“Bigger?” Mitch asked, opening up the input screen on the Blueberry.
“Yeah, _bigger_.” Jenna confirmed, smiling as she stood up from the bed and faced her boyfriend, ready for it to work its magic on her.
After a moment’s hesitation, Mitch punched in simply that: Jenna will grow bigger.
Trusting the device to interpret two sets of expectations like this was probably not a good idea, but he was feeling giddy and impulsive. Not to mention impatient. He hit the “enter” key.
Immediately, Jenna let out an eyes-closed moan, her left hand drifting to her crotch as she smiled, showing teeth in a broad smile as her body began to creak and rumble, pleased cussing escaping her lips in hurried, breathy whispers. The lavender sweater she was wearing began to rapidly inflate with tit—from oranges to grapefruits to honeydews in seconds, the bottom of the sweater lifting up to reveal a fattening belly—firm yet doughy, womanly fat overflowing onto the waistband of her jeans, her now revealed belly button deepening as she grew a voluptuous, healthy-looking paunch.
She was growing taller, as well, up to six feet already as she opened her eyes to look down happily at her boyfriend, even as her inflating breasts made it ever more difficult for her to do so. Her lips were inflating, too—feeling beestung and swollen, big, fat and red—swelling to beyond Denise Richards size as she made a playful kiss motion down to Mitch. Her hair was growing longer and poofier as well, the golden, dirty blonde locks extending down to her ass, and cascading down in curly avalanches over the groaning sweater’s twin swells.
Nearing seven feel, Jenna pressed her hands against the ceiling, thrusting her twin watermelon sized boobs out and over Mitch’s head, and then winced, grunting as the button of her jeans popped off, and the zipper loudly was forced downward, revealing a portion of her tightening, now visibly damp, pink Spongebob panties, the character illustrations already looking crack and distorted by the rapid onslaught of widening hip and buttflesh—her jeans looked painted on now—her thighs and calves were filling up with muscle and fat now, and rapidly. Even her arms were looking thicker—again, layered with womanly, soft looking pudge, but doubtless bearing equally swelling muscle mass beneath it.
As Jenna neared the halfway point between 7 and 8 feet, the pinching and strain of outgrowing her pants became too much, and she hurriedly, and bouncingly, pulled them down to her ankles. This wasn’t a simple process, of course, and forced the blooming amazon to wiggle, jump, and squirm. And thus also to wince, cuss, and jiggle all over, which made Mitch grin—he was rewarded with a quaint, playful “Fuck you” from his swelling girlfriend, and once she’d managed to shed the near-bursting pair of Levi’s, having them upended and playfully stuffed onto his head; the moist, musky crotch of them soggily impacting against his face.
The intensity of the otherwise familiar aroma of Jenna’s arousal that had been left on the weaponized garment made it clear how much his big (very big) perv of a girlfriend was enjoying this, and all worries of giving the Blueberry such a vague command melted away. He reluctantly removed her pants from his head and looked up as Jenna began to bump her head on the eight foot high bedroom ceiling, her overstretched lavender sweater beginning to tear at the cleavage line in its failing attempt to contain her now beanbag chair sized tits—even if she had been normal size, they would have been larger than beachballs.
Jenna’s pink panties were darkened with dampness, and had retreated into the depths of her crotch and rump cleavage—both still pulsing and vastening with every passing second—her pussy looked gigantic; ‘cameltoe’ was _not_ the word, something closer to “moose-toe” was pressing urgently against the dripping fabric of her panties; Jenna’s swollen, almost thumb-sized clit clearly tenting out from what little of her sex the underwear still managed to cover.
Mitch watched as his swelling girlfriend was forced to bend over to fit in the bedroom, closing in on nine feet in height and hundreds of pounds of sweaty, sex-crazed Jenna-flesh. The sweater finally burst open, those behemoth tits exploding out, inches from his face, their aereola big as dinner plates, rock hard nipples like coke cans.
Jenna’s absurdly puffy, curly dark blonde locks reached to her knees now, the front-most tufts of her hair wrapping wetly around the monstrous swells of her tits, her body gleaming with sweat from head to toe. Her lips were even more swollen—beet red and bigger than a pair of bratwursts. The breasts and her hips were both wider than her shoulders now—Mitch could now see the rising swell of her ass cheeks jutting up from behind the monstrous breadth of her hips, the room now humid with the scent of his girlfriends arousal.
Jenna leaned forward even more, ten feet tall now and still growing larger, her breasts, each big as a refridgerator, heaving and jiggling as she panted, a smile still etched on her huge lips.
She let out an ecstatic, orgasmic moan, and gently collapsed on Mitch, burying her boyfriend from knees to neck in sweat slicked, heavy titflesh, and kissed him, lips bulging and squirming over his entire face, her tongue filling his mouth to painful capacity, making horrendously loud suctiony noises; it was like the exaggerated make-out noises one heard in movies, only louder and wetter.
With a loud, wet pop of her engorged lips Jenna concluded the kiss, and after shivering, pleasured gasp said, “I’m so big—fuck it feels so good, Mitch—it’s like all of me is cumming and swelling.” He felt big, powerful hands tear off his t-shirt forcibly, and then those huge lips work down his chest, suckling saucer-sized portions of his chest as they worked their way southward to his stomach. Another loud rip and his pants were decimated, another smaller tear and his boxers, too were laid to waste.
The next sensation was heavenly; Jenna’s massive tongue and over-fattened lips licking and suck-kissing his genitals. His girlfriend’s growth appeared to have settled down and stopped just a bit above ten feet—neither her bust nor her hips would fit through doorways now, but that wasn’t of present concern. Jenna noticed the lull in her full-body bloating as well, and let out a disappointed pout, straddling the whole queen sized bed and lowering her wet crotch onto Mitch—her panties had all but disappeared into her voluminous fleshy crevices, but were still, through some miracle, surviving—even her socks had by now burst at the toes and were decimated.
Smirking, the now monstrous Jenna leaned down toward Mitch’s face and said, huskily:
Thu Jul 14 05:49:16 2011