#go asks

Like so many before you, you turned to the convent when you had nowhere else to go and the nuns at Our Lady of Perpetual Nourishment took you in without question. They offered you a home, food, a community. You quickly came to learn that this was a core tenet of their belief: that, as God in heaven provides for us, so are we to provide for each other. Through this support, this sharing, this nourishment, we share in the divine spirit on Earth.

You didn't really care much about faith. All you needed to convince you to smile and nod along was a bed to sleep on and food in your belly, but goodness what food it was. Each meal was a rich bounty, decadent and filling. Cream for your coffee, milk for your cereal, sumptuous cheeses and biscuits with butter. Dinners were coated in thick, heavy sauces that clung to your tongue and kept you satisfied through the next morning. Once a week, on the sabbath day, there were cream puffs and pastries and desserts of all kinds, even ice cream. Guilt gnawed at the edge of your mind, taking advantage of them like this, but having a full belly for the first time in so long made it easy to swallow their gifts with gratitude.

What is faith, though, without doubt.

Once you realized that you'd be eating like this for every meal, you started to wonder about the nuns that flitted through the cloisters and sat in penance and prayer in the church. Their indulgence struck you as odd, going against everything you thought you knew about their religion, but you dismissed the concern, chalking it up to a quirk of their particular sect. In addition, one would expect, eating such richness day after day, that the nuns would become plump and round, but none of them were. At least, none of them were fat in the way you expected. While their tunics did a decent job of disguising their figures, one common trend stuck out to you: their tits were huge! Every last nun was ridiculously busty; even the smallest sister had to be at least a J cup and the Mother Superior lived up to her title in that regard as well. Walking alongside her was dangerous, not so much at risk of being hit by her swinging breasts but being distracted enough by their bouncing and wobbling and sloshing as to lead you directly into a concrete pillar. There was a part of you—nearly flat as you were—that hoped it was a result of their unique diet and the growing tightness in your bras and shirts seemed to suggest that was the case. Either way, clearly the women of this convent had been blessed.

As days turned to weeks, one more thing started to pique your curiosity. In addition to the lavish church, there was a small chapel in a far corner of the convent grounds. You had been told that it was a place for prayer that was dedicated and focused and, most of all, private. Occasionally, however, you'd see a few nuns go in together and you wouldn't see them again for the rest of the day, only returning for breakfast the next morning. The fact that you had free roam of the convent with the exception of the chapel just made you that much more curious. What was in there? What were the nuns hiding?

A full month into your stay, you found out.

You spent a day or so watching nuns come and go, mapping out patterns, essentially casing the joint. A set of lockpicks burned in your back pocket as you planned your entry. You didn't think it was locked but better to have and not need, than need and not have.

In the dark, evening hour, you stood at the door to the chapel. Sweat trickled down the side of your head as you reached for the door. Your heart pounded in your chest, loud enough to drown out the sounds of footsteps approaching.

"Ah, just the person I wanted to see."

You nearly leapt into the air, held down by the hand of the Mother Superior resting firmly on your shoulder. Embarrassment flared in your cheeks and stammered excuses tumbled out of your mouth and into a pathetic heap at your feet. The Mother Superior's smile never faltered.

"Easy, my child. Breathe deep. Curiosity is natural and you've done well respecting our customs. In fact, I was planning to show you the chapel tomorrow, so your timing is remarkable. Come. Let me show you what's inside."

Still holding your shoulder, the Mother Superior reached forward and turned the doorknob, pushing open—

"AAAAAAHHHNNN!"

A lewd moan burst from the open doors, making you jump all over again, but the Mother Superior took no surprise in this new sound. If anything, she seemed satisfied, smiling wider and breathing out a proud sigh. Candlelight flickered as the door opened fully. Your eyes went wide. Your body froze. Despite yourself, your nipples stiffened.

The sound had come from Sister Grace, whose eyes were half-lidded and rolled back in her head. Her jaw hung loose and drool, shining in the dim light, dripped down her chin. Sweat glistened on her bare skin. A metal bar just above her head made little clinking sounds as her restraints rattled against it, holding her hands aloft while she kneeled. The Mother Superior's enormous breasts pushed against your back. "Sister Grace is deep in prayer. You can get closer. She's not even aware that we're here."

Entranced, your legs carried you closer to the kneeling nun, close enough to get a better look at the pumps rhythmically tugging on Grace's nipples. Each moment of suction was met with another moan and pale liquid rushed down a pair of plastic tubes. At the far end of the tubes sat a large tank, a gauge on the side indicating it to be nearly three-quarters full. Grace's gargantuan bust, wobbling with her every movement, held your attention. They looked even larger without the thick tunic in the way and this was even after they'd been drained of so much milk.

Once again, the Mother Superior closed in on you, but this time, it wasn't enough to merely brush against you. Her arms came around you, a hand resting on your hip, the other spreading out over your stomach. Arousal dripped from the breath that rolled out of her.

"Perpetual Nourishment. To provide is divine. These are the foundation of our convent. And you can see here that our Grace is so good at providing."

As if on cue, Grace arched her back and bellowed out another moan. Her breasts shook and wobbled as her body spasmed and a fresh torrent of milk was pulled into the tank. The Mother Superior's hands started to move. The hand on your hip teased at the hem of your t-shirt while the other moved up to cup the budding breasts on your chest. Deep and sultry, her soft moan rolled over you like warm syrup, trapping you in her embrace. Your hips quivered.

"We welcomed you into our home. We protected you. We nourished you. We provided for you. And now it's your turn to provide for us."

The air was thick with the heady scent of sex with the sweetest hint of milk and that mixture made it hard to think. All you could do was let the Mother Superior slowly turn you towards a spot just opposite Grace. Another bar with another set of restraints and a cushion underneath sat empty, sat waiting. You tried to refuse, but Mother Superior guided you forward.

"I knew you were special from the moment you crossed our threshold. We take in strangers of all kinds, as is our command, but I knew that you would not be leaving. I couldn't let you leave. You're one of us. It was fate that you found us and destiny that you'd join us."

Resistance fled your body and, in its place, desire flared. You looked at Grace. You looked at the Mother Superior as she slowly peeled away your clothes until you were as naked as Grace. You wanted this. You wanted to belong. You wanted to make milk and to provide and to be so fucking busty. Acceptance burned away the last of your doubt and, in an instant, your senses came alive. Grace's moans turned to music. The cuffs as your wrists spread soothing coolness through your arms. A moment of apprehension flared inside you as the candles danced on the metal pumps that Mother Superior brought closer to your chest, glancing back and forth between Grace's udders and what could only generously be called your breasts. The Mother Superior's hand cupped your cheek and her divine warmth spread through you, calming you in an instant.

"You may not be able to Provide today, my child, but you will. This is the first step of a thousand in your journey towards the divine on Earth. All you need do is ask, and what you seek will be provided to you."

Air tickled over your breasts as she brought the suction cups closer, stoking embers of need in your core.

Then, all at once, they latched on.

Your vision went white. Angels sang in your head, only for divine harmonies to fade as you realized the sound was your own moaning. Each tug on your breasts sent pleasure careening through your body and dripping out between your legs. The Mother Superior smiled, moving to let you watch Grace and let Grace watch you. She rested a hand on each of your heads.

"Come, little ones.

Now, that's not too bad. Lots of guys have roommates. But I doubt they're roommates with the hottest woman they've ever seen in their life.

Like, words cannot begin to describe her. She's got tits bigger than her head, an ass that seems to bend space, and legs that could turn a monk into a drooling mess.

Basically, she's super duper hot.

And again, most guys wouldn't see the issue in that. But they've never had to deal with every argument, disagreement, discussion, etc, ending in a wiggle of tit-flesh and me folding instantly.

I literally can't say no to her when she does that. I don't think anyone can.

What am I supposed to do, GO? I've been mad to do every chore, pay just about every bill, do every whim she can come up with.

I hear you, man. That's a tough situation. Most people, they'd tell you to stand up for yourself, to stop being such a pathetic loser gooner and resist her jiggling and sloshing pornmelons for five fucking seconds. They'd tell you that, if you have an open and honest conversation with her, one that doesn't end in you running back to your bedroom to try and get your fist pregnant, it'll all work out.

And I just want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, that they're all wrong.

This kind of thing, standing up for yourself would only encourage her! Saying "H-hey, um, m-maybe don't flash your big, bouncy titties at m-me when I'm trying to t-talk to you!" is only going to make things worse! She'll start walking around the apartment topless, or as close to it as she has to, in order to make sure you never try to resist her again! She already knows she can break you—can't put that lotion back in the bottle—so she'll just keep going until she breaks you again.

If you really want to get control of this situation, there's only one thing you can do: fight fire with fire.

You go out there and you get yourself the biggest fucking tits you can. Implants or growth pills or bovine hormones, whatever it takes to give you gigantic titties to rival hers. I'm talking mega hyper stuffed up milkers. I'm talking jumbo jiggly juicy jugs. I'm talking sweater-stretching, gravity-welling, bra-busting tits!

The first benefit is that your new tits will act as a sort of immunization against hers. When you're too busy not getting distracted by your own cleavage, by the feeling of your own tits bouncing directly under your chin, how can you even think about being distracted by hers? If you can go even bigger than her, all the better, as it'll make hers seem smaller by comparison, thereby robbing them of their power. Once her advantage is weakened and, eventually, removed entirely, that's when you can stage your counteroffensive.

After all, everyone loves boobs.

When she starts to fall on her old tactics, that's when you yawn and stretch your back, pushing your massive titties forward so she can see them bulge over the cups and under the band and whenever else they can find room. If she shows you her cleavage, you show her yours. If she tries to jiggle them in your face, you jiggle yours right back! If she tries to press her big, soft boobies against you, you lean into her, keeping eye contact as your own udders squish against her. Her breathing catches. You blush. Your faces are so close to each other and, as your tits squish together, you can feel each other's racing heartbeat. Neither of you seems ready to make the first move and yet, inch by inch, the space between your lips disappears until—

The wobbling of Cher's growing ass forced a whimper from her that could just barely be heard over the deeisive laughter of her former best friend. Even in that brief touch, squeezing the growing softness of her backside, Cher could feel her pajama bottoms getting tighter around her swelling cheeks and her widening hips. The catty, confident personality that she had spent years cultivating—the one that drove a wedge between her and Ivy—was melting away with each inch that was added to her ass. Stomping her foot in frustration only made her more frustrated as she felt the impact ripple upwards, jiggling her thickening thigh and shaking her growing ass.

"Ivy! This isn't funny anymore! You've proven your point, okay? I shouldn't have called you a fatass! I'm sorry! Is that what you want? I said it, now can you please stop—Eep!"

A snap of Ivy's fingers made Cher's lower half surge in size, drawing the once loose trousers tight over her ass. The seams creaked; they weren't going to last much longer. Despite the twisted grin on Ivy's face, her fury shone through.

"This really does suit you, Cher. You've always been an ass and now you're more ass than ever! You were a bitch ass for selling me out for your new, popular friends and you're a fucking dumbass for thinking that a simple apology would be enough to get on my good side after everything you've done to me!"

Another snap had Cher bracing herself and, moments later, her pants were rent asunder, jiggling flesh billowing out of the opening. Ivy gasped, only to laugh on the exhale.

"Oh, fuck, look at you now! Get much bigger and pretty soon, pears are going to be Cher-shaped instead of the other way around! It'll be a miracle if you can fit through a doorway! I can't wait to see you at the bar, your fat ass spread across three stools just to hold you! Pretty soon, everyone on campus will point and laugh at the freak with the massive butt, just like you tried to get your 'friends' to do to me! I wonder what your boyfriend will do once he realizes that your ass is too big for him to hit it from behind! He just won't be able to reach anything!"

Come on, now. Be honest. I know that you love it. However distracting it may be, you can't get enough of how sensitive your growing breasts are becoming. This is what you wanted, to some degree. You wouldn't sign up for that kind of clinical trial if you didn't have size greed to some degree. Most women would be overjoyed to be a C-cup, but you couldn't help yourself. You wanted bigger. You wanted more. Being merely average was never going to be enough for you, so much so that you literally signed up for an experimental drug to try and force you to grow even larger. What was it, hm? Is there a busty coworker that you see every day, straining her blouse and making you seethe with envy? Did you catch your ex-boyfriend eyeing up a woman absolutely bursting out of her sports bra while she jogged down the street? Maybe it was a best friend who was on even footing with you when you met and then blossomed into being gigantic, leaving you in her dust without even trying? Regardless of the reason why, that greed pushes you onward, drives you to not just be big, but always bigger, always more, always growing!

The increased sensitivity might not be exactly what you signed up for, but I know you love it. What better way to be reminded how big you've gotten than to have constant, pulsing pleasure radiating out from your huge, sensitive tits? You can't escape them, even for a moment. Every bounce, every wobble, every accidental squish sends a jolt directly to your core to remind you how much you've grown. You're still getting used to their size, too, how far they extend out in front of you. You must be brushing them against things all the time, whether that's countertops or door frames or even people. Some of them are accidental, certainly, but I doubt all of them are. Don't tell me you're not stuck on that crowded bus, feeling every pothole as it bounces through your gigantic tits, trying to make the pressure you're putting on the back of the person in front of you seem accidental as you rub your tits against them. Every little spark of pleasure is enough to remind you of how big you've grown, painfully aware of your gargantuan bust every moment of every day. And it's only going to get more intense as you grow larger.

You're already picturing it, aren't you?

Listen, bud. It sounds to me like you need to have a serious talk with your girlfriend. Yes, she's 100% feeling competitive with the women she sees and reads about on my blog. If you've read my blog as thoroughly as I imagine you have, you must be able to notice the signs! If you can't make the connection between her competitive nature, her looking at my blog for inspiration, and the fact that her tits are very obviously growing, then you're either in denial or completely oblivious. Either way, you need to sit down with her and make sure that she's okay. Whatever you told her the first time, about her being big enough for you, didn't stick. See how she's feeling. Connect with her. Open the channels of communication and be honest with her so that she can be honest with you! Make sure she knows that she doesn't need to grow her already impressive tits even bigger to earn your love or to be attractive to you.

That being said, though... If you did have that conversation and it turned out she was growing on her own, not competing with the women in my stories but inspired by them... Encouraging her breasts to grow for her own sake rather than just to appease or appeal to you... That's a different story! That's your opportunity to be supportive!

Clearly, whatever she's doing is working! Her tits are swelling; her clothes are getting tighter by the day. She wants to be seen, to be noticed, to be big! You can live out both of your fantasies by helping her! Help her grow by massaging her tits every night. Take her bra shopping if for no other reason than to share knowing glances and looks when the astonished attendant declares your girlfriend as the bustiest woman she's ever helped and well beyond the sizes that the store carries. Fawn over her and lavish her with compliments and praise for growing so damn big and let her flaunt her accomplishments for you! Once you've made sure that she's not chasing a bigger bust out of jealousy or insecurity or resentment, you can both really enjoy it.

Oh, and this picture of Demora Avarice is unrelated. It certainly isn't further inspiration for your girlfriend and it definitely isn't to give you a goal for you both to work towards together as an absurdly large size not just to meet but to surpass. Have fun~

I'm not sure what she said, but it was definitely some kind of spell or incantation, as since then my breasts have swollen from A-cups, to C-cups, to E-cups, and this morning I found myself having to ask to borrow my girlfriend's G-cup bra, lest I go braless to work!

But moreover... I can't stop squeezing my chest... and I can't be sure, but I think me squeezing and kneading them is causing the growth somehow....

And no-one (other than me) seems to realize that my tits have gone from 'flat-as-a-board' / getting me mistaken for being a trans-femme or an enby... to being over-sized, cartoonishly over-filled, and seemingly have made any shirt or dress incapable of hiding my cleavage!

Can I undo this!??

I guess you can go apologize to your coworker and beg her to lift and undo whatever curse she put on you, promising to go on anti-anxiety medication or something, and hope she follows through.

But why would you??

This seems like a case of wins across the board! Your coworker is happy, not having to deal with you bounding your legs or clicking your pens or dealing with a dozen other annoying, anxious habits. I'm sure your girlfriend is happy getting to share bras with you, even if she doesn't remember you growing to be so absolutely massive and she'll enjoy it when you start outsizing her, too.

And why wouldn't you be happy with what's happened? Doesn't it feel nice to sink your fingers into all this new, soft, sensitive flesh? Doesn't it feel good to finally have tits that can bounce and wobble and shake, moving and jiggling with every step you take? Doesn't it incredible to know that the women who you used to envy now look at you and seethe with jealousy as you easily double their size? Doesn't it feel amazing to have such gigantic fucking tits?

Being forced to take a pill that fogs your head and blows up your tiddies nice and fat and heavy @.@

Cruel laughter echoes in your ears, almost in perfect harmony with the moans that pour from your throat and the sound of creaking, stretching fabric. The ever-growing tightness of your bra, digging into the new, billowing flesh on your chest, sends pleasure through you, forcing you to arc your back and shove your swelling tits forward.

"Ouughhhnnn! Stooooopppp! My titties are, like, soooo biiiigggg!"

Your desperate, lewd, barely intelligible please just make the chorus of laughter ring out even louder. Your roommates just watch as you put on this lewd display for them. Cassie takes a swig from her drink and pushes off from the couch, sauntering over to you with chilling confidence. The envy you once felt for the curvy, blonde beauty is overpowered by your burning arousal; her bouncing tits make a perfect distraction as she approaches. You jump, both from surprise and a sudden surge of arousal from physical contact as she reaches down and grabs you by the chin, tilting your head up towards her.

"What's the matter, hm? You used to tell us all the time that our DDs meant we had more tits than brains! Those pills we gave you are just to make sure you know what that's really like! Now you have these oversized, lewd pornudders, just like you always wanted!"

While none of them are very long, your roommate's words are confusing, especially amid the arousal coursing through your body. Before you can even attempt a response, Cassie suddenly reaches down and seizes hold of one of your tits. Your mind flashes white. Pleasure fills every inch of your body. Your eyes roll back and your jaw drops open. Your moan trumpets from your throat but only for a second before being muffled. Cassie slams her hand down over your mouth, clamping it there to make sure you don't spit out the three more pills she just tossed in. While that hand stays firmly over your lips, the other moves to your throat, stroking it and coaxing you into swallowing the pills. You don't have any choice. The pills slide down and tumble into you. Immediately, even before Cassie lifts her hand away from your mouth, you can feel what little intelligence you have left burning away. Your tits surge, growing outward, bulging over your bra and threatening to, at any moment, destroy it entirely.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but all that tumbles out is a series of disconnected syllables, too dumb and too horny to put anything else together. A sound hits your ears and you immediately perk up, now acting more on instinct than on any kind of coherent or intelligent thought. Your eyes track the pill bottle back and forth as Cassie shakes it in front of you. The sound of the pills rattling inside has you deeply entranced.

"God, you're so fucking dumb now! If you still had your bitty A cups, you'd still have more tits than brains!"