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Literature
Vector (BE)
This contains Breast Expansion and an intense sexual predicament. Do not read if you are offended by such fun. - She walks on by, and you have no idea of the bubbling potential within, always yearning to be released. Her ability to hide it under the surface, the unending pressure that always threatens to fill her full and then overflow. It's worn well, unassuming and patient. A casual crop top, a tight pair of shorts to emphasise her ass, to draw attention to her lower body as if that was the thrill. Colorful leggings to coax the eye more, down to sturdy-yet-glamorous boots. To pull your eyes away from every slight, shortened breath. The breath that she controls, keeps short and easy. Each one a swift intake and release that is intended to maintain control. To ensure that she remains in place. If she breathes deep, as she sometimes may, then you see it. One deep breath, to offset and make up for all those that were shortened. One long, heavy intake that relieves her and fills her. Fills her more. More than any short, sharp breath, her shirt less loose as she consumes a much-needed yearned-for mass of air. Less loose, still, as her breasts take in a vast percentage of every intake and gradually swell. Throughout the day, ever swelling and bulging. Short breaths adding millimetres, but large breaths creating surges in size. Millimetres become centimetres, centimetres become inches, inches become... Well, hopefully not. She is calm, she is patient. She breathes and focuses, and her size is maintained. On her best days, she starts out at an average cup, a C or a D, depending on her sleep. Sleep seems to default it, to offset it. Something about unconscious process causes deflation and, usually by morning, all excess mass is expelled. But by the end of a conscious day, starting out at her best, she will grow. Her breasts starting out, filling and bubbling. Tingling with the motion of swelling inside a bra that she wears specifically larger than the size she starts out with. Her average start being C or D within a cupsize of G, that bra usually comfortably full by the end of a focused day. Filled to the brim when the stresses and hectic circumstances force it. On a bad day, overflowing and taut. Bubbling out of every gap, soft and increasingly sensitive to the touch. By the end of a bad day, it is all she can do not to gasp and breath heavily, simply based on how her breasts feel in her crop. Squeezed and caressed by the fabric itself, the growth giving motion to her nipples within and they slide precariously closer to the brim of her garment. Filling further and fuller, giving rise to a growing, insatiable need. On those days, she goes home and shuts herself away. She goes to her bedroom, with a futon in the midst and nothing else. A huge, empty room with all the space she might need. And she masturbates, furiously, allowing herself to heave mighty breaths and so grow unchecked, her clothes often still on to increase her sensation as she swells and gulps air, needing it and wanting it, her boobs surging out of her crop tops and bras and bursting them open, tearing them and popping stitches as she writhes and moans beneath them, the room slowly filling and being overtaken by blossoming breastflesh. She works herself furiously, fingers pushing deep within and clawing at the edges of her now-immense breasts. Her nipples too far away, and yet never forgotten as they pulse in the ever-extending distance. Her orgasm nears, but seems hard to achieve without that specific stimulation, her tits more sensitive by half than her sex. Simply due to size, to strain, to tightness and still-growing pressure. A climax approaches and still feels so far away, until the moment her nipples meet the ceiling. She gasps at the touch, and they surge upwards again, they stroke the ceiling and become compressed for a moment, squeezed and tormented by the room itself as she fills it almost entirely. Her orgasm takes hold and she lets it overflow, pulsing and breathing and screaming beneath. Then giving way to a tired and satisfied sleep. Ready, again, for the next new day.
Literature
Needs and Wants (BE/AE)
THIS STORY CONTAINS VARIOUS TYPES OF EXPANSION, MAINLY BREAST EXPANSION AND ASS EXPANSION. If you don't know it, don't show it. To yourself or to anyone. Or at the very least don't view it with an air of negativity towards the subject that you have now been warned about. - NEEDS AND WANTS - I have been afflicted with a condition, since turning twenty. It started one day on a whim, at the college. I found myself wishing that my partner on-project would see me, would want me. And it began. My shirt became tense atop my suddenly-growing breasts, the buttons strained. My partner did not look. My jeans lost their slack and filled out with a bubble of ass-flesh and even some thigh. It caused me to gasp as I felt my clothes shifting, my nipples taut as arousal struck and my butt pulsing more, pushing over the brim of my seat. They did not look, but the tension was palpable. They knew and their breathing reflected that knowledge. The want to look was surging through them, the need to see rising fast. I am a tease. I abandoned them to gape at myself, to marvel at what I'd become. To wonder if I was in danger or... what? A magical being, perhaps. Sudden changes have a way of removing you from the moments and changing what you want. What I saw in the mirror was a slightly rumpled shirt and a vaguely shapely ass, but to no extreme. Normal again. I sought out my partner, having steeled and arranged myself. I did not grow again for at least a few weeks. - The next incident occurred one day at the gym. I was spinning and wheeling, and admiring the view of the room behind me, a mirrored surface before me which spanned the whole wall. And the view was a room, and the room was active. And in the activity of the room I could see tight clothes and bulging flesh, muscles and skin on all types of body. One in particular intrigued me the most, and I found myself lost in the routine of my spin, concentrating on nothing but drinking in the sight of that whole, rounded ass. Watching it rise and fall and sway and gyrate, wishing that mine was one to match. And then it was. My shorts became tighter, the thin material stretched and pulled itself inwards, even as my backside thrust itself out and beyond, the cheeks slowly consuming the garment as they pumped out bigger, bounding rhythmically as I pushed the pedals, grinding myself into the seat as it swelled. I barely noticed until it was almost too late, then the bite of the fabric convinced me to hop down, to sit in a pose and recover my thoughts. To ignore the stares of the few who had noticed but dared not say anything. I still wanted to show off. The view had not changed, and the original ass had not turned to see. They could not see that on which I had sat, and so my thoughts turned to breast mass again. What I wanted, I got. In total concentration I sat there, fully focused, trying not to moan as my sports bra squeezed my bust. As my breasts filled it up and pushed it out, only to then overflow it. Above and below, two hills up and a gravity-pulled swell underneath that inched larger with every breath I took. The bra now a band of increasingly overstretched opacity, holding my boobs in and forcing them to rise up and surge out around it, swallowing it with muffin-flesh. Too public. Too public! I fled again, begrudging my own embarrassment, and my requested audience never even saw me. But I will try again...
Literature
Britt's Maxed Out Tits
Brittney Boulders used to be a record-holding porn star: Largest breasts. Technically, the largest implants, as each boob was 20000 cc. But since nobody came close to her cup size, she proudly took the title of biggest in general. In her most popular video, she gave two men a tit job at the same time and their cocks never touched. With that much saline, she stood out and was famous even if people found her boobs tacky or trashy. Brittney retired from her career and settled down. She never reduced her breasts, she was proud to hold the record and she liked the attention she got from them. She married a former co-star and they had a baby. As time passed, things changed. The baby girl grew up into a beautiful college student. Brittney began to stand out less from the introduction of Maxi Corp. Her shirts and bras were no longer unique to her alone. It never bothered Brittney, she was happy with the money she spent to make herself the way she was. Brittney was sad when she lost her
Featured in Groups
Personal note: Why dA not let me up this on the word, not sta.sh writer >
Anyway my first story about a female programmer and her friend trying out her newest game.
contains: some swearing, Humour and B.E
Enjoy
Anyway my first story about a female programmer and her friend trying out her newest game.
contains: some swearing, Humour and B.E
Enjoy
Mature
© 2016 - 2024 Paitent115
Comments12
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For your very first story, this is a very good one 
I liked how started off the story, because with that it defined the unique personalities for Velvet and Freya. With what happened to Velvet, I was almost secretly hoping that Freya (with her being so tall and picking the Amazon character) she'd grow taller, XD)
But that's just an opinion, lol. Good job. And I'm glad you are starting to want to post stories of yours. Its a good beginning to help allow you write things you want to without being afraid to do so.
I liked how started off the story, because with that it defined the unique personalities for Velvet and Freya. With what happened to Velvet, I was almost secretly hoping that Freya (with her being so tall and picking the Amazon character) she'd grow taller, XD)But that's just an opinion, lol. Good job. And I'm glad you are starting to want to post stories of yours. Its a good beginning to help allow you write things you want to without being afraid to do so.