Growth Opportunities

32M with a firm belief that bigger is always better. MDNI Asks are open!

[growth-opportunities]

Got an idea: tiddy growth as punishment but also brain drain.

Being forced to take a pill that fogs your head and blows up your tiddies nice and fat and heavy @.@

Cruel laughter echoes in your ears, almost in perfect harmony with the moans that pour from your throat and the sound of creaking, stretching fabric. The ever-growing tightness of your bra, digging into the new, billowing flesh on your chest, sends pleasure through you, forcing you to arc your back and shove your swelling tits forward.

"Ouughhhnnn! Stooooopppp! My titties are, like, soooo biiiigggg!"

Your desperate, lewd, barely intelligible please just make the chorus of laughter ring out even louder. Your roommates just watch as you put on this lewd display for them. Cassie takes a swig from her drink and pushes off from the couch, sauntering over to you with chilling confidence. The envy you once felt for the curvy, blonde beauty is overpowered by your burning arousal; her bouncing tits make a perfect distraction as she approaches. You jump, both from surprise and a sudden surge of arousal from physical contact as she reaches down and grabs you by the chin, tilting your head up towards her.

"What's the matter, hm? You used to tell us all the time that our DDs meant we had more tits than brains! Those pills we gave you are just to make sure you know what that's really like! Now you have these oversized, lewd pornudders, just like you always wanted!"

While none of them are very long, your roommate's words are confusing, especially amid the arousal coursing through your body. Before you can even attempt a response, Cassie suddenly reaches down and seizes hold of one of your tits. Your mind flashes white. Pleasure fills every inch of your body. Your eyes roll back and your jaw drops open. Your moan trumpets from your throat but only for a second before being muffled. Cassie slams her hand down over your mouth, clamping it there to make sure you don't spit out the three more pills she just tossed in. While that hand stays firmly over your lips, the other moves to your throat, stroking it and coaxing you into swallowing the pills. You don't have any choice. The pills slide down and tumble into you. Immediately, even before Cassie lifts her hand away from your mouth, you can feel what little intelligence you have left burning away. Your tits surge, growing outward, bulging over your bra and threatening to, at any moment, destroy it entirely.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but all that tumbles out is a series of disconnected syllables, too dumb and too horny to put anything else together. A sound hits your ears and you immediately perk up, now acting more on instinct than on any kind of coherent or intelligent thought. Your eyes track the pill bottle back and forth as Cassie shakes it in front of you. The sound of the pills rattling inside has you deeply entranced.

"God, you're so fucking dumb now! If you still had your bitty A cups, you'd still have more tits than brains!"

The laughter that comes after doesn't make sense to you. Nothing does anymore. That doesn't stop it, however, from making embarrassment burn in your cheeks, the arousal in your core burning ever hotter. You bounce your titties. You don't know why. It just feels right. It's who you are now. They're what you are. You're tits! And declaring yourself as such only makes your roommates laugh harder.

[growth-opportunities]

Follow up question for your transformation powers have they ever backfired on you like in a 90s cartoon when it's reflected back off a mirror or something

Back...? Uh, Backfuh... Ummm, you mean like bouncy back at me?? Nuh uh, noooo way, like, that's totally never ever happened! I'm always, like, suuuper safe and good and smarty when I transfuh... um... like, change people and junk!

Oh, these? My boobies? My super stuffed up milkies? My super mega juicy pornballoons? Noooo, I've, like, always had those! Yah huh! They just, uh, don't show up in old pictures so good!

Hah! Gotcha! Now who's the dum dum, dum dum? These, like, aren't even panties! They just look like 'em 'cause my boxers are, like, always getting stuck in my huuuuuge booty!

Just, like, shut up, okay? You're not makin' any sense! My head is getting all hurty and stuff! Makin' me think super hard... I think I would 'member if I didn't have boobies or a big, round butt before and then—poof!—I did all of a sudden! That only happens to the people who I, like, y'know, use my changy magic stuff on!

Uuuggghhh! This is sooo boring! Can we, like, talk about something else? Pleeeeaase? Oh! You wanna see 'em? Hehe, my titties, silly! You been talkin' about 'em all day! And seein' 'em is like waaaay better than just talking! Come on, please? Can I flash you my boobies? I'll let you suck on 'em, too! I'm just, like, sooo horny right now and I need some playtime! Oh, I know! I can give you boobies like mine! Hehe, I, like, almost forgot! Gasp! Oh... em... gee! Then we could rub our big boobies together! Please, please, please, please, please? Yaaaaay!

[growth-opportunities]

Probably personal, but does writing so much about transformation stuffs affect your personal relationship with gender?

Oh, I don't mind personal questions at all!

For me, I think it actually works in the opposite direction. Because of my loose personal relationship with gender, I feel the freedom to write a wide variety of transformation stories from a broad spectrum of perspectives.

I'll be the first to admit that this probably, at least to some degree, comes from the way our patriarchal, heteronormative society treats masculinity as the preferred and the default writ large and the following is spoken, knowingly, from a place of privilege.

That being said, I genuinely don't think that much about my own gender or my sexuality. While I present masc in real life and I find identifying as male the easiest, I feel no discomfort and, in fact, am perfectly eager to take on a feminine/maternal role should the situation call for it. I have, in my own time, fantasized about being transformed into a woman and have consumed quite a lot of—shall we say—"literature" on the subject. However, that is just one of many, many transformations that I've imagined, so I don't really see those as an "Egg Indicator", as it were.

By the same token, I don't really think that much about my sexuality, either. I guess "pansexual" would probably be closest, if I were forced to put a label on it, though "titsexual" would be a very close second. I don't feel attraction towards a specific gender or identity and have felt attraction toward people across the gender spectrum as well as people outside of it altogether.

Anyway, that's a lot of words to say that my relationship to my gender identity essentially boils down to "whatever is hottest in the moment; don't think about it too much." Rather than writing transformation impacting that relationship, I feel like that flexibility allows me, as Author and Actor, to place myself in a story and pursue thoughts and ideas and transformations that are exciting to me as I'm telling it.

[growth-opportunities]

Help me please. I recently got some new breast implants that I was told "Would steal the show from any other woman". And the next thing I know any other girl I meet boobs shrink and mine keep growing, and now I cant find the doctor who put them in.

Do you remember the doctor's name? Was it something like Dr. Dee Ablo? Perhaps Dr. Lucy Fur? Dr. Bell Z. Bub, maybe? Regardless, I don't think you're going to find that doctor again. Much like mysterious antique shops that disappear after selling enchanted objects for no charge—at least, not money—I have a feeling that this wasn't a doctor so much as an otherworldly being that's currently teaching you an important yet ironic lesson about greed and envy!

The moment you heard that you could use your big, round fakies to one-up the women around you, I bet you couldn't wait to sign on that dotted line. As flat as you were, pretty much any woman would make you feel inadequate. The ditzy woman at the grocery store tented her apron with her huge, sloshing udders. While you obsessed over her chest, yours didn't even register to her; in some ways, that was worse. You didn't even have enough tit to be acknowledged. Even your best friend, with her barely-there Bs, overshadowed you without trying. As envy calcified your heart, you came to resent them, swearing that you wouldn't just join their ranks but completely outsize them, make them feel the same inadequacy they inflicted on you. The idea that a pair of fake tits could give you the edge you need, could allow you to gain the upper hand? Nothing would stop you from signing up.

And now you get to live out the truth of your fantasy, driven to the extreme. After the absorption of only a few busts, you're already halfway down the alphabet, breaking through bras and straining shirts to their limits. Your cursed implants stand proud on your chest, round and obviously fake. With each new bust they absorb, they threaten to pull you off balance and block more of your view. You can't hide them anymore. They're too damn big and growing bigger almost every day! You don't quite inspire the same kind of envy that you felt, though. Maybe you did, at first, and certainly from the women whose busts you can't stop stealing, but now you get more than envy. You get disgust, disbelief, pity. The more tit you absorb and the bigger you grow, the more you present as a greedy, desperate slut who would do anything to have the biggest tits you could find. The worst part is, they're more right than they know.

[growth-opportunities]

“So, uh, your Titnosis deal. Just say no if it’s too weird, but I’ve been working on affirmations and attraction, and I know it sounds kinda crazy, but could you, like, titnotyze me, is that the word? Titnotyze me into making my boobs bigger? I’ve tried on my own, and no real changes yet, but the theory is that like attracts like, and I think I could just use a little push, and honestly, you’re kinda… goals for me and I’ll shut up now…”

"Awwww, of course, cutie! I know HRT has been hard for you, but it's been such a pleasure watching you transform over these last few months and I'm genuinely touched that my big, soft titties could be an inspiration for my pretty roommate. I just wish you had said something sooner!

"Just take a deep breath. I know this might feel a little scary, but I promise you that I'll take good care of you. You're one of my closest friends and I would never do anything to hurt you. I know this isn't something you've had particular issue with in the past, but as of right now, you officially have my permission to stare at my tits. Actually, more than permission, I'm commanding you to stare at them. God, you're so cute when you blush...

"Ahem, anyway, just look at them. Keep breathing, nice and slow, and look at my breasts. They're so heavy and soft and full. Don't be embarrassed; they just are. Take another deep breath and relax. Let your muscles relax. You're not staring at my tits anymore, just looking, just letting your eyes settle there like they would on a pair of distant hills. Good girl! Another deep breath for me, that's it. Now, let your mind go. Don't make any effort. You don't need to. This should be the most effortless thing in the world. If a thought pops into your head, that's okay! Nothing wrong with that. Just let it pass by; let it drift away. Like a balloon on a string, it slips from your grip and floats off into the distance until... pop! Hehe, you can giggle! It's funny, isn't it? Feeling all your thoughts go... pop! You don't need them, not when you're staring at my big, round boobies. Now, I'm going to start bouncing them and you don't need to follow them with your eyes. Just relax and let them bounce.

"Oh, you're so good! So deep for me already, so relaxed. And now my titties are moving and you can't look away. You don't want to look away. My bouncing, sloshing boobies are helping to guide you deeper and deeper and deeper. Every bounce pushing down your thoughts a little bit more until there's nothing left. You're so good for me. You're so good and empty and vacant and open. That's it, just like that. Let my titties take you so, so deep. You're safe, cutie. You're safe. You can let everything go. One last deep breath in and, as you let that breath out, the rest of you goes with it.

"You're doing such a good job, cutie. You've done so good sticking with your hormones and persevering. You make me so proud to know you, to be your friend. You deserve a treat, don't you agree? You deserve to be rewarded. You deserve to get what you want.

"It's time for you to grow some titties.

"I know you want it so badly. You want juicy, wobbly titties like mine. You said you did. They look so good when I bounce them like this, don't they? You need to know what it's like to have them, too. You need to feel their weight on your chest. You need to feel the straps of your bra digging into your shoulders as they try to life your huge boobs. You need cleavage. You need spillage. You need tits.

"And now you're going to get them.

"Picture it in your mind. Picture what it'd be like to have tits like mine. Feel their weight, see their size. Feel them rise and fall with your slow breathing. Feel them bounce and ripple with every little movement you make. You're going to get this big. You're going to grow. Your tits are going to swell and expand and engorge until you have huge, sweater-stretching, bra-busting tits like mine. You won't be able to stop it. You wouldn't stop it even if you wanted to. Every day, they'll be a little bit bigger. Every time you see yourself in the mirror, you'll know that they've grown. Every time you dress yourself, you'll feel your clothes squeeze your growing tits.

"It may take time, but don't get discouraged. You will get them. You will grow them. You'll be big. You'll be busty. You'll be just like me. No room for doubt. You will grow big, bouncy titties.

"That's my good girl."

[growth-opportunities]

do your transformation powers work on guys? Like, would you be able to turn me into a bimbo like Candy Charms?

Absolutely! Everyone should be able to chase their bimbo dreams, regardless of gender, and Candy Charms is an excellent (role) model!

The transformation starts simply enough and in my favorite place: your tits. Right now, it's just "chest", but it won't be that way for long. If you wanted 'natural breasts'—as natural as this process could give—the growth would feel more like warmth and weight. But you want big, round, fake bimbo tits and so your growth feels like pressure. The sensation isn't that different from how it feels to blow up a balloon or when you're pinching your nose and trying to pop your eardrums. The pressure builds and builds and builds, pushing as firmly as it can against your chest. Just when it feels like it can't push anymore, your chest gives way and immediately starts swelling outward. Your skin stretches taut, your nipples flattening against the growing spheres. The weight doesn't settle like it would if they were more natural; instead, your breasts stay perky, perched high on your chest, sticking straight out in front of you.

As your breasts start to slow their growth, the changes shift elsewhere. You can feel the magic pressure slowly move down your body and, as it goes, it gathers excess body fat along with it. Your waist trims and slims only for your hips to flare out and your ass to swell and expand. If you're quick, you might be able to grab a big handful of your ass while it's still soft! The relocated fat gradually firms and morphs into a pair of large, round implants! Your thighs narrow slightly as your ass continues to drain the fat from there, too. There's still a bulge between them, but it's almost completely negligible compared to your obvious and obscene enhancements.

The transformation leaves your perfect, plastic curves behind and drifts upward. You can feel it moving past your now flat tummy, past your tits, and into your face. Your cheeks curve inward slightly and your nose shrinks as your cheekbones lift and your face is sculpted to bimbo perfection. Your scalp tingles and a wave of blonde cascades down your shoulders. A sharp gasp turns into a moan, which grows in intensity as you hear your own voice pitch higher and higher. The opening of your mouth shifts, too, as it plumps up and swells into a pair of luscious cocksuckers. A quick wipe over your face leaves you with glistening lipstick, permanent blush, and long, thick lashes over your smoky and seductive eyes.

Only one place left to change remains and the feeling of transformation is already there. You can feel it sink in, sinking past the surface, past your skull, and settle into your mind. Your eyes flutter and roll back. Saliva drips from the tip of your tongue as it lolls from your open lips. Inside your mind, doors are closing and sealing themselves off. Thoughts, memories, things you don't need, things that would just make a silly, ditzy bimbo sad and confused, all of them are locked away and removed. All that's left is a giggly and bubbly and pink. All you need to know is how to please others and all you need to know is that you're a toy, meant to be used and objectified. It's what you're meant for. It's what you're built for.

[growth-opportunities]

um do you maybe have a list you could make with a lot of the trans related stuff you've done?

Sure! I tried to focus on posts that are a bit older/further back in the archives, since they'd be harder to find.

Looking Forward to Starting E

Milky Size Greed

Lipstick Stains

Wishing upon a Star

A Brief Exchange

Teeming with Life in More Ways than One

Fluster Makes the Boobs Grow Bigger

Temptation in Twink Form

Hypothetically Huge

Titty Size to TDick

Hope that's a big enough list for you!

Putting it to the masses, is that something you think I should be tagging? And what do you think would be the best way to do that (what tag[s] should I use, separate tags for trans men and women, etc.)?

[growth-opportunities]

I love seeing stuff with fictional characters. What if you provide a list of characters you'd like to write stuff about, so we can submit ideas for them?

That's a bit more complicated than it seems! At one point, I was writing short fics for something like 400 different characters across roughly 100 manga, anime, video games, VTubers, etc.

Here's a small, random sample of those series, just to give you an idea!

Dungeon Meshi/Delicious in Dungeon

Bleach and Burn the Witch

Hunter's Guild: Red Hood

Overwatch

Hell's Paradise/Jigokuraku

Chained Soldier/Mato Seihei no Slave

Frieren

Monster Hunter

Pokemon

Marriage Toxin

Chainsaw Man

Choujin X

Go, Go, Loser Ranger!

Guilty Gear

Otr of the Flame

Umamusume

Demon Slayer

As mentioned, that's a small percentage of what I've written about in the past! I would say that there isn't one series or character that I particularly like writing stories about—more than any other series character, I mean—and this list is in not in any kind of order! And even if I had listed out all 100 series, I would still encourage people to send in stuff for characters not on that list!

My only request would be that the ask is more than just "Something about [character], please!" It helps to have a little bit more to go on that I can build a fic/caption around. That really helps, especially if it winds up being a character or a series that I'm not super familiar with.

[growth-opportunities]

Girl who can control her partner's cock. Its size, hardness, sensitivity, etc. are all hers to puppet.

Normally, she uses it this power to have a lot of kinky fun. But she's mad at you right now. So have fun with your microscopic, insensitive, flaccid nothing for the next few weeks.

"Awww, what's the matter, little guy? Hm? I'm showing off all this cleavage, my boobs practically pouring out of this dress, and you've just got nothing going on down there, huh? Not a single twitch? Good! You deserve it, after the way you embarrassed me at my work happy hour! I can't believe you'd jeopardize my promotion like that! You know how hard I've worked for it and—

"Nevermind! It's done! I'm not going to let myself get lathered up over it again. I'm just going to take all this energy and rage out on you, little guy. Can you see that? Can you see my titties growing and swelling? You love fat, juicy udders; that's why you were all over fucking Jessica at that God damn—

"You know what? Fuck it! Fuck it! I'm pouring every last bit of magic I have into you. I don't care if it fucking falls off! I—

"Oh, boo fucking hoo! I don't care if it feels weird! I don't fucking care anymore, you fucking asshole! You shouldn't be able to feel anything at all, so the fact that you feel 'weird' should be a fucking blessing! I don't know how much more mana I can channel into you, but—

"...Holy fuck, what was that? I've never heard you make a sound like that before. Are you okay? I'm mad at you, but I don't fucking hate you. Here, move your hands, let me see...

"That's... That's a pussy. You have a pussy! Oh my God, I think... I think I pushed so hard that your dick turned into a clit and everything else came with it! I don't fucking know, man, it's magic, not science! Holy shit... Holy shit! I didn't even know that was possible! Look at you! Your big, manly cock is gone and now you have this pretty pink pussy and—"

"Dude... You're fucking gushing... Oh, now we're going to have a whole different kind of fun."

[growth-opportunities]

concept: a down on her luck, burnt out grocery worker decides she’s giving up. she’s going to volunteer for an experimental trial, yes *that* one, that leaves all the subjects as big titty bimbos who, too dumb and horny to hold down a job, get taken away to some hucow facility. except. she goes to the trial, she takes the pills, and that dumbening never happens. instead, she has to keep living her life, moving forward with her growing body (and libido). It’s not as bad as it sounds

"Trust me, I'm fully aware that, if a sky-high libido and a propensity for oversharing is all I managed to walk away with, then I'm miles ahead of where I could have been. There were other girls in the trial who lost the ability to talk! Whenever they weren't moo-ing, they were giggling, and their hands were always groping a pair of huge, leaking udders and not always their own! In short, completely unfit to return to proper society. They still don't know why it didn't happen to me, but I go back for more tests every month or so while they try to figure it out. Honestly, my life isn't really that different from how it was before I signed up for the trial. I still live in the same apartment; I still work the same job at the same grocery store. The biggest changes are probably just that my work uniform doesn't fit the same way it used to and I really just cannot find a bra big enough for these things!

"Oh, and I guess you could count the few hours I have to spend every other day milking my huge tits. They get so full! Technically, it only takes about an hour to fully drain them, but they're really freakin' sensitive. I usually cum almost immediately when I feel the pumps tug on my nipples and then I just ride it out for as long as it takes to leave me spent; on a good day, I can get five or six orgasms out of me before I pass out! I am spending a lot more money on sex toys than I used to, that's for sure, but selling some of my milk helps to offset the cost a little. It's not Easy Street, by any means. I'm not living in a porno, where I can just flash my udders and get a discount on rent or groceries or whatever. Hell, I don't even get an employee discount on groceries! I'm just living my live, y'know? Same as it was before, except for the huge udders and the constant horniness and the whole milk thing.

"Gosh, I've been rambling haven't I? The pills didn't make me dumb, but they did leave me a little ditzy. I'll admit, I'm a hair more gullible than I was before. I am a lot more friendly, though! If someone gets me talking, I'll just talk and talk and talk and my filter is just—Poof!—gone! Don't get my started on my toy collection! I could go into detail! Ahh, thanks for listening. Anyway, I don't think you ever said; is that going to be cash or card today?"

[growth-opportunities]

I am a 23yo lesbian pale skinned woman named Amalga and I'm the current host of a familial curse. This curse is known as the "Succubus's trap" amongst my family and every 18 years after the previous host dies (it belonged to my great aunt Mira previously) it selects a new blood related woman of the family to possess and for the past 5 years I've been its host and i... love it. I've always been a lesbian and a side-effect of the curse is infertility so none of the family bothers caring if I'll have kids or not but that's not everything it does. This so called curse feels practically made for me because it converts love, lust, debauchery, drugs, cum, masturbating, and everything else to do with sinfulness and converts it all into growth and vitality making me grow taller, stronger, more sexually alluring, and my tits, mmm~ my fat fucking tits, getting bigger~ which is a major "problem" because I am a complete and total growth addicted slut so I have no qualms with feeding the curse as if it was my job 24/7.~

I'm gonna be honest, Amalga: I'm still waiting for you to describe anything you've said so far as a curse! It sounds to me like you've pretty much got it made! All of your favorite things, all the vices that are so easy to embrace, just become fuel for even more sin and sensuality!

Maybe that's why the curse sought you out to possess. For god knows how long, members of your family had been fighting it. Your great aunt Mira, I'm sure, did her best to be a good, chaste, godly woman and resist the temptations that the curse gave her. So it was for all the women in your family that bore the 'curse', going back to the very first. Chastity and abstention, moderation and asceticism, anything to keep their body, mind, and soul pure and clean from the corruption that coursed through their veins. While the challenge might be entertaining for the first few generations, a curse that powerful is bound to get bored before too long.

Then came you.

You were the perfect host for a curse bored by resistance. It knew, even before it properly took hold of you, that you would be different from your ancestors. Great aunt Mira lived the life of a cloistered nun so that she'd never grow more than a few cup sizes, more than a foot in height. The curse would have no such trouble with you. The moment you got your first taste of pleasure, the moment you first felt your body grow and expand and enhance, you'd be addicted.

Now the curse barely has to work at all! You don't need to be tempted. If anything, the curse is perhaps a little ashamed. Even if couldn't imagine the kinds of debauchery a ruined mind like yours could come up with. All it has to do is force your body to grow as you lay back, stoned out of your mind, and an orgy forms around you, a woman suckling on each gargantuan tit, a third between your colossal thighs, and a fourth riding your tongue. Every moment of your life has been surrendered to pleasure of all kinds, rotting your brain out with porn while a vibrator buzzes between your thighs in your idle moments, each orgasm causing you to grow in every direction. Your breast pumps barely fit over your swollen, growing nipples anymore, but that doesn't stop you from turning them on anyway, desperate for any scrap of pleasure you can find.

Where it ends, who can say? You're so young! You've had this curse for five long years, but you have decades of debauchery and growth ahead of you. If you think your tits are big now, just wait after you've had another five years to get worse, get more addicted to pleasure, get more addicted to growing them as big as you can! And the bigger you get, the easier it'll be to submerge yourself in sin. When you're a towering goddess with tits big enough to completely cover your torso, sculpted by the curse into a divine beauty, you'll have no trouble adding more women to your harem, more women to help you get high and help you cum again and again and again.

After generations, the curse has someone who gets it. It can finally show the true extent of its abilities.

[growth-opportunities]

Being cursed to have huge, milky breasts was bad enough, but it turns out there's another twist: anybody drinking it steals away a piece of my personality! My roommate was only trying to help, but my milk gave her my breast obsession, and I'm worried it's only a matter of time before I'm reduced to just a pair of tits for her to play with...

I'm happy to tell you that you won't have to worry for long! Not because the curse will be lifted; goodness, no. Her—formerly your—breast obsession will drive her to keep drinking your milk, eventually pushing her to drink it straight from the source, and each drink will chip away at your personality until there's nothing left! If you're lucky, the next drink will take away your worry, leaving you huge and milky and carefree! Once your worry is gone, things will only start happening faster; you simply won't have it in you to come up with a reason to resist!

At some point after that, your independence will go and you'll wind up completely reliant on her. She makes the decisions. You simply can't do anything without her and you trust everything she says implicitly. When she orders you into a cow print bikini, you aren't worried about what it means and you implicitly accept that, when it comes to your outfit or anything else, he knows best. Surely, she must have a reason for bringing her friends over. You simply aren't capable of worrying about what it'll do to you when they start drinking from your udders, unbothered as they chip away at your personality. One of them gets your vocabulary, another takes your hobbies, another few shave off bits of your intelligence.

As they away your personality, you start to smooth out. Your voice becomes low and monotone, slow and even. You speak in short, simple sentences or—increasingly often—just grunts and hand gestures. That is, until you stop speaking at all. You don't need to. Your roommate takes care of everything for you. You're just blank and empty for her. It's so nice to let all of that stuff go and just be. You don't have to think. You don't have to worry. You couldn't, even if you had to, but it's still nice to be free of such burdens. You just have to be big. Big and busty and soft and milky. Your roommate loves your massive, sloshy udders. She's obsessed with them! All you have to do is let her grope you and knead you and grow you and suck on your huge, swollen udders. There isn't much left for her to take from your personality, but you'd let her have it all anyway.

[growth-opportunities]

You know what's cool about a geeky girl? No matter how many growth supplements she takes, all that sitting around means it mostly goes to her ass! Too bad, so sad!

"Bro, are you fucking serious? I was just sitting in my chair, booster pack opening vids on one monitor and Hades on the other, when all of a sudden I heard this ripping sound. I thought it was a loose connection for my headset, but it only got louder when I took them off! I don't know which I was more upset about, the fact that I lost my Hades run or that my ass and thighs absolutely fucking destroyed these leggings! They were my last pair! God, look at the way I'm bulging out of these; I look like a fucking salami. Those growth pills you sold me are bullshit. I should have known from the beginning, when my cosplay skirts started feeling shorter, but you kept telling me to trust the process and now I've got this gigantic fucking ass. You promised massive, sloshing mommy milkers and, after three rounds with those pills, I'm barely a cup size bigger. Ugh, fuuuuuuuck! I'm gonna need to buy a wider gaming chair pretty soon if this keeps up! You're such an asshole. How am I gonna be a titty streamer now?!"

[growth-opportunities]

Dear Growth,

Can one become a Hucow if they don't have any sign of it in their lineage? Asking for a friend.

The Friend

Hello, friend!

Of course, you can become a cow! One doesn't need to come from a dynasty of hucows in order to achieve greatness! After all, even the greatest hucow lineages had to start with someone! Who knows? There may be incredible potential locked away inside you, just waiting to be pulled out of you with the right amount of effort. Perhaps you'll be the beginning of a new, generational line of hucow stock!

That isn't to say that you won't be at a disadvantage compared to some of the well-known hucow lineages. The real benefit that they have over you is history and with history comes knowledge. When you go back far enough, sometimes the lessons can seem apocryphal or anecdotal; great-great-grandmama Clover crediting her incredible production to the regular consumption of beets and burnt cabbage doesn't always carry forward. It does, however, give you a place to start from. In the generations hence, other cows in her lineage might experiment and tinker and try to isolate if it really was beets and cabbage that made Clover so milky and, if it was, what about them worked so well. Since they all descend from Clover, they can be fairly certain that what worked for her will work for them, too, even if "beets and burnt cabbage" has become a custom cocktail of vitamins and minerals and proteins, tailored to their physiology. Generational knowledge enhances natural propensities and those enhancements compound.

In your case, you're going in blind. You won't know what works for you until it does. For many new cows, that can be intimidating. A lot of hucow farms, especially those above a certain herd size, will simply come up with something that works marginally well—or well enough that they feel justified in using it—rather than what works for each cow, individually exactly for the reason that experimentation can be complicated and time consuming. You, on your own, don't have to worry about that. You can focus on what works best for you.

Start with something a bit generic, like they use at the major farms. It's almost guaranteed to help at least a little bit, help your udders start to grow in, help to ramp up your milk production in the beginning. Keep with that for at least a month; two would be better. Once you have a baseline established, then you can start to experiment! Tweak your diet, add a little of this or take away a little of that. Don't be afraid to borrow notes from what works for other hucows! The truly prestigious hucow dynasties, with their enormous, sloshing megamilkers, will likely keep theirs as a closely guarded secret, but I'm sure you can find other cows online who are willing to share what works for them. Give it a month to see what happens. If production goes up, you're headed in the right direction! If not, pivot! You're going to be a cow for a very long time, so you'll have plenty of opportunity to experiment with what's going to make your udders bigger, denser, more productive, more efficient. Keep notes. Keep trying new things! You'll get the gigantic udders you want.

[growth-opportunities]

Girl whose saliva causes growth leaves a trail of massively expanded cocks n balls in her wake

"Ha! You can't be serious! What do you actually expect me to do with that thing? I can't even fit my mouth around it anymore! It's, like, almost frighteningly huge. How am I supposed to stroke it when I can't even get both hands around it? My tits might be huge, but any attempt at a tittyfuck would basically just be me rubbing my torso against it. I like 'em big—don't get me wrong—but I can literally feel my body tightening up, like it's saying 'Nuh uh, don't even think about putting that anywhere near me, let alone inside me!' I liked handling it when it was smaller! It was nice back then, a good size that could fit in my hand, between my tits, in my mouth. Now it's kinda freakish, y'know? Maybe if I were part horse or—fuck—part elephant, I'd be attracted to something that enormous.

And don't act so indignant, okay? You wanted this! I warned you and you fucking begged me to keep sucking and licking and rubbing my saliva all over you. Your size greed got the better of you and now you're stuck with this useless, laughably huge cock. Guys always say they want a big dick and now you're upset that you got carried away. No, I don't feel bad or whatever! I don't feel any kind of responsibility! It doesn't bother me at all that you're going to need to tailor all your pants to fit that behemoth and I really couldn't care less about how full your colossal, churning balls feel. Even if I had a way to relieve that kind of pressure, I'd really prefer not to take a cum bath afterwards. If you're looking for sympathy, go down to the stables or something, because you're not getting any here. You're on your own, tripod."

[growth-opportunities]

Ever hear about werecows? Normal gals (or guys) by day, but when the moon rises.... they turn into milky hucows, who need nothing more than to relieve the ache in their chest, and spread their "gift" through their tainted milk.

I'd be careful around dark alleys at night, you never know when you may hear a stray moo... before getting a handful of flesh stuffed in your mouth, and feeling the warm trickle of the milk take over your whole body... soon, you're mooing too...

A primal drumbeat pounded inside Caitlin's head. The silvery light of the full moon burned on the inside of her eyelids and the heat coursed through her body. Her heart raced. Sweat glistened on her skin. Deep, gasping breaths made her chest rise and fall, straining her top. She didn't understand what was happening to her; she just knew that something wasn't right. She felt so hot. Her hands clawed at her chest, trying to get at least a little air under the shirt that clings to her body, matted in place as her sweat soaked through it. The dryness in her throat urged her to her feet and she stumbled awkwardly and haphazardly towards the fridge.

Caitlin nearly collapsed in front of it, leaning on the door for support. The cool air wafted over her skin as her eyes frantically scanned for something, anything to drink. Her body was so damn hot. Tremors shook her hand as she grabbed a bottle of water, slamming it back. As soon as it hit her tongue, she coughed and sputtered and spat it out. God, it was awful. It felt thin on her tongue, her body rejecting the lack of flavor. A can of soda wasn't any better, too cloyingly sweet. As soon as the jug of milk caught her eye, her whole body froze.

The tremors in her hand were gone as she reached out for it, entranced, and screwed off the cap. The scent of it hit her nose and her eyes fluttered. She raised the jug toward her lips and began to drink. The taste set fireworks off behind her eyes, pleasure coursing through her. This was what she wanted. This was what she needed. This was... strangely familiar.

Her eyes shot open and memories rushed in on her.

That night had almost completely faded from Caitlin's memory, just a few weeks ago. Suddenly, she remembered the cool streetlights buzzing overhead on her walk home. She remembered the quiet murmurs of mooing echoing down the alleyways. She remembered the softness and the motion of those huge tits, those massive udders, and the cow they belonged to. Most of all, though, she remembered the milk. Rich and creamy and thick as it poured down her throat, the milk filled her stomach and the cow just couldn't stop making it.

The emptying of the jug brought Caitlin slamming back into the moment. She looked at the empty container and tossed it aside. Slowly, as she turned over the memories of that night in her mind, her gaze drifted down to her chest.

Holy fucking shit, she was huge!

Caitlin's boobs had always been big—generous D cups to the admiration and jealous of her friends—now they were fat and heavy and swollen, bulging out of the cups of her bra and straining her shirt to the point of transparency. Every inhale made them seem larger, but breathing out didn't make them go back down! With great effort, her tits swelling all the while, she tried to get her shirt off and hoist one of her tits out of her bra. Her nipple, swollen and stiff, quivered in the air from the fridge. Nervously, she pinched it between her fingers and pulled.

"OOUUUGGHHNNNNN!"

A moan, frighteningly cow-like, trumpeted from her throat as her head shot back. Milk arced from the nipple, spraying in front of her. As if in response to the release, Caitlin's tits started to swell even faster. As arousal and need flooded her brain, a single word managed to bubble up to the top of the swirling, pink goop: werecow!

Instinctively, Caitlin knew what she was, what she had become. New instincts, rushed in on her, too. She tugged on her nipples in a steady rhythm as her body naturally knew how best to milk itself. Her eyes crossed and her tongue lolled out, all sorts of lewd noises rising from her throat. She should have been frightened. She should have been terrified. The pleasure, however, was far too great to even think of fear. All she could think of was making milk and a singular, predatory need for her roommate to get home as soon as possible.

[growth-opportunities]

You can feel it.

Every bounce, every jiggle, every wobble serves as a constant reminder.

You are your tits. Your tits are your worth.

You can't resist the urge to show them off, to make sure everyone can see them and appreciate them and, by extension, you. Every time you see someone glancing at your tits, staring at them, obsessed with them, you know that you have worth. You have value. You're tits. You're porn. And you want to be the best that you can be.

Some of that means dressing the part. Crop tops and no bra make sure that they bounce as much as possible, even if it means bouncing out. Letting them see your tits just makes them even more entranced! It gets hard to think with all that bouncing distracting you, all that attention making you horny and needy, but you don't need to think. Porn doesn't have to think. Tits don't have to think.

And you need to be bigger. You are your tits and your tits are your worth, after all. The bigger you are, the more worth you have. Maybe you use lotions and creams and pills to make your tits as big and as soft as possible, growing them to keep them bouncing and keep them wobbling. Maybe you inflate them with as much cheap saline as you can, pushing past the limits of the human body to be as big and as good as possible. You won't bounce anymore, not in the same way, but that might just make people stare at your pornballoons even more.

Every glance, every grope, every squeeze just proves how good you are.

You are porn.

You are your tits.

Your tits are your worth.

Your tits make you an object for the pleasure of others.

You can always be better.

You can always be bigger.