“I’ve cast a spell on you… the more turned on you get, the more pregnant you get.”
Immediately, my stomach flipped. Fear? Excitement? Or… was I already getting turned on at the mere idea? The witch, sidling up behind me with her hands at my waist, leaned in and pressed her body against mine, letting her hands slide over my lower belly. She bit my earlobe and whispered, giving me goosebumps: “I think I can feel it working… can’t you? You should probably lie down.”
I head toward the couch, but I have to pause to unbutton my jeans. They *are* feeling a little… snug… at the waist. I don’t know if her “spell” is working or not, but it definitely looks like I’m going to get lucky with this cute witch babe, so… I bend over, struggling more than usual to get out of these jeans. By the time I stand back up, I’m sporting a definite little potbelly, and it definitely wasn’t there a minute ago.
I turn to her, ready to say “what the fuck?”, but suddenly she’s kissing me on the mouth and the words don’t come. Her shirt’s already off; her bra is black lace. She bites my lower lip, and her hands caress my stomach– *no*, my *bump*. “My, my, my… looks like my little plaything is well and truly knocked up.” She’s smirking and it’s hot as fuck. My head is spinning.
She pushes me down to the couch, and climbs on top, straddling my hips. I feel so heavy all of a sudden. She unclasps her bra, holds it in place for a moment. “I don’t know if I should take this off… wouldn’t want you to get too worked up, right? Not in your delicate condition.” It makes little difference; I’ve been fantasizing about her breasts all night, and this little tease is a torment. I squirm underneath her, bucking my hips just slightly, but it’s hard to move– I feel sluggish and unwieldy. “Look at yourself,” she urges. “Look at how pregnant you’re getting for me.” She drops her bra to the floor, and I want to look at her perfect tits, but the big dome of my own belly catches my eye instead. *Is it growing while I watch?* “God, your tits are even bigger than mine, now,” she says, snapping me out of it. She’s not wrong. They flop down, resting on the full curve of my belly, their nipples broad and dark. My tits, like everything else about me now, are so very heavy.
She grinds into me a bit, leaning forward and down, her trim stomach pressed against my swollen orb. She’s pressing her breasts toward my face, and I turn to to put one in my mouth, sucking desperately. I don’t know what’s happening to me but I don’t care, such is my need. “Do you like this?” she asks, cupping one of my brand new fat fucking tits. It’s so sensitive, and I shudder, sucking harder on her nipple. “Blowing up like this for me, I mean. Like a big, pregnant hot air balloon?”
She adjusts her stance on top of me; I’m now too big for her to lean over my enormously round belly in quite the same way, and she sits up on my thighs, taking her perfect breasts away from my face. When I reach my hands up for them, my arms jostle my own swollen pregnant tits, pressing them together to form a surprisingly deep cleavage. I gasp at the sensation. When I look past my own cleavage, I see my belly surge forward again, even bigger. I feel impossibly huge. Now when she leans forward, she’s resting her breasts on the top of my massive pregnant belly. They look so small now, compared to my own.
For a moment, I watch her watching me, tracking the lust in her gaze as she surveys her handiwork. There’s ever-growing pressure in my womb and my tits, and I’m sinking deeper and deeper into the couch cushions under my own mounting weight, but the only sensation that matters to me is my red-hot carnal need. She reaches down between my thickening thighs, teasing me with the prospect of release, and my body expands again.
Thinking about how huge I am now, how fat my ass must be by this point, how heavy my belly will feel when I eventually have to stand up… my body expands again. Even merely growing is turning me on, and making me grow. I feel a warm wetness, and realize I’m leaking milk.
“Yes,” I respond at last. “I really, really like this.”
“What do you like about it?” she asks, smiling devilishly, and I start to think about any answer to her question but my belly interrupts. It’s growing again, tight and round and glorious. I’ve never seen a belly this big before in my life.
“Blowing up like this for you. Like a hot air balloon. A big, pregnant, leaking, desperate, absolutely enormous hot air balloon.”