After years of research and practice, a witch finally perfects a spell that allows her to increase her breast size and wonders if she can make other things bigger ;)
You had no idea how old, exactly, Maret was, though you suspected that she wasn't quite sure, either. She had to be at least a few centuries old, maybe a millennia. Either way, you knew that, as far as assistants went, you were one in a long line of women, stretching back to a time immemorial to anyone except for Maret herself. When out fetching mugwort and betony, you sometimes mused about who those assistants might have been, what they might have done, if they went out and collected herbs just as you did. It made you feel connected to them, bolstered the pride you held in your work.
In this moment, though, you doubted that any of them had experienced anything quite like this.
The wooden board was stiff underneath you as you lay on your back, tunic draped over a nearby chair. You tried your best to look at Maret directly, out of respect for her and her power, but that was far more difficult than usual. As she loomed over you, her breasts obscured most of her face. You still couldn't believe how large they had grown! She had always been pleasantly busty, but now her breasts had to be larger than all the women of the village combined! She didn't seem bothered by this at all, or the wobble that shook her colossal breasts back and forth as she ground the herbs with her pestle. Her full lips smiled and she hummed softly to herself a tune that made her seem very ancient, indeed. You swallowed, trying not to sound too nervous while also staying as still as you could.
"Do you know how I managed to grow so old?"
The question struck you as odd. Magic, obviously, but to what degree, and in what way? You did not know. You closed your mouth and slowly shook your head, letting your eyes dip, just for a moment, towards Maret's bust. She was already smiling when you looked back at her face, a deep blush creeping up the sides of your face.
"Healing magic is trivial. There is a way that the world wants to be and healing magic simply returns things to that way. A broken arm becomes whole. A body is restored to a time before the sickness entered it. A wound is healed as the skin is stitched back together. Healing a body is easy." Maret's expression darkened, her brow furrowing. "Changing a body... Changing a body is difficult."
Maret dipped a cloth into the poultice and brought it down to spread over your bare, flat chest. You couldn't help a small yelp as she applied the cool mixture. You didn't want to squirm, but each passing second made that more and more difficult. Seemingly oblivious to your plight, Maret continued.
"To change a body means to divert the course of the world, to undermine the nature of the body. That is what I have dedicated centuries of study towards, to find a way to not just bring a body back to a previous state, but to create an entirely new one." With a smile creeping back into her lips, Maret leaned forward and pressed her enormous breasts against the edge of the table. You nearly jumped as you felt them squish against your side. "Are you too polite to praise me for my success?"
You didn't know what to do, what to say. Your mind felt pulled in every direction at once. Despite yourself, something twitched between your thighs, betraying an attraction that you had worked so hard to keep hidden. After a few moments of awkward stammering, Maret put you out of your embarrassment with a chuckle that rippled through her magnificent bust. "I must apologize for teasing you so. You've always been a shy girl. Even when the rest of the village did not see you that way, I did. You have always been a girl to me." Moving the cloth out of the way, Maret leaned forward and kissed your forehead, just one of her breasts completely covering your chest.
As she pulled away, so, too, did your thoughts. You felt dizzy. The room swam lazily around you, spinning with Maret as your anchor. Your throat felt dry. "M-Maret, I—"
"Hush, little one. It's time for you to get the body you desire." She placed the cloth and the mortar aside and set to her work. Her eyes closed. Her hands hovered over your body. You watched, enraptured, as her soft lips moved and a flurry of words, or what you assumed were words, poured out of her. They were ancient, speaking not to her but to the rocks and the wind and the streams and the æther that filled the boundless sky. A sharp inhale drew something into you, something warm that swirled inside your body, searching for a home. The warmth settled in your chest and, as you looked down at yourself, you saw it.
Your flat chest was flat no longer.
A pair of small mounds began to rise, like loaves in an oven. They expanded, they swelled. Maret still continued to chant, concentrating on channeling the power that moved through your body. Small mounds turned larger by the second, budding into full breasts. Laying on your back forced them to spread to the sides, but their weight pulled down on you. By the second, flesh continued to pile higher and higher, euphoria surging through your body! You wanted to shout, to yell, to cheer to the heavens, but you didn't dare interrupt Maret, lest it all come to an end too soon.
The pleasure at your growing chest was almost enough to distract you from a strange tightness in your trousers. You had to crane your neck to see past your growing breasts only to be shocked at the growing bulge between your thighs. The part of you that you had struggled with for so long and now it was growing. Thinking back, you suddenly remembered a strange wetness while Maret had kissed you. At the time, you blamed yourself, but now...
"Do not be alarmed, little one."
Hearing Maret speak directly to you, amid the stream of ancient chanting, nearly made you jump. Your eyes snapped back up to meet hers. As she met your gaze, a strange calm spread through your body.
"You have been my loyal assistant for many years now. I would never do anything to harm you. I'm simply making sure it's big enough. For your reward."
Even before you could ask what she meant, she reached down and stuck her fingers into her cleavage, spreading them open to show you a tiny glimpse of the deep canyon between her breasts. The magic continued to swirl inside your body, but now your gock was growing twice as fast, enlarging and hardening by the second. You didn't know how big you would get or how much longer your trousers would last. You could barely see past your own breasts now, though they still paled in comparison next to Maret's magnificent bust. You closed your eyes. You took a deep breath. You trusted the witch. More than that, you loved her. You just had to let her do what she needed to do. And then—your lips curled into a cheeky grin—your reward.
