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Milk. Milk was her constant companion – in fact, it was a downright inescapable one. Wherever she went, she left it in trails, in puddles. It sopped on top of the counters in her kitchen; it slicked the floors of the grocery store aisles; it splattered up against the dresser and nightstand in her bedroom; it dampened her every dress without care and without reason. The carpet in her home was so soaked in milk that every step squeezed it out of its wool like a sponge.
And such productivity necessitated huge containers. Mikuru’s breasts had always been impressive, but all through her higher education, they were never sated by envious leers nor lustful gazes. Bigger, they seemed to announce, as one of her buttons went arcing through the air in the middle of a standardized test. It sunk perfectly into her instructor’s cup of coffee. More! We need to be BIGGER!
Throwing out broken bras was as routine to her as waking up in the morning – as was washing her inevitably milk-laden sheets. Now, Mikuru’s boobs were so big that even beach balls would envy them, and so perky that they could almost lift off like hot air balloons. That wasn’t to say they didn’t have heft; they still had a satisfying hang to them, heavy enough that her posture was prone to slouch if she didn’t wear her metallic harness. Gone were all of her lacy bras. There was simply no way those would ever fit her again.
“But you like me this big and milky, don’t you, anon? You love your darling Milkuru~”
Bedsprings creaked. Mikuru straddled your body. Moonlight haloed around her naked figure like she was a dancer beneath a spotlight. “You’re all mine now,” she breathed. Her thick brown locks, long enough to reach her waist, slunk over her chest and back like the many intertwining streams within an estuary. “I’m different now, anon, and I know what I want… and what I want, I get~”
Mikuru clutched the sheets on either side of you and leaned down over your body – and so, too, did her gelatinous tits. They pooled like batter over your chest, nipples hardening themselves against your rib cage. You quickly felt as if you had just taken a seat in a boiling sauna. That sly, sly grin of hers was a far cry from the nervous disposition she had left behind in the SOS Brigade club room.
“They’re soooo heavy,” Mikuru moaned, dipping her waist toward your own. “And soooo full… won’t you help, anon? Milk me like the cow I am~?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She never did. Mikuru took your hand in one of her own and hoisted it to the top of one of her large, heavy, creamy breasts – and your fingers immediately indulged her, squeezing a handful tightly enough to redden her skin. “MMmmph!” Mikuru moaned sharply; her back arched and her toes curled. “J-just like that…!” You felt moisture wash over your body; you smelled the sugary sweet smell that always accompanied it. Her milk dripped over your skin and soaked into the blankets around you.
“You’ve always been… so good at that, anon…” Her face was so close to yours that your noses might touch. Boobs pancaked further against your body; milk bubbled around the contact. “I’m yours forever, okay? So… please… d-don’t stop!”
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“Hey there, anon! I am SO glad to be back at your shop!”
It was a Saturday night tradition. A track meet; a first place finish; a victory lap through the closest donut joint. Such had been Aoi’s routine since the start of the season. So when the front door opened and the bell clanged to herald her entrance, you were reaching for an empty box before you even turned to look at her.
“Ooooh, it all looks so good! I swear, there’s something in the donuts here that makes them EXTRA filling! I can’t believe I’m the only customer right now... there should be a line out the door 24/7!”
You rose from behind the counter with a box in hand – but Aoi’s figure almost made you drop it back to the ground. Extra filling was right. It was like someone had shoved bowling balls down her tank-top. They loomed so low on her figure that they reached the waistband of her shorts, and her underboob was beginning to escape from below the hem like someone was peering through windowblinds. Her cleavage was similarly rebellious. It so bulged around her collar that a few holes had begun to form where the fabric had simply given up. And the way her bust swayed like the pendulum of a grandfather clock, it was obvious she didn’t have a bra on – and her nipples were all the perkier for it. They tented against her top like they were trying to raise it off of her skin completely.
But, strangely, Aoi stood back from the counter like she was behind a long line. She scanned over the selection of donuts before meeting your gaze. “Oh! Sorry, I, um, kinda have to keep my distance, cause...” The swimmer gestured over her rack with a bashful grin. The last of the sunset beyond the windows haloed her curvaceous silhouette. “Well, they get in the way when I look down, heheh! But I know what I want now!” Aoi stumbled over her own untied laces as she stepped closer to the counter; if she couldn’t see the pastries behind the glass, there was no way she could tie her own shoes.
“Alright, I want, um... an apple fritter, a lemon filled donut, a chocolate covered donut, a cinnamon bun, a...“
Your concentration scattered like a flock of startled birds. Perhaps she was teasing you; perhaps she just didn’t notice. Either way, Aoi’s sizable breasts had slid on to the counter like she was serving up drinks of her own. In a way, she was – if you were looking for something of the milky variety. The front of her tank-top darkened in tree-branch formations as her product dribbled from her nipples like water from a spigot. It didn’t take long before it began to pool on the surface below.
“You get all that, anon? Oh, and... and let me get a drink!“
Aoi backpedaled, her boobs dragging back with her like trash bags – and when they careened over the edge of they counter, they slapped against her torso like a wrecking ball hits a building. “EEEEEK!” Fortunately, plenty of chairs were there to break her fall; she gripped the backs of the nearest two, and their legs screeched as they scooted across the floor to keep her upright. “Hooo, that was close! My chest kinda knocked the wind out of me a bit... but it’s like I’m always lifting weights, right? Always getting stronger!”
She approached the nearby fridge and looked at your inventory like the excited patrons at an aquarium look at some fish. Her fingertips pressed into the glass – as did her generous, generous bust, its mass squashing like pancakes against the surface and bulging into her armpits and around her ribcage.
You couldn’t stand to keep staring. You knew it was not polite. Instead, you busied yourself by selecting what donuts you could remember and just surprising her with the rest. It’s not like she was the most discerning customer. You set the box down by a register; Aoi set her bottle of water beside it before opening up the box’s lid and snatching one of the donuts. It was in her mouth before you could even bring up that she hadn’t yet paid.
“Gaawf, I LOVEF creamth filledf donuths,“ Aoi moaned through bulging cheeks. Crumbs tumbled down her chin and fell into the depths of her cleavage, forever lost. Your eyes followed them to their fate. You couldn’t help it.
Although she wouldn’t be able to tell that you messed up her selection, she certainly could tell where your gaze had fallen. Aoi licked her lips. They curled into a sultry grin. “Yep, I sure do love... cream filled donuts...”
Her hand lunged at your collar in the same way a viper attacks its prey; the register’s drawer shut loudly, forcefully. Aoi pulled you close enough that she could whisper in your ear. Her breath was warm upon your neck. “I love them... almost as much as I love getting filled with cream myself~“
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I'm just a guy Who loves BE and BE STORIES. If you love my post then let me know. also leave some suggestions and questions OK.
OMG TUMBLR IT WAS JUST A FREAKING COMIC. ITS NOT REAL NUDITY. FOR THE LOVE A GOD GO BACK TO THEY WAY THINGS WERE BEFORE. YOU GUYS ARE SOME STUPID ASS PEOPLE.
A place where I post captions of giantess growth. Expect big boobs, big butts and big women. Maybe some other stuff sprinkled in. All characters 18+.
Just a girl in ridiculously tight tops! www.onlyfans.com/DaniDoreen
HOB-Horny Old Bastard. Tales from a more fun timeline filled with rakish wizards and sly scientists making bimbos and sluts out of unsuspecting young women. Not 18? Turn back now.
Dear loyal readers, it is with a heavy heart that Mrs. Hob and I have decided to separate. I don’t know how long it will be before my next story comes out, and I’m sorry about that. I fear as though my muse has faded.
Your stuff is usually pretty great,, but The God of chaos story you've been doing is hot AF. Keep it up, hombracho!
I’m glad to see that it’s going over well! Don’t worry. There are plenty of stories left in this serial.
“Tumblr before December 17th, 2019 was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run... but no explanation, no mix of text based porn or SFW images that pass new guidelines or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world.” - Hunter S. Thompson (as vaguely paraphrased by Hob)
fat pig with big milky growing tits | 21 | lesbian | SW: 311lbs CW: 411lbs GW: 1600lbs
what could be better than baking a girl a mountain of desserts to fit into her mountain of a gut
Recently, while doing a reverse image search on my own work, I stumbled upon a blog called Change Me Back Caps! by Drew Night. I loved reading every piece of (I suppose) his stories, which focus on change. While there is change to the mind of the figures affected, there is also change to their bodies: breast and butt expansion, and some weight gain also.
Drew utilizes morphed images by various authors, and while I do recognize some, I can only assume he has done a lot of these morphs himself.
Since I like getting in touch with other creators of morphs, I contacted him and asked (in what I hope was a most polite and respectful way) about giving me as author of some of the morphs proper credit. He did and included a link to my dA. In exchange, I feel it is just right to bring some attention to his blog. I had not seen it before, and you might not have, either. If you love my work, or if generally are interested in the ideas I present, you might also enjoy his blog as much as I did.
On a sidenote: I encourage everyone to use my morphs in their projects, especially if they are focused around TG, BE and mind change storytelling. I only ask that you never impersonate me (or claim my work as your own), whenever possible add a small link to either my tumblr, r/morphs or my dA here, and I'd most appreciate if you informed me about your project. This way, I get to see new stuff I (probably) like as soon as possible and can direct the attention of fellow artists towards your project. Thank you.
Shhhhhhhhhhh, I'm hiding from the Tumblr police
[NSFW 18+ ONLY // Call me Just. I write kinky stuff. This blog is for the occasions when I have something to post. Insatiable breast expansion fan.]
giantess & breast expansion content here !
I was nuked and lost everything. Here I am again! Bimbos, bimbofication, big titties, and did I mention erotica for sale? If you wanted pregnant girls, head to crashbabybumps.tumblr.com. Old enough to be your dad. More info in pinned.
"Flex, release, flex, release... ahhh... f-flex... r-release... aahhhhh..."
Her push-ups had been doing wonders. She was up two cup sizes in one month. Recently, she started looking in the mirror and bouncing her pecs, it felt great. Her breasts squeezing against her bra bands, hearing the stretching elastic only added to her enjoyment of the experience. She didn't realise it at first, but with each time she flexed her tits, they were growing. With each moan the bands got tighter and tighter...
Kathy used to be a queen bee. A popular girl, loved and feared. A bully sometimes, sure, but mostly a leader.
The descent had occured just after her eighteenth birthday. The weird alternative clique had put an inflation curse on her. Partly due to jelousy, partly over some comment she’d made about lesbians. “Oversexualized.” She’d called them, accusing them of making everything about sex.
It seemed to be backfiring. Instead of making her rotund like a balloon, the curse enhanced her hourglass figure, filling in her breasts and growing her below the waist. She could feel herself inflating steadily, day after day, as her legs grew into thick tree trunks of muscle and fat. She gained some height out of it.
None of this was alarming to Kathy. She was getting hotter! When she graduated from a C to a D-cup she celebrated by buying a tight v-neck sweater. It wasn’t until her boyfriend on the basketball team broke up with her for being taller than him that she decided to see a doctor about it.
Shockingly, her hesitance to get the inflation treated had had severe medical consequences. The curse had well and truly taken hold and there was nothing that could be done about it. She would have to keep growing until the spell had run its course.
Dismayed but secretely excited over her permanent physical superiority, Kathy returned to school to finish her senior year, confident in her position as queen bee. But that position came more and more into question as her body became more and more abnormal. People couldn’t ignore the enormity of her leg flesh as she strode through the hall, and her sexual features quickly became her most discussed trait. Boys were being driven wild by her proportions, and they would hype each other up until one dared to run by and slap her enormous giggling ass. It didn’t help how sensitive her inflated features were, with every ripple of motion making her shiver orgasmically and moan. It was obscene. Rather quickly the girls that used to be afraid of her social power began to insult her to her face, calling her a fuckdoll and slapping her tits. She didn’t have the mental wherewithal to react when her sensitive bits were being stimulated so forcefully.
Around the time her growth petered out, her ass standing at eye level to the regular person now, she stopped coming to class. She completed her exams remotely and never attended either graduation or prom. For a social person like Kathy, the isolation was unbearable. It seemed like she’d lost all her friends.
However, there were still people willing to give her a shot. The lesbian posse that had cursed her. The permanence of her curse had been her own fault, for not seeking help earlier, and nobody was even willing to talk to her, so she decided to accept their olive branch and attend the beach party.
There she stood, eight foot tall, most of which was leg, three times the weight of the next heaviest girl, and squeezed into a regular sized bikini. The other girls looked a lot more normal now, they’d lost most of their countercultural edge outside of highschool. Now she was the freak.
But instead of accepted she was mocked. The girls laughed at her insane proportions, called her silly nicknames, and slapped her ass. The molestation was to much for Kathy, they forced her on the ground with their grabby, pleasurable hands. She was being raped, but her mind was too foggy from the pleasure to do anything about it. “Who’s oversexualized now, fuckdoll?” Someone laughed.
Now Kathy is a toy. A free to use girl, disdained and lusted after. Bratty sometimes, sure but mostly submissive.
“Hey! So you’re attending this university from out of state, huh? Welcome!“
The sunlight perfectly haloed Galko’s curves; a gaggle of her less fortunate classmates scowled and attempted to pull the blinds down, piling on one another comically in the process. The blonde gyaru was always the center of attention. Like the sun among the stars, she blinded every lustful man and envious woman – and even when they stopped staring, her preposterous figure lingered in their vision, forever impressed upon their memory. How they resented her.
“You know, this isn’t your typical university,“ she said, striding towards your desk. Her boobs were swaying to and fro like a hypnotist’s pendulum. You let your backpack strap slide out of your grip; lunch could wait. “It’s more like... a ‘career development’ curriculum, if you will, with some... specific goals in mind...“
To call Galko merely “busty” was to bring to mind D cups, E cups, F cups – but hers had long since given up on the alphabet. Her tits were downright uncontainable. Hanging past her waistband and jutting out just as far, each of those creamy masses still retained a roundness that even beach balls would envy. It was all because of that oversized tank-top of hers squeezing them together – but even then, it was tenting like a door just before a mob breaks through, her armpits and an ample amount of sideboob plainly visible. And if her bust was a mob, her nipples were pitchforks; they clearly, obviously poked into the fabric as if they were merely extended index fingers.
“Each day, we have to do something different to become... more desirable. It’s almost like they are teaching us a lifestyle, you know?“ Galko gripped the corners of your desk and leaned over. Blonde locks slinked across her bosom, running roughly parallel to her cleavage – unless they just happened to dip into the valley, of course. She ran a few jewelry-laden fingers behind her ear to lure them back like a leash on an unruly dog. “For example, yesterday, they blimped up my tits out on the field with some growth serum. We’ll be doing that every week for the next year. They’re already obscuring my torso... if I get any larger, I don’t know how my back will survive!”
You felt embarrassment gripping your face – and arousal gripping your pants. Galko’s rack was close enough that you could see individual beads of sweat sliding down her skin like rain on a windshield. Back and forth, back and forth... perhaps they really were hypnotizing you. But the spell was broken when Galko’s ear-to-ear grin dipped into sight once more.
“You’re pretty cute,“ she purred, licking her lips. Her makeup smeared slightly in her tongue’s wake. “So easy to distract. You know, next class is ‘bimbofication 101′... maybe you could train me to be your bitch~?“
It was on purpose now. Galko shimmied, wiggling her ass back and forth, just to stir up a show. Breasts were wobbling so violently that they nearly lurched out of her tank-top; straps were as taut as the chains holding a castle’s drawbridge, and they were slowly, gradually letting her boobs drop lower and lower... and lower and lower. You started to see the tops of her areolae crest over the strained collar like the sunrise upon a hilltop. Just a li
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