(ghost fucking, rapid pregnancy, breast expansion, lactation, body invasion)
You're a new nurse and working your first grueling 20 hour shift at the hospital. You finally get a break, but find the cots designated for staff are already occupied-- so you sneak into the maternity ward where the beds for expecting moms are extra comfy. Surely you can sneak a quick nap before getting back to your rounds, right?
The ward is busy, and you almost lose hope of finding a room as you scan the patient roster for vacancies until you realize that there's a whole room number omitted-- Oh, you've heard about this. Some kind of nurse superstition. There's even a printed-out FOR STORAGE ONLY sign taped to the door when you arrive.
You're a person of science and don't believe in such nonsense, of course. The room is dark and musty-smelling when you enter, the silhouettes of extra machinery and supplies visible where they've been shoved unceremoniously against the walls, but, in the midst of it all, you find a glorious, unoccupied bed. It's even better that it's a storage room-- no one's going to interrupt you in here.
You swipe a few clean blankets from the supply alcove and curl up on the bed in the sweet, quiet darkness. Your body is heavy with exhaustion from your shift so far so you quickly find yourself drifting to sleep...
Until you feel fingers wrapping around your wrists.
You jolt awake, reflexively trying to pull away-- surely this is a nurse or custodian who doesn't know you also work there-- but your assailant doesn't speak, doesn't reprimand or demand answers. Just holds you down. Just grabs your knees as well-- there must be two of them--Just forces your legs open--
You cry out for help but find your mouth covered by an unseen hand, then there's a cool breath at your ear;
You will give them the life owed to them. The life stolen from them. The life they should have had...
The bed is abruptly adjusted to push you up into a sitting position, and through your scrubs, you feel something cool nudging between your legs. Your scream is muffled as you thrash, trying to get away from whatever it is before it---enters you, pushes itself inside you. More hands--how many people are there??--hold your hips down as the sensation advances, filling your belly with a strange, swelling chill that leaves you feeling strangely bloated, the elastic of your pants pressing into your skin.
Amidst your squirming, one hand travels between your legs, and begins stroking through the thin fabric of your scrubs, making small, almost soothing circles over your clit.
You gasp, trying to twist away from it until another cool pressure begins pushing its way into you. This one feels bigger, the sensation of being stretched accompanied by the stimulation of your clit making you whimper and weakening your resolve. It slides along your walls--are you getting wet?--joining the other strange coolness and you're able to lift your chin just enough to see your belly visibly rise beneath your top, putting you solidly in "ate too much" territory.
Another begins filling you. This time there's no moment to catch your breath between them because as soon as it's entirely in, another cool something presses its way inside of you. The hand is still working your clit in slow, practiced circles and you can feel a growing damp spot where the fabric is being pressed against you. The constant stimulation is beginning to cloud out the panic you felt moments ago, your mind unable to hold both simultaneously even as your belly swells once more like rising bread dough, leaving you looking like you have a half-basketball tucked under your top.
At this point you start feeling an ache in your chest and groan, back arching as if to attempt to alleviate the pain. A pair of hands finds each breast and begins massaging again in that slow, soothing way. In the low light you can see the indentations of fingers pressing into the fabric as you start feeling your bra beginning to tighten. You don't care-- it feels...so nice....
More sensation pushes its way into you. They're continuous now so you quickly lose track, your belly swelling larger and larger like a filling water balloon. You find your hips jerking involuntarily when a particularly large one shoves itself in, twisting and grinding against your g-spot, sending pleasure shooting up your spine. You moan behind the hand over your mouth, your belly pushing out to the size of a watermelon, full term.
And they're still coming.
Your breasts are visibly pulling your top tight, plump flesh beginning to spill over your bra cups. Despite your back pressed back against the mattress, you feel your bra become unhooked, feel your arms gently bent to pull the straps over them before it's tugged up and out of your collar and tossed to the mattress besides you. You get one brief look at your breasts-- now the size of grapefruits, much larger than you started, with swollen nipples poking through the fabric--before the massaging continues again.
You're doing great, says that voice in your ear.
The filling sensation keeps coming, a relentless stream of pressure that has your hips bucking underneath the growing weight of your belly as your clit is continuously stimulated. You're easily overdue with twins now, beach ball sized, your nipples throbbing and breasts swelling to the size of your head and--are those wet spots on your shirt?
Almost as soon as you have that thought, you feel mouths pressed over the outlines of fingertip-sized nipples through your shirt and begin to suck. You gasp, the sensitivity unexpected, and now you're purposefully rocking your hips in time with the ministrations of the hand at your clit, in time with the feeling of fullness still pushing its way into you and filling your belly, now too large to wrap your arms around if you weren't restrained, in time with the rhythmic sucking and lapping of the mouths over your nipples as your breasts, seemingly encouraged by the stimulation, balloon with milk.
"More," you moan behind the hand, "please, more..."
The sets of hands and mouths oblige you-- now there's hands squeezing and kneading your breasts as they're sucked and lapped at, now there's hands stroking and rubbing your filling belly and at your inner thighs, now there's a multitude of fingers trailing and stroking and rubbing your clit, your labia, all the while you're still being filled and filled and filled--
You shriek as the orgasm crashes into you, your walls gripping whatever is inside you in hard, clamping pulses. Milk gushes out of you and drenches the taut fabric of your top in a letdown.
The hands continue stroking and sucking and massaging you through an orgasm that feels like it lasts for ages, the filling sensation finally coming to a stop and you collapse back against the pillow, panting and sweating, ironically, as if you've just given birth.
Then the lights flick on, and with it the sensation of hands disappear. For a moment you think it was a dream and you've just been woken up-- but then you look down, and are able to see yourself clearly for the first time.
Breasts that must be larger than basketballs slump atop a stretchmark-laced belly the size of the labor-assisting yoga balls sitting in the corner of the room, your nipples, cork-sized now, throbbing through your strained top, dribbling thick cream onto the mattress around you. You can feel the fabric between your legs is soaked, your pussy twitching with the aftershocks of an orgasm.
Dazedly you look up and find a fellow nurse standing in the doorway, looking at you with a mix of shock and exasperation.
"The sign's there for a reason, honey," she deadpans.
"I--I was just--"
She puts her hands up as if in surrender. "I'm not dealing with this tonight," she says, reaching back for the light switch. "Have fun. You're in good hands."
"Wait--"
The lights go out, and the door closes.
And then the feeling of hands, so many hands, sliding and rubbing and massaging and--
You feel something cool begin pushing its way into you.
While, technically, entirely within their rights, the fact that your roommates decided to not let you out of the lease three months early purely out of spite is, as some might say, a bitch move. As petty and mean as it was, this kind of behavior was part of the reason why you wanted to move out and, as such, their decision was unsurprising. Connie was spiteful and her name made for a colorful, fitting, alliterative nickname. Maggie wasn't that bad, all things considered, but her complete lack of a spine made her easily manipulated into Connie's plans; giving in was much easier than incurring Connie's wrath, after all. Thankfully for you, you had a backup plan. If they wouldn't let you leave for three months, then it was up to you to make sure that the next three months were as entertaining as possible. All you had to do was mix a little something into their body wash and wait.
You felt a strange sense of vindication a week and a half later when you came through the front door and found your roommates facing each other on the living room couch. Connie had one hand tucking her hair behind her ear, the other grabbing one of her breasts. "No, I'm serious! I swear they're getting bigger! Either that or all my clothes are shrinking and-" The moment Connie saw you, she jerked hand hand away from her bust. The sudden removal of her support left them to bounce and slosh, settling on her chest. They were a decent size before, an easy handful, but now they strained the straps of her tank top and bulged over the neckline. A look of disgust flashed across Connie's face, flaring at you with as icy of a look as her blue eyes would allow. "Ugh, what are you gawking at, freak? Mind your own fucking business, would you? Come on, Maggie." Connie grabbed your other roommate by the wrist and led her off towards one of the bedrooms. The door slammed shut, but not before your noticed that, beneath Maggie's tight shirt, her own breasts seemed to be bulging out of her bra. You smiled. The results were speaking for themselves.
And so it went over the next few weeks. Every time one of your roommates went by, their breasts seemed bigger than the last time you saw them. For a whole week, Maggie wore a heavy sweatshirt despite the weather in the hopes that it would cover up that she had clearly outgrown her biggest bra.
It did not.
As you were packing up the trash a few days later (pretty much every household chore had been foisted onto you), you saw a familiar shirt sitting in the top of the bin. The intricate red pattern made it immediately recognizable as Connie's, but something was off about the distinctive, intricate buttons running down the front: two of them, right over the bust line, were missing.
Maybe a week or so after that, you woke up in the middle of the night with nature already calling. The light streaming out from the crack in the bathroom door was already suspicious and the frustrated grunting from the other side only piqued your interest further. A glance through the opening revealed a rather surprising sight. Connie always seemed like she had the upper hand, so the sight of her being flustered and overwhelmed was as rare as it was welcome. She stood over the sink palming her massive tits. You knew they were growing, you had made sure of it, but seeing them bared for the first time finally revealed just how effective your little trick had been. Each one was rapidly careening towards out-sizing her own head. They weren't just big, either. They were swollen. Connie whimpered as she massaged them, nearly on the verge of tears. In the time that you knew Connie, she had dominated and domineered just about everyone in her revolving door of partners, but it seems she had finally met her match. She could deal with the fact that they were growing. She'd easily spin that in her favor. The growing pressure, however, the constant, endless, growing pressure in her tits was driving her insane. She tugged on her nipples, stretching out her breast, as she pleaded with them to slow down. At this point, she just wanted relief, however small, and she'd take anything.
As you back away from the door, you nearly bump into Maggie. Panic quickly grips you, worried that she'd scream or rat you out to Connie, but she just stares at you from out of the dark rings around her eyes. You can't help stealing a glance down towards her chest, finding the swell of Connie's breasts to match pretty closely to what you had just seen. The thin shoulder straps of her camisole strain, nearly breaking under the weight of the tits they're trying to contain. A tense second passes. Maggie just stares at you. Slowly, her hands come up to the sides of her breasts. Her grip tightens and, slowly, she pushes them together and forward. Her eyes flutter and her jaw drops open, a mercifully quiet moan slipping out of her. A staggered step forward sends ripples up through her breasts, closing the space between you and backing you up against the wall. In a hushed voice, she begs. "...Please..." Your hand twitched, but you stopped yourself. No, it wasn't time. As quickly as you could, accidentally incapacitating her by brushing your shoulder against her sensitive breasts, you slip past her and make your way back to your room. She wasn't ready yet. Neither of them were. They would be soon.
Growing their tits was only the start. In a week or two, the pressure would break through and their milk would finally flow freely, so much that they'd have no choice but to swallow their pride and have you drain them. At this point, there's no stopping it. You had planted the seeds and now you were watching them grow. And you couldn't wait for the harvest.
Sitting in a lecture and desperately trying to keep it together as the cute new panties your girlfriend got you occasionally vibrate against you, how the matching bra occasionally causes your breasts to tingle and bulge a little farther over the cups, how the panties start producing that same tingling and you can feel your pussy becoming puffy and swollen and your clit poking up against the fabric. You're clenching your jaw and trying not to be too obvious when you shoot your girlfriend dirty looks across the lecture hall, who just winks back at you and clicks something on her laptop, making your breasts spill out of their cups, your nipples thickening as they tent your shirt and you try desperately not to whimper or moan or draw attention of the hundred plus students around you........
Wing-it for magicfab
Honestly, if you see someone with the body you want, “do what they’re doing” is a pretty solid start to getting that bod.
After all this, Lav+Ender are going to go on to psych out and trip up as many skaters as they can get away with
Wanted to do some more retcon tf into like a trophy wife kind of situation cause I thought it made for good contrast, doing evil things to butch characters again cause im the devil basically and also furry to furry tf because I have a real need for it
had this idea for forever of like tf where it's converting their like before self and mass into milk, and also had the silly idea of cow furry into human cow so yeah
sketch based on a friends form lock (Impossible Ace), i had no idea what that was till recently, but their character got transformed and spent time as a fem-boy lion who led a pride of people transformed into lioness' who made him money via Thot-ery.
I kinda liked the idea of the tables being turned and him becoming one of the girls who makes content for the company~ and even more fun her minds been tweaked to enjoy it just like they did!
Boys shouldn't aspire to only become busty boys, they should aim to become bustier Milfs.
Become bustier milfs? Well that may be too much power for them! Sure before they were super busty, but now here they are not only busty, but with big butts, a curvy frame, a wide range of voices ranging from motherly to seductive, and so many different body types! I mean one could just look so sweet, and another could be so hot but scary!
Not to mention those milfs could have kept their cock with their whole transformation, and for all we know it's even gotten bigger! Not even a skirt could hide it, frankly it's making things worse, one boner and a large tent formed! Don't even get me started on yoga pants, clinging to their curves and the large rod in their pants, or maybe a huge bulge, frankly I don't know what could happen. But now not only are people doing for their huge rack, but now their wobble meat, and perhaps even their meat rods!
I mean could you imagine your friend setting out to just be a busty boy, but maybe they didn't read the pill bottle about just how potent the pills were, finding themselves changing in more ways then just growing huge melons. Every week a new wardrobe change to fit their growing and changing self. Sure they tease you, going with the whole "I bet you want to just squeeze my chest dude!" But all the changes has them even hornier then before. Teases become flirts, droping the joking and just suggestioning what you two should do. Talking about how the two of you should really explore their changing body, see what's new.
Voice going from the guy that used to shit talk in multiplayer games to a super hot voice, whispering into your ear to get you rilled up, holding you close into their chest, and asking you is there anything you want from them.
By the end of the month they've completely changed physically, looking like a milf, a very horny MILF who's been teasing you the whole month of their changing self. Though, your friend still in there, now using their powers for evil during game sessions like talking into the mic and making the entire lobby get bricked up. They're gooning for hours on end, and with all their changes it's gone up to a 11 on the scale. Frankly it's quite the viscous cycle, look at porn, jerk off, get turned on by their changed body, cum, rinse and repeat.
But they are truly sinister with you, practically grinding against you, kissing you, going out with you in public and sticking close to you, telling everyone that you're their "partner". Truly putting the m in milf with just how lovely dovey they are with you.
But when the two of you are together in private, well, they really want to show just how much "I'll like to fuck" means in milf. I hope you have a lot of water on hand, because you too are going to do a lot of fucking..
