Erect Desire

by Mich

Harry Walkins was a homeschooled farm boy who had just transferred into our senior class, halfway through fall semester. He was tall, handsome, had great arms, and, above all, the most innocent eighteen-year-old I had ever met.

I knew that I would have to change it.

You see, I love nothing better than taking wholesome, sweet boys and turning them into sex-crazed assholes. Or, at least, I hope that I love doing it, because I'm the best at it there ever was. And the second I laid eyes on Harry Walkins (you'd think people would call him Hank, what with the whole farm boy thing he had going, but no one did) and gave him my sexiest, most roguish wink, I knew I had him. Maybe it was the shade of red he turned, but I knew that he had absolutely no idea what was in store for him.

As they say, "little did I know..."

I went to a public high school of some two-thousand students, and, out of my five-hundred-member class, I had dated or one-night-stranded at least 75 boys since middle school. That's pretty much one-third of them. And, of those 75, probably 70 of them wishes that I was still doing them. What can I say? I was a hot, horny cock tease, and, with my pure Korean mom, could play off of every single one of their hot Asian fetishes. I was 5'6" in 2-inch heels, had a tight ass that I was always ready to show off, nice firm B-cup tits, a flat stomach, killer eyes, and shiny black hair I wore differently every week. I was 110 soaking wet, and the envy of every girl in school. Well, every girl in school that wouldn't mind having the word "slut" stamped across their forehead. But I didn't care, because I reveled in it. I loved it.

I loved making all those boys drool over me, ESPECIALLY the ones that had no clue about sex.

So after class I made sure to stop by blond-haired pretty-boy Harry's locker. "Hi," I introduced myself, "I'm Rose."

He staggered. His blue eyes opened wide like a squirrel caught in front of a semi. Oh, yes, he was all mine. "Um, I'm, er, Harry," he said.

One of his hands twitched forward, like he wanted to shake my hand, then went back to holding his binder, then out again, then back. "He has no clue," I thought. Better than I had expected. "Yeah, I saw you in class," I said, flicking some hair out of my eyes. "Anyway, a bunch of people are coming over to my loft for pizza tonight, do you want to come?" I opened my eyes almost as wide as his, going for the "pretty please I would absolutely die if you didn't show up" look.

His own eyes darted down from mine, right into the bit of cleavage I had exposed through my blouse. That new pushup was doing wonders. A big gulp went down his throat before he responded. "Um, I would have to check with my parents, but, er, I guess."

"Great!" I said, grabbing onto his arm and leading him down the hall. His body went ramrod stiff. I pressed my chest against him, feeling his arm muscles flex in nervousness between my tits. "It'll be a great way for you to meet more people, anyway."

All of this was a complete lie, one I had used on a bunch of new kids before. I could throw a party, because I DO have my own loft (my parents threw me out when I turned 18, saying I needed to clean up my act, can you believe it? Of course, they pay for the apartment, so I have no idea what they were trying to teach me), but the only people that would show up would be the numerous boys who desperately want a second go at me, and the few girls, like Laura, a tiny freshman, who completely admire me. Besides, this strategy cut to the chase.

I gave Harry my address and another great flash of my tits before going to my next class. A couple of the stuck-up bitches that pervaded my school saw me walking away and rolled their eyes, but I know a few of them turned to watch my tight ass through my capris. Jealous, lesbian bitches. They're everywhere.

"If I didn't leave him with a raging hard on," I thought to myself, "my name's not Rosemary Osborn." If I had only known.

***

That night I had everything ready: the lights turned low, my makeup just right, my no-smear lipstick on. I was just adjusting my hair when the knock came at the door.

"Just a second!" I called, pulling my sling back heels on, then mincing my way to the door. I had chosen not to change my outfit too drastically, to keep up the paper-thin facade of the party, but a pair of heels never hurt anyone. I peeked through the spy hole at my prey. He was still wearing that nervous look along with his tight t-shirt and jeans. God, he was pretty muscular for a seventeen-year-old. I opened the door.

"Hi, Harry!" I said. "Come in!"

He stepped over the threshold, peering into the depths of my apartment. "Doesn't, er, look like many other people are here," he stammered.

"Nope," I said, trying to sound both saddened and sexy at the same time. I think I nailed it. "Just you and me."

"There's no pizza, either," he said, looking confused.

I reached up (he must have been just over six feet) and ran my fingers lightly along his neck as I walked around him. "Oh, I think we'll find other ways to entertain ourselves." Then I pushed him backwards onto the couch, straddled his torso, and shoved my lips onto his. He offered no resistance.

After a minute or so of kissing, I pulled back, grinning. A look of astonishment was on his face. "What was that?" was all he said.

"My tongue?" I said, sweetly.

"Do people DO that?" he asked. Oh, boy, he was a good catch.

"Yes, Harry, they do. Now let's do it again." And I stuck my tongue back down his throat. This time he attempted to reciprocate.

When at last he pulled back he had another question. "Why are... why are you doing this?" he asked. He didn't seem angry so much as astounded. I shrugged.

"I like you. You obviously like me. This is what people DO, Harry."

"Wow," was all he said. Then his eyes opened even wider. "Uh, uh, I think something's wrong with me!"

"What is it?" I asked, genuinely taken aback.

All he did was gesture at his groin, stammering, and his face flushing red. Curious myself, I started to unbutton his pants. He turned even redder and held his hands and arms up, but still did nothing to stop me. With a flourish, I unzipped his jeans, undid his belt, and yanked his pants down. Tighty-whiteys? Wow. What an innocent boy. And with a nice little boner tenting them. But what was causing Harry his distress? Ready for anything, I reached for the elastic edge of his underwear and pulled down, revealing--

An average penis, pulsing red with sexual energy, staring at the ceiling. I was confused. I looked at Harry... and saw him gaping at it.

"What is wrong with me?"

Now THAT was something I wasn't expecting to hear. Had he really never had an erection before? He was seventeen! He was a senior in high school! How sheltered was this kid?

Slowly I asked him. "Um, this has never happened before, then?"

He shook his head no, and I let out a low whistle.

"Boy," I said, "you are some find, Harry Walkins."

"Is it bad?" he asked in a small voice. He sounded exactly like a twelve-year-old with a bad scrape, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"No, it isn't bad. In fact, it's good." Then, almost in a purr, "veeeeerrrrry good."

I knelt down in front of him and started to lean toward his erect penis. I blew on it a bit to make it twitch, then looked up at Harry. "Now, I don't fuck on the first date," I lied, "but tell me if you enjoy this at all." Then I did what I have done hundreds of times for dozens of different boyfriends: I put my lips around his dick and proceeded to give him a blowjob.

His penis was quite ordinary at that time, just like every penis I'd sucked off. Smooth, sweaty, pulsing with thick, soft veins. At one point I backed off to breathe and saw that his back was arched and he was moaning a little in pleasure. "Damn," I thought, "if a blowjob does this to him, imagine what sex does!" Then I dove back in.

I brought a hand up and started fondling his balls, something I've found that lots of guys like, and those, at least, felt a little different: slightly swollen than most testicles I've handled. Then again, the kid had gone all the way through puberty, was almost graduating, and had never jacked off! He must have been full to the brim with sperm.
Then why, I wondered, had he never had a boner? He should be ready to go at any moment!

What a weird kid.

Suddenly Harry was thrusting into my mouth, jizz shooting onto my tongue and down my throat. I had always been a swallower (just one of my many services), and I swallowed all of the salty-bitter sperm down. Then, licking my lips, I looked up at Harry. "Good?" I asked.

"Yeah," he panted.

"Want to do it again?"

"M-maybe later..." He collapsed against the sofa cushion. "That really tired me out."

I wasn't tired. I was horny as hell and super turned-on, now, especially with the discovery that my new toy had, apparently, never had so much as a single woody. My rock-hard nipples felt like they were cutting through my bra, and I dragged them across Harry's chest. "Mmmmm," I moaned, "I'm so wet right now."

He looked alarmed. "Why? Did some of that... that hot pee get on you?"

"Hot pee?" I asked, thrown off again. "Oh, no that's not pee! That's jizz! Sperm! Come! Semen!" He looked blank. "That's how you fucking make babies, Harry," I said. Realization dawned, then alarm came back.

"You aren't going to be pregnant now, are you?"

I laughed at the ludicrous look on his face. "No, you idiot! I have to put your dick in my pussy to do that! Besides, I'm on the Pill, so I can't get pregnant!"

He looked a little more confused, so I corrected myself. "My pussy is my vagina."

The conversation continued like this into the night. Every time I would start to get a little more horny I would say something that confused him and have to explain myself. It was a night of exposition. Finally, when it was almost 11:00, I sent him home. "But we're having a real date tomorrow!" I called after him. "Come pick me up at five!"

Shaking my head at the craziness of it all, I changed into my pajamas: a t-shirt and yoga pants. It was a bit of a relief, actually: my stiff nipples had been rubbing against my bra all night and it was really starting to hurt.
Crawling into bed, I pulled my favorite vibrator out from a drawer in my nightstand and masturbated myself to sleep.

***

The next day was Saturday, and boy, was I ready to see Harry ASAP. I had dreamed about him all night, I thought about him as I was eating breakfast, I wanted to sing about him in the shower. Such a perfect, innocent boy: THE perfect innocence. I could show him everything. Next step: tits.

Speaking of tits, my bra felt a little tight that morning. It was to be expected, I suppose: I was raging horny again that morning, and they can get a little swollen from that. But I was, to be honest, OFTEN horny, and my boobs still bulged a little at the tops of my cups.

"Ha-ha," I said, "maybe they're growing. Certainly can't make me LESS sexy." Then, remembering that I was going to go work out, I tossed my normal bra aside and threw on my athletic one before jogging to the gym.

It was four-thirty that afternoon when I heard the knock at the door. Once again I was just getting ready, this time with a proper, sleeveless black blouse and a red skirt. "He's early," I thought, grinning. Already he was getting trained, possibly even addicted to me.

There Harry was, waiting at the door, wearing black slacks and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. In his hands was a bundle of roses. "You're early," I echoed myself. I pulled him inside. "And for that, you get a treat."

I had his pants around his ankles in moments and was massaging life into his penis. Ignoring his gentle requests to stop, I plunged my mouth around his stiff member. God, he felt bigger that evening. He must have been really turned on, just like I was. In a couple minutes I had him once more shooting his load, and boy, it even felt like more than the day before. Maybe all those years were catching up to him.

"Now," I said, after pulling his whitey-tighties and slacks back up and doing his belt once more. "Shall we?" I offered him my elbow and, thank God, he knew to take it. He led me to his car and we drove to the restaurant I directed him to.

Over dinner I found out why he had just transferred. "On the farm," he explained, "I was homeschooled, and I guess I got a pretty good education. Well, except for, you know." He blushed. "But anyway, now the city is rezoning our land to residential, so my parents sold the farm and moved to the suburbs, into your school district."

"Huh," I said, not really paying attention as he launched into a speech about onions and corn. I was too busy adjusting my bra straps. They were really starting to dig into my shoulders, and I could not figure it out. This was way more than I had ever gotten swollen, even during my period, and I had just had that the week prior.

I quietly excused myself to the bathroom, leaving my chicken parmesan half-eaten. I felt Harry's eyes on me leaving (and hopefully staring at my ass; that skirt cost a bundle), but I had to look at them. Maybe I could adjust it in some way...

The mirror in the one-person bathroom proved differently. I was definitely overflowing my cups. I unsnapped the catch and gaped. I must have been a C-cup, from the looks of it, nice handfuls. I tested this theory, grabbing both of them and squeezing. Shit, that's a huge difference. What caused that? That morning I had been a little over a B. Now a little under a C. What causes breasts to grow almost a whole cup size in a day?

A crazy thought occurred.

Could it be unadulterated semen?

It was stupid and ridiculous, but so were my boobs. I gave them a light stroke before shoving them back into my tiny-seeming brassiere. Further experimentation would be required.

Once back at the table I shoveled down the rest of my food and had Harry pay as quickly as possible. We went back to my apartment where I rushed us over to the couch and shoved my tongue down Harry's throat. We made out for a good half-hour, but that wasn't my goal: I wanted his dick.

I felt his erection pushing into my thighs long before I reached down to grab it. THAT caught his attention. I winked at him, then unzipped his fly and navigated the maze of folds in his white underpants. My prize was a fat, sticky penis, standing ready for me. I slipped down and put it in my mouth, tasting it, teasing it with my tongue. I felt around the thick ridge that was his head, licked the slit of his urethra, and then started bobbing, feeling the full texture of his penis. He was ready to go, and came in moments. I made sure to suck it all down.

The rest of the night was boring. We watched a movie (one he had never seen, of course, but he hadn't seen any of mine) and I sent him on his way. I was too busy with my own thoughts. Before bed I remembered how my bra had felt weird the night before and checked my size in the mirror. Nope, looked about the same... but then, I didn't have an exact way to measure. I wasn't much for sewing, so I didn't just have measuring tape lying around. I made do by grabbing my tits in both hands, like I had in the restroom. Nope, they felt about the same... maybe a little bigger, but I could have been lying to myself.

Somewhat disheartened, I changed into my jammies and fell asleep.

***

I woke up when I rolled to the side and felt something roll off of my chest. "What the--" I thought, before jumping out of bed. My boobs! My mirror told me everything I needed to know. The t-shirt I slept in, normally used to housing my (now meager seeming) B-cups was pulled tight, squashing my much larger assets against my chest. I yanked the t-shirt over my head, feeling my chest bounce in a way I wasn't used to at all, and looked in the mirror again.
My breasts were spectacular, full and round, with perfect nipples still pointing up and slightly out. I grabbed them in my hands, and they were definitely too big to fit. With my 33 chest, that probably made them full D-cups. Maybe even DDs.

"Holy shit," I said. "Maybe it is that idiot, after all."

There was a big t-shirt that I used to sleep in hanging in my closet, so I slipped into that, grateful something wasn't fitted, and then slipped into some jeans. Well, I tried to slip into them, but they proved a little difficult getting over my hips. Hmm, maybe Harry was doing more than improving my rack. I decided it was a small price to pay and yanked the denim up a little higher before buttoning it closed.

I spent the rest of the morning going about my daily routine, only bra-less. It was great. I could have shoved my boobs into my athletic bra, but even that might have been too tight, and, besides, this was way too fun. I had huge, natural tits, now! No man would be able to resist me, unless they were one of those freaks who liked tiny tits.
Yeah, I had had one guy turn me down because my B-sized rack was "too big," but he was probably a pedo, anyway.

Sometime after lunch, just before I was going to leave to get some new clothes (and get myself measured for a few new bras) the door knocked, and I instantly remembered the reason for the new me. "Harry," I said, knowing it was him before I opened the door.

"You could have called--" I started, but he cut me off.

"I have to ask you something, Rose," he panted, out of breath. I gave him the once-over, and saw the bulge in his jeans. I thought I knew what it was he wanted, and smiled.

"Maybe in a bit, hon. I was about to--"

"No, not that," he said, shaking his head. "Something else." He shoved his way inside and reached for his belt. "I need to ask you if this is normal." And then he pulled down his pants.

What I saw was not what I expected. Instead of a nice stiff erection pulling his white underwear away from his stomach, I saw the opposite: a flaccid, limp penis, filling up his underwear. I could see the clear curve of his dick tracing the constraints, bending back in on itself to stay tucked away. I couldn't help myself. I yanked those whitey-tighties down before he could stop me, and his hefty penis dropped with it. It hung a good six or seven inches down from his groin, as thick as it was two night before, erect. Had it been bigger, last night? I tried to recall, but I had been so focused on my tits that I hadn't even thought to remember. Absurdly, I tried to think of how wide I had opened my mouth to give him a blowjob, but it was futile.

"Well?" he asked. "It isn't, is it?"

"How long has it been like this?" I asked

"Well, I noticed it was bigger yesterday morning, but I didn't say anything because I figured it was, well, normal. I mean, the night before my penis had grown, and I was thinking of you a lot yesterday and it kept getting hard again, so, well, I figured..." He trailed off. However, as he was talking, his dick had started to puff up again, steadily, with his heartbeat. As it lifted, I saw that his balls, too, had been contributing to his stuffed underwear. They were hanging a good inch lower than normal, probably twice the size they were when I met Harry.

By the time Harry's erection was complete, I couldn't believe how big it was. It couldn't have been a foot long, but it was getting there. Maybe nine inches, maybe ten. It was ridiculous.

I looked up at Harry for his reaction and saw his face was red and slick with sweat. "It feels so good that it almost hurts," he said. "I just want to..." his voice became a whisper, but I saw what he wanted: his hands clasped onto his boner and started to slowly pump it.

Well, now I had done it. I had wanted to turn the kid into a sex fiend, and it looked like I did. Chemically. Almost mysteriously.

"Let me get that," I said, brushing his hands away as I knelt down. Sure, it would make my tits even bigger, but I had to help the kid: he looked so helpless. Besides, I had a feeling this would be my last time for a while. Other plans were slowly formulating in my head.

This time I noticed how far I had to open my jaw, how wide I had to stretch my lips. The head of his cock was huge, filling my mouth, and I stuffed it in, feeling myself grow a little wet as I did, my nipples crinkle rock hard. Who knew that I was a size freak?

As I found a slow beat to my sucking, I brought my hands up to play with my new boobs. Just the rubbing of my nipples on my t-shirt had been extremely sensual, but now that my fingers and hands were in play I nearly came without even really touching myself. I've heard that some women lose feeling in their breasts as they get larger, but mine never did. Apparently whatever made them grow also replicated the nerve endings.

In other words, I was super sensitive.

"Oh, God," I said around Harry's dick, and I felt he agreed with me. He was swaying and thrusting along with me, his swollen balls slapping against the shaft of his member and his thighs. "Who needs sex when you have this?" As I felt Harry was about to come I slipped my hands around his dick and started pumping along with my mouth; there was more than enough room. Then he came, and it felt like buckets. I dutifully swallowed all of it.

Only after I had stood up, wiping my mouth, did Harry look at me. "Holy be-Jesus," he said, "your, um, your chest is huge!"

I sighed. "Yep. And, in a couple hours, they'll be even bigger. Look, Harry," I said, as I pulled his pants back up, stuffing his package into his too-small underwear. "Something is going on here, Harry. And it looks like, soon, it will be impossible for you to have sex with anything smaller than a horse. So we need to rectify that."

"How?" he asked, and I smiled. So innocent.

"Well," I said, "first we watch a movie, and get something to eat, and I show you."

***

We were about halfway through the movie when I felt my chest start to grow tighter. Well, not my chest, exactly, but the over-sized t-shirt I was wearing started getting not-so-oversized. My heart rate and breath started to speed up, and, with each rise of my chest, it seemed that a little bit of it stayed out. Bigger... and bigger... My nipples were in on it, too, sticking out through the shirt like tiny fingers. They were scaling up along with my cup size.

When it started getting too tight for comfort, I pulled my shirt over my head, getting a look from Harry, who then gasped in his small voice. The babies that popped out from under my hem were rapidly approaching the size at which they would be compared with my head. Definitely no longer just mounds on my ribcage, they were ballooning into spherical shapes, with my hard, conical nipples at the ends. I caressed and stroked them while moaning in relief and sexual excitement. Yes, this was an appropriate size for a girl like me, for a sex queen like me. Huge ones. What size were they? F? G? Now that the growth had stopped it was easier to wonder.

An uncomfortable whine came from Harry, who was pawing at his zipper. I watch in amazement and a little bit of alarm as the crotch of his jeans became tighter and stuck out more. He got it unzipped just in time for the head of his penis to overflow his fly and pop out a bit, before coming to a rest. Harry sighed and fell back against the couch.

I couldn't have that. I wanted that fucker in me, before it was too late.

I jumped on Harry, ripping clothes off of both of us. In seconds I was hovering over him, his foot-long giant quivering before my welcoming vag. Two testicles, the size of overripe plums, were drawn up under it.

"This," I announced, "is how you have sex." Then I lowered myself onto him.

Luckily for me, I've been around the block. Several times. I'm not ashamed to say I'm a pretty loose girl down below. So imagine my surprise when Harry's dick was almost painful to shove in. One inch... than two...Each felt like an eternity. He wasn't only gaining in length, now it was obvious. And the worst part is that each time it hurt, I just got a little more turned on. I really was a size freak.

When I felt like I had really taken all that I could, I looked down and saw there was even more dick not even in me. I hungered for those five inches. I wanted them. But I couldn't. So I just started thrusting. Out, then back in, with each hip movement my huge titties swinging against my chest and against Harry's.

I was in ecstasy.

"Ohhhh, shit," Harry said, his eyes closed and his head back against the couch. His member twitched inside me, then I felt him spraying me with semen.

"What's that going to do to me?" I wondered, half in fear, half in excitement. "Whatever it is," I thought, "no more. My boobs can't take it."

The job done, I pulled myself away from Harry, extracting his limp organ from mine. I was surprised that no jizz dripped out from my lips, but it seemed to have been almost magically sucked away.

Harry, meanwhile, had collapsed onto the couch, snoring heavily. I almost tenderly pulled his clothes back onto him. I realized immediately that our little sexual encounter would probably make him grow again, too, but I left the underwear on, ignoring the jeans. It might hurt him, but damn it would be great to see him rip the seams on it. I put my clothes on, too (encountering more resistance in the pants area, but still managing to get them up), plopped into a chair, and waited for both of our changes to happen. It would be a few hours, but I could wait.

Instead, I fell asleep.

***

"Rose!?" the call woke me up. My eyes popped open, and a wonderful sight met them. Harry was standing in the middle of the room, his hands fluttering at his sides. His underwear looked like it was slowly filling with water. Out and out it swelled, down and down his thighs. I could clearly see the outline of his cock, coiling into itself like a snake, his balls also making themselves clear down below. He was getting way bigger, this time. Was it sex? Did sex make him grow that much huger?

I heard a seam pop, then snap, then his balls plopped down through a hole between the elastic and the cloth. Both were the size of oblong grapefruits, the skin on them still as saggy as they normally were. His dick was unfurling behind them, hanging like a thick tube sock down his thighs. The swelling stopped there, and it was a good thing, too: maybe that joke about fucking livestock wouldn't have been accurate in a moment.

Just as Harry was starting to feel himself up in wonder I felt myself start to tingle. "Oh, boy," I thought, "here it comes." And come it did. The t-shirt that was huge before was quickly reaching its limit, my breasts swelling far too big to be constrained by such a tiny garment. My nipples were no longer points indenting the shirt, now they could be seen for the tiny cylinders they are. The sensation of the t-shirt rubbing against them was too much to bear, and I brought my hands up, grabbing my tits and mashing them together. The force was too much, and a seam near my armpit popped. I didn't care. I wanted to see them boobies. I grabbed the front of the shirt and pulled like a bad Superman impression. The shirt flew off, revealing my huge natural hooters.

I grabbed one and hefted it up, twisting it so I could see a nipple. As I watched it grew thicker and longer, the coolness of my breath also making it grow erect. I couldn't help but pop it into my mouth, now feeling the changes with my tongue. This new sensation was too much, and I really did orgasm without touching myself that time.

When I opened my eyes, Harry was staring at me and my new rack. My tits hung down almost to my belly button, far bigger than my head. Before long I knew that they would be sitting in my lap. But I didn't plan on letting that happen.

"Harry," I said, "we need to get new clothes."

Getting re-dressed for a quick trip to the mall was more difficult than before. My jeans, as I found out when I got up, were now uncomfortably tight in the hip and butt, so I peeled them off as soon as I was back in my room and got a good look at my ass. I wasn't a 33-24-32 anymore, that was for sure. More like 33-24-38, maybe even 40. I would find out at the mall, I supposed. The thong I was wearing was still stretchy enough to not cut into my skin, so I kept that on, but traded my jeans for the yoga pants I slept in. They showed off every curve of my (I had to admit, extremely sexy) butt, but they also stretched enough not to be uncomfortable.

As I looked in the mirror at my ass I noticed something else. My back muscles were all very cut and super defined. Is that why my tits weren't hurting me at all? Because my back was getting really muscular? How cool. Harry's jizz took care of itself.

And then I faced the real problem: my top. I searched through my drawers and closet, looking for anything that wouldn't pop at the seams. I couldn't believe what I found that probably would fit: an extra-large camisole. It had ended up in my drawers from back in the day that I had friends instead of competition, and I kept a fat friend around to make me always feel better about my weight. She stayed over for a couple days and forgot one of her fat tops. Well, now it was mine.

I pulled it over my head and over my chest, popping my boobs into it. The straps were for someone with way wider shoulders than me, so they dangled a bit uselessly onto my arms, but my tits were just too big to let the thing off. I was wearing an extra-large camisole, and it fit like a tube top. Unbelievable. My tits jiggled everywhere, being braless, but I was decent.

Back in the living room, Harry had managed to get his jeans zipped up, but it was clear that they didn't want to stay that way. The huge bulges in his jeans were a little distracting, to say the least, but we hurried into his truck and drove to the mall.

***

"You say you have no bras at all?" the Victoria's Secret lady asked me, obviously not believing me. What couldn't the bitch believe? It was pretty clear my rack wasn't fake, so why would I lie about not having any bras?

"Look," I said for the fifth or sixth time, "I didn't say I had NO bras, just none of them fit any more. I've been growing too quickly." I pulled one of the shoulder straps back onto my shoulder where it fell limp. She had already measured me to discover I had reached the ungodly size of a KK-cup, revealing I knew as little about huge cup sizes as the next person. But what did you expect?

"Well, to be honest, you'd be really hard-pressed to find a bra of that cup size with a chest measurement like yours," she continued, tapping away at her computer. My face fell, but she spoke up again. "However, you must be really lucky, and I mean besides in the size of your assets. There's a girl with hypertrophy or whatever who is actually bigger than you in cup size, and we still have some of her "older" models in stock, and, apparently, she was the same size as you. 34-KK."

"34?" Huh. Apparently my chest had increased in size by an inch. It was to be expected, what with the extra muscle on my back. In any case, the lady retrieved the bras from the back and I bought all three of them, which cost me a bit over $150. Once I had one on, though, I was so relieved. The pressure that had been building up on my back, extra muscle or not, had been getting almost unbearable. And now they were lifted up, pressing together to create cleavage like never before! I pulled the camisole back on and gaped at my awesome sexiness. Just wait until I had some tops that actually fit!

An hour later I was folding up my cell phone, waiting for Harry at the fountain that sat in the middle of the mall. I had traded the old, huge cami for a nice blouse, the buttons opened nearly to my stomach and still only showing off half of the cleavage possible. The yoga pants I had swapped out for a nice skirt, closely fitted to my 40-inch hip-line. I almost couldn't believe that! Who would have thought that Rose Osborn could have such crazy measurements and still be the sexy sexpot, no, an even SEXIER sexpot than before?

Then Harry walked up.

He was impossible to miss, really. People made a wake around him, looking and staring and giggling. I couldn't blame him. The sweatpants he was wearing, while probably much more comfortable than those tight jeans, did nothing to hide his "little" problem. It was made even worse by the mystery of his underwear: sure, wearing it now made him stick way out in front, but if he wasn't wearing it, everything would be flopping around. Well, flopping more than it already was. Which was the better option?

Oh, poor Harry. The plans I had in store for him...

His face was beet red when he spoke to me through gritted teeth. "Can we get out of here? I kept getting cornered by salesgirls in the store. I think some of them were," and here he lowered his voice even more, "some were trying to get me to have one of those erections."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" I asked sultrily. I took him by the hand and led him toward the exit, making sure to wiggle my hips as much as possible. When I glanced back I was rewarded by a wonderful sight: Harry was even redder than before, and at least as much blood in his face was also going below the belt. It looked like half of a bike tire was slowly being inflated between his legs, getting straighter and straighter with every step.

Harry was right where I wanted him.

The drive home was apparently harder for him than the drive to the mall, probably because he hadn't just been masturbated and milked for all of his hormones. Every bump we went over, every turn taken too quickly made my excess breast flesh jiggle and sway all over the place, and made Harry's eyes fall right into my cleavage. I'm glad we didn't get into a crash, but I'm reasonably certain my rack would have cushioned my impact with the dashboard.

Another car was waiting out front of the loft, and I saw a familiar face inside. It was Laura, one of the freshman who seemed to worship the ground I walked on, a willing protégé. She hadn't lost her v-card, yet, at least, but there wasn't much stopping her from it, other than pure spitefulness at the boys after her. Laura was a gymnast, with a tiny little body that couldn't have been over 5 feet. She tended to keep her dark brown hair short, framing her tanned face. Her gymnast lifestyle left her with a fine musculature, and, honestly, a very hot body, but tiny tits on a flat chest, something I knew she wanted to remedy.

She caught my eye, and I placed a finger on my lips. A single nod came from her, and then gawking as Harry and I got out of the car. I had told Laura on the phone that I could solve her boob problem extremely easily, but I hadn't told her how. Maybe the baseball bat in Harry's pants gave her a clue.

The sun was setting as I got Harry inside, and I quickly whipped us up some leftover spaghetti. We were just chowing down when the doorbell rang. I rolled my eyes; Laura was supposed to wait a half-hour. I couldn't blame her for the impatience, though.

When I opened the door I saw she did listen to at least some of my advice: she was wearing tight, stretchy clothes: black boy shorts and a black tank top, both elastic. I wondered if she had come straight from gymnastics practice.

"Holy. Crap," she said, upon confronting my new tits. "How did you get them? Are they really real? Mine don't have to get that big, do they?"

"Oh, they're real, all right," I said, choosing which question to answer after closing the door. I unbuttoned the remaining catches on my blouse and pulled it open, showing her my huge red lace bra. I knew that, were I any bigger, the bra would probably have to be more utilitarian, maybe made out of canvas or something thick like that. It was crazy, thinking up in that huge scale!

Laura reached out a hand to touch my left one, then drew it back, looking up at me with her big mouse eyes. I grinner, grabbed her hand, and pressed it against my breast. She sucked in a breath, gingerly patted my tit before grabbed a handful. Instantly my nipples hardened, and Laura let out a tiny "oh!" I was poking at her through my bra.

Her eyes glazed over. "How do I do it?" I laughed and took her hand.

"Have you met the new kid? His name is Harry."

I took her into the kitchenette, where Harry was just sucking down the last of his spaghetti. He looked up before remembered how embarrassed he was supposed to be. "Oh, um, hi!" he said, a tiny bit of spaghetti sauce on his lip.
"Sorry I didn't come to greet you, I was really hungry."

Laura wasn't even listening. She could see the crotch of his pants from where she was standing, and she was hooked without even seeing Harry disrobed.

"Holy. Crap," she said again. "You'd think people at school would have said something."

"That's the thing," I said. "He only started getting this huge two days ago."

She stared. "Is he going to get bigger?"

I smiled. "We can only hope."

Harry pushed his chair away from the table and completely turned to see both of us in it. Laura let out a squeal; his balls were, quite clearly, sitting on the chair between his wide-spread legs, pushing against the groin of his sweatpants. His loose dick curled up and away. "Um, what are you girls talking about?" Harry asked nervously. I chose not to answer, and instead pushed Laura forward.

"Blow him," I whispered in her ear. She nodded and reached out with her tiny hands, grabbing the waist of his sweatpants and pulling. As usual, Harry offered no more resistance than a few embarrassed motions. Laura held the length of his penis in her small fingers, making it seem even more monstrous than it would if I held it. I compared the length of it to his leg and figured it for ten inches, maybe even a whole foot. And it was flaccid. As Laura stroked it and molded it, flicking it against her tongue (oh, she was good) it filled up and up with Harry's life blood, growing longer, thicker, firmer. Before long it was too big and heavy to stick straight up anymore, instead bobbing at a diagonal angle from Harry, probably the length of his thigh. 18 inches? 20? He was leaning back in the chair, his head lolling from side to side with pleasure. Occasionally his huge scrotum, dangling from the base of his shaft, would twitch and jump.

And Laura wasn't even sucking him off, yet.

The head of his dick was way too big to fit in my mouth, let alone Laura's petite one, but she did the best she could, licking and sucking and massaging with her hands. She was doing really well until Harry started moaning, something I hadn't heard from him before. Long bellows that would fade into sighs streamed from his mouth, accompanied by sharp intakes of breath. Even that wasn't so bad, until he started thrusting. Spasmodically, back and forth. I was concerned he was going to jump back and land on one of his gigantic balls, but I needn't have worried; they were too big by that point to be moved by such small motions.

I checked on Laura, just to make sure she was taking this all in stride, and was surprised (or maybe not so much) to see that her eyes were closed and she was moaning along with Harry. Her own motions seemed a lot less controlled than they had before, much more passionate. I caught her kissing and tonguing Harry's urethra much more than was necessary, almost making out with the tip of his penis. Then again, he was getting big enough in that area to almost do that with.

Harry's motions became much more rhythmic and quick, and I started to tell Laura to get ready, but she was miles ahead of me. Her lips were clamped down around his slit, her arms were pumping up and down his shaft in unison. She wanted it all.

From the outside I saw the process much easier. His balls suddenly drew up against his groin, revealing the giant muscle in between his legs. It would have to be huge, I realized, to hold his cock up even a little bit. I swore I saw his testicles contract a little bit, and then, crazily, I saw the gigantic tube under his dick swell with semen. It travelled up, past Laura's moving hands, shooting along his shaft, until--

With a choking sound, Laura caught her first mouthful of Harry's spunk, a bit of it spraying over her chin. Then she
swallowed, and fell into a rhythm as what actually did seem like buckets shot into her mouth. She swallowed... and swallowed... and swallowed.

Finally, Harry's balls plopped back onto the chair, and Laura fell back from his dick, gasping. She hit the ground on her elbows and stared off into space.

"Holy. Crap."

I couldn't help but agree. "Come on," I said, "let's get you cleaned up." I dragged her to the bathroom.

Half-an-hour later I had her sitting back in the kitchen, all of the sweat and a bit of the misdirected semen cleaned off of her. She was sipping a cup of tea, and Harry was slumped in his chair, all of his junk shoved back into his sweatpants, looking a bit defeated, but satisfied.

"So how long until I, um, activate?" Laura asked. I shrugged.

"The first night it took all night, but now it seems to be three to four hours."

Harry looked up. "Actually, last time was only 'bout an hour."

"What?" I asked. "No way."

"You were asleep," he said. "You must not have noticed the time."

I looked down to Laura to tell her that there was no way it happened that quickly when I saw something that almost frightened me a little.

Her tank top was getting tighter.

Laura saw my look and her eyes opened wide in happiness. She looked down, too, and gave one of her squeals. "Oh, it's working!" She grabbed at her chest. "Hmm," she said, calculating, "it's not happening very fast."

But I wasn't looking at her tits. I was looking at her arms. Brought to her chest like that, well, it was almost a flex, but she definitely wasn't muscular enough to cause muscles like that with a tiny flex like that. Laura wasn't getting tits like mine. She was getting more muscular.

Well, scratch that. I saw that, yes, her rack was filling up the spaces in between her fingers, but not at the rate it could have been. No, some of Harry's spunk was going into her arms, some into her shoulders, some into her legs.

Laura noticed at some point, because she let go of her chest and stood up in excitement, causing her boobs to bounce for the first time. I wasn't looking there, though. Instead I was looking at her cut abs, at her thighs that were thickening with corded steel, at her biceps that were now chiseled enough to look flexed when they weren't. Her boy shorts were getting tight purely from the muscle around her hips and gluts.

And she kept getting more chiseled and more defined and, above all, bigger. It was crazy seeing these bodybuilder muscles on tiny little Laura, who still wasn't an inch over 5'. She laughed with joy and amazement, lifting up an arm and flexing it, and I almost fainted at the muscles I saw pop out of it. There were muscles in there I didn't even know men had, let alone women!

When Laura stopped, well, growing, she was a finely chiseled, built machine, and I couldn't help but admit that she was one of the sexiest things I had ever seen (outside of myself, of course). Her tank top had ridden up on her big shoulders, showing off the abs of a goddess, not just a six-pack, but a living, pulsing series of muscles that stacked on each other, flowing when she moved, tapering down as they disappeared into her super-tight shorts. Her legs were thick, ripe, and powerful, pure sex, and her calves were probably thicker than her whole legs had been an hour before. Her arms were coiled, bundled steel, with biceps approaching the size of softballs, and her triceps and deltoids, when added into the picture, made them bigger than her head.

Ironically, her chest measurement was probably big enough around, what with her newly enlarged pectoral muscles, to make what would have been D or DD sized tits on her tiny frame now no more than a B or a C-cup. They lay, forgotten, under her tiny-seeming tank top.

"This is amazing, Rose!" Laura shrieked. She grabbed me and hugged me, burying her face into my boobs. Her powerful arms wrapped around me and squeezed, pushing the breath out of me. I let her have her fun.

"Um," Harry said. I looked at him over Laura's head and saw that his erection had returned, with a vengeance. Funny. I had forgotten he would have his own changes in store, and almost absent-mindedly stored away the image of his two-foot cock pointing at the ceiling, of his football-sized semen factories nestled beneath them. Then I was too busy hiding away the hundred dollar bill Laura slipped me, too busy thinking of all of the girls I needed to call.

I let Harry sleep over that night, completely ignoring other factors like parents, or school, or exit strategies. Laura's calls of thanks and happiness as she had gotten into her car were too loud in my ears, her hundred dollar bill too heavy in my pocket.

***

I got calls from two other girls at noon the next day. I was waiting around the apartment, pretty much expecting their calls. News travels fast when a tiny gymnast transforms into a bodybuilding champion overnight. I expected more would be coming in that evening, so I said they could stop by on their lunch break, as long as they brought the requisite $200 per person. They didn't complain.

"Harry, we have company," I called in a sing-song voice when the door knocked. He gave a grunt from the couch, where he wasn't moping, exactly. He was more meditating, his eyes closed, his jaw tight. Who knew what it was like to be so horny with such an easily expendable supply of sex juice? And, hey, if every time I ejaculated I grew bigger, I would be meditating on staying limp, too.

The girls at the door looked about like I expected. One was Jenny, a rail-thin sophomore with long, dull hair, the other was Dorothy, her friend from the same grade, maybe a little on the chunky side, but she had long, lustrous locks and a really cute face. Too bad boys don't go for the chubbos, or she'd probably have an in. I led them into the living room.

"Now girls, I've never done two at once before, and you're both paying full price, so I don't want to short you. You'll either have to split your time, or one of you will have to go first and the other will have to wait while Harry recuperates."

They looked at each other. "So, what?" Jenny said, always more outspoken. "Are we going to turn into muscular freaks like Laura? How do we get what we want?"

I had been thinking about this myself. "I haven't had much to experiment with, but I think it turns you into whatever you subconsciously, truly want to be. I didn't know that I wanted huge knockers, but now look at me! I love it! And Laura thought she just wanted boobs, but now she's completely forgotten about them! So taste and try it out. Maybe splitting it would be the best for you two." Besides, I added silently, with the rate at which Harry is pumping more out, a full dose would probably turn you into two of Laura.

A thought occurred at that moment. If it turned you into what you didn't know you wanted, why didn't I get KK sized jugs from the first taste? That would imply it slowly turned you into what you wanted. But where was the upper limit? What if I didn't actually want KK-cups? What if I wanted even bigger?

I shook the thoughts from my head and smiled at the girls. "So go ahead. Harry's ready for you."

They looked down and saw that I was right. Harry's eyes were open and focused, his teeth gritting, his dick up and at the ready, drawing a line between them two feet long. Veins and arteries pulsed and pumped along its length. The pair of girls looked at each other, took a deep breath, and knelt down in front of Harry.

I grinned. This would be interesting.

They started off slowly, both of them with a hand on his shaft. There was more than enough space to go around, after all. Then Dorothy put her mouth on his head and started that awkward blowjob that Harry was getting really used to. At some point she would get out of breath and Jenny would take over, the two of them swapping spit via Harry's dick as if they did it every day. Then they would switch back. All three slowly started to get more into it, until Harry was moaning and twitching like the day before and both girls were pumping his entire length with all four of their hands. I was pacing behind them, watching with interest to see which girl would be sucking Harry off when he finally went.

Jenny was the winner, with her mouth fully latched on as jizz started filling her up like cream into a Twinkie. She took a few gulps, then yanked her head to the side, off of his dick. A small stream of semen sprayed out of the unguarded penis, right between the girls and onto my exposed tits. I had chosen to wear a tube top/black leggings ensemble I had purchased the day before, feeling it exposed just the right amount of titty: 80%. Well, now my tits were smeared with what amounted to a small stream of jizz from Harry: at least half of a cup.

No more escaped from the girls' mouths that day. Dorothy had caught on and caught Harry's swaying dick in her mouth soon after Jenny had let go and swallowed her share of mouthfuls before Jenny took over again. They swapped on and off until they had milked Harry dry. In the meantime I had grabbed a towel from the kitchen and wet it, bringing it to my chest to find the semen there was mysteriously, worryingly dry and crusty already. I wet it down and wiped it off, then cleaned the dazed girls and boy up. "Well," I thought, "we'll find out what that means, at this rate, in about fifteen minutes."

Sure enough, no more than twenty minutes had gone by when Jenny gave a low "oof" and her hand flew to her stomach. I looked with interest and, just as I predicted, her stomach was puffing out like a balloon. This was new. The button on her jeans was quickly growing tighter, and she unfastened it to allow her stomach to grow more. A look of pure happiness was on her face, and I saw that her straight, dull hair was slowly gaining volume and luster. I was distracted from the rest of her developments, though, when I heard a happy shriek from Dorothy. I looked over to see her holding her chest and grinning wildly.

"It's happening!" she cried. "It's really happening!" I smiled, glad that at least some other girl in the world shared with my (apparently) secret desire. I noted, though, as her chest swelled and blossomed in her hands, that none of the fat seemed to be leaving her cheeks, her chubby belly didn't seem to be receding. Also interesting.

Speaking of stomachs, Jenny's was still growing, and not just out, but around, too. She had wormed her jeans down to her knees, letting her stomach grown rounder and fuller, and also cluing me in on another aspect of her changes: her ass. Almost as if to balance out her growing tummy, Jenny's butt, hips, and thighs were all thickening and fattening. Meanwhile, she was lying flat on her back, her eyes closed, as her hands explored the round firmness of her stomach.
I was pleased to see that not all of her curves were appearing down below, as her rack was blooming into a respectable size, and her hair was now wavy and auburn.

Dorothy's tits, I saw, were almost to my size, yet, for some reason, rounder and firmer, when I felt what I had been dreading. It was that warm tightness in my chest.

I looked down and saw that my enormous tits were starting to muffin over the edge of my top, the tube top now constricting me like a corset. I grabbed the top and yanked downward, freeing my tits to bounce and sway around my navel, my huge nipples tasting the air. I wasn't growing, not any more, at least, but I was definitely bigger than before. All that money on bras, virtually wasted. Oh, I could still wear them, but it wouldn't be as comfortable as before.

And what did this tell me? That you didn't need to swallow Harry's sperm. You just needed to touch it. For magic jizz, it sure was weird.

I looked down at the panting girls and saw that they were done changing, too. I helped Jenny to her feet, noting her odd pear shape. Her belly was wide and deep, reminding me more of a stuffed beanbag chair than a pregnant woman. Then she turned around, showing me her super-tight, floral print underpants with the snapped elastic that were straining across her three-foot-wide hips, and I realized what she reminded me of: that girl in the new Willy Wonka film, just after she started turning into a blueberry for real.

At least she was decent. Dorothy had discarded her tiny t-shirt and bra and were holding her engorged breasts in her hands. And that's what they looked like, engorged: thick blue veins ran across their surface, her nipples bigger and thicker than mine, bigger than my thumbs. She was squeezing and stroking them, and then I got it: a stream of milk was pouring out of her right nipple, streaming down her breast and dripping onto the floor.

What fucked up girls. Then again, I was one to talk. I turned to Harry and saw him looking with casual disinterest, his deflated cock draped over his elongated volleyball testicles, swaying between the couch cushion and the floor. It was thicker than my arm, now, even limp.

The girls paid me their money and headed for their car, babbling on about their new bodies. Then I knew business had really started.

***

That night was crazy. What with bodybuilder Laura running around, telling everyone, and then two more clients with their merchandise on them, I was swamped with calls and reservations and even no-reservation show-ups. It started with one girl, then another pair like Jenny and Dorothy, and then four showed up at once! I kept the secret that you only had to touch Harry's magic juice to get results to myself, and kept the girls going on him two-at-a-time. By the time the fourth pair of girls was done the wait time for changes was almost neglible, and the increase in change amount was going up all the time. I started putting new girls on four-to-a-dick rotation, but, luckily, I only had to do that once before there was only one girl left. I, of course, made sure to stay completely out of the room once Harry's erection started to show; I didn't want a repeat of what had happened to me with Jenny and Dorothy and the Accidental Misfire.

Well, there was that, and there was something else: I wanted to press my lips against his dick. I wanted to taste the slit in his penis myself, again. I wanted to gulp down those gallons of come and feel them fill my belly without ever getting full. I wanted it all.

I couldn't let that happen, though. I didn't want to become a complete freak. Not that some of the girls that left weren't freaks...

Fourteen girls came by that night for a taste of Harry's ejaculate, and more than enough just wanted clean, wholesome boobs. There was the one girl, however, who apparently DID want to look pregnant, and left with a stomach that looked like it would topple her down the steps to her car, or the one girl who hadn't wanted just TWO huge boobs, she wanted FOUR, two more just below the originals, both sets more than enough to fill the hand of any willing boy, or the girl
who had just gotten fat. That was all. It had remained pretty even all over her body: she came in a little bottom heavy, she left with a huge ass, big fat knockers, a sizable tummy, thick arms, and a happy chubby cherub smile. One girl, strangely enough, changed her race a bit: she went from clean cut, all American, blonde cheerleader to a fiery Anglo-Latina with blonde highlights.

All this time I was conducting girls, telling which ones to book it, which ones to move in, and then leaving for the kitchen until I heard the gasps of relief. There had been too many girls to get a look at Harry during all of this, but I still heard his moans and gasps of pleasure, so I figured he was at least alive. When the last girl left, though (happily shaking her juicier ass, so that I could see her tits jiggling from behind), I gasped at the sight of Harry. He was no longer sitting completely on the couch. Instead, his balls were supporting his legs, both of them resting on the floor and rising the two and a half feet to make an even surface. His scrotum was massive, like a gigantic trash bag, still with room to spare. And his dick, well, it cascaded over the side of his balls, fell to the floor, and went another foot or two before ending. It was as thick around as Harry's leg, no, maybe thicker. As I watched, almost disgusted, the very end of it twitched with his heartbeat.

Harry turned his eyes towards me. "Is it over?" he gasped. I shook my head, dumbly.

"I don't know if it ever will be," I said, truthfully.

There was a knock at the door.

"We're closed," I called as I went to the door to lock it, but it burst open anyway, revealing a tiny goddess. Her muscles were shiny with sweat, showing off every curve and crevice. Laura. I realized then how truly sexy she was, almost like a perfect sculpture of fiery femininity. Even her hips, which were now far more generous than they had ever been before yesterday, were almost entirely composed of muscle. A tiny t-shirt covered her breasts, declaring her to be "Drop Dead Sexy". I saw that she was wearing the same shorts from the day before, only now they had triangular tears along the bottom edge. She had clearly flexed her thighs, probably showing off.

Or trying to make them bigger.

"I realized something, Rose," she panted. Had she run to my apartment? From the school? That was twenty miles! "You sucked him off, like, five times to get to where you are, which is probably happier than you've ever been. But what if you had just stopped at the first? You wouldn't even know your true potential!"

I backed up from her intimidating form, shorter than me or not. "I know where you're going with this, Laura, and it's a bad idea. Look, I'm happy where I am, and you got a way huger dose than I ever did!"

"ARE you happy?" she almost accused, her eyes burning up at mine. "ARE YOU?"

And I hesitated.

She pushed me to the floor, knocking the wind out of me and my huge boobs into my face. I was only wearing my bra, making it easier for them to fly around. She rushed to the front of the couch, grabbing Harry's limp cock. As I regained my feet she was massaging it with one hand and pointing at me with the other. I looked down it and saw the canyons of muscle and tendons that led to her shoulder, and realized she was probably bigger than she had been the night before. "I've been working out, Rose," she said, still stroking Harry's dick like a cat. Life was slowly filling it. "I've been lifting weights at the school. I can bench 500 pounds! That's way more than twice my weight, and yesterday I didn't weigh a fifth of that! I can be so much more!" She stopped and thought for a minute. "And so could you," she added. Then she turned toward the couch. "And look at Harry! He's already huge beyond all possibility and means! You need to join him! WE need to join him."

Harry's dick was now hovering in front of Laura, hard as a rock. It was so huge that looking at where it connected to his torso was almost sickening, purely because it was almost as THICK as his torso! And it was so heavy that the muscle in between his legs, whatever it was called, would never be big or muscular enough to hold it up. As it was it seemed to be propped up by his balls.

I had to admit that he looked happier than it was possible to be. He was rolling and moaning and kicking in pleasure, and Laura was merely holding him in her hand.

"It's time to break the barriers," Laura said dramatically, and gave Harry's erection, something that was completely new to him four days prior, a long stroke with both of her hands. Amazingly, impossibly, new strength seemed to fill his cock and it curved slightly upward, as a healthy, ready, penis should.

Laura leaned down, taking the head of his penis in her hands, and kissed the tip, then planted her mouth as best she could around the soaked, dripping opening. I saw Harry's balls seem to swell up, then just begin to contract before I dove at her.

"No!" I shouted, pretty much uselessly. I mean, I knew, even if I knocked it out of her mouth, it would still spray everywhere. All over Laura, all over me, all over Harry.

Did we even know what would happen if Harry got it?

I hit Harry's dick with all of my force, smacking it out of Laura's mouth with a pop, leaving her with a stupid surprised look, just in time to get a spray of jizz right in her face before the dick followed me, spraying against the wall, then the ceiling, then just full on ahead. I was laying in a puddle of the sticky stuff, Laura perpendicular to me, Harry next to both of us. I looked to my right, saw one gigantic testicle, and barely realized it was creeping towards me before I backed away into a corner.

Harry's dick was still going crazy, spraying everywhere. I got more than one faceful, my whole body covered in it, and I saw that Laura was slick with it, too. But we both watched in awe as his cock and balls began growing before our eyes. They swelled up and up, redirecting the spray of his dick as it, too, grew thicker and longer. Longer and thicker than any joke penis I've ever seen. The veins roping around it were like pythons as it reached higher than the second floor railing and further. By this time Harry was done writhing in whatever stage of pleasure (happiness? ecstacy? heaven?) and was just hugging his member, his legs trapped beneath his balls. The thing was thicker than him now, his man bits more like man wagons, the tip of his penis about to touch the peak of my fifteen-foot ceiling...When my stomach lurched.

My bra was hurting me, no, choking me, breast fat overflowing my carefully constructed cups. It probably looked like a fully grown woman trying on her daughter's training bra, and I was quickly outgrowing even that meager comparison. My bra snapped and my boobs fell into my lap, then overflowed even that. I grabbed a handful of flesh and squeezed, feeling shivers run down my heavily muscled back and across my body, my panties soaking. My tights were growing even tighter as I felt my butt plump a bit up. The sides of my boobs were now pressing into my arms, reaching down the sides of my crossed legs.

I had just felt my nipples brush the cold hardwood and stiffen to what must have been three inches when I heard Laura mutter "holy crap" to herself. I looked over to see that she was outstripping me for ridiculous growth. Before her muscles had grown, sure, but had mostly grown extremely refined and cut, like a, well, an exaggeratingly muscled gymnast. Now it was like someone had taken that and played Telephone with it, only hearing the "exaggeratingly muscled" bit. Everything about her was growing wider, thicker, bigger. Her chest had ripped the t-shirt in half, her breasts (or maybe just hugely exaggerated pectorals) sticking way out, her thick erect nipples pointing straight out at the walls. Her abdominal muscles were all swelling into each other, fattening and thickening, her waist widening outward in three directions. All of her gluteal muscles were growing out, bigger, farther, giving her a really great hipline with her curved stomach. Her boy shorts were long gone, giving me a view of her vaginal muscles, plumping between her legs.

And her arms. Oh, boy, her arms. In joy, a huge grin on her face, Laura brought them up and flexed and, I kid you not, her deltoids popped up higher than her head, and continued to grow. Her biceps were out of the question, as big as beach balls and growing. Even her scapulae, the muscles that meet your shoulders to your neck, were so thick it looked like she wouldn't be able to turn her head.

Her triceps were big enough to sculpt almost to her waist, where they met her back muscles.

She grew, I grew. My nipples scraped along the floor, then lifted up again. I urged them onward. I wanted my tits to be bigger, I needed them to be bigger, and so I made them bigger. My legs were smothered, my vision starting to get blocked. I couldn't see Laura's massive legs anymore, though I did see her try to touch her own nipples and the excitement when her muscles got in the way. I figured that she must have been getting taller, finally, or she would be wider than she was tall. My boobs brushed one wall and just kept creeping forward. I heard the boards underneath us creak; small wonder they hadn't snapped open yet. I must have weighed a ton, Laura at least one by now. When she flexed again, her arm muscles bumped the floor of the second story, eight feet from the first floor, at least two feet above her head. My boobs were pressing against her firm lower body and were now pushing up against the shelf of her pectoral muscles. We were running out of room.

"You should stop," a girl's voice said. And we did.

"Who was that?" Laura asked, lowering her arms and trying to look around. Her peripheral vision isn't anything that it used to be, as her deltoids permanently block off 60% of her horizontal field of vision, her pecs another 30% of the vertical. She can't see anything shorter than four feet if it's right in front of her.I looked to my right, past my right boob, squashing it down as hard as I could, and I saw a blonde girl sitting on the couch. She was completely naked, but she had the prettiest blue eyes I had ever seen, plus a fairly nice pair of tits. In fact, she would have been downright beautiful if her tits had been anywhere near the size of mine.

"It was me," she said, "Harry." She looked down at herself. "Er, Harriet?"

Then it clicked. Harry's semen made girls more feminine in the way they thought of femininity. Harry wasn't a female, or, at least, he hadn't been. I laughed. It was a good thing it only affected people outside of Harry's cock, or he would have turned into a girl when he hit puberty.

"Holy. Crap." Laura hit the nail on the head that time.

I later recalled that Harry's dick had been growing at catastrophic rates just before my own growth had kicked in, then I had promptly forgotten about it. Well, apparently it had stopped growing, and started shrinking. It shrank right into Harry's body, along with his balls, most of his body hair, and any trace of masculinity. Thank God for that, or he might have brought the building down when combined with Laura and I.

The girls at school were pretty disappointed when they found out that Harry was now Harriet, as the ones that hadn't gotten their dreams answered had heard from the ones that had long before they heard about what had happened to Laura, Harry and I. Even after I had gotten some grants from scientific studies and disability scholarships, girls would still show up at my loft, apparently hoping to see Harry dragging around a twenty foot, wish-fulfilling cock.

Oh, I didn't get any kind of breast reduction. I'm happy with my MN size boobs. Apparently they're big enough to go all the way around the alphabet, not once, but thirteen-and-a-half times. My assistants call them the MiNivans, because that's what they're approximately the size of. I get them washed and massaged every day, even my nipples (which are, when I'm not turned on, about like soft paint cans sitting on huge, flat domes of Jell-o molds), and, when I make appearances in public, I wear the most enormous, laciest red bra you have ever seen. No canvas contraptions for me. Sometimes, just for fun, I have enormous spaghetti-strap tops or t-shirts made, but they're a bitch to get into and out of. My 50-in hips and I agree, though, that every day is worth it. You see, my first deduction as to the meaning behind my changes was correct: it was exactly what I had always wanted, whether I knew it or not. Maybe that was why I was slutty to virtually every boy in our school. Maybe I had been secretly looking for the one that would magically make my subconscious mind happy. Probably not, though.

Laura. Laura, Laura, Laura. She's had her own amount of scientific studies. She is, after all, the biggest, most muscular, heaviest person on Earth, capable of lifting the most, throwing the farthest, and even running the longest (although people are encouraged to stay away when she does that). Like me, she doesn't wear many clothes, but, unlike me, it's because of necessity over choice: her musculature fluctuates too much for anything to stand the change for long. It's pretty much up to a literal string bikini that reaches behind her neck (which is, by the way, thicker than her head) stringing two triangles of elastic-laced cloth over her nipples, held in place by another string that has to stretch under her deltoids, and a thong that has to deal with her massive vaginal muscles that obscenely bulge around her pussy lips to protect her modesty. I hear she occasionally wears boy shorts, just to remember the good ol' days, and they last longer than other clothes due to the somewhat calm nature of her backside, but never for more than a few hours. Seeing her on TV, her cleavage ripped with muscle, her arms curled back to reveal muscles the size of exercise balls, all packed into her barely 5'5" frame; it's breathtaking.

As for Harry, or, rather, Harriet, as she's officially known, I don't really know. She was apparently well received back at her house, her parents accepting her as she was, just as they always had. I wonder sometimes if they knew what would happen when their boy had his first erection. Is that why they kept him sheltered? Is that why he got no sexual education? Or was it the other way around: because they kept him in the dark, because of everything else, he had no boner until he was seventeen years old, in the hands of a girl ready to suck all of his life down the drain.

I can't feel too bad, really. Better that it happened to me than to someone else. Harry was screwed from the beginning when he didn't get his first erection at a normal age.

But God, sometimes I wish he was still here, instead of her. Because I could find out if this was really my desire, my dream. Did I want more?

Sometimes, frighteningly, I do.