by BlueJay
What I am about to relate to you is something that happened to my girlfriend Ellen a few months ago. At that time we were just friends, and we had met at work--we are both employed by an accounting firm, and her cubicle was right next to mine. She's a few years older than me--I'm 23 and she just had her 26th birthday. Again, as I said, we were just friends at the time, and although we had been out to dinner twice, nothing serious had happened. I had been hoping that we could strike up a serious relationship, as she was both charming and beautiful, with dark hair and flirtatious eyes.
We had agreed to visit a state park a few hours north of where we lived. We both loved hiking, and I was hoping that a few hours vigorously walking around in the woods might serve as a prelude to something wild. So I rolled up to her place early one Saturday afternoon, and saw her standing on her front porch. As she waved and walked towards my car, I couldn't help but focus on her thin, delicate, almost skinny figure. Her small breasts--no bigger than an A-cup, I had assumed--were almost undetectable under her loose white t-shirt. The rest of her figure was slight, almost spindly.
"Ready to go?" I asked as she hopped in the car.
"I'm ready for anything, she responded with a broad smile.
We got on the expressway, speeding past first the suburbs, then farmland. Eventually the farmland gave way to forest, and we drove through the entrance to Zachary Taylor state park. I parked the car under the shade of a tree--the day was getting quite hot--and we ventured into the woods. As we walked along, we talked of various things: how the job was going, office gossip about who was romancing who, and the like. Occasionally I would steal glance at her rear end, which, sadly, was concealed by a very baggy shorts. After an half-hour of walking, we stopped at a tiny waterfall. Small rivulets of water were trickling down a cliff of exposed rock. Ellen approached the waterfall and held her mouth open under the stream. She gulped a few mouthfuls, and rejoined me.
"It's for good luck," she told me, winking. "There's an old legend that women who drank this water grew more desirable."
"Uh, yeah," I responded. "It's probably something dreamed up by somebody who wanted to attract more tourists here so he could make money off them."
Her eyes furrowed. "You have no appreciation for myth," she pouted, "as everything is cut and dried for you. Come on, there's a great view up ahead that you should see." She grabbed my hand and led me forward.
We walked several hundred yards, and a beautiful blue lake came into view. I glanced at Ellen, and something appeared different about her figure; I couldn't put my finger on it. I heard the cry of a hawk, and looked up to see one circling far above. I studied its motions as we walked closer to the lake. Glancing back at Ellen, I realized that the sway of her hips had become a bit more pronounced, and that her bottom somehow appeared a bit fuller. A minute before, her shorts had limply dangled from her waist, but they now appeared to be filling out and taking shape, like a set of party balloons slowly inflating. I didn't now exactly what to say--how would she react if I told her? My gaze was transfixed as her buttocks grew rounder and rounder and began pressing against the thin cotton fabric of her shorts. The outline of her panties, previously invisible, had become quite distinct, and amazingly, she appeared not to take any notice as her rapidly-expanding rear began to quiver violently with every step she took. Two thin crescents of her now-plump buttocks appeared beneath the bottom hem of her shorts, and then quickly waxed as more and more of her pale flesh was exposed to the rays of the sun. Her stride, too, had changed. Before, she had walked with a delicate, rapid pace; now, under this new burden, she had slowed to a thick waddle. Unconsciously, Ellen reached behind her with her hand and tugged downward on the bottom hem of her shorts.
At this point, I called to her and said, in a very cautious and tentative tone of voice, "Ellen, I thought we could stop for a minute, because I think something is happening."
She laughed and replied, "Sure, why not--I think I left my clothes in the dryer for too long, because they feel tight."
"Ellen," I said, "I know this sounds silly, but you might want to take a look at your rear pocket." She glanced around at me quizzically, and then caught a glimpse of her new, vast, rear end.
"My gosh," she declared, "I've gotten so BIG!" She reached out a hand and tentatively poked her rump, so as to verify that this was not an illusion. A smile of pride broke over her face. As I watched, her breasts slowly, gradually inflated. The lettering on the front of her t-shirt became quite distended as her chest swelled, and I could now see the outline of a lacy bra as it courageously struggled to contain her bosom. Her nipples, easily visible through the cloth, had grown to the size of olives. Ellen laughed, exclaiming, "Wow, I really look like a fertility goddess now, don't I?" As she giggled, her newly-ripened frame began quivering in a way it had never done before. Her massive breasts shook violently, and with a pop her flimsy bra broke. "My goodness," she said, "I am sooo big!" And she truly was. Not only were here breasts and derriere of impressive proportions, but the rest of her had likewise grown bigger. By virtue of their size, her gargantuan breasts had pulled the front of her shirt out of her pants, and part of her now swollen belly was exposed. Her arms had grown round and heavy, and her legs had thickened to the size of tree trunks. Her face had grown broad, and she now sported a double chin.
She looked at me, and thrusting her chest out and rubbing her thighs together, asked, "Do you like it?" It was evident that I liked it very much. My breathing had become heavy, and my cock felt like a pillar of stone.
"Yes," I nodded.
"Well," she declared, "would you like it more if I were, even, say, a little bit rounder?"
Before I could think, I was nodding vigorously, "yes."
Where would you like me to be larger?--I can tell that you like big bottoms, actually. Would you prefer it if I were a bit fuller in the hips?" She closed her eyes, and appeared to be concentrating. Her buttocks then grew fatter, and fatter, and fatter, and fatter. The seams of her shorts squealed and groaned under the pressure, until they burst apart, unable to contain her massive hips. She looked at me, beaming with pride. "Well, on second thought," she added, "perhaps you are a breast-man. Would you like for me to have a bigger bustline?" By now I was unable to make a coherent response.
Again she closed her eyes and concentrated. Her breasts slowly inflated like auto airbags in slow motion. She reached underneath her shirt, and pulled out the scrap of brassiere that remained.
"AA-cup," she noted, "I won't be needing these anymore."
"I've really ballooned into a zeppelin," she boasted. She tugged off her panties, which were now only a rag, and pulled off what remained of her shirt. She was breathing hard now, her vast bosom waxing and waning with each gasp. Her fat hands unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts, and she lay on her back, pulling me down on top of her.
"Do me," she begged, "now." With one swipe she pulled my shorts down my knees. I pushed her massive thighs apart and mounted her, thrusting energetically. Her massive breasts rolled from side to side and back and forth and she bucked and heaved like a bronco. Leaning forward, I sucked vigorously on her teats. Her breath was coming in short gasps. My balls ached for release; my groin was on fire. I exploded, sending a river of semen deep inside her. Our breathing slackened, and a peaceful smile overtook her face.
We dozed off, and when we awoke night had fallen, which was just as well, as Ellen would need the cover of darkness to make it back to the car unseen. She gathered up the scraps of clothing that were left, and we dashed back to the car. She arranged the rags of clothing to cover her upper body, and we drove home.
Since that experience, we have become the best of lovers. We both wondered whether or not her transformation was permanent, whether her luscious ripeness would recede at some point.
It hasn't--and that's in large part because she made a determined effort to retain her figure. She has dramatically increased her consumption of rich foods. She starts off each day with a gallon of orange juice, half a dozen eggs, a half-pound of bacon, and a half-dozen doughnuts. Lunch is an apple or pear, three cheeseburgers, and a large order of fries. Dinner--well, let's just say she always asks for third helpings. As a result of this onslaught of calories, her measurements have expanded, to the point where she sometimes gets stuck in subway turnstiles.
A footnote: Ellen is by no means a jealous figure, and has eagerly been sharing the secret of her voluptuous figure with her friends at work, who in turn have been sharing it with their friends. The result has been a steady stream of women out to visit the little waterfall--and I can view the consequences at work. Three months ago the women in our company had been mostly slim maidens--now they are, to a woman, exceedingly buxom matrons.
One month ago, a young, thin, and very shy new hire appeared at the company. On her first day on the job, she gazed with envious wonder as her swollen co-workers jiggled and heaved around the office. Ellen, feeling sympathy for the new worker, took her out to the waterfall. The next day the new employee came to work with an absolutely gargantuan derriere--larger, in fact, than anyone else's in the office. She tried to remain demure, but you could tell how proud and excited she was over her new dimensions. That evening, a male friend asked her out, and she has been happy ever since. Her new boyfriend owns a doughnut shop, and each day he brings her the day-old bakery--sometimes totaling fifty pieces of pastry. She gobbles it all down voraciously, and it has all gone to her hips.