Hannah had always been the short, curvy firecracker of their friend group—barely 5’0” in her favorite sneakers, with a stout, hourglass build and a pair of heavy, bouncy tits that already turned heads. She was the one who laughed loudest, hugged tightest, and never let her size stop her from owning every room she entered. Then the growth virus hit.
It started as a fever after a bad takeout night. By morning she was six feet tall and still swelling. By the end of the week she towered at a full eight feet, her body stretched and thickened into something magnificent and overwhelming. Her breasts, already generous, had ballooned into absurd, gravity-defying globes—each one bigger than John’s head, round and heavy, straining against whatever fabric she could find. The rest of her had kept pace: thick thighs like tree trunks, an ass that could eclipse a loveseat, and long, powerful legs that made normal furniture look like dollhouse pieces.
Tonight they were “just hanging out” in her living room. Hannah had claimed the entire couch, her massive frame draped across it in a tight cyan halter top that barely contained her. The deep V-neck plunged between her colossal tits, the soft, pale flesh spilling over the edges with every breath. Grey shorts rode high on her enormous thighs, and her bare feet—each one longer than John’s forearm—rested on the coffee table, toes flexing lazily.
John sat wedged beside her like a toy. At 5’10” he barely reached her shoulder even while she was slouched. He tried to focus on the movie, but his eyes kept drifting. Her left breast was right there, rising and falling like a warm, living mountain inches from his face. The way the fabric clung to her stiffening nipples was impossible to ignore.
Hannah noticed. Of course she did.
“John,” she murmured, voice deeper and richer than before, laced with amusement. “You’ve been staring at my tits for twenty straight minutes.”
He flushed. “I—sorry, it’s just… they’re… huge now.”
A low, throaty laugh rolled out of her. She shifted, the couch groaning, and turned toward him. The motion made her breasts sway heavily, the deep cleavage jiggling. “They are, aren’t they? Heavy as hell too. Want a closer look?”
John’s mouth went dry. “Hannah…”
She didn’t wait for a proper answer. One enormous hand—palm wide enough to cover his entire chest—gently but firmly cupped the back of his head and guided his face forward. His cheek sank into the warm, pillowy softness of her right breast. The scent of her skin—sweet, faintly coconut from her lotion—flooded his senses.
“Go on,” she whispered, voice husky. “Play with them. I know you’ve been dying to.”
His hands trembled as he reached up. They looked tiny against her. He sank his fingers into the yielding flesh, kneading, lifting, marveling at how much overflowed his grip. Hannah sighed happily, arching her back so her chest pushed forward. Her nipple hardened instantly under the thin fabric; he brushed his thumb over it and she moaned, the sound vibrating through her massive body.
“That’s it… good boy. Use both hands. They’re so sensitive now.”
John grew bolder, squeezing, burying his face between them, motorboating the impossible valley of cleavage. Hannah’s breathing quickened. She shifted again, swinging one tree-trunk leg over his lap so she straddled him on the couch. The sheer weight of her—easily four times his—pinned him down effortlessly. Her ass settled across his thighs, warm and heavy, while her breasts smothered his chest and face.
“Mmm, look at you,” she purred, looking down at him with dark, hungry eyes. “So tiny under me now. I could crush you without even trying.”
She grabbed his wrists in one hand and pinned them above his head against the couch cushions. With her free hand she tugged her halter top down, letting her massive tits spill free. They dropped heavily onto his face, soft and warm and overwhelming. John groaned into the plush flesh as she rocked slowly, dragging her nipples across his lips.
“Suck,” she commanded, voice thick with dominance.
He obeyed instantly, latching onto one fat nipple. Hannah gasped, grinding her hips down against the growing bulge in his jeans. The couch creaked dangerously under their combined weight.
“You’re mine tonight, little man,” she growled, rolling her hips in slow, powerful circles. “These tits you can’t stop staring at? They own you now. And I’m just getting started.”
She released his wrists only to peel his shirt off, then yanked his jeans down with one easy tug. His cock sprang free, rock-hard and leaking. Hannah smirked, wrapping her huge hand around it—her fingers easily encircling him completely. She stroked once, slow and firm, while lowering her chest again to smother him.
“Gonna fuck you with these tits first,” she whispered against his ear. “Then I’m sitting on that pretty face until you’re begging. And after that… well. You’re going to learn exactly how strong an eight-foot girl can be.”
John could only moan helplessly into her breasts as she began to move, her massive body completely in control, every curve and inch of her new giantess form ready to dominate him completely.
