breasts and the bra that completely covered them. Reaching desperately behind me, I did my best to undo the clasp that held it together, but couldn’t figure it out with my fumbling fingers, so I just pulled the whole thing over my head. My boobs bounced there, small and firm and perfectly to scale with the rest of my body. My pale pink nipples were hard and a lot bigger than my male ones, like tiny little knobs. I grabbed both breasts in my hands and shivered at the feeling of pleasure it gave me. Instinctively, my right hand slipped down my skirt and inside my panties (my boxers must have changed without me noticing) and fingered my clit. A shock ran through my body at the new delights I had found.
Stripping off the skirt and my black silk panties, I let my hands explore my new gear. It felt so weird, being able to slip my fingers inside myself and not feel pain, but rather small electrical pleasures. It was sort of like stroking an inverted dick, only certain parts were more sensitive than others. Gingerly I put two fingers into my vagina and moved them around a bit, like I had seen in plenty of pornos, and was rewarded with more shocks of pleasure when I stroked a certain spot. Focusing on that one spot, I began to massage my breasts with my free hand. I could feel myself building up to an orgasm, and my knees became weak. I collapsed to the dirty linoleum floor, masturbating myself into paradise. When at last that first orgasm came, I gave a shriek of joy and ecstasy, and was surprised that, after it was over, I was still up for more. It wasn’t like being a guy; there was nothing really to run out of, short of energy.
I guess after “rubbing myself off” a couple more times it suddenly occurred to me that I couldn’t just stay in the men’s bathroom for the whole day, especially considering I was now a girl. Life had to go on, somehow. But how could it possibly?
Musing these things, I slipped my panties and skirt back on, did my best to get the bra on like a “real” girl, and slipped my bookbag back over my shoulder. I gave myself one last look in the mirror before unlocking the door and stepping out into the wild unknown.
Short of other ideas, I returned to class. Trying to act like someone very late, I slipped the door open and gave my best embarrassed face before returning to my seat next to Brian.
“Um,” Brian said, an internal struggle showing, “that seat’s taken.”
I suddenly realized my mistake: I had set next to the one person that could possibly recognize my shirt, my bookbag, and my shoes. But then I wondered what my real game plan had been: hide out and hope nobody recognizes me? Then what? Live in the dumpsters? Show up at my old dorm like nothing happened? I needed someone to confide it.
Brian, meanwhile, was still half-gawking half-looking upset. He didn’t know how to react: a pretty girl had just sat by him for the first time in his college career, but she was taking the seat of his best bud.
“Brian,” I whispered, “it’s me.”
He looked even more confused. “Er, Charley, right?”
“Charley?” I asked. “I mean it’s me, Greg!”
He sat in silence for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Is this some stupid joke? I was wondering why you were carrying Greg’s bookbag. And those shirts, how did you find two that looked so similar? Matching ‘his’ and ‘hers,’ or something?”
It didn’t take long to figure that Brian thought this was some stupid prank. “No, you idiot, it’s seriously me!” I said. “I turned into a girl!” His face remained stony. “Wasn’t I shrinking?” I said, exasperated. “Wasn’t my face changing? Did you see what my pants DID?” We were starting to attract stares, but I don’t think anyone heard what the actual subject matter of our whispered conversation was.
“I don’t know,” Brian said. “Those could all be explained.”
I sighed. “Fine,” I said, “we’ll go with the old ‘I’m in a different body’ movie stand-by. Ask me anything. Something only I, Greg, would know.”
“Oh, come on,” Brian said, “that is so easy to work around. Greg could have prepared you with answers to likely questions.”
“Fine, then,” I said, “ask me a very obvious question that many people would know, but not a girl Greg does.”
“Nah,” Brian said, “I got one, and one you wouldn’t prepare for. What position did Greg tell me he would do our high school math teacher in?”
I rested my hand in my forehead, firstly because it was a ridiculously strange question, secondly because it was a good way of avoiding the preparation problem. “I said that I would do Ms. Dober doggy-style.”
Brian snickered at the memory before stopping dead cold. “Holy shit, it really is you.”
“Thank God,” I said almost at normal volume. “Brian, you have to help me! I have no clue what is going on!”
Class finished at this point, so Brian and I got up. He looked around before saying “We need to talk somewhere private. Let’s go back to the dorm.” He led the way.
As I followed Brian out of the building and across campus, I noticed how different things were, now. For one thing, I was a lot shorter than the average person at our university, and was now lost in a sea of people. For another, people actually LOOKED at me. Cheerleaders sneered at my undeniable cuteness, jocks gave interested looks, geeks sneaked peeks out of the corners of their eyes, professors pretended to ignore me. But I was strutting my stuff and could feel the attention. If I could only imagine what it would be like in the end.
We got to the main door of our dorm and Brian felt his pockets. “Uh, oh,” he said, “I forgot my access card.”
“Great,” I said, “I don’t have a wallet, it disappeared with my pants!”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Suddenly realizing I wasn’t, I opened up the bookbag and found, sitting right on top, a small black purse, the interior of which revealed my school card, only instead of a picture of male me, it showed the new me, albeit with longer hair. The last name was my own.
“Well,” I said, “let’s see if it works.” I slipped the card through the card reader and somehow wasn’t surprised that it opened the door. I led the way up to our dorm room, the thought that I might have been moved never crossing my mind.
When I opened the room to our dorm, I guess I was thrown off, despite it being almost exactly the same. Sure, the same bed clothes, the same appliances and such, but there were touches here and there. Instead of a Maxim calendar, I had one showing muscle cars. Instead of socks hanging out of my drawers there were bras and skirts. Instead of dress shoes poking out from under my bed I spotted high heels and sling backs.
I sat heavily on my bed. My family photo showed my mom, my dad, my brother, and a young girl of 8 or 9 with reddish-blonde hair. It was me in fourth grade.
“So,” Brian began, sitting across from me on his bed. I consciously realized I had my legs wide open and crossed them. “What happened?”
I told him everything, even the masturbation parts. He was enthralled.
“You know what this means?” he asked, his eyes glowing.
“You’re the only person alive to have experienced jacking off from both sides!”
I considered this before shaking my head. “Who cares?” I asked. “What should I DO?”
Brian shrugged. “You know, it seems to me that everything has been working out for you. So I guess you just… go with the flow.”
“So I’m a girl now,” I said, and, just as I finished saying it, a warmth spread through my body. There was some excitement in there, to be sure. Something in me had always wanted to know what it would be like, to be a short, sexy girl, to try out the other side.
The warmth I felt suddenly grew tingly, a tingle I remembered very well. It was centered on my chest.
“Um, Greg,” Brian said, but I shushed him. I could both see and feel it. My boobs were growing.
Slowly they pushed out, my shirt growing with them as before, filling up the empty space in front of me. What before had seemed to scale with my petite build soon became slightly out of proportion, but stopped before becoming too big. In the space of about five seconds I had become a C-cup.
The tingly feeling quickly left me, but I became overwhelmed with curiosity at if my chest had become even more sensitive, and soon was molding and pressing my large bosom together, back flat on my bed. When I had come out of my reverie, I looked up and was startled to see Brian hovering there in front of my bed. His erection was clearly outlined against his jeans.
“Ugh, get that away from me!” I cried, crawling back against the wall. What really frightened me was my excitement at seeing it, at seeing that I had turned a guy on, that I wanted to and needed to.
Brian’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning away, “but, well, your boobs grew! What do you expect me to think?”
I shook my head, wanting it all to go away, but also wanting it to continue. Like Brian had said, I was the only person in the world to see both sides.
“I guess you need a name,” Brian suggested slowly. I looked back at my ID card.
“Michelle,” I read. “My name is Michelle. I am a five foot sophomore, am sexier than I could possibly imagine, and my breasts apparently grow at random times.” I sat there silently, trying to take it all in.
Brian, at last, stood up. “Do you want some time alone?” he ventured. I nodded, and he silently left, hands in his pockets. He was probably pretty confused about being turned on by me, too.
Once he was gone, it took me a while to get off of my bed, but I decided to take stock of all of the things that had changed in my room. First of all, my clothes. I started going through my underwear, not sure what I was looking for, before glancing at myself sideways in the full-length mirror that stood right next to my dresser. I suddenly realized what I wanted. I wanted to play dress-up.
I stripped naked, to start with, and reveled in my body for a moment. I was so smooth and soft, and my boobs were big enough to cup. Shivers ran down my body just from stroking them.
“Okay,” I told myself, “this can’t turn into a fuck-yourself fest again. This is… this is for science. We are examining things here. Clothes, to be specific.”
I returned to the underwear drawer and started sifting through. There was a bunch of the kind of panties that covered completely, sure, probably to hide embarrassment when wearing skirts, which, from what I saw, is what Michelle/I liked a lot, but there was also a selection of skimpy thongs. I set those aside to try for later. The bras ranged from sports-bras to lacy to practical flesh-toned ones; I even saw a straplesss one, which I imagined was not in the drawer ten minutes ago, when my boobs were a cup size smaller.
Finally I came across something I wanted to try on: a string bikini. It was teal with a floral print, and tied at the sides. Slipping into it and pulling the sides of the bottom and the back of the top tight, I reveled in the mirror. Somehow it was even sexier than my naked body. I turned around to catch a look at my ass, and the tight fabric made it look even jucier.
After that first test, I was a machine. Outfits started to cover my bed as I tried them on. Jeans showed off my slim waist and wide hips, button-up shirts my cleavage, halters both. Bike shorts and a sports-bra were sexy, but so were the workout sweatpants and a tight t-shirt. My wardrobe showed a selection of dresses, my favorite being a green one with a low v-neck and a slit on the side. I suddenly understood why girls liked shopping for clothes, just trying them on with friends: it made them feel sexy, and, if their experience was at all like mine, really, really freaking horny.
Which is what led me to getting into the sluttiest outfit I could muster, just because: a pleated “flip-n-fuck” skirt, that started just below my hips and showed off almost all of my thighs with a g-string that rose higher on my hips than the actual skirt, and a red camisole that actually started just above my nipples and rose before my tummy began, showing off most of my boobs. I struck a pose in the mirror, hands on my bare hips, leaning forward to show off my cleavage. If I had had a boner, it would have been raging.
Then, at that perfect moment, Brian burst in.
“Oh, shi-” he said, starting to back away, but I didn’t care. I wanted his cock so badly, I couldn’t say no. I grabbed him by the collar and slammed the door shut behind him before swinging him onto my bed. My various articles of clothes bounced around him when he landed. I then tried what I thought of as a seductive move and slipped my thong off under my skirt.
“No, Greg, we can’t…” he started, and even grabbed one of my bras, holding it out like a shield.
“It’s Michelle,” I said. A thrill ran through my body at this realization. I was Michelle. I WAS Michelle. That thrill turned into a shiver turned into a tingly feeling that collected at the front of my torso. I moaned and grabbed at my breasts, feeling them swell beneath my hands. A hard, fat nipple popped up from under the super-low top. I opened my eyes and saw that Brian was still holding my bra, but it was slowly stretching bigger, to accommodate the new me.
When I felt that I was done growing, I knelt down, feeling my chest bounce with me, and tugged Brian’s pants off. He didn’t resist. Standing back up, I saw his erection now poking naked through his boxers. It was funny, almost; all those times in the showers, the one thing you didn’t want to see was a boner on another guy, but now, it was what I wanted. And now I saw that he wasn’t as big as he had always claimed. His penis looked hardly as big as mine had been, that morning when I was jacking off.
But it would do.
I thrust myself upon him, up and down and back and forth. It was really quite a workout; now I saw why girls complained when they were on top. I wasn’t complaining, though, because it was exactly what I wanted. The feeling of a hard, hot dick rubbing against my clit and all through my vag was almost more than I could handle. I was already all hot from trying on those clothes, and from my chest getting thicker and bigger, so I went over easily. Screaming, as a matter of fact.
I don’t know if Michelle had ever had sex in my room, but it was certainly the first time I had personally woken up the neighbors.
As I rode Brian for another orgasm (secretly somewhat proud he was holding out for as long as he was, which, in reality, was only about five minutes) I could feel him growing hot beneath my hands. His muscles were clenching in time with us rocking, his eyes opened wide in excitement, our breaths timed together. Electricity was in the air like I had never felt before. It was something magical.
Then I felt something strange (admittedly, not for the first time that day), and Brian’s cock suddenly probed deeper into me. As my best friend’s thrusts increased in speed, I could feel him physically reach some sort of breaking point, and then he was erupting inside me. Together we collapsed on the bed, my large, healthy breasts squashing between us. I laid my head sideways on Brian’s chest and listened to his quickly beating heart, feeling his sperm, already coating my inside, starting to drip between my legs.
“I’ve been wanting this for a long time,” Brian muttered in my hair. I lifted up my head and looked at him.
“What does that mean?” I asked. I wasn’t too surprised to notice that my hair was now long enough to hang into my eyes. Apparently the changes I was going through weren’t just in the chest area. Oh, if I had only known.
Brian looked confused at my question. “You know, I don’t really know. I can remember not wanted to have sex with you earlier today, you know, when you were a guy, because I’m not gay, but something in me says that I’ve been wanting to fuck girl you for a really, really long time.”
I repositioned myself so that Brian’s softened dick was not longer sitting, half-formed, in my pussy, but kept my arms around him. We laid like that for a moment. “I think it has to do with that,” I finally said, nodding at the picture on my bedstand. Both Brian and I studied it for a minute. I noted that the fourth-grade me in the picture was now wearing a training bra.
“It’s just so weird,” Brian said. He ran his hand through my hair as I snuggled closer. “So wei–”
A knock at the door nearly scared us both to death.
Instantly Brian and I were out of bed, both of us working to make sure any signs of our act covered up. “Um, who is it?” I called out.
“Michelle,” the voice of some girl said, “it’s time to go jogging! Are you dressed?” Nervously I looked back at the pile of clothes next to my mirror and spotted the athletic bra and workout sweatpants I had modeled ten minutes ago.
“Not quite!” I said back, thinking fast. “I got a little, um, distracted. Give me five minutes!”
A suspiciously knowing giggle filtered through the door and I heard the unknown girl saunter away. “Who the hell was that?” I hissed to Brian, who was standing, uselessly, in the middle of the room, holding his balled-up pants over his crotch. He shrugged and I rolled my eyes. “Put your pants on!”
I started to throw off my slut clothes and sopping thong as I found a new one in my drawer. “It’s really frustrating,” I moaned, “how some of this is instinct and some of it is completely unknowable!” Almost as an example, within a minute I had thrown on the bra, the sweatpants, and had even put the longer parts of my hair into a rubber-band, all of it coming completely naturally to me as “jogging outfit,” but I still had no clue what girl waited for me on the other side of the door.
“How do I look?” I asked Brian, pulling one of those tiny tank-tops on so that all it covered was my bra. He was apparently having trouble getting his t-shirt back on right.
“Fine, babe,” he said, then stopped and looked confused again. I decided not to make an issue of the “babe” word.
“Okay, then,” I said, my hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be back later, I guess.” My eyes hovered on Brian’s chest, for a minute; I had never noticed how sexy he looked in that tight t-shirt, and for good reason. But now he was what I wanted, and he was mine to appraise. Then I was out the door, where a tall brunette was waiting for me, tapping her toe and half-smiling.
“I can’t believe,” she said as we started toward the elevators, “that your parents let you share a room with your boyfriend. You’re so lucky. MY parents would never let me do that in a million years.”
“Yeah, well, my parents have known Brian for forever, so I guess they’re fine with it,” I said, almost without thinking. I was too busy being relieved that this girl was wearing almost the same clothes as me; jogging shorts and an athletic bra, with her longish hair done up in a ponytail.
The elevator dinged and we stepped inside, the girl continuing to talk despite the three freshman boys in it. “I mean, if I asked my mom if I could go on the Pill, she would probably yell at me. ‘Jenn, you’re too young,’ or ‘Jenn, wait until you’re married!’ You’re so lucky your parents think you’re mature enough. I mean, you are on the Pill, right? I assumed that’s why your boobs are so nice.”
I blushed as the boys goggled at us. “Yeah, I guess so,” I muttered. Then I realized: WAS I on the Pill? What if I wasn’t, and Brian got me pregnant? I would have even less of a clue what to do than a normal college girl!
When the doors opened on the first floor the girl, whose name was apparently Jenn, immediately started jogging and I had to run to catch back up with her. The sports bra did wonders; despite my large, probably D-cup size, my breasts bounced with my steps, but didn’t jiggle out of place or hurt my chest at all. I was really happy that, as we jogged, there was little time to talk. I didn’t want to walk into a landmine of a question, or something like that.
Instead our trip around campus gave me time to explore my new body in other ways. My tits, for example, while not exactly pleasant to have all bouncing around, were definitely a new experience. I noticed that the guys we passed paid even more attention to me than they had previously. I could almost see their eyes going up and down with my, or rather, the twins’ movements. When this would happen Jenn would give me that knowing smile again, and I would just blush. It was funny how I could go from sex-fiend one minute to shy girl the next.
And then, after we would pass the guys, they would look back and watch my butt as we jogged away. The tight fabric of the sweatpants showed off every curve I had back there, and there were quite a few curves to see. Every once in a while I would look down and marvel at how smooth I was, and how soft my thighs looked. Definitely anything but fat, just not the blocky male legs I used to have. And the way that they led around to my groin, which was the smoothest part of me! The fact that I could wear something tight in the crotch and not be embarrassed didn’t stop amazing me.
In fact, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The fact that this dynamo of sexual pleasure was just sitting down there, waiting to be touched, started to haunt my thoughts. I glanced at Jenn and decided she looked preoccupied, so I reached down and brushed at my clit through my pants. An electric tingle went through me. It felt so good, I couldn’t help but do it again. It never occurred to me, until Jenn spoke up, how odd I must have looked, jogging along and reaching between my legs.
“Thong prob, Michelle?” Jenn laughed. I laughed, too, more relieved she had mistaken my picking than anything else.
“Just a bit,” I said, risking a full grasp at my pussy. As I did, instead of that tingle of pleasure, I felt a familiar heat move through me. “There,” I mumbled. “Got it…”
The heat, as usual, started at the tips of my toes, then moved all the way through my body, finally centering on my chest. I tried not to look down as I felt the bounces start to turn into Bounces with each step. And, with all of my tight clothes, and constant movement, I could feel my ass start to bounce a little more, too. Was that new, or just something I hadn’t noticed? Then, like a garnish, my hair started flopping against my neck: my little pig-tail had turned into a short ponytail.
I glanced up at Jenn, who looked back briefly before turning back to the sidewalk. So, no, she didn’t notice any changes; it was just me and Brian, then. Oooooh, Brian, I thought. Would he be good to go again by the time I got back? Time would tell.
We jogged all around campus, a half-hour trip, before returning to the dorms. Back in the elevator, I marveled at how not out-of-breath I was. Back when I was a guy, I had pretty good stamina, so I could have done that trip, but I would have been pretty tired at the end. Not Michelle, I gathered.
“I’m going to go cool down in my room,” I said to Jenn. She winked.
“Not going to be too sexed-out by dinner, will you?” I blushed and shook my head, but took note at her meaning. Apparently Jenn and I were best buds, working out and eating together. She laughed at my red face.
“Oh, give it up! It’s not like nobody hears you from time to time! Brian must be quite the good lay, from what you guys get up to.”
I thought about this one for a moment. Was Brian a good lay? It had seemed like it, but it had been my first time. Maybe Michelle was just super-easy to get off.
Brian looked up from his desk as I closed the door behind me and started to strip. “Holy crap,” he said, “did you grow again?”
“I guess,” I said. He turned back to his computer. “And you know what else?” I asked, creeping up behind him and kissing him on the cheek.
“Hm?” he asked.
“I’m also super-horny again.” I reached down his shoulders and started to unbuckle his belt, letting him feel my big, new, naked breasts on his back. I started to kiss his neck, and when he turned back toward me, right on the mouth. My tongue found its way onto his as I led him out of his chair and onto his bed, my naked body rubbing up against his clothed one. His shirt found its way back over his head and onto the floor, his pants soon following. I lay on my back, my hair haloed around me, with Brian planted over me, his cock already looking for entrance into my domain. When at last he found it, I let him in gratefully. How could I have not been sure if he would be good again? I asked myself. I think he’s even more turned on than last time!
While the last time we had been fumbling and inept and totally fine with whatever happened, in the space of an hour we had turned more passionate. With each thrust Brian kissed me again, holding me down with his strong arms as I started to writhe under him. I began to come, just like last time, only it felt even hotter and steamier.
“Oh, Brian,” I moaned, then “Oh! Brian!” as he started to pump faster. I didn’t know what had come over him until I felt the weight on my chest increasing. I looked down and saw the twin peaks that were my breasts, now definitely more than a handful apiece. “Again?” I thought, just before I came again. I came down gasping for air, and looked up at Brian. He was no longer laying on me, more crouching as he pumped with his waist. His hands came up and started to rub my tits softly, then press and grasp the soft flesh.
I went over a third time before Brian finally followed suit. It was purely by chance that I was staring at his own chest when he did, but I saw the change take place. The outlines that had previously been there were suddenly popping out into existence, becoming properly defined pecs and abs. The arms holding my tits were becoming thicker and meatier, veins appearing down them. And inside of me I could feel that rod of meat and blood press further into me, filling me up more.
“Brian!” I said, sitting up (and feeling my hair brush past my shoulders). “Look at you!”
He looked down and laughed. “I look like a football player!” All romance was lost as he abruptly pulled out, revealing a dick at least an inch or two bigger than before. “Wow!” Brian said. Even his balls looked bigger.
“I guess changes are in store all around, huh?” I asked. Then I saw, on my desk, a picture frame I hadn’t spotted before: it was of high school me/Michelle, standing in typical tomboy jeans and raglan, only with a guy in a football jersey. The guy was Brian.
I rolled out of Brian’s bed and got a towel, wiping down my thighs. “Changes all around,” I muttered again. As I started to get dressed in the clothes I had turned into a girl in, I looked back at Brian. He definitely looked the jock now, only with a dick that was as big soft as he had been hard two hours ago. The t-shirt he slipped back on had to be a Large, now, but it still looked tight over his chest.
The tag in my bra now read 40-E. I almost sighed as I hooked it back on, and then felt something shift in my stomach. Without thinking, I was running through the hall in my bra. I sprinted into the girls’ bathroom and found a stall just in time before spewing right down the can.
I don’t know how you are, but I’m the kind of person that, when they vomit, get sick at the sight and smell of it, and have to vomit again. It’s a vicious cycle, and I must have barfed three times in that stall. It’s probably the repetition that caught Jenn’s ear, because, when I finally stood up and wiped my mouth, she was standing there staring at me.
“Again?” was all she asked.
My mind raced as I pushed past her. “Oh, yeah. I think maybe I’m getting out of shape, if that little run is making me throw up.”
She tsked. “You really should get tested,” she said. I had no clue what she meant.
“No, I don’t think I’m sick,” I said as I washed my hands. “I don’t really ever get sick.” Jenn just leaned against the counter and gave me a look, then turned and walked away.
“I’ll see you in an hour,” was all she said. I watched her go, my confusion fading away as I realized how attractive she was, and how un-attracted I was too her. It was really quite amazing: true, when I was a guy, I never really went for the tall girls, but she had a lot more going for her: that long dark hair, those bright green eyes, that tight ass, those nice abs. Yet, strangely, I felt absolutely nothing. It was like a switch had flipped on me.
All vomiting and comments on getting tested (whatever that was about) fled my mind as I went back to the dorm room. Brian was gone, apparently with another guy friend he had never met before, but had showed up, just like Jenn. I slipped into my blouse, marveling at how it now had the perfect amount of material for my big melons. I left the top few buttons undone, liking the way my cleavage cast shadows on my skin. “God,” I said to myself. “I could compete with a scaled-down Pamela Anderson.” I could never seem to get over how much bigger my boobs looked on my little frame.
I thought about dressing up some more, but realized I probably had homework to do, so I put the pile of clothes away and popped open my laptop. A browser window was open.
“Pregnancy Test Methods” read the current website.
Pregnancy tests!? That was what Jenn had meant! That meant my barf may have been morning sickness!
Oh, God, I didn’t know what to do. I just leaned back in my chair and marveled at what fate had tossed me. The ridiculous thing was that I didn’t really have anything to say about it, I just turned into a girl one day who was (apparently) possibly pregnant. And as for the father…
I closed the browser window, and there, as my desktop background, was a picture of Brian in a tight shirt, working on a 1967 Chevelle. As a guy I had never been into cars, but as Michelle, apparently I knew what muscle car was what just by looking at them. And the combination of a muscular guy working on a muscle car was just too much for me; I was hot and heavy in about two seconds flat.
“Oh please oh please oh please don’t make me grow,” I whispered to myself as I slipped a hand into my skirt and stroked a finger over my clit. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want bigger boobs; even then I was a breast guy/girl to the core. It was I didn’t want to find out that it was masturbation that made them get bigger.
I had little reason to worry. By the time I was done my chest would be no bigger than when I started. I found my porn folder, still in the same spot, only now it was populated with pictures of muscular guys with big dicks, with a whole folder devoted to Brian (only a few of those nude). I was initially kind of surprised at the Brian folder until I realized that, yes, he was pretty muscular, and, yes, he did have a pretty big dick, now. Eight inches is more than above average, I believe.
There were a few home-made sex stories there, a couple by yours truly, detailing the exploits of fictional girls with not-so-fictionally large cup sizes, riding their man into oblivion, several times on a very, very hot car.
I got myself to orgasm four times before realizing my hour was almost up and Jenn would be expecting us to go to dinner soon.
Pushing thoughts of pregnancy and sex-romps and babies out of my mind, I checked myself in the mirror and adjusted my clothes. Once again the length of my hair caught my eye; it was funny how that was growing, too. And my ass! Turning around, I was able to compare it to how it had looked earlier that day, in the same skirt. Before I had thought it juicy, but now it was downright plush. People always said how black girls would get ghetto booties, but apparently white girls could compete, too.
The knock came at my door, signaling Jenn’s arrival. Giving my hair one last flip, I went to dinner.
It was halfway through my meal, with Jenn droning on about how hot one of her professors was, when I noticed Brian sitting across the cafeteria. He was sitting at some table with a bunch of other hotties (and that felt weird for me to think), looking lost. Apparently he had been watching me for some time, and I was trying to ignore him when Jenn brought me back.
“Hello? Earth to Michelle?” she said.
She laughed. “I was just saying how nice it would be to have your hooters. My mom always wanted me to be a model, and was so excited when I started getting tall, but with my flat chest I guess I’m quite the disappointment.” Her eyes were lost in my cleavage, and, as usual, I blushed.
“Oh, I don’t know, I mean… well, they’re annoying,” I said lamely. It must have been obvious that I was lying my ass off.
“Are they, like, super-sensitive?” she asked. Then unexpectedly, she reached out a hand and gave my right one a tweak! My thick nipple happily poked right through the fabric, and Jenn squealed. “Oh, they are!” My face burned, and I suddenly realized that it wasn’t just my cheeks that were hot; my whole body was. I was going to grow again!
“Yeah,” Jenn continued. “Having your E” and, as I felt the weight on my chest grow even greater, felt my bra adjust itself to something even more heavy-duty, I saw her lips change what they were saying halfway through the letter “–G cups sure would be nice, but a bit of a hassle.”
Brian must have been watching, because suddenly he stood up, knocking over his chair. “I have to go to the bathroom!” he loudly announced to his friends.
“I’ve got to pee,” I told Jenn, standing up. “And don’t you think about eating my cupcake!” I added, seeing her eyeing the last thing on my tray.
The bathroom was a single-person, unisex affair, so it was easy enough for Brian to walk in, for me to wait, and then walk in a few moments later. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything.
The second I walked in his strong hands were around my waist, fingers brushing against my puffed-up posterior, lips and tongue on my mouth. Without saying a word Brian planted his hands under my ass and lifted me onto the counter, then unbuttoned my blouse, revealing that my new bra was one of those that hooked in the front. I unhooked it as he undid his belt, and the twins bounced like huge, ripe fruit. My nipples were like dark brown half-dollars, the nibs raking across Brian’s rock-hard stomach as he held me close to him, my skirt and panties lying forgotten on the floor. I buried my head in his chest to help me stop from crying out in joy as our bodies met, my legs wrapping around his waist, never wanting his dick to come out.
I rode wave after wave of orgasm, caught up in the frenzy of horniness and sexiness and wonderment my new body meant. I think that both of us had meant to go into that bathroom to have a hurried discussion on both of our situations, but nothing close to that entered either of our minds while we were in there.
Finally, when Brian came, I felt it, again: that deepening, the tightening inside of me as his dick grew thicker and longer. His chest actually pushed me back a little as his muscles clenched, and I felt the weight of his arms on my back and shoulders. When we separated I saw that even his balls were getting bigger and meatier, like two hairy peaches.
Wordlessly we cleaned ourselves up, pulling our clothes on. Brian’s t-shirt had miraculously changed into a tank top, which meant his broad shoulders weren’t hidden from my still horny eyes as he left the bathroom. I waited a full minute, still trying to adjust my blouse correctly, before I followed suit.
I had hoped that no one would notice, but apparently they noticed something, because there were a lot of eyes following me back to my seat. I plopped into my chair and tried to give a world-weary sigh before noticing that my tray, once the home to a lone cupcake, was now half-full of various dishes. I shot an accusing glance at Jenn, but she was too busy shaking her head to notice.
“You have got to get some new clothes, Michelle,” was all she said.
I didn’t know what she was talking about. “Huh?” I said, intelligently. “And what’s with all of this food on my tray?”
She shrugged. “Oh, I got you some extra. I mean, you ARE eating for three, right?”
I didn’t know what to say. Eating for three? That was what people said when someone was pregnant. And not just pregnant. Pregnant with twins.
Jenn coughed as she swallowed some food. “Anyway, like I was saying.” She pointed below my breasts with her fork. “You should get some maternity clothes, or something. You’re starting to stick way too out.”
Stick out? I looked where she was pointing and realized it was my stomach. Only I didn’t just have a stomach, any more: now I had a little belly. My white blouse was riding up and you could see my belly-button between the tails. It wasn’t huge, or anything, but it was a perfectly round, clearly a couple-months-pregnant-with-twins belly.
I had to stay calm. I had to play along. All of this was beyond my control, and I had to go with it. “You’re right,” I said, trying to laugh but instead giving a nervous giggle. “Got to eat for all three of us!”
I dug into my plate and tried not to cry. Jenn must have seen the tears in my eyes.
“Hey, hey, what’s this? I thought we got all the crying done with?” Instantly Jenn was at my side, her arm around my shoulder. The girl in me was happy to have such a caring friend, but the guy in me was only confused more. “Come on, you can eat all you want later, let’s get you home.”
With Jenn’s arm around me I felt all the better walking back to the dorm. We were halfway there before I heard Brian’s footsteps running to catch up with us.
Jenn immediately rounded on him. “Finally, the guy who got you both into this mess, and not just once, but twice!” Brian backed off quickly, hands at the defense. Once again, I was forced to use my powers of quick thinking.
“No, it’s alright Jenn,” I said, sniffling. I was staring down at my little belly, unable to keep my hands off of it. “Brian knows, um, everything he’s responsible for, and he’s just worried for me.” It was all true, I hoped. Jenn seemed to believe it.
“Alright,” she said begrudgingly. “I’ll head back and try to get some of that dinner for you, then. If I can’t, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” And, in that manner she had, she turned and walked away.
Brian tried to put his arm around me, but something seemed to stop him. “Are you okay?” he asked, cringing.
“Are you kidding me?” I replied. “I turned into a girl today, and, to top it off, one that’s apparently pregnant! With twins! And, just randomly, I’ll get MORE pregnant! Two hours ago I just had morning sickness, and now I’m apparently a couple of months along!” We got into the elevator and started to go up to our floor. As Brian turned back to me I saw the rod of steel outlined against his jeans.
I stared. “You’re kidding me.” He followed my eyes and his face turned red. “You’ve GOT to be kidding me,” I repeated. Brian spread his hands in apology.
“Look, I’m sorry, I’ve just always kind of had this thing for pregnant girls.”
“Really?” I asked, meaning for it to sound threatening and angry, but, for some reason, it came out as a sexy growl. “So you think I’m even more sexy this way?” He nodded. “You think I’d be even sexier bigger– oh!” I laid a hand on my belly and leaned against the wall, heat radiating out from me.
“What is it?” Brian gasped. “Are you in early labor?”
“What, no, you idiot, it’s–” but I was cut off as I was rocked by another sex-wave of heat. They were getting stronger each time. Brian’s answer was soon had, anyway, as my breasts pretty much plumed outward. They looked like two jiggling heads sticking out of my body, with pencil erasers showing my stimulation. Sure, there were other feelings involved, like my butt sticking even further against the wall as it plumped up just a bit more, and my hair reaching down enough to tickle my waist, but all of that was forgotten. I grabbed Brian by the collar (and it was quite the reach up), the elevator doors dinged open, right on cue, and I duck walked him to our dorm. The door was shut, our clothes were off, and we were doing it doggy style.
All I really remember from that time was screaming in ecstacy as Brian penetrated me again and again with his huge cock, with my huge boobs hanging low enough to brush against the bed with each swing, and then suddenly realizing when it was that I had become more-pregnant. By then, though, it was too late, and Brian was shooting his load yet again.
Yet again I felt my vag fill up, both with semen (which continuously was pumping into me, with Brian’s new wonder-balls) and with Brian’s bigger, newer penis. I thought I felt it hit something in there, which was momentarily scary, but not as scary as what I felt growing beneath my hands: my stomach. I pushed Brian off of me, his monster still streaming fluids, and sat up, watching through my cleavage, as my little bump grew.
It pushed against my hands like an inflating beach ball, the skin slowly spreading my fingers. I don’t know how far I expected it to grow, exactly, but only a month or two in preggo-time, which meant only a little bit of growth. But this… this outstripped my boobs, pushing out so that my stomach was almost lying on my thighs. I was huge and inflated. With a tiny *pop*, my belly-button became an outie.
“What the hell?” I asked, trying to get out of bed with my balance all thrown off. At last I gained my feet, but had to lean way back. “How big am I?” Another surprise followed these words: it was a curious rushing feeling, and in a place I had never experienced it. I instantly knew what it was when I saw my huge boobs getting even bigger, their previous perkiness (despite their size) leaving them to flop enormous onto my stomach before puffing up even more. They were filling up with milk.
“WHAT THE HELL?” I screamed. Brian was still on the bed, now cowering into a corner. It would have been hilarious, with his huge muscles and foot-long salami sticking straight up into the air were I not so confused and pissed. Desperate to get a grasp onto the situation, I tried to reach both hands around my belly, but was unable: I was too huge.
Brian’s head sank between his huge shoulders (like two sandbags) before he mumbled. “You look nine-months pregnant,” he said. I rounded on him.
“Nine-months pregnant, except with twins! That means, like, only seven months pregnant, or something, I don’t know! You’re the pregnant fetish!” In defense, his knees drew up to his chin, and I was able to see the grape-fruit size balls resting on the bed between them. I threw up my hands.
“Let’s just go to bed,” I said. “I’m fucking exhausted, it’s been a long fucking day! Tomorrow can’t get any worse!” Numbly Brian nodded and crawled to the edge of the bed. I watched him fish up some boxers and slip them on. There was a funny little pouch inside the front of them that confused him for a bit, before realizing that it was specially made to hold his junk. I rolled my eyes before finding myself some pajamas. What I found was an absolutely enormous nightie, one that fit over my huge chest and bloated stomach and still fell all the way to my calves. It felt like it had room to spare, and that was something that only concerned me.
“Goodnight,” I said, reaching for the light. Next to it was that family photo, and I grimly noted that the fourth-grade me was sporting a nice bit of cleavage. “At least a C-cup in fourth grade,” I thought grimly to myself, before turning out the light.
The last thing I remembered before waking up was feeling a warm trickle of something travel down my left breast and settle into the hollow in my neck. Lactation; wonderful.
“Good morning, campers!” was the first thing I heard in the morning. I tried to open my eyes, but found that one of my knockers had managed to flop most of the way onto my head in the middle of the night. I shifted it out of the way to spy Jenn standing in the doorway, holding two trays loaded with food. Brian was gone, probably for some sports thing he wasn’t expecting, and the food Jenn was holding was calling out to me. I had never been that hungry.
She must have seen the look in my eyes, because Jenn immediately started to lay plates around me. “You’re so lucky,” she said, “that they let me bring the food up to you like this, but I know how horrible it was getting for you in the cafeteria! I mean, having to eat all of that food, all while you blow up like a balloon. I mean, I wouldn’t want to go to classes and stuff, and I don’t know how you can put up with it, but, well, I’m not you, and you’re so strong Michelle!” She was beaming at me as I stuffed my face. “Then again,” she added, “you would have to be, carrying around those four extra people!” She seemed to find this the funniest joke ever.
I just stopped cold. Four. Four extra people?
“I know, right? I still can’t believe it! Quadruplets! You’re so lucky! Who knew that four months ago you would just be getting pregnant with four babies?”
Four months? Four babies? I felt like fainting. I felt like throwing up. I felt like eating some more and letting it wash over me. Had the original twins only been a mistake? “I was fine with just two,” I said, a slight warble in my voice almost betraying me. Jenn just scoffed.
“Yeah, you did have twins, for about five seconds! Then the doctor moved the ultrasound thing and we saw the other two kids! It sure did explain a lot, didn’t it?”
No, it didn’t. Twelve hours ago I had been pregnant with twins, and it was a widely known fact. Now I had never been pregnant with twins. Just… just…
Being a guy from birth, I hadn’t had any training or talks or Disney-sponsored movies on childbirth, so I really couldn’t comprehend birthing at all, other than extreme pain and something to do with pushing and breathing. Then I would do it three more times. Four screaming babies.
I gave a little bit of a laugh. It was suddenly absurd. After all, I had more than enough tit to go around, didn’t I? I doubted that two babies would suck one of my puppies dry.
“Oh, Michelle, you thought about it again, didn’t you?” Jenn was casting a judgmental eye over my chest. I looked down and saw two huge dark spots quickly spreading across my nightie. My dark brown nipples, now looking like fleshy thimbles, were easily visible through the soaked cotton. Jenn threw a towel at me.
After I had sopped myself up (and it seemed to take forever, what with my tits still slowly gushing fluid), I realized I had completely cleared the plates. “You going to your class, then?” Jenn asked on her way out the door.
I nodded. “I should get dressed.”
My closet was no longer a refuge of sexy clothes and slutty outfits. For one, my panties were big enough to fit around the bottom of my belly. “Granny panties” I believe the style is called. I decided to avoid those huge ones for the moment and get ones that fit snugly underneath. Then my bra. Each cup could have held a baby itself, easily, and had those little flaps to nurse through, plus was super-padded (to help leaks), so it make my two-gallon jugs look even bigger. It was nice, though; imagine having two extra-large bowling-balls strapped to your chest, but then having something to help hold them. Of course, my back still killed me: a pregnant belly is bad enough, but then two massive boobs add to it a lot.
Oddly enough, Michelle’s drawers were still stocked with skirts, something I just didn’t equate to pregnant clothes. The one I put on was longer than usual (for me, at least) and came down to just over my knees, but still had a slit up the side. Don’t get me wrong: since Michelle WAS girl me, I still looked at myself in the mirror and thought I looked damn fine in skirts. I just didn’t think they were practical.
Finally, to top it off, a long-sleeved maroon blouse with extra padding up front, in this weird, nice fabric that was wrapped in a certain way to give me even more support in the chest, while still covering the belly. I looked in the mirror one more time and saw a very sexy, very pregnant sophomore girl. My hair was still glossy and beautiful, my features still perky and cute (if not the burden of a few extra pounds), my cleavage long and prominent.
Even my belly was sexy, in a way I can’t describe. It was curved and heavy and just out there in a way that turned me on so much. I traced it with a finger, pulling up my top to get at it, and followed the contours down, all the way, feeling how it lined up perfectly with my pussy. And the weight that it put on my vag; I don’t know if that’s normal to be turned on by it, but man, was I ever.
But I stopped myself. The last couple times I had been turned on, sure, I hadn’t gotten more pregnant (although horniness could lead to that, it seemed), but having bigger boobs was bad enough. I mean, it’s not that they weren’t huge… and soft… and oh so lovely…
I had never used the term lovely to describe anything before, but that seemed par for the course. I instantly started looked through my drawers for something that was less modest, and would show off my milk-engorged, bigger-than-life assets.
I didn’t need to look very long, because a familiar heating sensation started filling me up. I was shocked into sitting back on my bed, leaning back and rolling back my eyes as a wave of pleasure took me over. The fabric on my chest grew tight, then loosened as it got more material, then tight, then loose, and finally settled on tight. I felt a few inches of skin pop themselves out from hiding, and heard the fabric in my skirt rustle as my ass grew just a bit more, showing just a bit more skin there, too. Of course, I didn’t see all of this. I was a bit too busy clenching and unclenching my pussy, trying to force the orgasm that was so close, so close, so close… and not happening. The one place I was thankful for not getting more of was my stomach; my hands were tightly wrapped around it and felt nothing there.
When it was over I sat up, patted my belly, and stepped back in front of my mirror. Yes, that was the effect I was going for: it seemed Michelle was having harder and harder times finding tops that would fit, as this one was showing off at least eight inches of deep cleavage. My boobs were just as big as my belly, now, sitting on top of it like they were triplets. The only difference was my nipples, which were bigger than my belly button, and just as easy to see through the fabric. Grinning at myself, I brushed my hair back, feeling it ripple all the way to my calves, and waddled off to class.
People stared on the way there, of course, but that might have been because I couldn’t wipe that grin off of my face. I mean, it’s pretty normal to see a girl with a cup size near the end of the alphabet sporting a pregnant belly holding quadruplets, right? My professor, for one, pretended not to notice, but people were staring all the way through class. I tried to take notes, but it was pretty impossible: my boobs were getting in the way, and every once in a while there would be a funny twinge in my stomach. Kicking? Most likely, since there wasn�t too much room in there.
On my way back from class, I realized how easy it must have been to recognize me from behind. First my long hair, almost touching the ground, then my big, healthy butt, which I still insisted to myself didn’t look fat, then the funny way I would sway as I walked, and, finally, the fact you could see my gazongas from behind. Maybe that was the biggest thing. In any case, Brian caught up with me as I made my slow way through the hall of the science building. He surprised me by putting a hand on my stomach and leaning down for a long, passionate kiss.
“What was that for?” I asked when we were done, surprised that I was breathless.
He just looked into my eyes and I wilted. “For being the bravest person I know.” I tried to laugh it off.
“I would have to be, to let that thing get even near me.” I pointed at his leg, where his 12-inch cock was now nestled, pulsing with his heartbeat. Christ, I shouldn’t have looked down there: no pants would ever be loose for Brian again. Even if you got rid of his gigantic cock and holy-hell-those-are-huge balls (which were also very easy to see through his jeans), Brian was ripped. He wasn’t just a football player, now, more of a professional body-builder. His legs looked thicker than me, or, at least, the me I had been when I was first turned into a girl.
It was funny how all of my analogies weren’t even guy analogies anymore.
In any case, when I looked back into his eyes, I saw the same intent I was suddenly feeling. “But we can’t,” I said.
“Why?” he asked. “It will just make you further along, right? You can skip all of those months of doing this every day!”
“But what if I get pregnant with even more kids? I think four is enough!”
Brian shrugged. “What else can we do?” And I knew he was right. The impulse was just too great not to follow it.
He led me through the halls, eventually finding a special gym that was apparently reserved just for him. “I have a private key,” he offered by way of explanation, and I knew he had about as much idea as I did. Inside was a little room, with a huge set of barbells, something that looked like a Bowflex, a treadmill, and, in the corner, a bed. It had a nice mattress. “I don’t think that was put there for me to sleep on,” he said. I guess what me meant was that his strength was great enough for the school to even supply him with sex, should he want it. I don’t think he wanted it with anyone else, though.
I led him to the bed by hand, slipping my skirt down as I went. The thick panties followed. Then I just lay back on the bed, as close to the foot as I could get, with my feet up so that my knees were in the air. I felt the lips of my pussy spread wide.
Brian came over, his cock leading the way. Naked, I could see that his pecs were like two frying pans, flat and hard and perfectly formed. I marveled over them as he came closer. With each movement they would adjust a tiny bit. Wordlessly he leaned on the bed, resting his hands on the bed. His arms reminded me of the slabs of meat you see hanging in the back of the butcher’s. His forearms were like hams, his biceps like trussed chickens. And when he entered me it was like being hooked up to a car battery.
“OH MY GOD!” I screamed. “OH SWEET JESUS!” In two strokes I was over the edge and gasping for me. He filled me completely and totally, touching every nerve I had inside of me, and I knew that, after this, he would only be bigger. And I wanted him inside of me when it happened, to ensure that he would be able to get back in. “YES BRIAN YES GIVE ME MORE GIVE IT TO ME MAKE ME COME YES GOD YES!” This wasn’t ecstasy, this wasn’t heaven: this was pure white light, filling my head. And I knew it could only get better. We were rocking back and for with such ferocity that I’m sure, was I able to think, I would be thankful that I had kept my bra and blouse on, because my boobs would be flopping every which way, but, like I said, I was out of there. All I know is that the pressure was enough to make me soak the blouse and bra in milk, because Brian leaned over and started to lap it up. I felt his hands on my belly and gave into it. “YES FEEL ME FEEL ME GET BIGGER THIS IS YOU THIS IS US BRIAN OH GOD!” I was screaming stupid nonsense and didn’t care.
It ended after an indeterminate time. Brian’s sperm-factories must have finally given it up and gone into overload, because it began to spray all over. His orgasm probably didn’t last as long as mine, but I’m sure it was super-powerful; if guys could have multiple orgasms, Brian must have had one right there.
And then I waited for it to happen. My hands were poised, as were Brian’s. I was ready to go. I wanted it.
The first thing I noticed was actually happening to Brian. His frying-pan pecs were bulging out, becoming pots. His abs were turning from a line of baseballs to a column of pure steel. His arms thickened even more, the muscles in his shoulders actually rising up a little past his neck. Down below I felt myself stretching, and arched my back against the huge weights as I bore through it. I felt like I would rip in two as he grew inside of me, and then almost came again, just from his growth. His balls were brushing my pussy lips.
Then I got pretty distracted by a few other things.
My belly, which was already, need we say, huge, started getting even bigger. That’s the only way to describe it. The weight of it pushed me deeper into the mattress of the bed, the girth of it spread my fingers all the way apart and then kept going, and the size of it, well, let’s sum it up by saying my boobs started getting pushed into my face and my legs started getting forced apart.
It rose over the horizon of my boobs like some devil moon and just kept going.
One thing I noticed that was different was my blouse: it grew, and grew, and grew some more, and then stopped, like it had run out of fabric. With a funny “pft” sound my belly button popped out from under it and started creeping away. The blouse kept sliding over my skin as I expanded.
Finally, it all stopped. Brian’s face had long since disappeared behind my stomach, but I heard him give a low whistle before removing his dick completely from my twat (he had already had to pull a bit out already, to give my expanding belly room).
I tried to sit up, and finally had to ask for help. Brian pulled me up and I felt my weight shift yet again. The whole mass attached to my front surged forward, over the edge of the bed, ending up spreading my legs wide. I pushed myself off of the mattress and made it somewhat to my feet, leaning on the bed.
“I’m huge,” I said. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk.” Brian, as usual, was useless at this point, as he was too shocked into disbelief. I don’t know how he wasn’t used to things like this by now, but I was able to take it pretty well in stride. “How far along do you think I am now?” I asked Brian as I started to stumble around backward, looking over my shoulder for my skirt. There was no way I’d ever see the ground with my chest being pushed into my face by my belly. There was something extremely erotic about this, for some reason: the fact that I was too big to ever serve a practical purpose was something I was amazingly turned on about. I felt juices start to moisten my pussy lips, and then actually drip down the underside of my belly. That was what amazed me, really: the curve of my stomach had gotten low enough for my pussy juice to drip down IT.
I found the skirt and stepped into it, then tried to crouch down to pull it up, but kept getting hampered by the whole pregnant thing: my belly would bump into my knees if I tried to lower myself at all.
“A little help here?” I asked, and was pleased when Brian stepped into view with his pants on. Only a little, though: even without being erect his package was in plain view, bouncing with every step. It looked like his pants were specially made to be extra loose in the front, although they weren’t loose with him in them. No, anything but loose, as I could see every little chink in his super-muscular legs.
He leaned down jerkily so that I could see that being that flexible was getting to be a problem for him, and helped pull my skirt up. It came over my hips, but was pushed down a bit in the front by my enormous baby bump. It didn’t matter, I suppose, as that ball of flesh was never going to let anyone see my under parts. It was just strange, I guess.
Then, like it always did, a knock came at the door. “I know you two are in there! Open up!”
Brian and I looked at each other and shared a smile before he pulled on his tank top, which was forced to let most of his chest show around the edges, and opened the door. A horrified Jenn stormed in.
“What are you doing, you know you shouldn’t leave the dorm, and have you been having sex, because it sure smells like it in here, and who knows what that can do to the babies, what with his junk being bigger than one of them, and you better come with me right now!” My hand was grabbed and I was pulled away. I shrugged at Brian, who shrugged back. Jenn pulled me as quickly as possible, which was really, really slowly, away from him. Both edges of my belly scraped as we went through.
Outside the building was a little cart, with the words “Michelle Mobile” written on the side. It looked like a golf cart except with an open, backward facing seat. Apparently it was for me. I decided not to ask how we had gotten it as Jenn drove us back to the dorm, and instead wasted my time by stroking the soft and tight skin of my belly. Every touch sent shivers down me, which, with my sizable boobs and ghetto butt, sent a LOT of shivers. I had to resist openly masturbating in the back of that cart.
When we parked in front of the dorm (there was a miniature parking space reserved) Jenn gave me a hand and helped me down. I almost toppled on top of her, which would have been a problem for all involved, but she was there to steady me. Apparently, in the x amount of months that I had been pregnant with y amount of babies Jenn had become quite the expert in taking care of me.
I got the answer to both of those unknown factors in the elevator. The geeky freshmen I recognized from the day before, when I hadn’t been pregnant and had gone jogging with Jenn, were again staring at us on the way up. “How many is she packing?” one asked.
Jenn gave them a cold stare. “Seven, if you must know.”
Both the boy and I gave a low whistle. “Is she ready to pop, or what?”
“It’s none of your business,” Jenn said as her eyes turned icy, “but she still has two months to go.”
Seven months along, with seven babies, I thought to myself. A pattern is emerging here. What if we had sex again? What would happen?
I started to get wet again at the thought of this, but I couldn’t hide it, and Jenn must have recognized some sign, because the second the doors dinged open she was rushing me to my room and shut the door. “You just had sex!” she said, “and with that monster shlong, too! How turned on can you be?”
“I can’t help it,” I said sheepishly. “If you were me–”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, you get so turned on by this crap. Well, come on, do yourself off.” In a movement far too fast for my body to react to, Jenn had stripped off my panties and skirt, and then my blouse and bra, leaving me naked and sitting on my bed. “I’ll go clean these. Besides, they’re way too small for you; you should wear one of those nice dresses you have. The bucket is here by the door, anyway. Later.” And she was gone.
I looked at the bucket and waddled over to it, wondering what it was for, before I felt something drip onto the top of my expanse of skin. It was milk.
Just like that I was kneeling on the floor, my belly resting between my legs, with one hand tugging on my nipples and the other reaching behind me to play with my pussy. My nipples thickened and lengthened, like short thumbs, as they sprayed milk into the bucket. It was really starting to fill up before I orgasmed the first time, at which point I took both of my hands and just started rubbing and stroking my belly in circles. Somehow that gave me even greater pleasure than before, and I came three more times in the next ten minutes just from that alone.
When I was done I was soaking in sweat, ‘gina juice, and milk. There was a huge, fluffy towel hanging on my bedpost, and I used that to help clean up, only my super-sensitive parts make it feel far too nice for me not to orgasm again. I eventually got cleaned, and wobbled to my dresser. The first drawer was entirely bras, as they were too big to allow anything else in. My mysteriously practiced hands got those on alright, heaving each huge funbag into a cup and then snapping them together. My panties looked tiny compared to them, but I was able to step into some bikini-style panties and work them up over my hips, now that I was more used to being me.
The dresses in my closet were huge, but all seemed to reflect the ones I had seen the day before. Even the nice green one with the v-neck and the slit up the side was morphed into something more practical. I put my head into it and let it fall onto me, and it hung off of my belly like a circus tent. Turning around, I peeked over my shoulder to see that, yes, my stomach was so big it made me look almost three times as wide as I really was. I was absolutely huge.
And then that warmth returned. This time I could see the damage from behind.
First my butt plumped up, making the dress ride up a littlea nd cling to my every curve. It was gloriously big, like two soft basketballs implanted into my hips. Of course, it was mostly obscured by my long hair, which thickened and lengthened one last time, puddling onto the floor, but I could feel my cheeks with my hands, and did so with a passion, clenching my pussy in time like I had before. Then my boobs, which, as I watched from behind, rose like two bread loaves, widening to match the width of my belly, and pushing out toward the edge of it. I turned around, a laborious process, and saw that my nipples looked like tiny fists punching through my dress. I was past the point of watermelon jokes, here; each breast was roughly the size of your average kitchen trash bag, filled with milk and constantly threatening to spill over the sides of my belly. It was so goddamn hot when my hand sank into my right boob that I was finally able to orgasm, just from looking at myself. I couldn’t believe it.
When I was done, curiosity got the better of me and I waddled to the other end of my room, where my desk sat, and found that family photo. Fourth-grader me wasn’t just sporting some cleavage, now: it looked like I was smuggling cantaloupes. I wondered if I had been born with a training bra on.
“Holy shit,” a voice said behind me. I turned around and found my doorway almost completely blocked with a man made of pure muscle. There was a pylon in his jeans, and he was breathing heavier than I thought possible. My super nipples started to not leak but spray milk, right through my bra and dress. It hit the floor in with little pitter sounds. Even the seven passengers in my belly started to act up; I could feel them squirming and kicking against me.
I sauntered over as Brian shut the door, then lifted one of his hands and placed it on my stomach. “I’m seven and seven,” I said. “Want to see where one more takes us?” Then I simply turned around, slipped my panties to my knees, and bent over my bed. My stomach pushed against the edge and my knees, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even see how big Brian’s thing was before it went into me, I just felt it go in… and in… and IN. When at last he seemed to hit something, I took deep breaths, steadied myself, and felt that thing open. And he went even FURTHER in. At last I felt his meaty, muscular thighs touch mine, felt my butt rest against his abs, and I clamped down. Then I released, and clamped down again. I didn’t want to go through that ordeal of him entering me more than once that day, so I was going to get him off without it. It didn’t take long; maybe it was my half-screams of pleasure, or maybe my rhythm worked, but soon I felt that jet of pressure that never seemed to end.
When it finally did, Brian gingerly pulled himself out. I think he was scared of causing me harm, of ripping me wide open. Frankly, I was too.
But then nothing happened. No changes. Nothing.
I pushed myself onto the bed, turning around to lean against the wall. “Huh.” I sighed. “Maybe that was the end. Maybe I DO have to do the next two months, and get even bigger that way.”
But Brian was just staring.
“What?” I asked, and he pointed at the hem of my dress. I looked, but didn’t see anything. He continued to point and at last I saw what he was staring at. It was the hem of my dress, alright, and it was rising. I watched the hem rise up, trace over my belly, and start to come down the other side. The fabric darkened from green to dark forest to black, and the thin silky cloth turned to basic thick cotton. “What’s this all about?” I asked, before feeling something else. My underwear was ALSO creeping up my belly. I could feel the waistline dig into the skin as my bikini panties grew up and around my huge ball of flesh.
Then, and only then, did my stomach start to grow.
It pushed out and out, rising just the tiniest bit, but mostly widening. My legs were forced completely apart so that I felt like I was squatting as my stomach pushed its way across my bed.
“Ohhhh, yes,” I moaned. “Bigger.”
The waistline of my panties was still lengthening and rising, but my stretching stomach was going almost faster than it, so that it looked like they were merely stretching with my growth. I looked down and saw that what used to be my dress was now just a big t-shirt, big enough to encapsulate my boobs and nothing else. While I was looking I saw them swell a little bit, too, like they were jealous of my belly. My huge, wonderful belly.
When the growth at last stopped it had outstripped my fully extended feet by just a little bit, a monster of a belly. I knew I wouldn’t be getting up any time soon. My panties, meanwhile, pretty much fully-clothed the bottom half of it, almost like a single-cup bra. Something about that tight fabric, small enough for my hips at one end, and big enough to cover my belly at the other, made me even hornier.
I looked over at Brian and saw he was slowly pulsing. His arms were thicker than his waist, now, perfection if I’ve ever seen it. His chest was like two barrels tipped onto their sides, and, below that, each of his abs were about as big as my head. Even his legs were like two stone columns, two feet wide each at least, sprouting from his hips like a toothpaste tube with all of the toothpaste squeezed to one size. And his dick, Jesus, it was like his forearm. Well, not like how his forearm was then, but how it had been before all of this. Hell, it was bigger than that: 18 and a half inches, or something like that, he later told me. Only about a foot when he was limp, which I never really saw. His balls alone were things to be reckoned with, massive sperm-producing machines the size and weight of your average bowling ball. Even now they were making his pent-up jizz flow steadily out of him, like a hose that’s been neglectfully left slightly on.
“My God, Brian,” I said. The sight of him, like I said, didn’t help at all, and the huge weight that my torso was putting on my crotch didn’t help. It was like I had just scratched this huge itch, but it was coming back.
So I lay there for a moment, just basking in that afterglow, like some huger than life fertility goddess. My wide, child-bearing hips, my huge milk-giving breasts, my life-housing stomach, and even my hair that lay under and around me like a silky blanket: if I had been able to take a picture, I would have, and it would have been perfect. As I felt the tiny kicks and movements within, I wondered what had made all of this happen.
And then I felt this intense pain, like a clenching feeling deep inside of me. Not just inside of me, either: right where my belly met my backbone. My womb. I found myself clamping down with my hands, found my feet wringing, my teeth grinding. I heard my breath coming out in quick breaths, and only one word was in my mind.
“Oh my God, I’m going into labor!” I screamed, and there was a huge, tremendous crash as Brian fainted, followed by another as the door burst open and Jenn appeared with what looked like an army of RAs.
Being pushed on one of those dollies is not as fun as it looks in TV, especially when the dolly is way too small for you and you’re going into labor.
Plus, Jenn wouldn’t shut up.
“I mean, finally, right, ’cause you’re only a month overdue, plus with ten babies in there you’d expect them to be crawling over each other to come out. Oh, man, I can’t believe you still want to stay in school while taking care of ten babies, it’ll be insane, and and I know you have all of those sponsorships and things but won’t that be difficult, plus you’ll have all of that leftover skin and it’ll be so gross and you’re so lucky!”
I didn’t really hear any of that. I was still wondering what was going to happen, and how this had all happened to me. 24 hours ago I had been a healthy, happy, single guy, addicted to big-breasted porn. I had a normal best friend (who apparently got off to pregnant chicks, but to each his own) and a pretty normal life. Now I was a hot girl with some crazy genetic curve-ball that gave her enormous tits and greatly, greatly, greatly increased her chances of multiple childbirth. It didn’t make sense. I had been happy as a guy, hell, I had been happy as a girl with big boobs. But I never wanted to be pregnant! I never wanted to deliver ten babies in some sick marathon!
It took about four orderlies to heave me onto their extra-large hospital bed. Instantly a doctor was at my side. “Be assured we’ll take extra good care of you, Michelle. Now, I want to get this out of the way: your belly is far too big for normal childbirth, so I think we’ll need to do a cesarean section, I think.”
“Really?” I gasped. “Because I think one is coming right now!”
I could feel it, I think, like some weird animal nosing its way, not in, but out of my vag. The doctors started freaking out.
“It’ll suffocate, we’ll have to operate now!”
“Get me Jenkins and Waterly, we’ll need their help!”
Jenn squeezed my hand. “Everything will be alright, Michelle. You’re just a lucky person.”
And then I felt something else, something familiar (especially in the past few days). It was that wonderful tingly sensation that started in my groin and spread up through my nerves like electricity, before erupting in my brain.
“Oh, God,” I moaned.
I hear it isn’t exactly unusual for women to orgasm during childbirth. I wouldn’t know, as I’ve stated, as I wasn’t brought up expecting me to give birth some day. But I was hit, and I was hit hard.
“OH YES GIVE IT TO ME!” I screamed. “MORE!” And there was another feeling, too, one that some part of my brain warned me about. It was a steady warm feeling that went all through me, starting at the tips of my hardened nipples and fingers, then going all through me and ending at my belly. I closed my eyes and rubbed my taut skin.
“Oh, no,” I said. “Not now.”
“What’s wrong, Michelle?” Jenn asked me. I opened my eyes and saw that the room was now empty except for Jenn, a different doctor than before, and my mom. I realized that the pushing feeling in my groin was gone, and my huge stomach, big enough that no hospital gown would ever cover it, felt, strangely, heavier than before. As I looked at the three concerned faces, I realized that the movements I had been used to in my belly were gone, that my milk-soaked chest was completely dry, that my contractions had completely stopped. I wasn’t pregnant any more.
“Um, nothing,” I responded in my little voice. “Nothing, I guess.”
The doctor shook his head. “As I was saying, it looks like we’re all done. You should see changes start even within the week. I expect you to be able to walk in about three, and you should be down to a normal size, both in chest and in waist, probably in two months, before the semester is over.”
My mom was beaming. “Isn’t that great news, Mish? We’ve always hoped that something like this would turn up, and now it did, and you can be normal!”
“Um, yeah,” I stuttered. “Sounds great.”
The doctor soon left and Jenn helped me into my huge t-shirt and panties, apparently completely non-plussed by my nudity, despite the whole pregnant thing supposedly not happening. “This is so great, Michelle,” she said. “You’re so lucky something like this has come along! Now we can finally do all those things we talked about, like go jogging, and pig out in the cafeteria.”
“I wonder how Brian will take it?” I said, trying to add to the conversation that was really about something I didn’t know a thing about.
Jenn just rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why you go with that meathead. Honestly, I think he loved your problem a little too much.”
Once I was dressed (or what passed for dressed for me), my mom gave me a kiss on the forehead, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I noticed that it was significantly shorter than it had been five minutes prior. “Give me a call every day, honey, okay? I want to make sure everything goes perfectly with this. After all, if you ended up with this giant sagging flap of skin, I don’t think we would be happy at all!”
No sack of skin? What exactly was that procedure I went through?
On the way back to the dorm I got a general idea. From what it sounded like, whatever they had done to me would just eat away at all of my extra flesh and skin until, seemingly like magic, I was normal. It was funny, really, how Jenn talked about me being normal like it was something that had never happened, but to me I had been normal (or what passed for normal) just yesterday. But this was some strange science thing that would only work on someone with, well, with whatever it was that I had.
When we finally got back to the dorm, Jenn got out a funny wheel-barrow-like thing and helped me out of the back of her van, mostly involving practiced rolling. My stomach ended up resting on the wheel-barrow, and, if I helped push, I could slowly make my way up the ramp to the front doors. “Just think!” Jenn continued. “You won’t have to use this any more after this!”
Brian met us in the front doors. I could see that the clothes he had found in his drawers were tailored to fit his unique body nicely, as they left everything to be seen without actually showing a thing. It didn’t look like jeans would be his thing any more, as they were too constricting, so the spandex shorts he was in were going to be more of a permanent solution. That is, until he saw me, and the coiled boa in his pants started to turn into a billy club, unraveling itself from the two boulders he likes to call testicles.
I try to never watch him jog, as it gets me turned on in the same fashion watching big-breasted girls on the track team used to.
The elevator, it turned out, had been modified prior to my enrollment to allow super-heavy loads, but Jenn didn’t want to risk having both me and Brian in the same one, so he had to take the stairs, and arrived just in time to assist in squeezing me through the door, despite the fact it was widened for me. “All of these special accommodations and they’ll soon be pointless!” Jenn beamed. I noted that, even with the widening, Brian had some trouble himself getting through, so they weren’t completely pointless.
“I’ll leave you two alone, I suppose,” Jenn announced once I was, once again, seated on my bed. She gave Brian a cold look. “And if you so much as hurt her, let alone get her pregnant or something, you’ll have to answer to me.” He looked so scared that, even though he was at least six times her weight, it looked like she could have beaten him up.
At last the door clicked closed and both Brian and I have a huge sigh of relief. “So what happened?” Brian asked. “Did you not go into labor, or what?”
“Apparently not,” I said. “I had one of those moments like my boobs were going to grow, only this time my whole stomach just turned to fat, I guess. I have some rare disease now. Whatever happened at the hospital is apparently going to make all of this,” and I ran a hand over myself, feeling the tingles of electricity, “go away.”
I saw the disappointed look in Brian’s eyes. “But won’t you miss it?” he asked. I shrugged, a movement that, as usual, made my whole body jiggle.
“I guess,” I said, “but I would much rather get used to the whole girl thing before anything like this happened, you know?” Then I yawned. It had been a really, really long two days. “I’m going to sleep, I think,” I said, and Brian nodded before leaving me alone.
Before turning out the light I gave both of my nipples a nice hard tweak, somewhat disappointed that no milk sprayed out of them, and then ran my hand along the top of my belly again. Yes, it was nice, but, like I said, maybe it would be better at a different time.
I reached back to turn off the light and spied that family picture. It had changed for one last time. Same huge grin, same huge boobs, but this time I was also sporting a huge pot belly. Even at nine I had looked nine-months pregnant.
I shut off the light and went to sleep in the only position I could: sprawled on my back.
Six months later
That knock at the door, as usual, interrupted. This time I was by myself, but Brian was there in spirit: I was masturbating to his pictures on my laptop. Quickly I shut the lid and adjusted my waistband, marveling at my flat stomach. I had only had a big belly for a little over a month, and I was still somewhat relieved that it was gone. I could only imagine what the “real” Michelle had gone through. Somewhat relieved, yes, and somewhat sad: there had been something about having that huge stomach and those huge boobs that was different than now.
Jenn was at the door, waiting for me so we could go on our jog, something that came as easily as it had that first time. As we passed boys they marveled at our toned bodies as before, and then turned and watched us bounce away. Normal, as it had turned out, meant almost exactly as I had been after about the third wave of growth: a flat six-pack, C-cup (later they were D-cup) breasts, and a larger than average, but still firm and toned, butt. Jenn wanted me to work on slimming down that last one, but I kind of liked it, just as I had all those months ago.
Sex with Brian hadn’t happened for a while. At first it was because we were scared of something happening again, but one night proved that fear incorrect. Then I was scared of ACTUALLY getting pregnant, and, with some cajoling with my mom, I was finally able to get on the Pill. This was great for a bunch of reasons; first of all, like I said, my boobs bumped up in size a bit, then because it helped my period, something I have pretty much gotten used to, be less horrible, and third because nobody, nobody in the world, makes condoms big enough for Brian. Like I said, he was almost 19 inches, which apparently is a world-record.
Speaking of world-records, Brian holds two of them. The first is for the biggest penis (erect) and the second is for strongest man. Strongest man ever. Some people accused him of taking steroids, but one look at his baby pictures (and another at his definitely not-shrunk testicles) clears that up.
As we turned the corner to get back to the dorms, Jenn and I waved at Brian, who was working out in the front lawn. That was the only place they would let him keep his huge weights, apparently, due to fear of wrecking foundations and such. He lifted a massive barbell, his bicep flexing to the size of our minifridge, and I gave him a wink. He knew what that wink meant and immediately set it down. He didn’t really have to worry about them getting stolen; any group of people seen carting one around would immediately be spotted.
“Hey girls,” he said, catching up with us at the front door. He ran his fingers through my hair (I had gotten it cut to that same pixie-ish length I had started with) and gave me a long, long kiss. His massive and muscular cock was soon straining at his shorts, rising up between my legs despite the elastic holding it in.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Jenn said, rolling her eyes, “let’s try to keep it in until you guys get to your rooms. God-forbid you keep everyone on the first floor awake tonight, as well as the eighth, ninth, and tenth!”
Brian and I just grinned and followed her into the building. It surprises a lot of people that Brian isn’t super-tall; I guess they expect him to duck through doorways. The truth is that, since that day when the changes happened, he hasn’t grown an inch in height. I guess he’s fine with that.
The ride up in the elevator was awkward and quiet and not centered around my belly. It would have felt lonely had Brian and I not been holding hands.
When at last we were alone in our dorm room I shut the door and turned back to Brian. Sauntering up to him, swinging my hips, I pretended to push him back onto his bed. “We haven’t had sex in at least, what? Three days?” I said. “You must really be wanting me,” I said, and cupped my breasts through my sports-bra, then ran them down my body, over my wide hips, and back up, reaching for the sky, making my boobs hold firm and high.
“There’s, um, something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Brian said. I didn’t detect any nervousness in his voice, just sheepishness.
“Well, that’s okay,” I said as I pulled my bra off and held one boob in each hand. “You can tell the twins, can’t you?”
He started running his hands over his chest muscles and arm muscles, a habit he had formed when he was unsure of himself. I saw that his shirt looked tighter than usual; was it really possible for him to work out enough to grow bigger? “The truth is, back when we were having sex almost every day, I didn’t just have sex with you. I was also jacking off about every two hours. You see, my balls work so fast, I fill up and then some super-quick. I have to relieve it or I get major, major blue balls.”
“Okay,” I said, straddling one of his legs. I almost had to do the splits to do it, and I knew how tight it made my jogging shorts: camel-toe city.
I could tell my added sexual tension wasn’t helping, because he started to flex his chest. Out out out it would go, the shirt straining, and then back. “Well, three days ago, when you said you wanted to hold off just a bit until the next time, I decided to hold off, too. And, well, it’s been building up.”
“How?” I asked, leaning down so that my bare boobs and rock-hard nipples raked against his leg. I reached for the waistband of his shorts. “Let me see…”
And then he flexed too much, because his shirt (one of almost pure elastic) ripped open, revealing his huge chest. At the same time I pulled down his shorts, revealing what I could already see through them (an enormous boner I had become all too familiar with) and what his tented shorts had been hiding.
His balls were as big as beach balls.
The skin was stretched super-tight and was an angry looking red, with these tight blue veins running all over their surface. His normally somewhat thick pubic hair was spread out over them like a meadow with a few trees every once in a while. Brian whimpered a little bit. “I need to get it out soon, or I think they might explode, or something.”
“Oh, baby, I can fix that,” I whispered, and, slipping off my own shorts to reveal my hairless mound, I plunged him into me.
My already stretched pussy had become more and more compliant over the past months, so that I hardly even blinked at the thought of Brian’s monster, almost inhuman cock inside of me. It caused lots of rude questions from other girls, and the unfortunate side-effect of making me a very easy camel-toe, but it was worth it. He filled me more than any girl had ever been before, and I wanted no one else. Not only was Brian my best friend, and more sexy than anyone possible (but I might have a slight thing for muscles), but he was the best lay I would ever get.
Especially after the stretching he had done to my vagina, no one would ever please me again.
I could tell the effect of these three days’ abstinence on him. It felt like all of the blood in his body was going into his cock, that it was thicker and longer than even normal. He bumped up, past my cervix and into my womb, stretching it to accommodate, hitting every pleasure spot I had. I came and I came and I came, right from the start. This is how it always was.
The only problem is, after half-an-hour of this, he still hadn’t orgasmed.
After I came down from my fifteenth or sixteenth, I leaned in and lay on his chest. Sweat was pouring down his face and he had an odd grimace.
“What is it, honey?” I asked. He shook his head.
“I don’t know. I just… I can’t come.”
“Hmm,” I thought. “Let me try something different.” I planted both hands on his shoulders and lifted myself off with a goofy slurping-suction sound. Then, with both hands on his thighs, I did something neither of us had ever really had to do: oral sex.
First I licked up and up his shaft, then sucked a little bit at the tip, running my tongue all around the head. Then I tried stroking his balls a bit, feeling their super-tight surface quiver at my touch. I stuck my mouth over his urethra and started stroking his huge cock lightly with my fingertips. “Come on,” I muttered, “come. Come! Come!”
But he still didn’t.
Getting more turned on by this than I had in a long time, I swung myself over his cock so that I was sitting on it like I was riding a horse. I rubbed my dripping pussy lips along it as I kept pumping, locking my legs around it. “COME! CUM! CUUUUM!” I screamed at Brian’s penis. He had fallen back against the bed in orgasmic pleasure, his eyes rolled up into his head, but he still wasn’t coming.
Then I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time. A warmth spreading, not through me, but through Brian’s dick. It started to grow even longer and even thicker, long enough for me to lean up against it and rub it between my breasts, thick enough in girth for me to wrap my legs around it. I started to pump it with my whole body, rubbing me all over it with my mouth still sucking over that widening slit at the top.
And, finally, Brian erupted in my mouth.
Desperately, unthinkingly, I began to drink and swallow and take it all. It filled my mouth and ran down my throat and filled my stomach up. Within five seconds I felt fuller than I had ever been, it was gushing that quickly. And he was just getting started.
Soon I felt something pressing harder against the base of Brian’s gigantic three-foot erection, and I realized it was me: my stomach was ballooning outward with his semen! Then I felt something else I wasn’t expecting: my boobs were enveloping his member, too, by growing out and around it! Already they were as big as my head, with no stopping in sight.
As my stomach started to push more and more against me, I even felt my ass getting in on the growth party, and I felt myself lifting, a tiny bit at a time, from my seat on Brian’s bumpy stomach. It wasn’t growing at the same rate, for sure, but it would be bigger than before by the time the day was done.
Brian must have realized something was happening, because he started to sit up before realizing I wasn’t just sitting on him, I was growing on him, and he immediately laid flat on his back. Thankful, I climbed to my feet, leaning way over so that my stomach and boobs could reach for the floor but I could still drink from that semen fountain. Eventually, though, even that space filled up with my ballooning breasts and belly. I had to think fast. Wrapping both arms around Brian’s cock, I pinched the huge tube on the bottom closed as tightly as I could and took my mouth away. Only a tiny stream was emitting now, but, judging from the whimpers of pain on Brian’s end, it hurt like a mother. I stood completely up and took a brief stock of the situation. My belly was huge, just like when I was seven months pregnant, and my boobs were at about the same level they had been at that point: bigger than life, but not their biggest. Brian whimpered again, and I plopped off of the bed, belly bouncing, boobs smacking my face. Pulling his girder of a cock down to almost horizontal, I knelt and put my mouth to it, once more.
When I let go, it was a stronger flow than before. I guess it had built up somewhat.
Before I knew it, my belly was hitting the floor and my boobs were rising up off of the top of it, pushing against the bottom of Brian’s boner. I had to stand up, shakily, still drinking and swallowing and never, ever gagging. My next problem was when my stomach started to press up against the bed. Pulling at Brian’s penis, I was able to get him to stand up and step a bit away from the bed, which only served as a solution for a few moments, before my belly had hit the floor (which did help me with standing) and was trying to sweep him off of his feet. The added problem of me still growing upward and pushing against the bottom AGAIN made me even more nervous.
But I had to keep sucking, sucking, sucking away, giving the best blowjob ever known.
Brian solved our last problem by grabbing onto a chin-up bar he had installed in the ceiling and pulling himself up, hooking his feet into another one. This left his dick at perfect mouth level, and I finished him off from this position.
Of course, it didn’t stop for another five minutes. By that point my stomach had filled up half of the room, collapsing a bed and a chair and even pressing up against the window. It was as big as a car, parked in our little dorm room, with my breasts the size and weight of two passengers. My hips and butt turned out to be just as fit and toned as they had been at the beginning of the day, but scaled out and out with fat so that they were the size of a 200-pound woman’s ass. I looked up and saw Brian still hanging there, his balls, upside-down, their normal size, and even his dick shrinking back a bit, though never back to what had been his �normal� size.
As he let himself down, I reached out and stroked the flesh of my stomach. It wasn’t nearly as tight as it had been before, as it was much more loose and gave easier, but it wasn’t the fat blob of, well, of a person who was actually fat.
I also don’t think that fat people orgasm much, just from stroking their stomachs.
The media, and my mother, blamed it on that process that had turned me normal all those months ago. They claimed that something had gone wrong, something that made it horribly backfire. The thing was, I was okay with it backfiring. I had lived about four months as a normal girl, and it had given me time to miss those days with my ever-expanding gut and constantly lactating mammaries. Of course, neither Brian nor I believed it was the procedure that had made this happen, but we weren’t saying anything.
I got filthy, filthy rich from the lawsuit that followed. I didn’t bother finishing college, as it would have been way too hard, anyway. Instead, I retired early, with my boyfriend, to a quiet beach. I spend most of my days with an enormous bikini on, with the bottom half wrapping up my belly, and the top half trying to contain my boobs. I let my hair grow out again, so that I actually could get that picture of me as a fertility goddess. The picture cost a lot, since I kept getting overexcited and spraying the photographer with milk.
Brian’s penis didn’t quite return to normal size, but I think that two-feet is a nice round number. It’s a lot harder for us to have sex, but, when we do, it’s magnificent.
And, every once in a while, I like to dress up in an itty-bitty plaid skirt that nicely shows off my hindquarters and a plain, extra-extra-extra large raglan. I don’t like to pretend that I’m a guy again, but, every once in a while, it’s nice to relive that day when my life changed for no reason.