Connie's Weed

Connie's Weed, Part 3 — Two Much By Far

A four part tale, laced heavily with lesbian encounters and strange transformations.

~

A word of warning, before you even start reading: A lot of what happens in this story focuses on the rather weird fetish of Breast Expansion (BE) -- from A to D, and occasionally up to and ultimately beyond the size depicted in Woody Allen's "Giant Breast" skit in "Everything you always wanted to know about sex" (the 1972 movie). If you thought that was hilarious, or unsettlingly arousing, you're more than welcome to continue reading. Of course this tale has action, tension and fighting (in short, "conventional" storytelling), too.

However, if you are put off by the sheer offbeat weird impossible flight of fancy that is BE, you probably shouldn't bother with this tale.

Thank you.

~

Connie tries to find a way out of her predicament, keeping the real amount of remaining transformative juice a secret from ever-greedy Marge. However, when an impromptu make-out session gets out of hand, she is forced to reveal the truth. Soon, Connie is in over her head, struggling between lust and responsibility while the last supply of the juice dwindles and Marge rises to dubious fame ...

Obscure musical reference:

"(Oh woh) I'm out on the edge for you / (Oh woh) I'm flowing over" —

Jennifer Rush,

Live Wire

Altaerna – a world, where the laws of reality may become mere guidelines at any given time, where magic and machinery are intertwined, where all those things creeping in the shadows of fantasy may step forward onto the mind's stage.

Apart from that, it's not so different from ours. This story unfolds in a time close to our own.

~~~

What happened so far:

Part 1: Shy and slender biology student Cornelia "Connie" Prince finds out she's different: She can see plants and fruits that other people just don't notice. Enticed by the prospect of a lucrative discovery, Marge, her raven-haired, spunky, sorta-kinda BFF, ends up with a mouthful of the strange berries by accident, and the mouthful soon turns into a pair of ample handfuls. Connie tries to get some of that for herself, only to find out that her power to see the fruits means she's immune to their body-changing properties. During her self-experimenting, she involuntarily triggers another growth spurt in Marge and is forced to admit, to herself and to Marge, that she's attracted to excessive breasts.

Part 2: Is Connie's giant(ess) nightmare a harbinger of things to come? The very next day, Marge comes up with an idea to turn Connie's gift into lots of cash, Connie gets cold feet but a nice set of hand warmers, and then a stormy night and a white lie lead Marge down a different path.

~~~

Chapter 7: Descent Into Desire

~~~

A shadow fell on her books and made Connie look up from her table in the campus cafeteria. Marge pulled up a chair and swiveled down. The voluptuous raven pulled at her shirt's hemline and fumbled into her cleavage for a few moments, then she dug something from the dark depths and tossed it on Connie's pile of papers. To Connie, the liquid in the tiny vial sparkled in the ethereal glow of mashed berries.

"Hey, boob witch! Let's go beyond that shy groping of yours. Today, we're going to put that rest of it to use. Half's for you, bottoms up and get your fingers warmed up. The last party was a blast, but there were still a few other girls that matched me. I can't have that happen again tonight, so I need a little more up top and the counterweight to my boot—y!"

"Marge!" hissed Connie while she cast nervous looks around and pushed the glass cylinder away. "Are you

mad?!

You can't just yell around in public like that! And — honestly, any more on your chest, you're in need for custom clothes!"

"Yeah, yeah. Lighten up, bookworm!" Marge leaned in and nabbed the vial, sinking it back into the abyss of her cleavage. She whispered, "How did you know? I've got a whole new outfit hanging in my wardrobe! A dream! Red and black leather, and those little silver studs and the lace-up thingies and all that. Y'know, last week, Bob saw me in my old bodice, and he dragged me off to a tailor the very next day."

"Bob? Who's Bob?"

"Forget about Bob. He's just some rich guy, owns a bar or something. Drove me home last Friday. Hey, listen, I told the seamstress to plan

ahead

, y'know? It'll look good on me only if you walk my sisters down the alphabet some more. So you'll be home when? Six thirty? I'll be there, I'll be all yours again. Until then, start thinking happy booby thoughts, sweetheart."

Marge patted Connie's cheek, and she was gone. Connie stared down on her textbooks, but the letters swam before her eyes. The paper rounded towards her. Marge's boobs. Boobs. Bigger boobs. Swelling. Bulging. She leaned back and clenched her thighs, and her legs squeezed the nervous, swollen folds of her sex.

It's wrong. I need to stop that. Stop thinking about —

— soft flesh, slowly filling out the cups of her fingers. Silken skin, budding nipples, doming areolae, covered in little nubs, sweet thick milk dripping down, leaning in, pouting, wetting her lips with —

—

Just one more time. One last time. After that, after th—

Connie shuddered all over and grabbed the edge of the table as her head started to swim and her hips began to rock involuntarily. Wetness worked its way through her panties. Still trembling, she collected her books and stuffed them hastily into her backpack.

Oh gods and heavens, I should've worn a skirt instead of the jeans! Need to get home before they soak through! I'm a worse slut than her!

~~~

She fled the cafeteria and hurried through the endless corridors of the university. Connie already had the tall doors of the exit in her sight when suddenly a hand grabbed her arm. Her momentum carried her in a semicircle around her captor and made her stumble against the wall. She was dragged around a corner into a darker, empty side passage.

"Easy there, Miss Soakypants!" breathed Marge's voice. Holding Connie's arms in her grip, she shoved her stunned prey backwards. A swinging door bumped against Connie's back. The wide echoes of the corridor changed into the confined, harsh ringing of tiles. Marge quickly turned around and locked the door behind them. Her breath came in fast gasps.

"I can't wait until later! Need it now! I know you're all wet, too! Don't care if it's the last of the berries!

Need it!

So come on!"

She pushed Connie against the wall. The cold of the tiles wormed its way through Connie's light clothes instantly. Marge grabbed the tiny vial, popped the cork and gulped down half of its meager content.

"Marge! We can't — what if —," protested Connie.

"Oh shut up and swallow!"

"Marg—

mmmfff—

"

Marge's warm fingers squeezed into Connie's cheeks. She raised her hand, and moments later, the rest of the taste-free juice oozed from the vial into Connie's forcefully pouted mouth and down her throat.

"—

ulp!

"

A thin rivulet ran from the corner of Connie's lips and disappeared into Marge's mouth when she kissed and licked her way all over her friend's face.

The

white

rushed through Connie's veins. Again, it blinded her for a few seconds, and when she blinked the veil away, Marge had turned around and rubbed her plump, firm buttocks against Connie's hip, pinning her against the wall with the delicious weight of heart-shaped ass perfection under a rough jeans skirt. She spread her legs and gyrated her aroused sex on Connie's thigh.

"Marge!" protested Connie. "

Uuuhhnn!

You're — you're too heavy! Get off me!" Without thinking, she grabbed her friend's rear and pushed hard.

The response was instantaneous. Throbbing and tingling shot through Connie's fingers, and the muscular buttocks

expanded

in her grip. The strong cloth of Marge's tight skirt creaked. Seams widened. Moments later, the zipper gave in, and Marge's pale skin peeked through the V-shaped gap.

"

Oooh,

naughty Connie," moaned the stooped girl. "Do my tits next!" She grabbed Connie's wrists and brought them up to her chest, squeezing her flesh into Connie's reluctant hands. The itching and throbbing set in only seconds later.

"

Yeeeees

, that's the good stuff," moaned Marge. Her hard nipples pressed into the cups of her bra, stretching the cloth and straining into the next layer of her clothes. Flesh bubbled bigger and overflowed the cups that barely held the puffy areola in check. She felt the rough texture of her jeans blouse, struggling to restrain the chest avalanche that filled up the garment.

~~~

"Connie—?" gasped Marge. The hands had disappeared, but her jugs kept on filling up. Air just wouldn't come to her lungs, and she began to feel dizzy as her breathing became shallower and shallower. The expanding amount of pliant breasts quickly consumed all available space in her rugged blouse and slowly crushed her chest.

"Oh gods.

Oh gods!

It's — choking me! Need — to —"

Marge's fingers dug into her shirt's line of buttons. She pulled, and little pieces of plastic rained over the tiles. It brought a little relief, bought a little extra time. There was still one more piece of clothing cutting into her flesh. Her hands flailed and struggled as she tried to reach behind her back.

"Not — enough — hurry, open — the bra!" Reddened massive flesh bulged over the cups, and the straps already dug deep into Marge's back, leaving white ridges in her shoulders and sides. "Gods, Connie,

please!

"

Connie snapped from her empty-eyed stupor, pulled the hem of Marge's torn shirt from the belt and flipped it over her friend's head. The bra's lock strained to keep the straps together and was strung short of its breaking point. She leaned in and pulled. The whiplash cracking echoed through the room, and Connie licked her aching fingertips to the rhythm of Marge's relieved panting and gasping.

~~~

Marge's legs regained their strength. She straightened, lifted her buttocks off her friend and staggered away. "

Phew!

That was close! You got a little eager there, huh?" she gasped, one hand against the wall, the other straightening her gaping shirt.

She looked down. After a short, breathless moment of inspection, she growled: "Oh come

on!

What am I going to do with

these?

"

Connie grew pale and splayed her arms, keeping her hands far from Marge's exploded body. Her friend's new cartoonish breasts bulged out from just below her collarbones, reaching out at least one and a half foot in a breathtaking curve only broken by the plum-sized nipples, and returned to her ribs with a little sag that shadowed Marge's navel. Their slight teardrop-shape gave the impression of taut, water-filled beach balls, and only the counterweight of Marge's impressive ass granted her the ability of standing upright, with a heavy backwards slant to balance the weight.

"Marge, I'm — I'm sorry, I thought you'd say 'when', but — and —

buh.

" Connie twisted away and held up her arms when Marge raised her hand.

Marge patted Connie's cheek, and when she withdrew her hand, she let her fingers trace along the curve of the blond girl's cheekbones and dipped her forefinger's tip between her friend's lips for a second.

"Shhh," she whispered, pouted, and licked the tiny droplet of Connie's saliva from the tip. Slowly gyrating her hips as she circled her own lips with her finger, she continued, "No harm done. Wasn't quite what I expected, but I guess we're tucked away safe enough to have me star in one of your cute inflation fantasies, eh?"

Connie just stared at her. She had expected a hissy fit, or a slap, or — or anything, anything but the shameless flirting show. She'd never have thought Marge would give in so easily to —

The bigger the better. It turns you on. And you won't burst, ever.

Those had been her own words, two weeks ago, in the forest.

Gods, I — her mind's still like I wished it! What have I done?!

"So?" demanded Marge's voice, snapping back to impatience. "Put your hands back to work! If you want to see them

big

, then let's

do

this! Load them up with milk!"

"Marge, we better—"

Connie's mouth simply stopped moving for lack of any coherent thought when her friend turned around again and offered her the breathtaking sight of her narrow waist and the dangling

udders

that bulged out sideways over her hourglass contour.

Breasts. Massive. B—breasts. Need to cuddle up. Spoon. Reach around. Feel them. Soft. In my hands. Need to — hold them. Want them.

She shook her head and took a deep breath. The primal urge in Connie's mind gave way to a moment of rational thought. Connie used it to rationalize.

You've got power over it

. She sighed and shrugged.

Oh well, can always undo it later.

"All right, Marge. Here it comes now..."

With her arms held out wide, steering clear of any part of her friend's body, Connie leaned down further. Her hips pressed against the warm bulge of Marge's ass and lower back. Marge couldn't hold up their combined weight and slipped. Connie reached for a hold, her hands found the comfort of Marge's deliciously clutch-able breasts, and the entangled couple fell flat on the cold tiles. Marge squeaked in sudden nipple-chilling surprise as her resilient balcony was squeezed flat against the floor. Together, Marge and Connie bobbed up and down on the squeaking pillows.

"—

Ouff! Hey!

H—

heeeeeyyyy... Uuooaaahhh!

"

Marge's protest changed into a lascivious moan that mixed with more groaning and squeaking noises. Connie felt herself being lifted higher, higher and higher on an undulating mattress. The taut skin in her grip bulged out farther. She tried to change her hands' position and let them slip down along Marge's sides.

Her fingertips brushed against another pair of rapidly developing balloons. She gulped and rolled off her friend's back, clambering away. There was no way of rationalizing

this

.

"Uh, M—Marge —," she stuttered, gawking wide-eyed at the other girl's chest as Marge also struggled to her hands and knees and the eye-popping amount of orbs dangled freely, round and proud from her ribcage.

~~~

"Four?

Four

breasts?! What were you

thinking

?" bitched Marge as she inspected the second, slightly smaller pair now attached to her ribs right beneath her original breasts. Their size had evened out a bit while their combined volume was still

beyond

. Her fingers pinched the new nipples, and a shudder and twitching shot right through her body and grounded the lightning of her anger into lust.

"

I?

I wasn't thinking of anything! I was just thinking, thinking, — that you'd say

when

! How could I know you'd just keep on going?" stammered Connie.

Marge gasped for air. Her voice had lost the hostile edge. She gnawed on her lower lip and winked at her friend with bedroom eyes.

"

Very

well done." She wetted her lips and smacked. "We can always make the disappear again later, I guess. While they're — while —

mmmmhhh...

come back here. Step behind me. Put your arms around me, and let me kiss your magic hands."

~~~

Marge's lips fluttered all over Connie's hand on her mouth, licking the trembling fingers and sucking them into her mouth time and again. The tip of Marge's tongue wiggled between Connie's fingers and tickled over her palms, then her wrist.

Her palm. And her wrist.

At the same time.

Connie's eyes grew big.

"

Mmmh

," mumbled the horny raven. "I mwike thaff. Fe fmore I puff ouf, fe flonger if getfs."

She turned her head sideways. Connie got a good glimpse of —

— The

tentacle

. Its tip was a tongue like any other. After the first few inches, it changed into a muscular tube and wrapped around Connie's wrist like a constrictor. Connie tried to pull away. The long, wet muscle was stronger. It drew her hand back to Marge's mouth, and the girl kept on licking and nibbling on Connie's hand.

~~~

Marge finally let go. She turned around to face Connie, sat on her haunches, cradled her lower pair of breasts and brought her shoulders forward to squeeze her upper pair with her elbows, too. Offering the four domed areola and the bloated, nervous nipples to Connie, she moaned, "Grab them! Grab them and mash them together and make them grow while I run my tongue dofffn—

mmmh!

"

Connie's hands trembled.

This is — it's just too weird. She looks like a fuck-demon from some eastern temple. Got to make that extra stuff disappear. I should —

She blinked.

No. I'll ask myself 'what if' forever if I don't try that now. This is off the maps anyway.

Connie dug her fingers into the warm yielding orbs. In her touch, the skin struggling around Marge's mammary mass began to flutter and tremble like the distending rubber of a balloon filling up with water. It spread her fingers apart until they couldn't splay any further and the expanding surface slipped by under her fingertips.

"

Aaanngghhh—

," moaned her friend, the vowels streaming from her gaping mouth and pouted lips together with the dripping, elongating tentacle. It crept over her chin and disappeared, twisting and wiggling, into the small tunnel that formed along Marge's breastbone where her breasts' taut volume kept them from mashing against each other. Nodding up and down like an oil pump, Marge worked the firm rod into her cleavage. The tip wrestled free somewhere at her navel's height. She closed her eyes and focused her wish, drawing on Connie's powers. More inches of her tongue spilled forward. The tip found the rim of her skirt and struggled behind the tight cloth. Sweaty, salty curls slipped by, then came folds of skin, until the warmth of the onset of Marge's thighs enveloped her own tongue. She curved the tip and found the right spot, slowly spreading her labia. Her whole body rocked back and forth, thrusting her still swelling breasts into Connie's hands.

Marge pouted her lips and closed them around the root of the agile muscle, moaning through her nose. She knew what kind of tongue movements she wanted when someone went down on her, yet she never had found a way to express that during the fevers of sex. Now she didn't need to explain it to anyone. She simply

did

what she liked best.

Connie let go and backed away when Marge's swelling jugs in her hands passed the prize pumpkin stage. Marge didn't care. Her skin glistened with sweat, and her body, thighs and arms and all, shook for eternal minutes while she ate herself out, rubbing and twisting her tongue over her aroused clit in the ways she always had longed for.

~~~

In the end, Marge stooped slowly until gravity took over and sent her bouncing down on the quadruple pillows of her rack.

"Phew!" She laughed, wobbling on the bed of her own mammoth mammaries, and slurped her tongue back into her mouth. "Now

that

was freaky fun! Right, Connie, you better clean up this mess now. Four of them at that size will just get in the way. Make me presentable again, I don't know how long the

out of service

sign will keep people away."

Connie stared at her non-glowing hands and remained mute.

"Connie—?" An undertone of worry was in Marge's voice now.

~~~

Chapter 8: Running From Empty

~~~

"I — I can't. I'm empty. There wasn't that much in the vial, and, and you became so demanding, I — I just lost it, and I must've used up all the berry power."

Marge tried to get up, but the weight of her breasts held her chained to the floor.

"What do we do

now?

" she squeaked in rising panic as the situation sank in.

"I — I don't know! I —" Connie backed away on shaky knees.