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One guy sees what's going on and rushed home to his girlfriend to try and stop her from seeing it. But he's too late. She's been staring at her screen for over an hour, and her shirt is torn to shreds.

Cody rushed home, traffic lights be damned.

The seatbelt nearly strangled him as he leapt from his car, swearing as he fought to get it unbuckled.

Every passing second pounded in his head. The frantic jingling of his keys made the search all the more stressful. He had to get inside.

The doorknob left a small dent in the wall where it was slammed open. He stumbled into the living room and, as soon as he saw it, he lunged for the remote. Denial drove him forward. He had seen Beth's vapid expression. He had seen the shimmering, pink light dancing across the back wall of the living room. In his state, he couldn't accept that it was too late. He had to do something.

He snatched up the remote up from where it sat next to her, he placed his thumb over the power button, and, for the first time since he had heard the warning over the radio, he paused. He swallowed. His eyes roamed over the woman sitting on the couch, the woman that used to be his Beth.

He had never seen her like this before.

She looked... relaxed.

Her doctorate was well underway when he first met Beth. In fact, the first time he saw her was over a wall of reference books piled around her in the college library. He fell in love with her over dinner one night, listening to her try to explain the nuances of her thesis: analytic and algebraic topology of locally Euclidean metrization of infinitely differentiable Riemannian manifold. Just the title alone made his head spin, but it had represented years of work and effort. Every page of it carried so many sleepless nights and so many frustrated tears. She got a job offer even before finishing her PhD program, so she only had a week of respite between getting her degree and entering the workforce. She never took a sick day. She never stopped working, even when they were on vacation. The muscles in her back and shoulders had the kind of knots that would grant the masseuse who could untangle them dominion over some distant kingdom. Cody did his best to try and take her mind off work, but it never lasted very long. He wasn't upset about it, just worried. The money was good and Beth often talked about early retirement, but Cody secretly worried that stress would keep her from making it that far.

The Beth in front of him on the couch, however, had no such stress. For the first time in the many years of their relationship, Cody saw nothing behind her eyes: no stresses, no worries, no calculations, no thoughts at all. She didn't even react to him coming through the door. Sure, the buttons of her shirt lay strewn about the room. Yes, her breasts now rested on her thighs as she leaned forward to stare, blank-faced, at the TV. The swirling spiral on the screen reflected and glistened on the line of drool that rolled down from her chin and dripped into her growing, deepening cleavage.

Then, a realization struck Cody. It wasn't chilling. It wasn't comforting. It simply was.

Beth never watched television.

She simply didn't have the time for it and her focus was always somewhere else. She couldn't follow a plot line when she'd space out every few seconds to turn a 5-dimensional figure over in her head. Dialogue was more likely to frustrate her by interrupting her train of thought than to entertain.

Cody thought back to where the remote had been when he first picked it up: sitting right next to her, perfectly—and, perhaps, intentionally—placed. With new perspective, he reappraised the woman in front of him. All of the stress and all of the worry were gone from her face. Her muscles were relaxed. For the first time, she had nothing to ponder, nothing to think about at all. She had "joked" many times that her chest was her inspiration for pursuing mathematics, having so much experience with perfectly flat planes. Cody let out a wry chuckle at the thought of the old Beth trying to map the coordinates of new Beth's gigantic, round (though not perfectly spherical) tits.

A quiet moan from Beth brought Cody back to reality just in time to watch her breasts swell another cup size. Even with the buttons gone, a seam down the side of her shirt groaned under the stress, a gap widening just a little bit more. He looked at the remote. He looked at the screen. He looked back to Beth.

Resignation filled the sigh that rushed out of Cody, his chest rising and falling. He set the remote down on the coffee table and went towards the kitchen, stopping to kiss the top of Beth's head and give her shoulder a little, comforting squeeze. Only her breasts moved, rippling as the motion carried through them.

Cody could let her watch the spiral for a little bit longer.

If you thought keeping your hands off your tits was difficult before, just wait until they start growing! Kneading them, groping them, letting your fingers sink into every new inch of soft flesh. The weight on your chest gets heavier and heavier, but you can't stop. You can feel them pushing outward against your hands, your fingers spreading apart as more and more tit billows out underneath them. The bigger they get, the more sensitive they become, too. Just pinching your nipple between the sides of your fingers sends a jolt of pleasure through your entire body, forcing your hips to buck against the air. God, growing feels so fucking good! Under their own weight, they start to spread out. Your torso begins to disappear behind them. Every movement you make sends ripples through them, wobbling and clapping together. The line of your cleavage becomes a canyon, warm and dark and deep. When you gather enough self control to look down instead of letting your eyes roll into the back of your head, you gasp. Nestled between your arms, your tits rise like mountains above you, each one at least twice as big as your head, if not more! You can't even see your own nipple where it crests at the top of your breast, your easily outsizing your own palm. Fuck, this is getting out of hand. You have to take stock of the situation. You have to...

You have to...

Uh oh.

As you try to sit up, all you manage is lifting your shoulders a few inches before you come crashing down, the impact making your breasts wobble on top of you. You try again, marshaling your strength, but the increased weight of your growing tits cancels out whatever extra effort you put in. For a moment, you panic. You can't get out from under your own tits. You're trapped. They won't stop growing. They won't stop growing. They won't-

"Ta-dah! What do you think? Pretty fucking huge, right? And waaaaay better than my old, tiny titties. They're super sensitive, too! I'm not even sure what bra size I am now, because every time I try to measure them, the tape measure brushes over my nipples and I wind up having to stop everything to grope myself and play with these gigantic, sloshy udders. Look at the way they're bulging out of this little, pathetic top and, God, look at all this fucking cleavage! I could probably fit your entire head between these things!

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.

not the Regina George route but in reverse

Scenario-wise:

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!"

The door creaked open just enough for her to slip inside, but she never made it past the threshold. Her name was Nia, a former corporate lawyer turned unexpected mother of twins, though the “mother” part had taken on a life of its own. The headband she still wore was a souvenir from her last girls’ trip to Rio, the colorful threads now slightly askew from the frantic walk home. She’d only meant to duck into the apartment for a quick pump before her husband got back from work.

Instead, the second she closed the door behind her, the pressure that had been building all afternoon finally betrayed her. A sharp, electric tingle shot through her swollen chest. Her breath hitched. She looked down just in time to watch her already enormous breasts surge heavier and fuller, the dark, glossy skin stretched tight and shining. Her nipples—thick, sensitive, the color of burnt caramel—tightened into stiff peaks, then immediately began to leak.

Thick, warm streams of milk spiraled down the heavy undersides of her tits in glistening rivulets. She bit her lip, but the moan escaped anyway. Her hands flew up instinctively, fingers curling into helpless little fists near her shoulders as another hot gush pulsed out of her. The milk pattered softly onto the hardwood floor between her bare feet.

“F-fuck… not again…” she whimpered, voice husky, eyes fluttering. Her pupils were already drifting upward, lashes trembling. The expression that crossed her face was pure, helpless bliss—the same one she used to hide behind courtroom doors and boardroom smiles. Now there was no hiding it.

She leaned back against the doorframe, back arching, pushing those massive, leaking breasts forward like an offering. Every tiny movement sent fresh squirts splashing against her toned stomach and rolling down the deep valley between them. The sensation was too much: the weight, the heat, the constant, rhythmic release. Her thighs pressed together, knees trembling.

She could already imagine her husband walking in any second—keys jingling, tie loosened—and finding her like this. Naked from the waist up, milk running in shiny rivers down her body, tongue lolling out, eyes crossed in overwhelmed ecstasy.

Nia didn’t even try to stop it anymore. She just let her head fall back against the wood, a broken, needy little laugh bubbling up as another powerful let-down hit her.

“Baby… hurry home,” she breathed, voice dripping with lust and embarrassment and raw, shameless want. “Mommy’s making a mess again.”

It was magnetic. Dana thought taking breast growth pills might be a tiny boost in self-esteem, something to help fill out her figure going into University. Instead it changed everything about her life. Men noticed her more, sure. Catcalling her, groping her, lifting her top from time to time in public. Just men being men, nothing new there. But something much more exciting happened....

Then, the third flash of brain-melting ecstatic heat filled her. Olive's eyes rocketed back into her head as her shirt and jeans felt tight. The pleasure was too intense for the bespectacled genius that she was oblivious to her breasts and ass swelling with each blast of reality warping that crashed over her. Olive gave out a wordless scream of bliss as her ballooning breasts broke her bra and popped off every button on her plaid shirt. The next orgasmic explosion of growth hit Olive as her asscheeks swelled until her pants burst at the seams.

"A lot of you guys requested I try fem hrt as a cis girl. Just to see what'd happen. You guys are bad, you know that? I used to be a normal health and fitness vlogger. You came to me, pretending like this was something you were really curious about. Since it was well known the doses in modern hrt are out of control. Hence so many trans girls get such huge boobs and excess weight gain. But I heard your questions and tried to approach it with a level head, a professional. Right? Like maybe if I exercise, eat a clean vegan diet, and don't overstimulate myself, maybe I can prove it's behavioral and not just hormones..... Boy was I wrong.

"But what about me! You're really going to throw away years- decades of our friendship just because, what, some two-bit tramp batted her eyelashes at you? No, no, no. I can't accept that. I won't accept it. Look what she's done to you! We used to be so tight. We used to text each other all day, every day. You were the first person I woke up to and the last person I thought about before falling asleep. Now I just stare at my phone screen and feel my heart twisting, waiting for a text that'll never come. You used to text me back right away and now it can take, what, ten minutes? Fifteen? God forbid, twenty?! Can't you see she's trying to isolate you from me? She's trying to come between us, forcing distance between us, and I will not allow it. But, don't worry, I'll make sure you don't miss her.

"I know how much you love big, juicy titties. That's probably why you wend for her, right? Those sloshy milkers on her chest? Well, look what I've done! Ta-dah! A pair of sloshy milkers of my own, even bigger than hers! Now, you won't need her anymore! You can have me! We don't have to date or whatever, but any time you wanna play with some mega milkers, some juicy jigglers, some fat fucking tits, you can play with mine! Grope 'em, suck on 'em, making 'em bounce and wobble! Do whatever you want! I grew them just for you! I'm sure that, once you get a feel for these, you'll forget all about ol' whats-her-name.

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!

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?”

"A lot of you guys requested I try fem hrt as a cis girl. Just to see what'd happen. You guys are bad, you know that? I used to be a normal health and fitness vlogger. You came to me, pretending like this was something you were really curious about. Since it was well known the doses in modern hrt are out of control. Hence so many trans girls get such huge boobs and excess weight gain. But I heard your questions and tried to approach it with a level head, a professional. Right? Like maybe if I exercise, eat a clean vegan diet, and don't overstimulate myself, maybe I can prove it's behavioral and not just hormones..... Boy was I wrong.

I did get this cute long sleeve shirt! A little tight but it's super cute-

*Slooosh* *Straiiin*

Oh goood, finally a good spurt, but why it's gotta be on my new shir- Ahhnn~ *her top stretched more and more, the room echoing with the sounds of straining fabric and skin*

Mmmmpphh! *POP*

*A loud pop or snap is heard, her final snug bra snapping under her new weight of her giant milk canons sudden growth*

"Well, well, well, hope you're not nutting already, lil' bro. This is going to be oh so much fun. I can't believe Mom and Dad are moving all the way to Belgium. There're so great bdsm clubs there, ask me how I know. My massive titties have nearly been beaten open like pinatas in some of those joints.... so, visiting them will be fun. But until then, they're really leaving you with me? Geez, they must be sadists. What are you, twenty now? Hmmm, poor Alex.... do you even hook up with girls in college, or are you still glued to your computer, jerking off? I bet you are, such a good little gooner; we're going to have the time of your impotent little life.