Tags:
Breast Expansion, Transformation, Growth, Bimbofication, Mind Break, Breeding, Interracial, Jihad
Disclaimer:
The story, all names, characters, and sexual incidents portrayed in this production are purely fictitious and above the age of eighteen. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. Rated X, reader discretion is advised.
Chapter 2: Learning
A couple weeks after Abdullah changed the rules for her, Ibrahim, like his father, often stole looks at her breasts. She assumed it was because her nipples were poking out regularly. Her clothing simply wasn't thick enough to push them down.
She had just enough money for a new bra, but her breasts seemed to still be growing bit by bit. She had gone from a B to a D in just a couple months after moving in. Abdullah assured her that this was normal for a woman her age, and that she may have to wait a bit longer before they stop growing. Money was tight, he said, and the law didn't require women to wear bras.
He did, however, get her some new tops that he said would continue to fit her as she grew into a proper woman. The women from his mosque generously made them for her; they were made from an exotic, silky fabric that she could tie up and around her breasts. It was adjustable, which was great for her expanding figure, but it left a lot of exposed skin on her back and midriff. Abdullah assured her that he and his sons were good, decent men who would treat her as she deserved to be treated.
In fact, she liked that her exposed back seemed to invite more touches from Abdullah and from Ibrahim, who seemed to enjoy touching the small of her back when they addressed her. She wanted to go to the mosque and thank the women that made these for her, but Abdullah told her that she wasn't allowed inside the mosque as a non-Muslim woman.
The only downside of this new gift was that the fabric and the color of these tops really accentuated her nipples, which sat perky and high on her breasts. Because of her change in size, Rosalie attracted a lot of looks from other men whenever she left the house. When she walked down the street to the market, these men wouldn't hesitate to stare at her jiggling, bouncing breasts or her rolling hips. The staring and the cat calls used to gross her out when she was younger, but Rosalie now felt her nipples perk up in response to their stares. She had no control over it. It would have worried her, but it felt... right.
She remembered that before Abdullah took her in, her nipples would only get tingly and pokey when she was cold or when she was horny. Now, it seemed to start happening when Abdullah brushed against her or when he sat close to her. She assumed that this was a natural response to the fatherly kindness he showed her, after he comforted her about her weight gain, changed the house rules for her, and told her that it was natural to enjoy her new body. She thought it was just because he made her feel safe and comfortable. Then, it started happening all the time, with all men.
When men on the street or at the market looked at her, she used to ignore it. But then she started to show off a little. Maybe she'd push out her chest with her arms, or she'd bend over a little to show off the curves of her waist. The cashier always gave her a little discount. She felt good, knowing that she allowed her new family to save a little extra money,
and
she liked knowing that she made a man feel a little happier.
However, she nervously realized that it also happened, and it felt extra good, when Ibrahim or Abdullah seemed to admire her developing body. Except, with them, she'd feel her pussy tighten a little too. Despite Abdullah's and Ibrahim's willing acceptance of her necessary change in clothes, she worried that she was tempting them too much. Abdullah assured her that this wasn't the case, but she had trouble believing him because of how
she
felt.
When Abdullah or Ibrahim were near, she'd feel very relaxed and her body would start to get very warm. She'd get giggly, and she felt like she just couldn't think as fast. She found herself staring at their beards, which Ibrahim was developing quite nicely, and their broad shoulders. Abdullah and Ibrahim also relaxed their dress code around her, and sometimes wore short sleeved shirts, which showed off strong, hairy arms. They both looked so masculine to her. They were two good-looking Arab men, and she enjoyed when they showed her any attention.
She also loved it when the attention escalated. Rosalie's ass and breasts continued to grow, and the men in her new household continued to notice. Both Ibrahim and Abdullah would give her small pats on the ass whenever she walked by in her shortening skirts or when they wanted her attention. They both referred to her as a good girl, even though she was older than Ibrahim! He started ordering her around more with housework, just like his father. Abdullah said Ibrahim was adjusting well to a man's position in the community and in the family. Ibrahim really was starting to look and feel like a man, Rosalie noticed.
Their masculinity made her feel so comfortable, like they would protect her. She started becoming more tender with them as a result. She'd run her hands over their arms or through their hair, and she'd give them hugs when they came home from work or mosque. She especially liked feeling their scratchy, yet soft, beards. In response, they started getting more comfortable with her. They'd ask her to sit in their lap sometimes when they lounged or they'd pull her onto them when they teased her, which always felt so comfortable. The light pats on the ass started turning into little squeezes. First just when she hugged them, and then whenever they felt like it.
They'd touch the curve of her waist too, and Abdullah especially liked running his thumb over her lips. Sometimes she sucked on his finger a little bit when he did this. It always made him smile. He told her that they were getting bigger and softer. They were lips that all good girls should have.
"Abi, what else makes a good girl?" Abdullah had really cemented himself as a leader for Rosalie, who thought that he gave the best advice. He was a family man, she thought, and she wanted to be a family woman.
"I'm pleased that you've decided to ask me, sweet girl. Why don't you sit with me and I'll tell you."
He was lounging on the couch, and Rosalie crawled into his lap and leaned against him. Rosalie wasn't that small, but Abdullah was big enough to wrap his arms around her.
"In Syria, we had many ideas of what made a good girl. These things, of course, differ across culture. My tribe, as well as many others, believed a good girl always dedicated herself to the family."
Rosalie nodded. His hands moved lightly across her body while he spoke. Not in a sexual way, but in a calming, caressing way. She felt his fingers move up and around her soft, flat stomach, to the insides of her thighs, back up around her torso, circling her breasts, around her neck, around her lips, along her jawline, through her hair. His touch, along with his scent and his voice, was absolutely hypnotizing, and soon all she could think about was Abdullah and his words.
He continued on. "Many tribes and cultures around the world believe that dedication to the family has many forms. But we do not. We have a strict code for girls, which is of course defined by Allah and by the men, because the men know better than the women. First, we believe that a good, family girl is pious. Piety means that she serves Allah. She serves Allah by serving and pleasing the men of her community and, most importantly, the men of her home. To please the men, a good, family girl must first be pretty for the men to look at, yes?"
She immediately perked up when she heard that he asked her a question. "Yes, Abi... Am I pretty enough for you and your sons?"
He laughed and gently tweaked her nipples, which caused her to involuntarily let out a slight moan. "Yes, sweet girl. You are exactly the kind of woman I hoped to find for my family when I moved to America from Syria."
