can you do more more unwilling/forced growth🙏🙏
I can, but I don't think you're going to like it. See, I assume you wrote this because you wanted to read about someone being forced to grow. And, well, the first person I can think of in that scenario whose growth would be most unwanted would be you.
Struggling against the straps that hold your arms above your head does nothing but chafe and bruise your wrists. With a matching set of straps around your ankles, you're not leaving this table until your captor wants it. You have no idea who's brought you to this place, or even where "this place" is. There are no windows, no clocks, just a single fluorescent light overhead and a heavy metal door in the far corner. You nearly drove yourself hoarse screaming for help when you first woke up, but there was no response. Whether the walls were too think or there was simply no one else around you to hear your cries, it hardly matters. You're trapped now, helpless against the person who brought you here.
You don't even know who it is. They're fully adorned in surgical gear, gloves and gown and mask and hairnet, leaving you only their eyes and their forehead as a way to recognize them. You don't even know how high off the ground the slab is, so you have no way of knowing how tall their are, either. It might not even matter; they could be a complete stranger. There are moments, when you look into their eyes, that you think you might know them, but there's no way of knowing for sure. That might just be hope. No matter how much you yell at them, berate them, plead with them, their only response is a brief, pitiful look, and then back to tinkering with their equipment.
A loud, metallic click makes you jump and, as an electric whir fills the room, the machine slowly begins pumping out fluid. Your eyes follow it as it moves through the plastic hose to join the IV drip feeding into your left wrist. Preempting your inevitable protest, your captor places a gloved, surprisingly strong hand on your arm, pinning it in place as the liquid makes its way into your blood stream. Your heart begins to thunder in your chest, panic and adrenaline flooding your system. You want to fight, you want to flee, but you can do neither, just flexing your hand in a vain attempt to grab the plastic tubing.
At first, you think the fluttering in your chest is just from the fear, but it quickly morphs into a sort of pressure and, strangely enough, it doesn't seem to be coming from inside your chest, but on top of it. You pick your head up and look down. Your hospital gown shifts. Maybe its your breathing. You hold your breath, your heartbeat making your whole body tremble. The pressure only grows and, with it, your gown starts to bulge outward. You can feel the thin material dragging over your chest. It feels foreign. It feels sickening. It feels strangely good in a way that you're not ready to admit. You shift your torso, watching the bulge in your gown not just shake, but wobble.
Your head snaps up to your captor, demanding your release, begging to know what's happening to you, but they simply pat your head. You shut your eyes and tell yourself it's a fantasy, a dream, a nightmare. None of this is real. You're at home, in bed, where you're safe and you're definitely not growing a pair of enormous, gigantic-
Your eyes shoot open at the sound of your hospital gown shredding open. When they were just lumps under a paper-thin cover, you could lie to yourself, imagine they were something else. But now you can see them. You can see how they slope upward, soft and full, to a pair of swollen, throbbing nipples. The harsh overhead light creates small shadows in the tiny valleys of stretchmarks that lead outward from your chest. And now that you can see them, your mind has no choice but to finally feel the full weight of them, sitting heavy on your chest. Each deep, panicked breath causes them to rise and fall, to wobble and shift, still steadily growing bigger. You have no idea how big they might be; you've only ever seen tits like this from the front, from pictures and videos burned into your mind. You never thought you'd see them like this, let alone the idea that they'd be your own. An instinct you didn't know you had activates and you attempt to reach our to touch them, only to fail and remind yourself that you're still strapped in.
The first sounds out of your mouth are thin and try. As you swallow, all of the anger and fury in your voice from earlier is gone; only fear remains. "How... how big am I going to get?"
Their eyes narrow slightly and it takes you a moment to realize that their response, behind their surgical mask, is a simple, horrifying smile.
