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Literature
Unfortunate Developments
I've always had average-sized breasts for a girl my age. That is, up until my late teens. For reasons no one has been able to adequately explain, my boobs began to grow a lot faster at that point.
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against boobs that are a little bigger than average. Initially, I was excited when my chest growth picked up its pace. I felt like I had a leg up on the other girls. I started wearing tight, revealing tops that showed off the goods. But as they kept on growing, my girls became less of a blessing and more of a burden.
First of all, big boobs are heavy. Back pain became a more and more regular problem f
Literature
Britt's Maxed Out Tits
Brittney Boulders used to be a record-holding porn star: Largest breasts. Technically, the largest implants, as each boob was 20000 cc. But since nobody came close to her cup size, she proudly took the title of biggest in general. In her most popular video, she gave two men a tit job at the same time and their cocks never touched. With that much saline, she stood out and was famous even if people found her boobs tacky or trashy. Brittney retired from her career and settled down. She never reduced her breasts, she was proud to hold the record and she liked the attention she got from them. She married a former co-star and they had a baby. As time passed, things changed. The baby girl grew up into a beautiful college student. Brittney began to stand out less from the introduction of Maxi Corp. Her shirts and bras were no longer unique to her alone. It never bothered Brittney, she was happy with the money she spent to make herself the way she was. Brittney was sad when she lost her
Literature
Needs and Wants (BE/AE)
THIS STORY CONTAINS VARIOUS TYPES OF EXPANSION, MAINLY BREAST EXPANSION AND ASS EXPANSION. If you don't know it, don't show it. To yourself or to anyone. Or at the very least don't view it with an air of negativity towards the subject that you have now been warned about. - NEEDS AND WANTS - I have been afflicted with a condition, since turning twenty. It started one day on a whim, at the college. I found myself wishing that my partner on-project would see me, would want me. And it began. My shirt became tense atop my suddenly-growing breasts, the buttons strained. My partner did not look. My jeans lost their slack and filled out with a bubble of ass-flesh and even some thigh. It caused me to gasp as I felt my clothes shifting, my nipples taut as arousal struck and my butt pulsing more, pushing over the brim of my seat. They did not look, but the tension was palpable. They knew and their breathing reflected that knowledge. The want to look was surging through them, the need to see rising fast. I am a tease. I abandoned them to gape at myself, to marvel at what I'd become. To wonder if I was in danger or... what? A magical being, perhaps. Sudden changes have a way of removing you from the moments and changing what you want. What I saw in the mirror was a slightly rumpled shirt and a vaguely shapely ass, but to no extreme. Normal again. I sought out my partner, having steeled and arranged myself. I did not grow again for at least a few weeks. - The next incident occurred one day at the gym. I was spinning and wheeling, and admiring the view of the room behind me, a mirrored surface before me which spanned the whole wall. And the view was a room, and the room was active. And in the activity of the room I could see tight clothes and bulging flesh, muscles and skin on all types of body. One in particular intrigued me the most, and I found myself lost in the routine of my spin, concentrating on nothing but drinking in the sight of that whole, rounded ass. Watching it rise and fall and sway and gyrate, wishing that mine was one to match. And then it was. My shorts became tighter, the thin material stretched and pulled itself inwards, even as my backside thrust itself out and beyond, the cheeks slowly consuming the garment as they pumped out bigger, bounding rhythmically as I pushed the pedals, grinding myself into the seat as it swelled. I barely noticed until it was almost too late, then the bite of the fabric convinced me to hop down, to sit in a pose and recover my thoughts. To ignore the stares of the few who had noticed but dared not say anything. I still wanted to show off. The view had not changed, and the original ass had not turned to see. They could not see that on which I had sat, and so my thoughts turned to breast mass again. What I wanted, I got. In total concentration I sat there, fully focused, trying not to moan as my sports bra squeezed my bust. As my breasts filled it up and pushed it out, only to then overflow it. Above and below, two hills up and a gravity-pulled swell underneath that inched larger with every breath I took. The bra now a band of increasingly overstretched opacity, holding my boobs in and forcing them to rise up and surge out around it, swallowing it with muffin-flesh. Too public. Too public! I fled again, begrudging my own embarrassment, and my requested audience never even saw me. But I will try again...
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I know, I know... It's not another New Beginnings. Still, I've been very quiet so I wanted to knock something out. This is an idea I'd had kicking around for a long time so I rushed it out in two sittings at the ol' laptop. Whatcha think? What name would you have had her write? What name would YOU have written for yourself if you were in her place? Would you write Chelsea or Beshine? Would you just grab the phone book and go to town?
Mature
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Comments15
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Definitely write a sequel. I wanna see her get huge.