rororo
hello vonnie

Discoholic 🪩
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Game of Thrones Daily
styofa doing anything

if i look back, i am lost

#extradirty
Monterey Bay Aquarium
noise dept.
ojovivo
Peter Solarz

Love Begins

blake kathryn
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Kiana Khansmith

JBB: An Artblog!
Cosmic Funnies
RMH
Xuebing Du
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Hungary
seen from Singapore

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
@homecookedkink
rororo

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
College growth parties were something else.
Common sentiment held that Gamma-Rho-Omega recruited only outrageously busty women. One simply had to look at the kinds of women who graduated, their hot pink motorboards only being the second more obvious indication of their membership. The bouncing of their gargantuan tits couldn't be hidden by their loose graduation gowns. But that wasn't the whole story. In reality, most of those women joined their sorority with C cups or smaller. Gamma-Rho-Omega didn't recruit women with huge tits; they recruited women with potential.
On the last night of Rush Week, the sorority holds a party. Attendance is by invitation only, a mixture of potential new members and a small handful of friendly fraternities. To be invited to this party was a sign of immense status on campus. Entire rivalries could spring up or shift depending on which houses got to go and which ones were left out. As soon as you enter, you can feel the electric anticipation in the air. Everyone is having a good time, drinking and hanging out, mixing and mingling. Really, though, they're all just waiting. They know it'll happen; someone is going to be first. They just don't know who or when.
At some point during the night, the chapter president brings out Theodora's Gift. So the legend goes, Theodora Pierce was a biochemistry student and Recruitment Chair for their chapter a few decades ago. After years of declining numbers, she was searching desperately to grow their membership and, well, she found it. The pale blue tincture, still made using Theodora's original recipe, mixes easily into the punch bowl without altering taste or color or odor. The rushes don't know when it gets added, but that's part of the fun. A signal goes out to the Executive Board that the Gift has been "bestowed" and then it's their turn to wait. But they rarely have to wait long.
An excited scream rings out from one of the bedrooms upstairs. Everyone in the party knows what that means: it's started. While it doesn't always translate to membership, being the first to grow at one of these parties is considered a positive sign. She gropes her tits as they swell, stretching out her shirt and bulging over the cups of her bra. She knows that everyone's waiting to see her, but she holds them in suspense a few moments longer, both for the drama of it and to see how big she can get before she has to show someone. By the time she emerges, her B cup bra is struggling to hold back tits twice as big as they had been when she arrived and the buttons of her shirt are struggling.
There's a small contingency waiting outside the bedroom to congratulate her, but the crowd isn't as big as she expected. She had missed her moment. Bouncing down the stairs threatens to break her bra but she needs to know where everyone is! She pushes her way through the crowd in the living room only for her jaw to drop when she sees what's holding everyone's attention. Empty, red cups are strewn about the floor, their contents stolen and drained in seconds by the greedy girl in the center of the circle. Her bra rests near her chin, her tits broken free of it and propping it up on her chest. Her tits rest in her lap, swollen and huge and, much to the delight of the crowd, still visibly growing. The first girl grits her teeth.
It's not fair. It's not fair. That phrase burns into her mind as she pushes back out of the crowd. As she makes her way, she can hear the excited cries of women all around her, their growth finally kicking in, echoed by the cheers of the men in attendance. She throws herself into a chair, huffing at her breasts, now only slightly larger than her head. She gropes them angrily, disappointed, dejected, feeling her hopes for the future slipping away. Luckily for her, her pity party is in just the right spot for her to watch the president sneak out and add a few more drops of the Gift to the new batch of punch. Her heart races. Her- shit!
The president suddenly turns to look at her and she jumps. A soft chuckle shakes the president's immense chest, winking to the disappointed girl as she adds a few more drops. The president comes over and lays a hand on her shoulder. "It's not always about size. It's not always about being first. Sometimes, if you want something, you have to be willing to take it. Theodora Pierce did." The president slinks off with a smile on her face, but the first grower can't see it. She's locked in on the now ignored punch bowl, double dosed with the Gift. Her mouth watered. Her chest fluttered. God, she was going to be so drunk and so hungover in the morning. But she was also going to be so fucking big.
Don't think of it as your girlfriend being corrupted into a gorgeous beembo drone.
Think of it as her becoming flirtier.
More affectionate.
More delicious as you lick the honey off her bare skin.
She's still herself.
She's just bustier.
Sweeter.
And has lots of wonderful, blonde sisters who can't get enough of cuties who stumble into the hive, so drunk on beembo honey they can't resist.
Can't escape.
Can only sink under their kisses.
Sink into their breasts.
Sink into the honeypot until their minds are gooey, golden, and melty.
So happy and moaning as beembos kiss them.
Stroke them.
Sink them deeper.
Deeper.
Deeper until they're just a sweet, obedient drone for silly, giggly beembo babes...
There is a post you made about a girl whom gets addicted to growth after her genetics only destined her to have C cups. She buys every growth supplement and hormone that she could buy on the internet until the amount of residual hormones ‘ignited like pyrite and thermite on a fire’. It is probably my favorite story of yours. Even the picture you chose to pair with it was chefs kiss. I would love to see a slightly tweaked version of that story where a girl with a completely flat chest strives to reach a C cup but finds that nothing she buys works. Much in a similar way to the girl in the original story, she then takes to buying every supplement and hormone she can buy online in hopes of achieving her dream size of a modest C cup (she thinks big boobs are for bimbos and she is no bimbo) but, also much like the girl in the original story story, experiences an explosive second puberty that causes her to grow immobilizing breasts that she doesn’t want. She would be scared, upset, and even ashamed for a while but eventually realizes how amazing they make her feel. She starts to shift from a modest prude to a bimbo who can’t stop touching herself all due to her massive, immobilizing breasts becoming more and more of who she is.
Just an idea inspired by your original story. If it strikes you, I would love to see what kind of story and/or image pairing you could conjure with it. 💋
P.s. your work is so good, it’s why I made a tumblr.
Goodness, you flatter me! Thank you very much for the kind words! I'm always a bit astonished at the idea that I could be inspirational, but I'm very glad that you found me to be so! And I'm glad you joined us! I really like your idea, too!
Addison sat up in bed and was immediately pulled back down. The impact back onto the soft mattress made the colossal udders that sat on either side of her slender torso jiggle and slosh like they were full of water or, more accurately, full of milk. A deep, frustrated groan built in her chest, rising with her anger. These stupid fucking udders! God, she fucking hated them! She just wanted C cups! She just wanted to not be flat as a board! But they never stopped growing, never stopped swelling, never stopped engorging with- Shit.
A damp spot near her fingertips reminded Addison that her little pity party had a time limit. If she was to go about her day, she'd need to milk her udders, another huge fucking waste of her time that wouldn't be necessary with the cute breasts she had wanted. Sliding off the side of her bed nearly brought her crashing to the ground. The swing and hang of her boulder-like tits threatened to drag her off her feet and, as much as she hated to admit it, she knew it was only a matter of time before they did. She could practically feel them growing and, while engorging with milk overnight made it hard to tell, she knew she was waking up bigger than when she went to sleep.
With gravity pulling in a new direction, Addison had to fight back against the instinctive letdown that her gargantuan udders wanted. She needed to get over to her breast pumps first. While she could have moved the milking station closer to her bed, she refused to do so on principle. She refused to let her tits take over her life. Every inch of ground they took was wrested from her by force and she wasn't ready to surrender. She wasn't some big titty bimbo, after all. She never wanted to be bigger than a D cup. She had read online that DD tits start to cross into the territory where you have more tits than brains and the thought of that had been sickening. Now, she tried her best not to think about it, especially as she all but dragged her enormous udders across the room. Each heavy footfall sent her tits wobbling and swinging and every time they clapped together, however lightly, Addison tensed. She ignored the light patter of her leaking milk hitting the floor. She refused to acknowledge her tits in any way. She wasn't a bimbo. She was better than this. She-
The world spun and the ground slid out from underneath Addison's foot. Stepping right into a puddle of her own milk, she slipped, gravity finally winning out. Thankfully for Addison, there was a table there to help catch her fall. Unfortunately for Addison, she landed on the table tit-first. Between the weight of her own body and the force of the fall, she squeezed her tit against the table a milk fired like a jet from her nipple. Despite herself, despite everything, Addison howled out a moan. With a pathetic look on her face, she glanced at the milk now gushing from her tit and then over to the milking station. It was just a few feet away, but she told herself it was too late. She was just going to have to do it manually.
As she wrapped her hand around her nipple, having to really reach around to the other side of her udder, another moan trumpeted from Addison's throat. "Fuuuuck! Fuck these fucking udders! They're so fucking biiiiig!" Each squeeze sent milk spraying out and waves of pleasure washing over her. Her arousal was like a spring. Shame and denial had wound it up right and now all that pent-up energy was being released. One tit rested on the table while the other hung down from her chest, the perfect spot for her to push her hips forward and grind against it. "Uughnn, fuuuuuck! My huge, milky titties are turning me into a fucking bimbo cow! I've got more tits than brains ten times over!"
Slightly repositioning her hips wedged her tit between them and the side of the desk. Once she knew it wasn't going anywhere, her hips started to move in earnest. Each thrust came a little bit faster than the last. Milk splattered at her feet. "I didn't want these fucking udders for this exact reason! They're turning me into a boobie-obsessed slut! Can't go more than a few hours without milking my huge udders! Can't go outside without everyone gawking at my gargantuan, slutty titties! Everyone wants to touch them! Squeeze them! Suck on them! Drink from them! I should just give in and fucking let them!"
With a sudden lurch, Addison's body bent forward. Her face was smothered by her own udder, perfect to muffle the lewd scream that ripped out of her throat. Her hips started to properly swing, the steady sound of her thighs clapping against her tit filling the air. Her face was red when she lifted it up again and hair matted to her forehead, but her eyes were rolled almost completely back. She bit her lip. "I should just give up being normal and enjoy them while I can! I won't fucking stop growing! I'm gonna get bigger and bigger until I can't even fucking lift them anymore! Then all I'll be able to do is hump! My! Fucking! Udders! All! Fucking! DAY!"
Addison punctuated each word by doing exactly that, finishing by squeezing her breast between her thighs. Her hands kneaded all the tit she could reach. Her throat was hoarse. She was so fucking close. "I'm just tits! I'm just fucking tits! Not Addison! Not Addie! No future! No life! Just tits! Just big, huge, gigantic, jiggly, juicy, milky TITS!"
Orgasm shot through her body, tensing every muscle as it went. Milk sprayed like a loose hydrant from her nipples. Addison wasn't thinking about the mess. She wasn't thinking about anything. All she could do was feel the overwhelming pleasure, the pleasure she despised, the pleasure given to her by the tits that were improving ruining her life. After a few minutes, she collapsed. Her legs gave out and she slid back from the desk, landing in a big, white puddle. Her mind was hazy. She gasped for air, clawing it desperately into her lungs. Her own name floated lazily in her mind and she tried to reach for it but it just kept slipping away. "Tits" was so much easier to remember. How could she forget when hers are so fucking big?
Ryan and Kaylee had been looking forward to this day for months—their first home as newlyweds. The modern townhouse sat waiting in a quiet suburban development, keys already in Ryan’s pocket. But moving day had turned into a logistical nightmare. Every friend they’d asked was busy, out of town, or had their own emergencies. Ryan, a fit 6’2” with broad shoulders and the kind of athletic build that came from consistent gym work, knew he couldn’t handle the heavy pieces alone. The solid oak dresser, the king-sized mattress and frame, the heavy sectional sofa, the fridge—they were simply too much for one man.
Kaylee, his 5’5” wife with her petite, curvy frame and boundless energy, had been trying to help all morning, but she was realistically outmatched by the bulk and weight. She stood in the driveway of their old place, hands on her hips, watching Ryan struggle to slide the dresser even an inch on the dolly.
“Babe,” she said, a spark lighting in her eyes, “I have an idea. Remember that company we joked about a few weeks ago? Size.INC? The one that does temporary size changes? What if I go get grown so I can actually help? We could knock this out in a couple hours instead of killing ourselves all day.”
Ryan wiped sweat from his brow and looked at her. He loved Kaylee exactly as she was—his perfect handful of a wife who tucked perfectly under his arm, whose head rested right against his chest when they hugged. The thought of her becoming huge, even for a day, sent a confusing mix of protectiveness and unexpected heat through him.
“I don’t know, Kay… What if it’s not safe? Or what if you hate it? Seven feet would be plenty. You’d be stronger, you could reach the high shelves…”
Kaylee stepped closer, pressing her body against his, rising on her toes to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Seven feet is cute. But I want to be useful. Make me five feet taller. I’ll be ten-foot-five. Think about it—one of me could carry the whole sectional by myself. And…” Her voice dropped, warm and teasing against his ear. “I have a feeling you’re going to love having a giant wife for twenty-four hours.”
Ryan’s cock gave an involuntary twitch in his gray shorts. He tried to hide it, but Kaylee’s knowing little smile told him she’d felt it. He sighed, half-resigned, half-curious. “Okay. But only twenty-four hours. And we make sure they know what they’re doing.”
They dropped Max, their golden retriever, at a friend’s house for the day (the pup was too excitable for a growth chamber) and drove the bright yellow Penske truck they’d rented that morning to Size.INC. The facility was discreet, tucked in a business park—clean white walls, soft lighting, professional staff who treated the whole thing like a routine medical procedure. After a quick consultation confirming it was safe, fully reversible after twenty-four hours, and came with proportional strength enhancement, they signed the waivers.
Ryan still tried one last time. “Seven feet, right?”
Kaylee grinned, already bouncing on her toes with excitement. “Nope. Five feet taller. I want to be a proper giantess for this.” She leaned in, kissed him slow and deep, then skipped toward the growth chamber, her ponytail swinging. “Love you! Be right back—bigger!”
Ryan waited in the lobby, heart pounding harder than he wanted to admit. A few minutes later the reinforced door opened.
Kaylee stepped out—and the world tilted.
She had to duck to clear the doorway. At 10’5”, she was an absolute vision. The facility had provided her with scaled-up moving clothes that somehow still looked like they were painted on: a bright yellow ribbed sports bra that struggled to contain her now-massive, full breasts, and tight blue high-waisted athletic shorts that hugged every curve of her powerful lower body. Her legs seemed to go on forever—long, toned, muscular thighs that flexed with every step, calves defined, her ass round and firm, stretching the fabric to its limit. Her waist was still narrow, but now it led up to a set of abs that looked carved from marble, visible even from Ryan’s new low angle. Her blonde hair had grown longer with the rest of her, falling in thick, wavy cascades down her back. Her face was still unmistakably Kaylee—beautiful, smiling, eyes bright with excitement—but it was now high above him, looking down from what felt like another world.
Ryan’s head barely reached her belly button. He had to tilt his chin all the way back just to meet her gaze. The perspective was dizzying. His cock hardened instantly, straining against his gray shorts as he stared up at his wife’s new body.
Kaylee looked down at him, her smile widening into something hungry and delighted. “Oh my god, Ryan… you’re so tiny from up here.” She reached down with one large, gentle hand, easily spanning his torso, and lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing. She brought him up to her face and kissed him—really kissed him—her full lips engulfing his, her tongue sliding into his mouth with new dominance. His feet dangled helplessly in the air. His hands instinctively went to her shoulders, feeling the warm, hard muscle beneath soft skin. She tasted the same, smelled like her usual sweet vanilla mixed with something richer, more potent.
When she finally broke the kiss, she was laughing softly, the sound deeper, richer, vibrating through her chest and into his body. “You’re so light. Like a feather. This move is going to be the easiest thing we’ve ever done.” She gave him another quick squeeze against her body—his face pressed briefly into the warm valley between her breasts—then set him down gently, though her hand stayed on his shoulder, thumb stroking possessively.
Ryan’s voice came out rough. “Kay… you’re… fuck, you’re incredible.”
She flexed one arm playfully, the bicep rising like a small hill. “Feel that?” She took his hand and placed it on the hard swell of muscle. “All this power… and it’s all for us today.” Her eyes dropped to the obvious bulge in his shorts and her smile turned wicked. “And someone’s already very happy about it.”
They walked out to the Penske truck together. The yellow rental sat with its rear door open in the lot, exactly like a fantasy snapshot. Kaylee stood tall beside it, one hand on her hip, the other resting lightly on Ryan’s shoulder as he looked up at her, arms crossed, a stunned, aroused smile on his face. For a moment they just stood there—giant wife and awestruck husband—Max’s excited barking from the car the only sound besides their breathing. It felt like a photograph they’d keep forever.
Then the real work began.
They drove to the storage unit where most of their heavier items waited. Ryan took the wheel; Kaylee had to sit with the seat all the way back and the sunroof open just to fit comfortably, her long legs folded, knees nearly touching the dash. The drive was quiet at first, charged with new energy. Every time Ryan glanced over, he caught glimpses of her—thighs thick as tree trunks, the way her breasts rose and fell with each breath, the casual power in the way she rested one huge hand on her knee.
At the storage unit, Kaylee didn’t waste time.
The sectional sofa came first. Normally a four-person job. Kaylee squatted down, her powerful quads and hamstrings flexing dramatically, the blue shorts riding high on her ass cheeks. She slid her hands underneath, lifted one end like it was made of foam, then simply picked up the entire thing. She carried it to the truck in one smooth motion, muscles working under golden skin, a light sheen of sweat already starting to form. Ryan guided the other end uselessly, mostly just watching the way her back muscles shifted, the way her ass flexed with every step. She set it inside the truck bed like placing a pillow.
“Next,” she said cheerfully, already turning back.
The oak dresser was next—solid wood, six drawers, full of clothes. Ryan had barely been able to budge it earlier. Kaylee opened the drawers to redistribute weight out of habit, then simply hoisted the whole piece onto one shoulder, steadying it with one hand while she walked it to the truck. Ryan followed with a box of books, staring openly at the way her body moved. When she bent to set the dresser down, her massive ass was right at his eye level, the fabric of the shorts pulled tight enough to show the outline of every curve. She caught him looking and wiggled her hips teasingly.
“Enjoying the view from down there, little hubby?”
“Jesus, Kay…”
She laughed, the sound warm and full of affection. “Good. I like when you look at me like that.”
Box after box followed. She stacked them high in the truck, easily reaching places Ryan would have needed a ladder for. When he tried to hand her a particularly heavy box of tools, she took it in one hand and, with the other, simply picked him up and set him on the edge of the truck bed so he could help arrange things at her level. The casual display of strength made his cock throb. She noticed—of course she did—and leaned down to kiss him, pressing his back against a stack of boxes, her breasts pillowing against his chest.
“Keep looking at me like that and we might not make it to the new house before I need a break,” she murmured against his lips.
The king-sized mattress and frame were almost comical. Kaylee carried the rolled mattress by herself, slinging it over one shoulder like a giant yoga mat. The heavy wooden headboard she lifted with both hands, muscles standing out in her arms and shoulders. Ryan helped with the smaller slats and hardware, but mostly he just stayed close, handing her things, steadying items when she asked, and trying (and failing) not to get distracted every time she bent, lifted, or flexed.
By the time the truck was loaded, both of them were sweating. Kaylee’s skin glistened, her sports bra damp between her breasts, a few strands of blonde hair stuck to her temples. The scent of her—warm skin, light vanilla, and the unmistakable musk of arousal—filled the small space whenever she moved close. Ryan was rock hard and had been for the last hour. Every time she caught him adjusting himself, she gave him that same wicked little smile.
They drove to the new townhouse. Ryan parked the Penske in the driveway exactly as the image in their minds had pictured it—rear door open, modern buildings around them, late afternoon light. Kaylee stepped out, stretching her massive frame, and for a moment they just stood there again: her hand on her hip, looking down at him with love and heat; him looking up, arms crossed, smiling like he couldn’t believe his luck; the truck behind them like a yellow exclamation point.
Unloading was even faster.
Kaylee carried the sectional into the living room by herself and positioned it exactly where Ryan wanted. She placed the dresser in the master bedroom with one hand while holding Ryan in the other arm so he could direct her—“A little more to the left, babe… perfect.” The bed frame went together in minutes under her strength; she held the heavy pieces steady while Ryan tightened bolts. She even carried the fridge into the kitchen without breaking a sweat, setting it into place with millimeter precision.
Throughout it all, the sexual tension kept ratcheting higher. She would “accidentally” brush her huge ass against him when turning. Once, while placing a box on a high shelf, she reached over him and her breasts pressed against the top of his head, soft and warm. Another time she picked him up from behind, arms wrapped around his torso, and nuzzled his neck while whispering how wet she was getting from all the lifting and from the way he kept staring at her.
When the last box was inside and the basic furniture was placed, they stood in their new living room, breathing hard, surrounded by the beginnings of their life together. Max wasn’t there, but the memory of the day’s power and partnership hung in the air.
Kaylee looked down at Ryan, her eyes dark with want. “We did it.”
“You did it,” he corrected, voice rough. “I mostly watched and got turned on.”
She stepped closer, towering over him, and gently cupped his face with one hand. “And now,” she said, voice low and husky, “we celebrate.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She simply bent, scooped him up into her arms like he weighed nothing, and carried him down the short hall to the master bedroom. The bed was already made—thanks to her earlier efficiency. She laid him down on it and stood at the foot, looking down at him with open hunger.
Slowly, deliberately, she peeled the yellow sports bra up and off. Her breasts spilled free—full, heavy, perfect, nipples already tight. Then she hooked her thumbs into the blue shorts and slid them down those endless legs, revealing the smooth, glistening lips of her pussy, already slick with arousal. She kicked the clothes aside and climbed onto the bed.
The mattress dipped dramatically under her weight. She straddled him on her knees, her body looming over his like a living mountain of muscle and curves. She leaned down, her long hair falling around them like a golden curtain, and kissed him deeply, thoroughly, claiming his mouth.
Her hands made quick work of his clothes. His t-shirt was pulled off, his gray shorts and underwear shoved down. His cock sprang free, hard and leaking. Kaylee wrapped one large hand around it and stroked slowly, thumb circling the head.
“Look at you,” she murmured against his lips. “So hard for your giant wife. I felt you watching me all day… every time I lifted something, every time I bent over… you wanted this, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Ryan groaned. “Fuck, Kay… you have no idea.”
She smiled, then moved up his body until her dripping pussy hovered over his face. “Then worship me.”
She lowered herself carefully. Ryan reached up, hands sliding over the massive, powerful thighs on either side of his head, and pulled her down the last few inches. Her pussy was proportionally larger—full outer lips, a prominent clit he could suck and lick like a small cock, inner walls that tasted sweet and musky and hers. He buried his face in her, tongue working eagerly, lapping broad stripes before focusing on her clit. Kaylee moaned above him, the sound deep and resonant. One of her hands braced on the headboard; the other rested gently on the back of his head, guiding him without force.
“That’s it… right there… your little tongue feels so fucking good on my big clit…” She rolled her hips slowly, letting him breathe between licks, then grinding down again. Her thighs flexed on either side of his head, thick and warm and powerful. Ryan lost himself in her—sucking, licking, fucking her with his tongue as best he could. When she came the first time, it was with a long, low moan, her thighs quivering, a fresh rush of wetness coating his chin and mouth. She lifted just enough to let him gasp air, then settled back down, riding the aftershocks against his face.
Only when she was satisfied did she move down his body again. She kissed his chest, his stomach, then took his cock into her mouth. Even at her size she could take him completely, her tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing as she sucked with perfect, wet pressure. One hand cupped his balls; the other rested across his hips, easily pinning him when his hips tried to buck. She brought him right to the edge—sucking, stroking, moaning around him—then pulled off with a wet pop and a wicked grin.
“Not yet. I want you inside me when you come.”
She repositioned herself, straddling his hips. She reached down, wrapped her fingers around his cock, and guided him to her entrance. Her pussy lips parted around the head, hot and slick, and she sank down in one slow, deliberate motion. Ryan’s eyes rolled back. She was tight—impossibly, deliciously tight despite her size—and hot, and the way her inner walls rippled and clenched around him as she took him to the hilt was almost too much.
“Oh fuck, Kaylee…”
She moaned in agreement, head thrown back, massive breasts rising and falling. “You feel perfect… so deep… so mine.” She began to move—not just riding, but using. She lifted his entire body slightly with her hands under his ribs and ass, then lowered him back onto her cock in a controlled thrust. Again. And again. She fucked herself on him like he was her personal toy, lifting and lowering his smaller frame with effortless strength, her hips rolling in deep, powerful circles when she bottomed out. Her abs flexed above him. Sweat dripped from between her breasts onto his chest. Her moans filled the room.
Ryan reached up, hands full of her massive tits, squeezing, pinching her nipples. He slapped her ass—his hands small against the firm, round globes—and she moaned louder, riding him harder. When she came the second time, her whole body shook, her pussy clamping down around him like a fist, rhythmic pulses that dragged a ragged groan from his throat.
She didn’t stop. She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his face, and kept moving—slow, deep, grinding thrusts that kept him buried inside her while she recovered. Then she sat up again, picked him up under the arms, and held him against her chest as she stood on her knees on the bed. His legs wrapped around her waist as best they could; her hands supported his ass. She began to bounce him—actually bounce him—up and down on her cock, using her strength to fuck him onto her while she kissed his neck, his shoulders, his mouth.
“God, I love this,” she panted. “Love being able to just use you like this… love how you feel inside me… love how small and perfect you are…”
Ryan could only moan, lost in sensation—the wet heat gripping him, the power in her arms, the way her breasts pressed and slid against his chest with every movement, the sheer overwhelming presence of her. When he finally came, it was with a broken shout, his cock pulsing deep inside her, pumping rope after rope of cum into her clenching pussy. The orgasm felt endless, amplified by everything that had led to this moment.
Kaylee held him through it, still moving gently, drawing every last drop from him while she chased one more orgasm of her own. When she came again, she pulled him tight against her body, her arms and legs wrapping around him like a living cocoon, her moans vibrating through both of them.
They stayed like that for a long time—her kneeling on the bed, him held securely in her arms, still joined, both of them breathing hard and trembling with aftershocks. Eventually she lowered them both to the mattress, rolling onto her back and arranging him on top of her chest like he was her favorite blanket. His head rested between her breasts, rising and falling with her breaths. Her long legs curled around him; one huge hand stroked slowly up and down his back.
“I love you,” she murmured, the words rumbling through her chest into his ear. “Thank you for letting me do this. For trusting me.”
Ryan kissed the warm skin between her breasts. “I love you too. And… yeah. We’re doing this again. Maybe next time we make me smaller too. Or you even bigger.”
Kaylee laughed softly, the motion gently rocking him. “Deal. But for now…” She tightened her arms and legs around him, a gentle, all-encompassing squeeze. “We have the rest of the twenty-four hours. And a brand new house to break in.”
Outside, the yellow Penske truck sat in the driveway, doors still open, a silent witness to the beginning of their new life. Inside, Ryan lay safe and warm against his giant wife’s body, already feeling himself stir again as her fingers traced lazy patterns on his skin and her soft, powerful voice whispered all the things she still wanted to try before the size wore off.
The move was done.
The real adventure was just beginning.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The boss likes flat chested women, and I'm up against my bitchy coworker for a promotion. What's that phial she's just stuffed into her pocket? Why does my coffee taste so weird?
Catrina had set out to sabotage you and, as much as you hate to admit it, she did succeed to a degree. The first third of your interview had gone well! Extremely well, in fact. Almost suspiciously well. Your answers were nearly perfect in every respect and it flowed like a casual, friendly conversation more than an interview. You knew your qualifications,.you knew you were right for the role, so there was no reason to stress. Besides, Catrina was a bitch. Nobody liked working with her and you knew the quality of your work was better than hers, so you could relax. And all of this despite the slight discomfort in your stomach. This role was really yours to lose.
The first sign was the adjustment of a bra strap. You didn't think anything of it at the time, too distracted by the ease of the interview. Another adjustment came shortly afterwards. You silently cursed yourself for tripping over your words and, suddenly, the room felt warm. Your clothes squeezed you like a second skin, growing tighter with each breath. You did your very best to keep the interview going, to not let whatever was happening distract you from your goal. Then, as you rolled your shoulders back to stretch and try to relax again—PING! A button broke off of your shirt and launched across the table. Finally, the situation couldn't be ignored. You looked down and your eyes went wide at the sight. Your little B cups were gone. Bulging over and under and out of your tiny bra, straining the limits of your professional shirt, were the biggest pair of tits you had ever seen. They were so big in fact that it took you a few seconds to accept that they were your own and a few seconds more to realize they were still growing. The clasp behind your back was creaking and groaning under the strain and you knew your shirt wouldn't last much longer. You wanted to cry. For a moment, you nearly did. And then, inspiration!
You, above all else, a saleswoman, just as much as your boss was, infamously, an ass man. This wasn't a setback; it was an opportunity. A smile crept over your face. That fucking bitch had no idea the gift she had given you. After all, what better way to prove your skills as a saleswoman than to sell something to someone that you knew didn't want it? You leaned over the desk and rested your tits on the table, letting them spill out and strain your top even further. There were only ten minutes left in the interview, but you were better than that. You'd have him drooling over your tits in eight. Maybe six, if they kept growing.
Hear me out:
At a party, some mean girls slip something into your drink that makes your tiddies start to expand in the middle of everything. As they see it taking effect, they come over and start bullying you about it, how big you’re getting, how their cute perky breasts are so much prettier than these udders you’re growing >.<
"Oh, my fucking god! Looking at her! The cow is actually fucking enjoying this!"
You want to deny it. You're desperate to deny it. All you can do, however, is bite your lip and whine. Between the alcohol and the hormones, you know that the moment you open your mouth, any words you could think to say would immediately be overpowered by either an uninhibited moan or, worse, a needy, desperate moo!
Every eye in the living room is focused on you. The bigger your breasts grow, the growth drug slipped into your drink clearly working wonders, the harder it is for anyone to look away. You try your best to focus on the slim girls standing above you, but the arousal surging through you makes your eyes flutter, threatening to cross. So you can't speak, you can't look at them, you can't do anything. All that's left is biting your lip and letting out a keening whine as you shake your head back and forth. The slender blonde looming over you just laughs.
"Who's going to want to play with those udders? They're so fucking gross; the way they sag is gonna make me sick!"
Your mouth is finally forced open by the blonde's hand reaching down and scooping underneath your breast. The soft, wobbling, still growing flesh overflows her palm and spills over the side. She lifts it up as high as she can, nearly mashing it against your face, before letting it drop and slap against your torso. The shifting weight jerks your shoulders forward, gasping and then letting out the breath in a long, low, cow-like moan. The perky brunette to her left makes a retching sound, pretending to gag.
"Ugh, such a greedy cow! We saw the way you looked at us!" The blonde to her right nods. The brunette continues. "It took us a while before we realized what you were actually looking at! You wanted boobs like ours, perky and perfect, the ideal C-cups to please anyone. We thought it was endearing, at first. But you just wouldn't... stop... staring!"
The brunette reaches down and, to punctuate each word, squeezes your breasts together, deepening the line of your cleavage and forcing their growing mass to bulge even more out of your increasingly inadequate top. As she does so, the blonde leans over you once more, grabbing her tits through her sheer top. Perfect handfuls, just like her friend said. While the brunette is busy teasing you, the blonde takes over the taunting.
"Like we'd ever let you be perfect like us! You're already bigger than both of us combined, but the night is young, don't you think?" From her purse, she pulls out a small bottle, twisting the cap and dumping out a handful of the pills into her hand. You do your best to say "No", but you really only get as far as "N....", pleasure making it impossible to go further. What's left of the rapidly dwindling, rational part of your brain tries to calm you down by saying that you can just refuse to swallow! You won't even open your mouth! You'll-
At that moment, the brunette pulls the straps together and your tits flop out. Your nipples, bigger and more sensitive than ever, quiver and twitch as cool air rushes in on them. They aren't left long on their own, though, and the brunette pinches one, lifting it and dragging your whole breast to her lips. As her tongue, warm and wet and lightly course, drags over your nipple, your brain shuts down. Behind your eyes, there's only white. Your jaw drops open, preparing to bellow out a moan to rattle the windows, but all of that gets interrupted as the blonde clamps her hand over your mouth, forcing the pills into it.
No matter how much you thrash and writhe, the two women are stronger and you're left with no choice but to, eventually, swallow the pills. They slide down your throat, uncomfortable both from the force and the dread of what's coming next. Your two assailants stand over you, howling with laughter, catty as ever. The brunette spits, a clear attempt to get the taste of your breast out of her mouth, before pinching your nipple and tugging on it. You buckle immediately, falling forward onto your hands and knees, your gargantuan udders hanging beneath you. The space between them and the ground under you begins to vanish as they swell outwards. The blonde waves her fingers through your hair, grabbing hold of it and pulling your head back. "Just one pill made you grow this big, cow! Let's see how big you get with a dozen! Maybe you'll be a really good cow and make milk for everyone with your huge, floppy udders!"
Damn, they coulda just said they all had crushes
not the Regina George route but in reverse
Scenario-wise:
doubling an already big tiddy girl who wants more? Sheesh, win lose to them girls
Oh, but admitting their real feelings just hurries to the end! The anticipation, the slow erosion of boundaries and the blurring of the lines is what makes it so tantalizing. Yes, admittedly, they could have just said "We have a crush on you, too; let's form a throuple." But isn't it so much more fun for the two women to take their inflated cow home as their pet? It's just so thrilling for them to feel their heart race at the thought of plumping her up even more, making her udders bigger and bigger.
They can still pretend that they despise her even as their dynamic shifts from one of pure cruelty to one of dominance, making sure the cow knows that she's completely owned and every inch she grows belongs to her two, beautiful mistresses. It makes it all the more believable when the brunette has the cow's head resting in her lap, suckling on her perky tits, while the blonde slams her strap deep into the cow's seemingly bottomless cleavage. The brunette strokes the cows hair and whispers coos gentle but firm reminders any pleasure they give to the cow is a gift from her generous owners. They made her udders so colossal and that means they own them and should her udders ever actually start making milk, well, they'll own that, too. They own her completely, body, mind, and—whether or not they choose to admit it—heart.
The front door clicked shut behind Dr. Marcus Hale as he stepped into the apartment. The chaos of the precinct briefing still echoed in his head. The Patient Zero, had escaped custody hours earlier. The pathogen’s details were still murky: confirmed oral transmission, rapid-onset gigantomastia and galactorrhea. The rest was unknown, but the early cases were already overwhelming hospitals with women whose bodies were changing in extreme, uncontrollable ways.
“Emily?” he called, loosening his tie. “Babe, I’m home. Today was insane.”
He stopped dead in the living room doorway.
There she was on the sofa: a stunning, long-haired blonde with an impossibly exaggerated figure. The sweet, shy brunette he’d left that morning had been completely transformed. Emily’s new, voluptuous body spilled luxuriously across the cushions. Her breasts were absurdly massive, each one easily an O-cup or larger, round, heavy, and glistening. Thick streams of milk leaked continuously from her swollen, puffy nipples, running in shiny rivulets down the vast curves of her chest and dripping onto her thighs and the sofa below. She cradled the undersides of her enormous tits with both hands, as if trying to support their immense weight, while her legs were tucked beneath her in those strappy white-and-pink heels.
Her face, still recognizably Emily but now framed by silky blonde hair and flushed with overwhelming arousal, turned toward him. Her full lips parted, blue eyes glassy.
“Marcus…” she breathed, voice husky and needy. Another thick spurt of milk arced from her right nipple as she shifted. “Thank God you’re home. I’ve been like this for hours.”
He crossed the room in a daze, dropping to his knees in front of the sofa. Up close the sight was even more overwhelming, the sheer size, the constant lactation, and the sweet-creamy scent filling the air. Her breasts were taut and veined, skin stretched shiny, nipples thick and perpetually dripping.
“What happened?” he asked, voice rough. His doctor’s mind was screaming quarantine protocols. The rest of him was transfixed.
“That woman from the case, Elena,” Emily whispered, biting her lip as another warm gush of milk ran down her belly. “She showed up at the door this afternoon. She said she needed to speak with you urgently. She was so charming, Marcus. Tall, confident, and her own chest was even bigger than mine is now. I tried to send her away, but she smiled at me, pulled me close, and offered her breast. I couldn’t stop myself. Her milk was so warm and sweet. I drank and drank while she stroked my hair and told me how good it felt. I could feel it happening immediately, the heat, the swelling. My chest ballooned so fast. Within minutes I was already huge, and the milk just started pouring out. She kept feeding me until I was like this.”
Emily lifted her massive left breast slightly toward him. The motion caused a heavy spray of milk to splash across his shirt. She moaned softly, thighs pressing together.
“They haven’t stopped growing. They’re so heavy and so sensitive. Every little movement makes more milk come out. I’ve been sitting here leaking for hours, getting hornier and hornier. I keep thinking about how much bigger I might still get and how much more I could take.”
Marcus’s hands moved almost on their own, cupping the warm, overflowing undersides of her breasts. Emily gasped, back arching as fresh streams of milk sprayed over his fingers.
“Fuck, Em…” he groaned.
She looked down at him with that same shy-yet-eager smile he’d always loved, now paired with this obscene, hyper-sexualized body.
“Are you going to help your patient, Doctor?” she whispered, gently guiding his head forward until his lips brushed her dripping nipple. “Or are you going to let me keep changing until I’m even bigger than her?”
Marcus answered by closing his mouth around her thick, leaking nipple and drinking deeply. The taste was intoxicating, rich, sweet, and dangerously addictive. Emily moaned loudly, fingers threading through his hair as her body gave him everything it had.
The front door clicked shut behind Dr. Marcus Hale as he stepped into the apartment. The chaos of the precinct briefing still echoed in his head. The Patient Zero, had escaped custody hours earlier. The pathogen’s details were still murky: confirmed oral transmission, rapid-onset gigantomastia and galactorrhea. The rest was unknown, but the early cases were already overwhelming hospitals with women whose bodies were changing in extreme, uncontrollable ways.
“Emily?” he called, loosening his tie. “Babe, I’m home. Today was insane.”
He stopped dead in the living room doorway.
There she was on the sofa: a stunning, long-haired blonde with an impossibly exaggerated figure. The sweet, shy brunette he’d left that morning had been completely transformed. Emily’s new, voluptuous body spilled luxuriously across the cushions. Her breasts were absurdly massive, each one easily an O-cup or larger, round, heavy, and glistening. Thick streams of milk leaked continuously from her swollen, puffy nipples, running in shiny rivulets down the vast curves of her chest and dripping onto her thighs and the sofa below. She cradled the undersides of her enormous tits with both hands, as if trying to support their immense weight, while her legs were tucked beneath her in those strappy white-and-pink heels.
Her face, still recognizably Emily but now framed by silky blonde hair and flushed with overwhelming arousal, turned toward him. Her full lips parted, blue eyes glassy.
“Marcus…” she breathed, voice husky and needy. Another thick spurt of milk arced from her right nipple as she shifted. “Thank God you’re home. I’ve been like this for hours.”
He crossed the room in a daze, dropping to his knees in front of the sofa. Up close the sight was even more overwhelming, the sheer size, the constant lactation, and the sweet-creamy scent filling the air. Her breasts were taut and veined, skin stretched shiny, nipples thick and perpetually dripping.
“What happened?” he asked, voice rough. His doctor’s mind was screaming quarantine protocols. The rest of him was transfixed.
“That woman from the case, Elena,” Emily whispered, biting her lip as another warm gush of milk ran down her belly. “She showed up at the door this afternoon. She said she needed to speak with you urgently. She was so charming, Marcus. Tall, confident, and her own chest was even bigger than mine is now. I tried to send her away, but she smiled at me, pulled me close, and offered her breast. I couldn’t stop myself. Her milk was so warm and sweet. I drank and drank while she stroked my hair and told me how good it felt. I could feel it happening immediately, the heat, the swelling. My chest ballooned so fast. Within minutes I was already huge, and the milk just started pouring out. She kept feeding me until I was like this.”
Emily lifted her massive left breast slightly toward him. The motion caused a heavy spray of milk to splash across his shirt. She moaned softly, thighs pressing together.
“They haven’t stopped growing. They’re so heavy and so sensitive. Every little movement makes more milk come out. I’ve been sitting here leaking for hours, getting hornier and hornier. I keep thinking about how much bigger I might still get and how much more I could take.”
Marcus’s hands moved almost on their own, cupping the warm, overflowing undersides of her breasts. Emily gasped, back arching as fresh streams of milk sprayed over his fingers.
“Fuck, Em…” he groaned.
She looked down at him with that same shy-yet-eager smile he’d always loved, now paired with this obscene, hyper-sexualized body.
“Are you going to help your patient, Doctor?” she whispered, gently guiding his head forward until his lips brushed her dripping nipple. “Or are you going to let me keep changing until I’m even bigger than her?”
Marcus answered by closing his mouth around her thick, leaking nipple and drinking deeply. The taste was intoxicating, rich, sweet, and dangerously addictive. Emily moaned loudly, fingers threading through his hair as her body gave him everything it had.
The stories you write about women taking growth pills and become HUGE is one of my biggest (pun intended) fantasies! They make me want to take a whole bottle of them and be all sexy and no thoughts head empty
It does sound nice, doesn't it? To be big and brainless? You don't have to think at all. You already did the hard part, taking an entire bottle's worth of growth pills and washing it down with milk. Now all you have to do is lay back and feel yourself grow. It doesn't take long. That many pills taken all at once floods your body and the pressure almost immediately starts building up inside your chest. God, it feels good. It feels like something you've always wanted, something you've waited your whole life for!
Your hips writhe and squirm. They ache, ever so slightly, as the growth is so intense that it has no choice but to spill out beyond your breasts. Your hands slide upward from your hips, gliding over your waist, as you move towards the expanding mounds on your chest. The anticipation is tantalizing and you bite your lip, bracing yourself. A bolt of pleasure shoots through you. Your back arches, shoving your tits upward into the air. A gasp drags air into your lungs and pushes your ribs outward, lifting your breasts that much higher. Your mind is blank. All thoughts have been blasted away. All it took was a little touch, the grazing of your finger against the side of your breast and the pleasure was immediately overwhelming. Your thoughts are scrambled as you settle back down and they stay scrambled as you start kneading and massaging your growing tits.
With eyelids half-closed, all you can do is moan and writhe. Your fingers spread apart as your breasts grow underneath them. Soft flesh bulges out from between your fingers as you squeeze them. Your clothes are getting tight. You had wanted to keep wearing them for the delectable moment of pretending like you didn't want them to be ripped apart by your swelling udders, but you're too overwhelmed by your own growth to enjoy it on that level. All you can do is claw at your clothes as they get tighter and tighter over your bust. The clasp of your bra breaks, sending ripples through your breasts, and your shirt doesn't last much longer. Relief washes over you as seams split and fabric tears and your breasts push their way out into the open.
Whatever thoughts you had left are completely obliterated as you start groping your breasts directly, pinching your nipples and tugging on them. Your eyes roll back. Your tongue hangs loosely from your lips. The deep, gutteral, lewd moans that rise from your chest are sounding less and less human and more and more primal. Your breasts won't stop growing and you're turning into a brainless, mindless, thoughtless cow!
Tomorrow, when you wake up, you'll find that pleasure has burned away a handful of your IQ points, but you won't miss them. You won't even notice. You'll be too distracted by your gargantuan udders and how good it feels to have them. And you won't be able to wait for everyone else to see them, too. If you thought your hands felt good...

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Enjoy New Content Daily. Subscribers get full access
👉 https://enhanc3d.art
#heightdifference #heightincrease #tall #tallgirl #tallwoman #heightcomparison #heightgrowth #tallerthanyou #tallergirl #growthspurt #Enhanc3d
He ordered an extra-large latte.
Enjoy New Content Daily. Subscribers get full access 👉 https://enhanc3d.art #heightdifference #heightincrease #tall #tallgirl #tallwoman #heightcomparison #heightgrowth #tallerthanyou #tallergirl #growthspurt #Enhanc3d

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
DOU / zhudouzi
It was supposed to be a dumb birthday joke, a pinch to grow an inch. But because birthdays are days of power, she grew an inch for every birthday she had.
The first week of Stella's thirties were a blur. She could hardly tell where one day ended and the next one began. If she had really focused, she might have been able to tell the difference between warm daylight and the cool streetlamps peeking in around her blackout curtains, but her focus was entirely elsewhere. The smell of sex hung heavy in the air of her bedroom. Under her desk, a wastebasket sat overflowing, lost in a mountain of spent tissues caked in cum that was at varying stages of drying and hardening. Thick ropes of it were splattered across the walls and over her bed. More so than ever, her room had become a den of hedonistic pleasure. The lewd moaning and the sounds of sex blasted out of Stella's headphones, almost completely covering the rhythmic plap! plap! plap! of her colossal tits slapping against her thighs, her cleavage lubed up by the precum that gushed from the tip of her pillar of a cock.
This time last week, Stella had been completely different. For starters, she was monstrously drunk. Who could blame her? It was her thirtieth birthday, one that represented the threshold into the life she truly wanted to live. The first half of her twenties had been spent figuring out who she was and the second half had been spent becoming who she was always meant to be. Her thirties would be the time to finally just be that person! If you had asked her sober, she would have said she was happy with the body the hormones had given her. Drunk, however, there was one shortcoming that she was desperate to fix. She staggered around the bar, going up to each one of her friends, thrusting her chest forward and begging them to pinch her tits. "Come on, please? A pinch for an inch? All I need is a couple of inches and I'll be good! I promish!" Stella giggled at the stunned flustered expressions on her friends' faces. Her giddiness only grew as she finally did get a pair of pinches, two on each breasts. But, it came at a (playful) cost, one of her friends pinching her bulge, suggesting that the extra inch down there was a birthday present from her. Stella tried her best to hang on to her faux indignity for as long as she could before erupting in yet more giggles, collapsing into her friends. She was just so happy.
"Guughhnnn..."
Stella grunted. Her hips tensed, pushing the nearly three-foot-long column of cock upward through her own cleavage. Her arms did their best to wrap around a pair of tits that had made two laps around the alphabet and were making their way towards a third. Between her thighs, her swollen balls (each nearly as big as her head) tensed and yet another in a countless line of loads sprayed from the tip of her cock. Most of it rained back down on her own tits, adding to the slick mess between them, while some of it landed on the floor and a little landed in her own hair.
With a sigh, Stella laid back in her chair. Her eyes were heavy. Sweat and cum matted her bangs to her forehead. A shaky hand reached up and pulled the headphones off of her ears, greeting her with calming silence. Through the haze of post-orgasmic bliss, Stella started to come out of her daze. She licked her dry lips. It had been a day or so since her last water bottle had been emptied (and then quickly filled with her warm, pearly white cum). She needed to get some water and, fuck, take a shower. As she tucked her feet under her to push out from the chair, she thought about how she might look in the shower, her massive body taking up most of it. She thought about her soapy hands gliding over every sensitive inch of her tits, having to clean the length of her cock by sliding them up and down the shaft, up and down, up and down. Stella groaned. The muscles in her core ache but, despite herself, her cock began to twitch and pulse and stiffen once more. A shudder wracked her body as, once again, she slid her cock into her own cleavage. Her headphones slipped back into place. One more. One more, and then shower for sure.