#breast envy

[stillconstantlygrowing]

Growth.

Get Bigger

Grow

More

Bigger

Bigger

Swell

Expand

Become more

Keep going

Never stop

GROW

[localboobsenjoyer]

The front door clicked open just after six. Mark dropped his keys in the bowl by the entrance, already loosening his tie, when the wet, rhythmic sound reached him from the bedroom. A soft, liquid *splat… splat… splat* against skin and hardwood.

He rounded the corner and stopped dead.

His wife stood in the middle of their sunlit bedroom exactly as the afternoon light had found her: barefoot, wearing nothing but a soaked pair of white lace panties that clung to her hips like wet tissue. Her long dark hair spilled over her shoulders. Her tongue was still out, a thin strand of milk connecting it to her lower lip. And her breasts.

Jesus Christ.

They were enormous. Truly, ridiculously, gravity-defyingly enormous. High, round, and heavy as overfilled water balloons, each one easily the size of a large watermelon and still visibly swelling in the slow, insistent way living tissue does when it has been forced far past any natural limit. The skin was stretched smooth and shiny, the undersides shadowed and faintly veined, the areolas wide and puffy, the nipples thick, dark, and constantly leaking. Twin jets of warm white milk arced outward every few seconds, painting glistening trails down the heavy curves before dripping off the underside onto the floor in small, spreading puddles.

But it wasn’t only her chest. Her waist looked impossibly narrow, cinched in as if someone had taken a measuring tape and simply decided the old measurements no longer applied. Below that, her hips had flared wide and soft, her ass had become full and round, and her thighs were thicker, smoother, the kind of plush power that made the tiny white panties look even more inadequate. She was taller too. Noticeably taller.

Mark’s mouth went dry.

“Honey…?”

She turned toward him with a dazed, almost dreamy smile, milk still dripping from her tongue. The motion sent both breasts swinging heavily; another double spray jetted out and splattered across the foot of the bed. Her new hips shifted with the movement, the extra weight of her ass and thighs giving her a slower, more deliberate sway.

“Hi, baby,” she said, voice husky. “You’re home early.”

He took two careful steps closer, eyes locked on the impossible swell of her chest and the new architecture of her lower body. “What… what the fuck happened to you?”

She giggled, a little breathless, and cupped the undersides of her tits as if weighing them. Milk immediately welled between her fingers and ran down her wrists.

“Remember I told you I was going to visit that sorority on campus? The one that does the ‘life skills and body positivity’ weekend?”

Mark nodded slowly. He remembered. She’d left that morning in jeans and a hoodie, looking like the same woman he’d kissed goodbye for the last six years—average height, average everything, pretty in a way that had always felt like home.

“There was a mix-up,” she continued, almost cheerfully. “Big one. They have this… ritual. Or exercise. Or whatever they call it. The girls all sit in a circle and ‘share what they have to offer.’ You’re supposed to listen and learn. Study their confidence, their study habits, their networking tips. That kind of thing.”

She gave her left breast a slow, experimental squeeze. A thick white stream shot out and hit the dresser three feet away.

“I said I wanted to learn everything they had to offer. I really stressed the *everything*. And the head girl—Madison—smiled and said, ‘Then take it.’”

Mark stared. “Take it.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, and the motion made both tits bounce and spray again. The new weight of her ass shifted with the movement. “Apparently the ritual isn’t metaphorical. It’s some kind of binding thing they’ve been doing for years. When you say the right words and mean them, the attributes just… transfer. Permanently. I didn’t know. None of us did until it started happening.”

She looked down at herself, almost admiring the way her waist nipped in so dramatically above the sudden flare of her hips.

“So I stole from them. All of them. At least the ones who mattered.”

Mark finally managed to close the distance. He reached out, hesitated, then laid both hands on the massive undersides of her breasts. They were hot, dense, and almost vibrating with pressure. Milk immediately leaked over his fingers. His palms slid lower almost without thinking, tracing the sharp inward curve of her waist, then outward over the soft new width of her hips, the full roundness of her ass, the thick, smooth power of her thighs.

“S-cups,” he whispered. “These are fucking S-cups. And still growing.”

“At least,” she agreed. “Probably more by tomorrow. They’re not done. That’s the part Madison didn’t warn me about until it was already happening.”

She shifted her weight, pressing the heavy globes more firmly into his palms while her new ass settled against his wrists.

“Okay. You want the full inventory?”

He nodded, unable to look away from the thick white streams still pulsing from her nipples.

“First—the size. That came from four of them. Brittany, the redhead on the volleyball team, was already an M-cup and still filling out. Jenna, the one who does the campus modeling, was a solid K and hadn’t finished either. Sophie, the exchange student, was somewhere around J and growing every month like it was nothing. And little Ashley—God, Ashley was only a C when I got there, but she had this insane genetic potential that just… unlocked when I took it. All four of them are basically flat now. Brittany cried. Jenna tried to punch me. It didn’t work. The ritual doesn’t let you take it back.”

She glanced down at the heavy, still-swelling curves resting in his hands.

“And because three of them were still growing when I took it, I get that too. Madison said the growth doesn’t stop just because the original owners stop developing. It keeps going. Indefinitely. So these—” she gave both breasts a slow upward bounce, watching the milk spray farther “—are going to keep getting bigger. Maybe a lot bigger. She didn’t know where the ceiling is. I’m not sure there is one.”

Mark’s thumbs brushed over the wide, puffy areolas. Her breath hitched hard.

“The lactation,” she continued, voice dropping lower, “came from two of them. Claire—the one who just had a baby last year—was still nursing and producing like crazy. That part’s obvious. The other one was natural. Her name was Lila. She just… lactated. No pregnancy, no induction, nothing. Her body decided one day when she was nineteen that it was going to make milk and never stop. And she *loved* it. She was so proud of it. She used to talk about how special it made her feel, how she could fill bottles just by thinking about it, how she never needed a pump because the flow was always ready. She wore it like a badge of honor. Soft sweaters that got damp on purpose. Little jokes about being the house dairy. She was devastated when it left her. Completely wrecked. She kept pressing her chest like she could will it back, and when nothing came she just sat on the floor and cried. Madison told her even if she gets pregnant someday she won’t be able to make a single drop. It’s gone. It’s mine.”

She demonstrated by catching a thick droplet on her tongue and swallowing with an exaggerated hum of pleasure. Another pulse left both nipples at the same time, stronger than the last.

“The waist and the flat stomach,” she said, running one hand down the dramatic inward curve of her midriff, “that was pure theft from Rachel. She had that tiny little waist and the kind of flat, soft stomach that looked like she’d never eaten a carb in her life. No muscle. Just narrow and smooth. She’s got a soft little pooch and wider middle now. Serves her right—she was the one who kept calling me ‘mom-bod’ under her breath.”

Mark’s hands were still full of her. He couldn’t stop squeezing, watching the milk jet harder every time he applied pressure. His palms slid lower again, over the new flare of her hips.

“The hips, the ass, and the thighs,” she went on, almost proudly, “those came from three different girls. The hips were from the dancer—Maya. She had that perfect wide, soft flare that made every skirt look better. The ass was from the girl who ran the campus gym’s glute program—Tessa. Round, high, heavy, the kind of ass that clapped when she walked. And the thighs were from the track girl, Nadia. Thick, smooth, powerful without being hard. All three of them are skinny little sticks from the waist down now. Maya looked like she was going to be sick when she saw herself in the mirror. Tessa just sat on the floor and stared at the space where her ass used to be.”

She turned slightly so he could see the new silhouette in the full-length mirror behind her: the impossibly narrow waist, the sudden wide hips, the full, heavy ass, the thick thighs that made her stance wider and softer.

“Height,” she continued. “That was from the tall one—Victoria. Six-one. I was five-six this morning. I’m five-eleven now. Feels weird. My clothes don’t fit. Obviously.”

She glanced down at the tiny white panties stretched across her new hips and the way her thighs looked longer and thicker.

“Sensitivity… that one was mean. I took it from two different girls. One was the quiet little freshman, Emily, who gets off if you so much as breathe on her neck. The other was the senior who runs the kink workshop—Sara. Sara’s the reason I can feel every single drop leaving my nipples like it’s wired straight to my clit. Watch.”

She pinched her own left nipple.

Her entire body jolted. A loud, helpless moan tore out of her throat and both breasts erupted in hard, arcing sprays that painted Mark’s shirt and the floor. Her knees buckled; she had to grab his shoulders to stay upright. The new weight of her ass and thighs made the collapse slower, heavier. When the orgasm finished shuddering through her, she was panting, pupils blown wide, a fresh sheen of milk coating both of them.

“See?” she whispered. “That’s all Sara and Emily. They’re numb now. Literally. Emily cried harder than Brittany.”

Mark was hard enough to hurt. He peeled his soaked shirt off without looking away from her.

“And the nipples,” she said, almost proudly, “those are pure Danielle. She had the prettiest, thickest, most suckable nipples on campus. Dark, sensitive, perfect for latching. I took the shape, the color, the way they stay hard no matter what. Hers are little pencil erasers now. She looked so betrayed.”

She cupped her breasts again, lifting them so the heavy undersides rested on her forearms. Milk continued to leak in steady streams. The motion made her new hips roll and her ass shift.

“There’s more,” she admitted. “The way they sit this high even at this size—that’s from the dancer, Maya, too. The skin elasticity so they don’t sag or stretch-mark—that was a group contribution from all the big-chested ones. The way they bounce and swing instead of just hanging—that was a little bit from everyone. And the constant, heavy feeling of being full… that’s all me now. They ache if I don’t empty them, but every time I do they just refill faster. And because the growth is still active, every refill comes with a little more size. Madison said it might never stop. I could wake up every morning a cup size bigger for the rest of my life.”

She stepped closer until the wet, heavy undersides of her breasts pressed against his bare chest, soaking him instantly. The new width of her hips brushed his. The soft weight of her ass settled against his hands when he reached around her. “They’re still settling. I can feel it. A little more size. A little more milk. A little more hip. A little more everything. And it’s not going to stop.”

Mark’s hands slid under the massive weight of her breasts again, testing. Another double jet of milk sprayed across his stomach. His palms dropped lower, gripping the full new curves of her ass, feeling the thick thighs press against his.

“And you’re okay with this?” he asked quietly.

She looked down at the impossible cleavage between them, at the way her nipples kept pulsing out thick white streams, at the dramatic narrowness of her waist above the sudden flare of her stolen hips, at the puddles spreading across their bedroom floor.

“Baby,” she said, voice soft and filthy, “I walked into that house wanting to learn how to be better. I walked out wearing every beautiful thing those girls had—and the growth that comes with it. I’m never giving it back. And every day from now on, I’m just going to keep taking up more space.”

She rose onto her toes—taller now, easier—and kissed him, open-mouthed and hungry, while her stolen breasts continued to empty themselves against his skin in warm, rhythmic pulses. Behind her, the mirror showed the full new silhouette: endless heavy tits still swelling, impossibly tiny waist, wide soft hips, full round ass, thick thighs, and milk that would never run dry.

Outside, the afternoon light kept shining. Inside, the only sound was the soft, wet *splat… splat… splat* of everything she had taken—still arriving, still growing, with no end in sight.

[konpiii]

Aerith's Inadequacies - Commission for Wrath

[stillconstantlygrowing]

It's funny, isn't it?

The bigger you grow, the bigger you need to be.

Every time you overwhelm a bra, bulging obscenely over the cups and straining the clasps digging into your back, you'd think that you might be satisfied. When you put on a tight shirt and you stretch the fabric nearly to the point of transparency, highlighting just how inadequate your wardrobe is becoming, you'd think it would be enough. You're already at a cup size that most women could only dream of, that some women pay exorbitant amounts to achieve, and yet it isn't enough. Not for you. You need to grow. You need to keep growing. It's not enough. It's never enough.

You stand in front of the mirror, marveling at how massive you look. Your tits have gotten so full, so heavy, so round. Jolts of pleasure course through your body as you rub lotion over your sensitive skin, your hands sinking into the softness. Your mind flashes with images of you doing the same thing except twice as big, tits dominating your torso. How soft they'll be then, how heavy, how much longer it takes to cover that much area. Arousal burns hot in your core as you imagine the sensitivity, how good it'll feel to have such massive tits at the center of your sexuality. And then you open your eyes and you can't help a disappointed whine. It's not enough to imagine it. It needs to be reality. You need to feel the sloshing, jiggling heft pulling on your chest with every movement you make.

And then, of course, there's the attention. You already get so much of it, people stopping and staring as you bounce your way down the street. But you need them to be as obsessed with your bust as you are. You need to leave a wake of turned heads and stunned expressions everywhere you go. You need to be the biggest tits they've ever seen and will ever see again, and then you need to be even bigger the next time they see you. You need to be the object of their obsession, their adoration, their worship. You need to look down and see them mindlessly suckling, their mouths eagerly and greedily tugging on your nipples, all three of you singularly focused on your own bust.

You need to grow.

You need to keep growing.

Big is good, but bigger is better.

It's never enough.

Grow.

Grow.

GROW.

Ooooooh my God 🥴

Thank you for this, the thought of two smaller woman mindlessly sucking on my tits as they get bigger. God. My flesh pushing them away from me, forcing them to hold on and suck as much as they can. Them starting to slowly grow too. Me moaning, gasping and growing. It's almost too much for my mind to handle!

I've gotten tons of stuff in my inbox, I wanna focus on being the same horny booby blog I've always been, so might not answer many of them. BUT, I appreciate all your WORSHIP, my ego is out of fucking control, even seeing my own reflection has started to get me hot. So many of you want me bigger and bigger and bigger Im almost constantly envisoning it!! FUCK!

[localboobsenjoyer]

The two burglars slipped through the side window of the sprawling mansion like shadows, their movements synced from years of pulling jobs together. Jax, tall and wiry with a cocky grin, and Lena, his sharp-eyed partner with athletic curves and a ponytail of dark hair, had gotten the tip: something incredibly valuable was sitting unguarded in the master suite of this rich family's estate tonight.

They crept upstairs, hearts pounding with that familiar thrill. When they eased open the bedroom door, they froze.

There she was, the trophy wife, standing perfectly still in the center of the lavish room like a statue frozen in time. She wore a skimpy white micro-bikini that barely contained her absurdly voluptuous body. Her breasts were enormous, easily KK-cup or larger, heavy, round, and glistening under the soft lighting. The thin white fabric strained desperately across them, her nipples visibly poking through. She had the kind of exaggerated hourglass figure that screamed "kept woman", tiny waist, wide hips, and those impossible tits that looked like they belonged in a fantasy.

Lena's eyes widened. "Holy shit, Jax... that's her. That's the score."

As they stepped closer, something unnatural began to happen. The wife's massive breasts started to quiver. Then, slowly at first, they began to shrink. At the same time, Lena felt a sudden, intense heat bloom across her own chest. Her modest C-cup breasts tingled, then swelled outward, pushing against the thin black tank top she wore for the job.

"Oh fuck..." Lena gasped, her hands flying to her chest as her breasts surged forward. They ballooned rapidly, D, E, F, stretching the fabric taut. The wife's enormous rack was visibly deflating in real time, shrinking from KK down through the alphabet while Lena's grew to match.

Jax watched in stunned arousal, his hand instinctively gripping Lena's hip. "It's transferring... keep going, baby."

Lena moaned softly as her tits kept expanding, becoming heavier, rounder, and impossibly full. By the time the wife's breasts had dwindled to B-cups, Lena's were already J-cups, thick and pendulous, straining the seams of her top. The transfer accelerated. The wife's chest flattened further, A-cups, then nearly nothing, just small, empty mounds, while Lena's breasts exploded outward into M-cups, then O-cups, utterly massive and defying gravity only through whatever strange magic was at work.

The wife's once-proud bikini top hung loose and ridiculous on her now-flat chest. Lena's tank top was destroyed. The fabric ripped apart with a loud tear as her new O-cup tits burst free, heavy, veiny, and glistening. They were even larger than the wife's had been, absurdly huge, each one bigger than her head, with fat, sensitive nipples already beginning to leak.

A warm trickle ran down Lena's bare stomach. Milk. The wife had clearly been lactating, and now that bounty was hers. Thick white droplets beaded at her enormous nipples and dripped steadily onto the floor.

Lena cupped her new, impossibly heavy breasts, feeling their weight and the constant leaking. "They're... mine now," she breathed, voice thick with lust and amazement. "Fuck, Jax, they're so big... I can't even cover them."

Jax pulled her close, kissing her hard as her massive, milk-leaking tits pressed against his chest. "Our best haul yet. Let's get out of here."

The flat-chested wife remained motionless, her expression unchanged, as the two lovers slipped back out into the night. Lena's ruined top was abandoned on the floor; she didn't bother trying to cover her leaking O-cup breasts, letting them bounce and drip freely as they ran. Back in their hideout, the "bounty" would get plenty of extra attention tonight, Jax's hands and mouth on her new, hyper-sensitive, milk-heavy tits while they celebrated their perfect score.

[silverrushh]

Next time I'll draw them but ass naked, dont worry

[localboobsenjoyer]

I blinked in disbelief, and the world itself seemed to ripple around me like a glitch in the matrix only I could see. Reality was mine now. And the very first thing I did was reshape her.

My girlfriend stood before me, no longer the modest, perky girl from moments ago. The faint, blurry ghost of her old self hovered like a fading echo, small and flat chested, almost innocent in that alternate timeline.

But that version was dissolving, losing substance with every heartbeat. What dominated my vision now was pure, overwhelming abundance. All around her, dozens of other ghostly echoes from parallel realities flickered weakly. Every single one of them looked completely robbed, their chests even flatter than my girlfriend used to be, almost concave with nothing but smooth, empty skin. It was as if she had reached across infinite possible realities and stolen every last ounce of breast flesh from all her other selves, claiming every curve, every bit of soft titmeat for her own body.

Her massive, heavy L cup breasts had swollen into obscene, mouth watering perfection. They hung full and pendulous yet impossibly firm, defying gravity with a lush, natural weight that made my cock throb instantly. Each one was bigger than her head, the soft, creamy flesh spilling outward in hypnotic curves. Her dark pink nipples, thick and stiff, sat high on those enormous globes, begging for attention. And they were still growing. I could see it happening in real time, a slow sensual surge with every breath she took. The skin stretched tighter and shinier as fresh mass pushed outward. They swelled heavier and rounder, forcing her back to arch and her shoulders to pull back just to balance their immense size. A soft fleshy slap sounded as the left one brushed against the right, sending ripples across all that sensitive titflesh.

"Fuck... baby," she whispered, voice husky and dazed. One hand instinctively cradled the underside of her left breast. It overflowed her fingers completely. The ghost image of her flat former self flickered weakly behind her, almost transparent now, as if the universe itself was surrendering to my will. All those other flat, defeated echoes only made her stolen bounty look even more impossibly huge.I stepped closer, my vision tunneling until nothing existed except those growing, jiggling monuments of erotic excess. The way they swayed and bounced with her slightest movement made my mouth water. I could already imagine burying my face between them, feeling them smother me in warm pillowy softness while they continued to expand against my cheeks. Or sliding my aching cock between the deep endless valley of cleavage she now possessed, her tits hugging me so tightly they would drain every drop from me.Her eyes met mine, half lidded and lust drunk, knowing exactly what I had done to her. "They're getting even bigger..." she moaned softly, giving her shoulders a little shimmy. The heavy breasts collided again with a lewd fleshy sound.

My power had only just begun. And her tits were going to keep growing. Every single day. I could not wait to watch.