D Cups are too small

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.

-🚂

Same thing that happens any time someone embraces their identity and starts living their truth:

AN ANGEL GETS THEIR FUCKING WINGS!

After that, of course, is when the real fun begins.

The pills already did a good job of softening her chest. They puffed out and budded until they got heavy and full enough to properly hang, truly looking like breasts. Adding HRT to the mix only made the growth accelerate. Pretty soon, she was outsizing her friends, growing well past sizes that had taken them years to reach! It was a little embarrassing to have to get fitted for a bra for the first time, but it was affirming in a way she didn't know she needed and having her friends there to support her really helped.

The attendant's jaw dropped open when she saw her newly enormous breasts. Their size was difficult to believe to begin with but even more unreasonable was the idea that she had never been fitted for a bra. Thankfully, her friends were quick to jump in and justify it for the attendant, who seemed skeptical but at least stopped asking questions. The process was new and flustering. Getting her new breasts lifted and moved, feeling the cool tape measure sliding over her new, sensitive tits, made her knees weak and her heart pound. She had never felt anything like it. Thankfully for her, the shop had exactly one bra that was close to her size, but the attendant warned her that it might be a little snug. Both of them knew that it probably wouldn't last long. She walked out of the store wearing the bra, her friends showering her in compliments of how good she looked wearing it, confident in her figure and excited for what future growth might bring.

But one pill becomes two, then three. It gets easier and easier to convince herself to grow just a little bit more. Concern about her clothes tightening develops into enjoyment of the feeling.

Furthermore it doesn’t just affect her breasts; her ass swells too, her hips widen, her lips and pussy grow plump. The more she grows, the more she wants to grow, and soon she can’t stop - her thoughts and IQ melt away, she’s dumbed down and constantly horny, begging to be fucked and begging to have more pills during it, completely addicted

Two of the biggest problems with growth pills is the fact that they don't work instantaneously and those that are desperate enough to take growth pills in the first place are typically lacking in patience. So, when her chest was still as flat as ever a few days after taking 'just one pill', Madeline assumed that it hadn't worked at all. She really only wanted a little padding, something to make it actually worth wearing a bra for, but after years of natural growth had completely failed her, she didn't want to wait. And so she took another. And another. And another.

When the first pill finally kicked in and her flat chest started to bud and grow, she had already had nearly a dozen pills. Madeline quickly assume that all those pills were required to get even that little bit of growth, so she hastily took more. Her body, however, was still catching up. Within a few days, her breasts had ballooned from barely-there Bs to gigantic Gs with no signs of slowing down. The hormones that surged through her body left her hornier than ever, calling out sick from work just to stay at home and play with her growing tits. And, of course, take more pills. Pleasure eroded Madeline's mind as the hours bled into days and she lost her ability to tell the difference. The only thing she knew was that her body was growing and it felt so good.

Will wasn't sure what he would find when he went to do a wellness check on his soon-to-be former coworker. Nearly a month had gone by since she had last bothered to call out sick. He was there half out of a sense of duty to find out what happened to her and also for his own concern. He had always had a bit of a crush on his mousy coworker. He just hoped she was okay.

When the door swung open, Will's first thought was that he had gotten address very wrong. What stood in front of him was as far as possible from his last memory of Madeline. The woman in front of him looked like a caricature of sexuality. Her breasts were massive, covering her torso so completely that her bellybutton rested in the lowest curve between them. Her hips flared out into absurdity, at least twice the width of her shoulders, and he could see that, behind them, was an ass that could absolutely crush him. Between her thick thighs sat a bare pussy that was easily as big as his two fists put together, slick and glistening, arousal trailing down her thick thighs. The swollen, plump lips on her face split into a wide grin. "Like, oh, em, gee! Willie?!"