Content Note:
Mind Control; Incest (mother-father-daughter + sister-sister)
When, at the age of eighteen, I still hadn't gone through puberty, despite numerous attempts by various doctors to initiate it with hormones, I signed myself up to participate in a trial for a new, experimental treatment. I was not the only girl to do so. There had been many cases reported in my age group, girls who should have blossomed into young women during the lockdown.
I had no breasts, I didn't menstruate, and I was the shortest in my class. Physical excitation could arouse me, and I could make myself come, but I didn't experience sexual desire in the way others my age did. I concluded that I was probably asexual, or on that spectrum somewhere. The others who signed up for the new treatment were similar in this way, many identifying as aspec in the discord.
It was a frequent topic amongst us: What if going through puberty changes our sexuality? The idea was both exciting and frightening. It was also, in the end, the least of our worries.
The treatment lasted a full year, with pills taken daily, and clinic visits monthly. The effects were subtle to begin with, breast growth beginning four months in, menstruation at six months. My emotional state was a mess throughout, and it was a good thing I had taken a year off rather than rush to university. I stayed at home, grateful for my parents' support throughout. My mum took me to buy my first bra - an A cup only, but I was ecstatic - and later I used her tampons too, which I was less ecstatic about but still thrilled in a way.
I was becoming a real woman.
I wasn't getting any taller, but high heels helped with that. At the café where I worked part-time, I grew ever more aware of people, and aware of their awareness of me. Eight months into the treatment and my breasts were D cups, a definite weight. Not only did I have breasts, but they were full and round and perky too. I loved them, and loved to see people stare at them. And I was crushing on people too, fantasising about them. I masturbated every night in bed, imagining my boss, my co-workers, this customer or that.
At the clinic, after nine months of treatment, I said, "Maybe I should stop now." My breasts were still growing, and my clit was starting to hurt, no doubt from being assaulted by my fingers morning and night. "The pills have done their work," I pleaded.
The doctor scratched his head anxiously. "That wouldn't be clever," he said. "If you stop now, the changes will accelerate. There's some evidence already that these final treatments should have started earlier for optimum results."
"Has something gone wrong?" I asked.
He hesitated before answering. "Two of the volunteers were identical twins, and their close proximity seems to have caused some odd side-effects." He refused to elaborate further, but I couldn't stop wondering what the side-effects were.
Ten months in and my clit had grown until it stuck out like a miniature cock. It was weird and ugly and I hated it. Also, my orgasms had become intense and very wet. If I wanted to masturbate in bed, I needed to lay a towel first.
The doctor examined my clit as I blushed bright red. "Hmm," he said. "This seems to be a common side-effect. But I wouldn't worry. Many women have a large clitoris." He confirmed that my breasts had grown no more. I loved my huge breasts, but they did strain my back. I was seriously thinking about getting a corset for support. My monthly cycle had settled into a predictable rhythm too, so all in all we were both pleased with the trial.
I was less pleased a month later. "It's definitely not a clit," I growled irritably, showing him my cock. "I pee out of it. It gets erect when I'm aroused."
He blushed. "I'm sorry. Yes. You're not the only one. I really can't explain it - but I promise you, we're studying it. Do you, ah, think you could make it erect? So that I can measure it?"
It was easily done. I just had to imagine the doctor on his knees sucking my cock and it was soon hard and throbbing. "Length: six inches," he said. "Girth: five and a half."
My final appointment was cancelled at short notice. We had a video call instead. "Sorry we can't meet in person," he said. "I wonder if you could give me your final measurements?"
My cock had not grown for the final week of the trial period, but by that point it had reached twelve in length and nine in girth. It made wearing sexy knickers impossible. "Would you like to see it?" I asked, a little spitefully. I had gone through all this - this trial - to become a woman, not a freak of nature.
He blushed. "No. When was the last time you achieved orgasm?"
"This morning."
"Oh, right. Good. Did you, ah, -"
"If you're asking whether I produce cum, then yes."
"I see. How much?"
I had anticipated this. I held up a glass tumbler that was half full of creamy cum.
"Gosh," he said.
"Yes."
"One last question. Have you noticed any unusual odour from your genital region?"
It was my turn to blush. Indeed, I had noticed the smell of my pussy when aroused becoming particularly... pungent, perhaps. As if I had caught an STD or something, not that I had had sex with anyone else. I had taken to showering four times a day to hide it. "Another delightful side-effect?"
"We're still studying it, but it does seem to act as a powerful aphrodisiac."
The rest was standard end-of-trial doctor-patient stuff, arrangements for follow-up appointments and so on, but my thoughts kept spiralling about the revelation that the embarrassing stink of my pussy might actually be a good thing. Because apart from anything else, I had been deliberately keeping myself to myself until the trial was done and I could be sure that my changing body wouldn't wreck any burgeoning relationships. More recently, the addition of a cock had put a damper on plans too.
I had stopped changing now. I would just have to accept that I was a woman with a huge cock. My future partners would have to accept it too.
But that smell... For the past two weeks, my parents had both been acting weird around me. Smiling. Touching me. Mum had even taken to wearing sexy clothes about the house and showing off her legs in a way that I had found really quite seductive, and I had been trying really hard not to think inappropriate thoughts.
She was in the kitchen. I joined her there, wearing nothing but a bra and boxer shorts. Her eyes went immediately to the bulge. "How was the appointment, dear?" she asked.
My cock responded to her interest and strained against the material. "Let me help with the dishes," I said, and as Mum continued washing up, I dried and put away. The were plenty of opportunities for my erect cock to brush against her, and not once did she pull away or complain. Instead she sighed, and increasingly pressed against me, her cheeks flushed red.
"Please," she whispered.
"Please what, Mum?" I whispered back.
"I need to see it."
"I'm not stopping you."
With a whimper she sank to her knees and tugged my boxers down, exposing my rigid cock. Precum leaked from the tip, and Mum licked it up as her hands fastened about the shaft and stroked me with loving fascination.
All the times I had done this to myself, and never had it felt like this. "Does my pussy smell bad?" I asked her.
"It smells amazing," she said. "Every time I go into your room these days, it hits me. Just being in this house with you makes my pussy wet, and your Dad has been fucking me twice a day."
She turned her attention to my cock, sucking hungrily as her hands worked me. My first ever blowjob, and it was my mum. It was so wrong, but that only made it more erotic. I thought about those twins on the trial and wondered whether they had been fucking each other with wild drug-induced lust. Did they too have huge cocks now?
"Put your fingers in my cunt, Mum," I said, and moaned with delight when she eased in one, then two. I knew I had to be very wet. She added a third, then a fourth, my breathing deepening in response, and then her whole hand was slipping into me. "Fuck that's good," I said, feeling wonderfully filled, almost painfully stretched, her other hand stroking my cock, her lips circling tight about the throbbing shaft.
