growth-opportunities

[growth-opportunities]

Madz made her whole career wearing fake asses, fake tits, and fake bellies blown up to ridiculous sizes. She wore them for videos, but then she started just wearing them around the house, feeling her inflated tits slosh on her chest, feeling her overfilled ass shake and wobble behind her with every step. The looks she got in public were intoxicating, looks of lust and envy from everyone who saw her, even if they immediately attempted to cover it with disgust. It was empowering in ways she couldn't have imagined. It didn't take long at all to feel more comfortable with absurd, bordering on obscene curves than the body she normally had. All she had to do was make the fake sizes permanent. She knew, on some level, that she was feeding into a greed that would never fully be satisfied.

Even now, after two BBLs to make her backside so much more massive than the curves she was originally blessed with, she can't help fantasizing about pushing herself even bigger. She spends hours every day, massaging oil into her enormous cheeks, gawking at herself in the mirror. No matter how many times she looks at it, rubs it, shakes her hips to make it clap, she can still barely believe that all that ass belongs to her. Her hands sink into her doughy ass as she bites her lip, stifling a moan, her eyes fluttering as she pictures her rear growing beneath her grip, spreading out her fingers and pushing her panties beyond their limits. The greed never ends. The greed never goes away. It only demands one thing: to always be growing.

@madzisstacked butt morph

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"Hey, dickwad Travis! These look familiar? Yeah, that's right, asshat. They're Angela's tits. Don't worry, I didn't leave her with nothing. I let her have my old B cups. Which I'm sure you'll be fine with because, as you told me, her tits had nothing to do with why you hooked up with her. I'm sure she'll enjoy learning what a shallow fucking asshole you are. I'll even be generous and let you take a screenshot because this is the last time you'll ever see these tits again. And if you think, even for an instant, that you can try to worm your way back into my life, not only will I reject you, I'll steal the tits of every busty girl that so much as turns your head. I don't care if it makes my tits so big they reach my fucking knees. Getting revenge on you will be worth it. And, y'know, I'll admit it. I don't hate being busty."

[growth-opportunities]

Americans will do anything to avoid using the metric system...

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"Oh my God, look at me! I'm enormous! This sweater was loose on me a week ago and now it barely fits over my huge udders! Fuck, my tits are so heavy and so fucking big! And that was just from two pills! We still have the rest of the bottle... I want it. I want to be enormous! I want to be so big that I can't even get this belt around one of my tits, let alone both! Can you imagine it, baby? Sucking on my nipples when they're as thick as your thumbs put together? Oh, gawd, and if these things made milk, too? Holy shit, I'm getting so turned on. I need those pills now. If you're a good boy and fetch it for me, I'll let you fuck my cleavage while they grow around your cock! Doesn't that sound fucking incredible?"

[growth-opportunities]

She gets big fake tits she didn't ask for due to a medical bookkeeping error. At first she's upset, but soon she's wanting to go even bigger.

The cafe bustled around Dr. Langley, the air humming the clink of coffee cups and silverware and constant murmur of conversation, but she couldn't hear any of it. Instead, she was locked in on the woman sitting across the table from her and not for the reason why most people were unable to look away. Dr. Langley tried her best to think of something to say, but words failed her. A pink smirk formed on the woman's lips, taking a sip of her coffee as she waited patiently for Dr. Langley, thrilled at just how much power she held over the young surgeon. Finally, Dr. Langley obliged.

"Miss Barrington, I-"

"Kimberly, please, doctor. You've seen more of me than anyone else; I think you can refer to me a bit more casually, don't you agree?"

Dr. Langely swallowed, pushing her rectangular glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Sure, yes. Kimberly. I, uh, I don't think this is a good idea. We shouldn't be meeting like this. As far as I knew, the settlement was almost finalized. Our lawyers probably-"

A haughty laugh bursts from Kimberly as she leans back in her chair, her newly golden hair shimmering as it cascades around her. "Oh, fuck the lawyers. They're just looking for the biggest payout so they can get the biggest cut. But I don't want money. Not really. I want you. I want more. I want Bigger."

Dr. Langley's blue eyes blinked, her brow furrowed. "...I'm sorry, what? You didn't even want these in the first place! Why would you-"

The distance between the two women is suddenly closed as Kimberly darts forward, resting her tits on the table, putting a hand on the outer curve of each one. "You're right. You're right! I didn't want them. If you had asked me a year ago if I ever wanted to be even a single cup size bigger, I would have slapped you across the face for asking such a thing. But fucking hell, Jean. Can I call you Jean? Whatever. You, Jean, are a genius. I mean, really, genuinely, truly a master of your craft. What you did to me, what you gave me? These huge, round tits? Nothing short of miraculous. Suddenly, I'm not invisible. Suddenly, I can walk down the street and feel confident and attractive. Good god, Jean; I'm sexy! I spent an hour yesterday just looking at myself in the mirror, rubbing my hands over these sweater stretchers. They're mine and I can't look away from them!"

A complicated mixture of emotions rushed through Dr. Langley, the flattery counterbalanced by the embarrassment of Kimberly's enthusiasm, glancing around the cafe in the hopes that no one nearby had heard her. "Okay! Okay, well, I'm glad you're enjoying them. Super glad it worked out. But with the settlement, you could be rich and busty, so-"

"No."

Dr. Langley froze. If there were ever a moment for a record to scratch, it would be then. Her eyebrow slowly crept upwards. "...No?"

"No. I don't want to be rich and busty. Being rich doesn't interest me and neither does merely being busty. I want to be huge! Enormous! I want to be a walking vessel for sloshing saline strapped to my chest, unable to hide my greed. You gave me a taste at 900ccs, but what of 2000? Or 10,000? Or 100,000!" Kimberly's eyes fluttered, her hands grabbing hold of the edge of the table hard enough to turn her knuckles white. Just the thought of ever increasing numbers was thrilling. Blush bloomed on her cheeks as she bit her lip, letting the wave of lust wash over her. A deep, if shaky breath calmed her nerves enough to continue. "Jean, what you did to me was nothing short than divine inspiration and now I want to see how far I can go. You're not just a surgeon. You're an artist. Pure and simple. And these?" Kimberly patted her tits, rubbing them over her shirt. "These are going to be your magnum opus. I know you're curious. I can see it in your eyes. You want to see how far we can go, how far we can push the limits of medical science. Not for the journals or the recognition, but in the pursuit of greatness."

Kimberly's hand shot forward, taking hold of Jean's, gripping tightly. "Just say yes. Say yes and the malpractice suit goes away. Say yes and the lawyers go back to their caves and their dungeons. Say yes and I become your marble, your clay, the medium in which you will create your greatest accomplishment. Make me bigger. Make me huge. A monument in saline and silicone. Let's do it together. Just say yes!"

The offer hung in the air for a few moments as Dr. Langley looked into the woman's eyes, feeling the eagerness radiate out of her. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do. She had too many thoughts and all of them were competing for equal consideration leaving her stunned until, finally, a thought muscled its way through the cacophony inside her mind and escaped from her lips. "My office. Tomorrow morning, 7am sharp. Don't bother wearing a bra; it won't fit by the time you leave."

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trans girl isn't happy with the puffy tits hrt has given her, so she makes a wish for bigger breasts. unfortunately she forgot two things: "bigger" is pretty vague, and hrt makes your breasts debilitatingly sensitive

Even when she was younger, Rowan had always felt like wishing upon a star was pointless. But still, as she looked overhead at the light streaking across the night sky, the rational part of her mind trying to explain it away as a satellite or a particularly fast airplane, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her bust. "Just bigger..." she muttered, conjuring her reflection in her mind. "Full and soft and heavy and... bigger." By the time she opened her eyes, the light in the sky was long gone. Blush burned in her cheeks. Was she really that shallow, that vain, that she'd pray and wish for bigger tits? A single finger pulled forward the collar of her faded t-shirt, wincing as the fabric brushed over her swollen nipples, stealing a glance at the puffy breasts budding on her chest. A deep breath in made them seem larger, only to shrink back down as the defeated sigh roll out of her. She'll just have to be patient and hope for the best.

Within a week, Rowan's breasts had far outgrown any bra that she owned and their uncontrolled wobbling was starting to wear on her. They way they bounced and jiggled and rubbed together was making it hard to concentrate on much of anything. It was equal parts humiliating and arousing having her friend help her measure, whimpering and moaning as the tape measure flicked against her stiff nipple. All it took was a little pressure for an orgasm to wash over Rowan, instinctively grabbing her tits to push her further into bliss, bucking her hips, hoping that her friend would be too distracted to notice the growing damp spot at her crotch.

Measuring them proved to be an exercise in futility as another week passed and their growth not just continued, but accelerated. It was becoming increasingly hard to lift them, often letting them rest on tables and beside her on the couch, until finally they rested on the floor. Rowan's mobility, though impaired, was still somewhat intact, but the heft and size of her swollen tits forced her to drag them along the ground in order to get anywhere. Their sensitivity only increased with their size, allowing Rowan to feel every inch of floor as it rubbed against her enormous breasts, leaving her red-faced and panting wherever she want, and not just from exertion. Hours a day were spent just playing with her tits until her mind melted, her tongue hanging from her lips.

By the end of the month, Rowan no longer had any concept of time. Or numbers. Or anything, really, outside of her tits and the incredible, overwhelming amount of pleasure they brought her. As her mobility evaporated, Rowan wound up on top of her tits, feeling them grow underneath her until she was completely trapped on a wobbling sensitive bed, the weight of her own body giving her untold amounts of pleasure. The rhythmic plap! plap! plap! of her hips bucking against her own tits filled the air, a constant background sound echoing off of the walls of the room. Each tit weight more than twice the rest of her body, big enough that she could have stood in her own cleavage and her breasts would have risen over her head. Pure, unbridled lust had replaced all higher thought and consciousness until she was left with nothing to protect herself from her most base instincts, a constant desire for pleasure, pleasure, and more pleasure. Her vocabulary had atrophied from a lack of use, leaving her with only a single word, distorted through a haze of moans: Bigger!

[growth-opportunities]

A woman tried taking pills to grow her breasts just a small and reasonable amount, but immediately became hopelessly addicted.

Okay, so, you know how some people have not-so-great coping mechanisms? I mean, we all know that smoking is bad for us, and yet some people, not me, but some people need a cigarette or two to make it through a bad day and another to relax after making it through. And then you have the barflies who stop for a few beers every day after work "just to relax" and then we let those guys drive home! All I'm saying is that everyone has different ways of coping with stress, so I really don't need judgement just because my vice of choice is growth pills.

In my defense, they were advertised as temporary! One pill was supposed to grant three cup sizes for a few hours and then they'd go back down again. If Bobby Barstool can get drunk for a few hours and then go about his life, then why can't I have a few hours of fun for myself? The first time I did it, I only took one. And god it felt good. I forgot to take my bra off (I guess I really didn't think that they would work) and so watching my tits grow and bulge out of them was... fuck. Words fail me, is the point. The eroticism of that alone was intense but the increased sensitivity really sold me on it. I barely noticed the time passing, very nearly getting used to them at that size before they shrank away, leaving me with my modest but respectable C cups.

And it went like that for a while. Got home from work, shed my work clothes, popped a pill, blissed out for a few hours, and then made dinner. Occasionally, I'd take one before a night out on the town, but their sensitivity made it a lot more tempting just to stay home and play with them. It was a simple routine.

But, y'know, it's one of those slippery slope things. I had one really, really bad day, so I said fuck it and I took two pills instead of one. J cups, man. Instant J cups. And from there it was easy to go up to three pills, then four pills. It was incredible. They lasted a little bit longer when I took more of them, but it was safe, reliable, and the pleasure was only slightly addicting.

Well, maybe not entirely safe.

So, it would seem that I didn't always go back to my normal size when the pills wore off. Not completely. I wound up being a little bit bigger. Taking one pill at a time, the effect was barely noticeable, easily chalked up to a bit of swelling. But the longer it went on and the more pills I took, the more obvious it became. The crazy thing was that, even though I was actively, legitimately growing, not just temporarily, they still felt small! Coming down from a P cup to a D cup was still a big drop and so it was hard to gauge just how fast I was growing. And I tried to stop or just slow down, but, fuck, sometimes you just gotta take the edge off by turning yourself into a fat-titted cow, drooling over your own cleavage while you pinch your nipples and moan like a whore. And even though I told myself that it was only a little bit of growth here or there, given enough time, it starts to add up. And the bigger I got, the less difference three cup sizes made, so I had to keep taking more which just made me grow faster and it fed on itself until, well, I don't even think there are cup sizes when you're this big.

Oh, gosh, sorry, I get a little rambly. I know you've probably got to take other calls. Anyway, all of that is to say are you sure your company can't make me a compression bra for a bust measurement over 100 inches? ...Hello?

[growth-opportunities]

source

"Babe, can you hand me another bottle? I'm still way too small."

Your girlfriend had found out about your special interests. There was a time when she was weirded out by it, but she's since seen the light. Now she's even more into size than you are (to a slightly concerning level), and is determined to make both your fantasies real.

One pill at a time.

I can still remember the night that my fantasy became our fantasy. I was scrolling on my phone, as I often do before settling into bed, when I could hear the shift in her breathing. Her breasts sat heavy on her chest, easily doubling their previously impressive size. She had thought her H cups were big, but these gargantuan breasts would have made her old self look puny. They dominated her torso, her pale skin covered in a web of veins. Her nipples had grown, too, easily as thick as my thumb, practically quivering as arousal overwhelmed her. Her sudden grip on my arm dragged me away from my phone and, god, the lust in her eyes when her gaze met mine. "Fuck... Fuck... They're so... They're so sensitive. I can feel everything. I can feel the fucking air. It's going to make me lose my mind." Her attempt to placate me, to get me riled up, was a little obvious, a little forced, so I decided to get back at her by leaning in and gently blowing over her breast. I got maybe a second and a half into it before her whole body tensed and she let out a deep, desperate moan, clasping her hand over her mouth as her hips writhed beneath her. Unless she had been taking some serious acting classes without my knowledge, the orgasm that wracked her body was genuine. Sweat trickled down her cheek as she met my gaze again, her eyes glazed over, her chest heaving. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, swallowing to wet her throat. Finally, she managed to whisper a single word: "Bigger."

It wasn't uncommon for her to throw herself wholeheartedly into whatever she was doing and this was no exception. Bottles seemed to empty faster and faster, the growth accelerating just as much. Some women would be panicked to wake up and find themselves unable to heft their own tits off the bed. My girlfriend decided to spend that day on top of them, bucking her hips against them. The pleasure only encouraged her, narrowly managing to get her out of the house before her tits could no longer fit between door frames. Putting up a party tent in the backyard seemed like a good solution, but the daily, unending growth made it obvious that it was a temporary solution at best. I tried to talk her into maybe slowing down a little, maybe even stopping, but she just laughed. Neither of us really wanted it. I was just afraid. She wasn't. "Come on, baby. We've both read all those stories you've bookmarked. Now, go get my another bottle so I can outgrow this tent. Then there's the block, the neighborhood, the city..." She giggled, a ripple moving through the wall of tit that rose above her head. Almost six feet out in front of her, her nipples stiffened. "Ask yourself: haven't you ever wanted to live on a planet of tit?" I felt a little numb as I handed her the bottle, watching her greedily swallow the pills. I genuinely couldn't tell if that was a joke anymore. And, worse, I liked it too much for it to really matter.

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GROWING!!!

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Bouncing her tits was an addicting feeling. The way they slapped against each other, against her torso. The feeling of weightlessness at the apex of the bounce and the intense weight on her shoulders as they sloshed back down on her chest, dangerously close to her bellybutton. The air rushing over her sensitive skin. It made her feel good about herself and her body in ways that she had never imagined. Having been an AA cup up until a few months ago, Deanna had never had anything to bounce before, but her new birth control changed that. Growth being a side effect was more encouragement than deterrent and she couldn't be happier with the results. Within two weeks, her breasts finally began to bud. Within a month, she was already outgrowing her new bras. The rest of her body softened, too, widening her hips, giving her an ass to be proud of, finally hiding her ribs beneath a layer of softness, but most of it went to her tits. Deanna couldn't get enough of them. She bounced them every chance she could get. She wore low-cut shirts and walked around with her chest thrust forward. She finally had something to show off and, by God, she was going to make sure everyone knew. People she knew and trusted only had to ask to see them or even touch them and she'd happily oblige, soaking in their awed expressions and whimpering as they brushed over her sensitive spots. It felt so good to be the source of envy instead of the other way around. She had fantasized about finally outsizing those that teased her and now she'd struggle to fit their precious D-cup bras around one of her tits. Being busty was everything she had wanted and more. If it was a dream, she never wanted to wake up, and if there were even the smallest chance that continuing to take the pills would keep her growing, she'd never stop.

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Your girlfriend won't stop complaining about how she has the smallest boobs amongst her friends, so you used the genie to wish for your girlfriend's boobs to get much bigger. But your girlfriend won't stop complaining, because the genie increased everyone's boob size.

My eyebrow arches in skepticism as I watch my girlfriend pace across the floor of our living room, every frustrated stomp of her feet making her massive breasts wobble. She groans, flailing her arms about, pushing the bra holding back her gargantuan bust nearly to its limits. For my part, I just blink at her, trying to wrap my head around what she just said.

"So, what you're telling me is that you found a genie."

She responds through gritted teeth. "Yes."

"And you used one of your wishes to make your, er, breasts-"

Her hands slam against her tits, pushing deep into the soft flesh. Each one bulges out around her hand and her wrist and her forearm, bigger than her head several times over. "My tits, John! I wished to have absolutely gigantic fucking tits!"

I shake my head, putting my forehead in my hand. "I just- I can't wrap my mind around it. Why would you wish to be bigger? I've known you for ages and you've always been this big. I've seen pictures of you when you were-"

A fresh round of marching makes her tits sway as she crosses over to me, putting her hands on my shoulders and pushing me back into the couch. I swallow, suddenly nervous. "Okay, honey." Her voice drips with condescension. "I need you to really buckle in for me, okay? The wish changed reality! I was a B cup before. That's why I made the wish." Each word becomes more and more forced, her grip tightening on my shoulders. "The wish not only made me grow, but then changed things around so it was like I was always this big. New reality, new memories, new pictures. In the old reality, I used to run track. In the new reality, I had a medical exemption from gym class because they didn't make sports bras in my size. Are you starting to get the picture now?"

I look up at her, nodding my head slowly. "Okay, yes, I think I understand. I'll just have to trust you. But then if the magic worked and you obviously got bigger then what's-"

Fury immediately lights up behind her face. She tears away from me, screaming, stamping her foot. For a woman of her size, a tantrum like this is a unique experience, her thighs brushing against the underside of her tits. "THE PROBLEM IS THAT THEY'RE STILL BIGGER!" She stomps over to the mantle and pulls down a picture, last summer's Girls' Trip. My girlfriend is in the middle, wearing a black and white striped bikini that clearly wasn't designed for anything bigger than a G cup. Any yet, despite her auburn hair and brilliant green eyes, she isn't the star of the picture. On either side of her, she's flanked by her friends. Julie is on the left, with blue eyes and blonde hair; a five minute conversation would show she isn't the bimbo she appears to be, but most don't get that far. And Katie is on the right, hair and pale skin, gothic black to balance out Julie's barbie pink. And both of them even bustier than my girlfriend. Despite my girlfriend's size, she just can't beat them; the fact that they can stand at all with tits like that hanging off their chest, covering their bodies down to their hips, is nothing short of a miracle.

My girlfriend flops down on the couch next to me, her tits spilling out to the sides, holding her face on her hands. Her steam is running out. "Even in the old reality, they were bigger than me. That's part of the reason I made the wish, to be bigger than them! But that stupid genie... Don't be mad, but when reality changed, I had to use my second wish to make sure that I ended up with you no matter what and not where it originally put me which... Just don't ask."

I put my hand on her back, rubbing it, trying to ignore the clasp of her bra with more hooks than I could count. "I'm not mad, I promise. That's actually pretty sweet. But, hey, look at yourself! Even if you're not bigger than them, you're still absolutely enormous. You have to find ways of looking at it that are positive."

A sniffle shakes my girlfriend's body and she slumps over, leaning into my side. She nuzzles into my shoulder and I do my best to ignore the gargantuan breast that completely covers my lap. "That's it, baby. It'll be okay. I mean, just look at me. Sure, it's hard for me to buy trousers and I feel a little conspicuous with my bulge. And I know what it's like to be almost biggest at something. But, on the bright side, I wound up with a girl who's so much of a size queen that she'd bend reality to stay with me despite the fact that I constantly leak."

Blush blossoms on her cheek and she nods her head, burying it deeper into my chest. I kiss the top of it. Suddenly a thought occurs to me. "So what was your third wish?"

She freezes. "Pardon?"

"You said that getting us back together was your second wish, those things usually come in three, so what was the third?"

She suddenly pushes away from me. "Oh, uh, nothing! Don't worry about it! Thanks for comforting me, baby. You wanna go upstairs and have a little fun? Feels like you could stand to relieve some pressure."

I grin. "I thought you'd never ask."

[growth-opportunities]

"I know I said I would stop using the growth cream, I know I'm already two sizes bigger than our goal but... Fuck! I can't stop! It feels so fucking good, baby, you have no idea! The growth is intoxicating! It turns me on so fucking much! I'm addicted to it! I can't get enough of waking up and feeling them hang heavier on my chest. It feels so good when they bounce and wobble and clap. I didn't even have cleavage before but now I can trap your whole head between them! I want to watch as even the clothes I bought to cover my gigantic tits get too small and I have to replace them again and again and again! Forever! I don't care about how big I get anymore. I don't care if I get so big that I can't even lift my massive fucking tits! I just want to keep growing! I need to keep. Fucking. GROWING!"

[growth-opportunities]

How do you go about finding/deciding which pics to use for your posts?

It depends! Sometimes it's the chicken, sometimes it's the egg. I might see something on Reddit or on Tumblr that inspires me and I'll write whatever the picture made me think of. When it comes to asks, I'll usually have a vibe in mind and try to find pictures that match that vibe. For example, the recent one about the cheerleader who went goth, I knew of a few goth-adjacent models and I looked through their public posts for anything that I thought would fit. And then I generally searched for a cheerleader pic, trying to find one that sort of looked like the goth girl I chose and, failing that defaulted to one that stood out as busty.

Some people have sent me pictures and apologies to them; sometimes the inspiration just doesn't come. And I'd rather have good writing that I feel proud of than something I forced just for the sake of the picture.

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I'm loving what you've done with some of the suggestions I've submitted :D

Aw, thank you! I'm really glad you like them! I really try to come up with creative spins on the ideas while keeping true to the original premise.

This really made my day! Likes and reblogs are great, but direct feedback like this feels really good. It's nice to know that people appreciate what I'm doing. 😊

EDIT: That isn't to say I don't appreciate the likes and the reblogs! Those are still wonderful, lol, didn't mean to devalue those. Keep liking and reblogging! Please!

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She’s officially too busty to be a cheerleader, so she might as well go goth!

All it took was one toppled pyramid and suddenly it was unsafe to have her on the team. Riley knew that it was her fault. She didn't need her fellow cheerleaders and their snide comments, talking about how the pyramid collapsed because it was "top-heavy." When she had joined the squad, she was a perky and pleasant B cup, but as the season went on, those B cups had grown and grown and grown. It was embarrassing to have to keep going back to the coach and ask for a bigger uniform, eventually having to have one custom made to fit her expanding bust. She added layer upon layer of sports bra in an effort to keep them contained, but nothing had worked. She had assumed that her teammates' teasing was all in good fun, but she could feel the sting now and she knew that it was mean and jealous and petty. They meant it. That night, Riley lay in bed, sobbing and cradling herself in her arms. She had lost everything. Her sport. Her community. Her "friends". She had nothing.

As she drifted aimlessly through the next week, the memory of herself from that night stuck in her head, the sight of herself in the mirror with mascara running down her face stuck in her head. She wore baggy sweatshirts despite the warming spring, anything to hide her bust, tugging the hood over her face whenever she saw one of her former teammates. She didn't know what they might have been talking about, but she couldn't have taken it if they were talking about her. By the time the next week rolled around, missing practice for the first time since joining the team, Riley found herself... relieved. Now having been rejected, looking at the whole team from the outside, Riley realized just how much work it was. Not just physically, but having to dress and act a certain way to appease the bitchy team captain. As all that pressure melted away, she found herself drifting back to the things she had suppressed. Metal and hard rock once again floated from her headphones. She dyed her hair back to her natural black, replacing her makeup palettes with blacks, purples, and greens. Sure, her old, dark clothing didn't really fit anymore, but it went nicely with the aesthetic.

By the time she came back to school the following Monday, Riley looked completely different. She had shed the shackles of being a Cheerleader, a thought that now made her shudder. This is who she really was and there was no sense in not going for it. It was gratifying when she walked past the captain and her boyfriend, listening to her berate him for staring as she passed by. With the way her tits bulged out of her bra, bouncing and wobbling with every confident step, she couldn't blame him. There was no need to hold anything back, including her growth. She lived in fear of it before but now she wished it would never stop.

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Two friends get into a contest of who can be more of a bimbo. One treats this as a joke and puts in only a modicum of effort, the other goes waaaay overboard.

Francine chuckled as she slipped the blonde wig over her head, leaning over the vanity to apply her hot pink lipstick. It was just like her and Beatrice to compete like this. Their whole friendship, going back to their youth, was filled with pointless competition. Who could run faster, who could eat more, who could get higher grades. Neither one of them won more than the other, but everything that could be made into a contest was fought over until one of them claimed victory. When Francine called Beatrice, telling her that she'd be coming back to their hometown in a month, something silly like this seemed like the perfect way to put the whole business to bed. They were grown women now; this could be a send-off to their competitive ways. But Francine wasn't about to be beaten, slipping into a pink, low-cut dress, determined to make this final competition a final victory for herself. She glanced at her phone, just thirty minutes left to go. She slipped a pair of silicone pads into her bra, deepening her cleavage, and called for a cab. She couldn't wait to see the look on Beatrice's face. As soon as she sat down in the backseat of the cab, she shot off a text to Beatrice, letting her know that she was on her way. The city passed by outside the car windows and Francine thought about how the night would go, dressed up, fending off skeezy guys, getting tipsy and reminiscing about the good old days. It was going to be a fun night.

Bambi gagged, her plump, bee-stung lips spread open around a thick cock, her lipstick smeared down the length of the shaft. A river of drool ran down her chin and pooled in the deep cleavage formed by the more than 2000ccs of saline forced into her chest. Her mascara ran in streaks down her cheek as her mouth was used roughly by the stranger, his strong hand gripping tightly to her hair. Her eyes, dim and vacant, rolled into her head as she surrendered to him, the bimbo voice in her head telling her to give in to her pleasure and her place as a toy. After a few moments, the pleasure got to be too great for him, throwing her back against the cold, dirty tiles of the bar bathroom. Her padded ass, inflated just as much as her tits, cushioned the blow as he made one or two final strokes. She opened her mouth and stuck out her chest to give him the most optimal targets for painting her with his cum. She moaned, deep and messy, as rope after rope splattered against her, draping over her tits, all over her face. She put her lips once more around his tip, sucking out the last few drops, swallowing her reward. She giggled as the man took out a few wadded bills and slapped them down on the edge of the sink. She called after him, waving a lazy hand in his direction. "Remember, stud! Bambi likes to make new friends!" The man took one last look at the used bimbo before zipping up his jeans and exiting the bathroom. Bambi crawled over to the sink to collect the cash, looking at herself in the mirror. The overfilled lips. The massive, spherical tits, a far cry from the B cups she had previously been proud of. The way her hips jutted out unnaturally from her waist. It had taken her a month and most of her savings, but she had built herself into a bimbo, through and through. She was perfect. Well, almost perfect. Bigger is always better.

A buzzing sound distracted Bambi for a second, suddenly realizing that it was her phone. She tapped the screen, her long nails clacking, delighted by the text message. Francine was on her way! That's right! She had almost forgotten. Another giggle floated from Bambi's throat. It was so easy to forget things these days, especially when deprived of air with a thick cock down your throat. Bambi scooped up some of the cum cooling on her body and brought it to her lips, messily licking it off. Their competition seemed so silly. It was clear to Bambi that two bimbos shouldn't be fighting; they should be working together! A part of her hoped that Francine had beaten her. Bambi moaned, rubbing between her thighs as she imagined their huge, fake tits bouncing off each other, surrounded by a dozen men with their cocks in their hand. She licked her lips, salivating at the idea of being coated with that much cum. It was going to be a fun night.

[growth-opportunities]

A flat-chested woman wants her cosplay of busty anime characters to be as accurate as possible.

It had been an exhausting day. The panels, the artists alley, the games. Sure, Morgan had narrowly missed out on tickets to the upcoming premiere of Suit & Tie: Salaryman to the Rescue to someone in a low-poly robot costume but the con had been incredibly fun and that was the most important thing. Her legs ached as she trudged down the hallway to her hotel room, relief washing over her as she heard the door unlock. Her bed, freshly made, looked so inviting, careful to flop down on her back. She couldn't help a smile as she felt her breasts slosh on her chest for the first time in her entire life. The massive breastforms she needed to complete her costume from I Used to Live a Boring Life but now I Do the Demon King's Accounting were easily the most expensive part of her costume but, by god, did they make her feel good.

Her flat chest never got much attention. Her breasts were just... not there. Not 'small', not 'petite', non-existent. Morgan had learned not to trust people who said that they liked small breasts or that "all breasts are good, regardless of size", their look of disappointment revealing the truth. And there would be some twinges of that pain when she finally took off the breast forms, but at least she had one day of sexiness. In one act, she had gone from flat chested to being bustier than every girl that had ever made fun of her combined. The company that made them didn't even bother assigning them a cup size like the rest of their models; it was just "Humongous". They dominated Morgan's otherwise slender, diminutive frame, but neither she nor anyone else had a complaint about that. She rather liked being a short stack, even if she was ridiculously top-heavy. A part of her wished... Morgan chuckled at her own silliness, breathing out a deep sigh. Things just didn't work that way.

With a few hup!s to build momentum, Morgan pushed herself up to her feet to start the process of changing into pyjamas. She started with the easy stuff, pulling off the brightly colored wig to reveal her mousy brown hair, running a hand through it to get it to unstick from where it matted to her scalp. Colored contacts were retrieved, albeit a bit clumsily, revealing her natural rich brown (now slightly red) eyes. The process came to a halt as she emptied her pockets, finding the tarnished coin once more. The woman who gave it to her was incredible. A witch cosplay, though from what series, Morgan couldn't say. The staff had an ethereal air to it that was almost mesmerizing and the way the woman embodied the spookiness, that power... The words 'step on me, mommy' had popped, spontaneously, into Morgan's head, thankfully unspoken. But, instead of that treatment, the witch simply pressed this coin into Morgan's palm before walking off, a knowing smile on her lips. Morgan didn't see the woman through the rest of the day, but it was a big convention center. The dim light of the hotel room caught on the grooves of the coin as she turned it over in her hand. A faint, shimmering green emanated from the coin. It was impressive dedication to whatever character. The coin was heavy and it felt old, worn smooth by eons. Or a rock tumbler. Either way, it was a good memento. Morgan squeezed the coin tightly in her hand, bringing it up to her lips. "Fuck... I wish I could make my outfits look that real."

With an envious shrug, trying to seem casual about it, Morgan placed the coin on her nightstand alongside her phone, wallet, and credential lanyard. She felt a slight shifting on her chest, a new weight, but she just chalked it up to exhaustion and the fact that she had been sweating like crazy under the form; it did not breathe well. Her trousers came down, shimmying her narrow hips and trying her best to savor the sloshing of her breasts, a feeling that she knew would soon be a memory. The shirt was next, taking one last look at her cleavage before removing it. Ah well. It was fun while it lasted. She made a mental note to check their website about discoloration, pulling her arms inward to remove-

...

Next to be removed was the breast form, which-

...

A look of confusion flashed across Morgan's face. Was she that exhausted that she couldn't find the arm hole? She marched over to the small bathroom, having to turn sideways to fit through the door. The sterile light that flooded the room at the flick of the switch made Morgan flinch but, as her eyes adjusted, her jaw dropped.

The edges were completely smooth. Around her shoulders, around her neck, at her waist. It was just... skin, no different than any other part of her. Her mind reeled at the possibilities, wondering if her sweat had just made it stick to her, but no matter how much she clawed at the places where the edges had been some twelve hours ago, the silicone didn't come up. All of that motion had made the breasts wobble which was what drew Morgan's attention. They didn't slosh like fake, inflated tits. They sloshed like real ones. Real tits with heft and weight and made of real skin and flesh. The perfectly rounded, slightly shiny nipples that had capped the breastform when she bought it were gone, replaced with ones that, well, that looked a lot like her own. Just bigger. She reached a timid hand out to one, not an easy feat considering her size, only to moan, clapping her other hand over her mouth, as she gave the nipple a good squeeze. Her knees almost gave out under her, catching herself on the vanity. If she had fallen all the way to the floor, she might not have been able to get back up again. These were her tits. They were a part of her. She could feel them! They were huge and heavy and sexy and they felt so fucking good. Morgan didn't know whether to cry or moan. She staggered back to the bed, sitting on the edge and feeling her breasts fill her lap. Her breasts. She still couldn't get over it. She knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth but still, the curiosity over what had happened to her stuck in her mind. Right up until the light caught-

The coin!

Morgan nearly fell off the bed reaching for it, just barely stopping herself in time. As she turned it over in her hand, the green glow was gone. It felt lighter, too, though that might just have been in comparison to the new weight on her chest. She bit her lip, smiling, bringing the coin up to her lips to kiss it, offering thanks for everything it had done for her. She wasn't so shallow to think that finally growing tits would fix all of her problems, but it certainly helped with some of them. She giggled, enjoying the sight of her breasts, her tits wobbling with her motions. A single finger traced down the deep line of her cleavage, Morgan moaning as she pushed it between her massive breasts. If she ever met the witch again, she'd have to think of some way to repay her...