My first two semesters at GeneTech Institute were going to be the best year of my life. 

GeneTech wasn’t just the best school for genetic research in the entire western hemisphere, it also boasted an astonishing 56 to 44 female to male ratio. Any guy working in STEM would kill for that kind of statistical advantage- it was like discovering bigfoot riding a unicorn. I thanked my lucky stars (and the many generous women-only scholarships provided by Fempire Unlimited) for affording me the opportunity. There was only one catch. If I failed to pull at least a 3.8 by the end of the second semester, my scholarships were toast. Grants would still pay for classes, but I’d be living on the street and the last time I checked- girls do not dig cardboard housing.

I wasn’t worried though. I graduated high school summa cum laude and my science submission took 2nd place at nationals. The only reason I didn’t get first was because there is a lot of money in neo-recyclables and the Big Five always pick the winners. I wasn’t too bent out of shape about it though. Given the choice between developing recycling technology for a bunch of hundred-year-old garbage and perfecting humanity with state of the art gene therapy- I’ll take genetics every time.

My watch read quarter til. Plenty of time to grab a coffee before heading across the quad to the conference lab. I decided I’d play tourist for a bit and walked the polished white stone walkways that looked out over the green manicured courtyards. Everything was perfectly trimmed, cleaned, and functional. It was like they hired Google to do their landscaping. Coming around a corner I spotted the coffee shop, quickly crossed the lawn, and slipped inside. My lenses adjusted instantly to the change in light. Transition lenses had come a long way. Of course I didn’t really have to wear them at all; the surgery was dirt cheap, but I liked my glasses. They had style.

I glanced around the cramped coffee shop and noticed there wasn’t an empty table in sight. In fact, the only empty seat was across from a petite undergrad. She was curvy, and would have been a total knockout given a half dozen extra inches or so. Nevertheless, she was very pretty; brunette, aquiline nose, gorgeous lips, beautifully sculpted cheekbones. She looked like a young Mila Kunis only more busty. A bored, faraway look was plastered on her face as she idly twirled a tiny red straw around the edge of her coffee. 

Not wanting to miss my chance, I ordered a small coffee to go. Thirty seconds later I was making my way over to her table… with absolutely no plan for what to say when I got there. She looked up when I arrived. I should have said something like 'is this seat taken', but what came out of my mouth surprised both of us, “You would look better if you were taller.”

“Excuse me?” Her hand stopped mid-stir.

Oh my god. What did I just say? My mind started racing as her shocked look transitioned to something a deal more offended. I had to say something fast. “Is that standard hereditary disposition for you?” Great, I thought sarcastically, dazzle her with scientific gobbledygook.

“Huh?” She replied, appearing more confused than annoyed now. That was good, confusion I could work with.

“I mean is your family around the same height you are.”

“You mean does shortness run in my family?” She sounded a bit pissed. This was not going well.

“Erm, yeah.” I confessed.

“No, as a matter of fact, it does not. Now if you don’t mind- I’m waiting for someone.”

I couldn’t let my first female encounter at college end like this. It would be a bad omen. Like getting a flat tire on the first drive in a new car. “I can help you,” I blurted out. “You don’t have to be short.” Wait. What?

“Just leave me- Err, huh? What did you just say?”

A great question! I wish I knew.... Well, in for a penny in for a pound. “I’m working on a uh... gene therapy that can uhm, safely increase the size of homo sapiens,” I lied. What the hell is wrong with me? I just met this girl and I’ve already insulted her and lied to her. Worse, it appeared to be working.

Her eyes lit up and she leaned forward, giving me a look at a tantalizing line of cleavage. “Really?” she asked with a hint of excitement.

“Well, I mean its mostly theoretical work.” Highly theoretical really. Bleeding edge. I’d just invented it for chrissake! Grabbing at straws, I continued, “But yeah, I’m confident it can be done.” Over confident you might say. “Think about it, if a tumor can grow due to a genetic defect why couldn’t healthy tissue grow instead? And if tissue, why not bone, muscle- the whole nine yards.” Yeah, I thought, nearly giggling at the absurdity of what I was saying, why the hell not!? 

“Wow.” she said. “I never thought about that.” Her eyes were distant for a moment before she refocused and said, “Why don’t you sit down?”

Score. I set my tablet down on the table and slid into the chair opposite of her. “What about your friend?”

“Oh, I only said that because I thought you were just some creep,” she said shrugging. 

“Yeah, umm… sorry about that. I get so caught up in my research sometimes that I start thinking of everyone in terms of ‘genetic potential’ rather than as, well- you know. People.” That, at least, was true. 

“So what do you think about my ‘genetic potential’?” she said sitting up straight. Her breasts filled out her shirt beautifully. She was giving me the perfect excuse and I took it.The table obscured everything below the waist but her stomach was flat and I guessed her breasts had to be somewhere in the D-cup range. 

I kept my face as clinical as possible and said, “You look like you’re in great shape but I can’t give you a good answer without getting a sample for my lab.” Finally, I sighed inwardly, a completely honest answer.

“Oooh, kinky,” she said with a wink. “Maybe I’ll have to give you a sample then.”

“I could check right after class.” Shit, I said that way too eagerly. 

“Well, in that case…” She pulled out a pen and wrote something on a napkin. Then she brought the napkin quickly to her face before pressing it into my hand. Before I could check out what she’d written she stood up and said, “I’ve got to get to class. Keep in touch.”

I started to reply “How do I-” but she was already gone.

I flipped over the napkin. Beneath a kiss shaped imprint was a phone number. I grinned.

It was definitely going to be a great year.

The first day lectures were disappointingly mundane. Though, to be fair, orientation always is.

As soon as class was dismissed I rushed back to the dorms and the small lab that I shared with three suite mates. Some college dorms had mini-kitchens- GeneTech had mini-labs. Fortunately, no one else was around when I arrived. I took it all in for the second time and felt just as thrilled as I had the first. The lab contained the typical assortment of beakers, jars, vials, and a computer station. However, unlike my lab at home all of the equipment here had built in blue-tooth that automatically reported everything from temperature to chemical analysis back to the PC. Some of the equipment even updated in real-time. Very cool stuff. 

I started running tests immediately, perversely eager to check out coffee girl’s DNA. I cursed myself for not getting her name, but there would be opportunity for that later. The data fed straight into an app I had finished my senior year. Refinements and tweaks had been made all through high school, but it wasn’t until senior year that I had perfected it. Essentially it condensed an enormous amount of genetic data into easily readable statistics. I called it “Vital-Stat”. Not a very creative name, I know, but it worked.

The screen refreshed and I leaned forward eagerly to read coffee girl’s report.

Name: None
Nationality: Swedish/Dutch
Skin: White, unblemished
Height: 5’2”
Weight: 124 lbs
Bust: 34-D
Waist: 25
Hips: 32
Shoe Size: 7

There was a bunch of other information but I skimmed over it to get to the good part, her genetic potential. When I saw it my jaw dropped.

Name: None
Max Height: 6’4”
Max Weight: 188 lbs
Max Bust: 36-G
Max Waist: 28
Max Hips: 36
Max Shoe Size: 12

The max stats assumed she didn’t put on weight through more conventional means like eating a ton of chocolate or something. The problem was, in all likelihood, puberty was over for coffee girl. All those max stats were nothing more than a genetic fantasy. I thought back to the countless girls I’d run through Vital-Stat in high school. It had been fun watching them grow over the years, some barely hitting their minimum stats while others nearly fulfilled their full genetic potential. I’d had more than a few fantasies of girls in the latter category.

One girl in particular, Melissa Bonds, had substantially driven up the demand for kleenex in my household. I’ll never forget the day I first got my hands on her stats, she was a 4’11” shrimp and the only noteworthy thing about her shiny blond hair. It was a strand of that hair that revealed an astonishing potential: 6’6”, F-cup, 200 lbs, size 14 shoe. Throughout freshman year and beyond she grew like a weed. Between constantly sneaking glances at her in the hallway and trying to get as many elective credits with her as possible it would be fair to say I was a little obsessed. Driven to unlock the secrets of genetic perfection how could I resist such a specimen? 

Melissa hit 5’5” by the start of Sophmore year. I think she wore a B-cup then. By the beginning of Junior year she was 5’10” and had gained at least one cup size. When the start of senior year came around she had reached a whopping 6’1”, gone up another cup size and sported a size 11 shoe. That was the year she made all-state in girl’s basketball. Unfortunately, her growth slowed over senior year and she only gained another inch, leveling out 6’2”. On the other hand her bust reached its full potential and her F-cups eventually caused her to give up sports. 

“Whatcha looking at?”

My vocal chords reflexively struck a note usually reserved for dog whistles as I whirled around to face the intruder. I ended up face-to-bust with a set of tits that could have given Melissa a run for her money, and the girl they were attached to was huge. She was easily six feet tall but it wasn’t just height, she was big all over. Some kind of sci-fi monster t-shirt was stretched over her corpulent bust and little potbelly. Below that she sported a set of hips so wide they probably could have hid two of me. Overcoming my shock I looked up at her face and saw she had one of those rare, slender-ish faces some big girls have that belie their actual weight. Smiling, she brushed back a strand of blond hair and said, “Easy there karate kid, I haven’t come to challenge your dojo.”

It took me a second to notice my arms were raised in an awkward fighting stance. Embarrassed, I quickly lowered them and said, “Sorry, you startled me.”

“I noticed. But its no big. I probably shouldn’t have snuck up on you. By the way, the name’s Britta.”

“Britta? Like the w-”

“Yes, like the water filter,” she said, sighing.

“Get that a lot huh?”

“Always.”

“Well, its nice to meet you Britta,” I said reaching out my hand. “I’m Dylan.” 

Her hand swallowed mine in a handshake and she replied, “Nice to meet you Dylan, it looks like we’re suite mates this year.”

“Huh?” I said, confused. “That can’t be right. They split up the suites by sex.”

“That’s not what the list says.”

“What list?”

“The one posted in the main hall with everyone’s room numbers and names on it.”

“Maybe there was just a mix-up?” I said, suddenly uncertain.

“I don’t think so. The dorm is full-up, it looks like you were the odd man out.”

“Wait,” I said, as gears began turning. ”That means-”

“Yeah, you got the suite with three other girls.”

“Get the fuck out.”

“Down boy. Remember this is GeneTech, not Chica State.” she said, referencing the well-known party college.

“Of course, I was just…” I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Just really excited by the idea of sleeping ten feet away from a bunch of college girls?”

“Yeah- I mean thats... Ugh.” I hung my head. After today I desperately needed to work on my intersex communication skills.

“Haha!” Britta had a deep infectious laugh that jiggled her heavy bust. “You’re a trip, Dylan. I think you and I are going to get along just fine.” She reached down and mussed my hair. I’d never had a big sister, but I imagined that having one might have felt a bit like this. “So are you gonna tell me what you were so focused on that I startled the kung-fu out of you?”

I had almost completely forgotten about the Vital-Stat data on the screen behind me. Britta was already looking over my shoulder squinting at the screen so there was no chance of hiding it now. “It’s an app I made in high school,” I said neutrally.

“What does it do?”

“It takes your genome and identifies a series of key genetic markers that affect everything from eye-color to shoe-size. Then it condenses and displays that data into two sections, one for the current condition of the target, and a second for the genetic boundaries of the target.”

“Interesting. So you dif the RNA from its DNA base to calculate the minimum and maximum potential of each cell type?" she asked. Holy shit, I thought, this girl knew her stuff.

“Yeah. I mean, the algorithms are obviously a bit more complex than that but you got the gist of it.” I replied.

“Cool,” she said, smiling earnestly. “Can I see?”

“Absolutely,” I said; happy to show off my genius to someone who could actually appreciate it.

Britta pulled up a chair and sat down. The wood creaked under her weight and I noticed that even sitting down I was still eye-level with her bust. She listened intently as I chattered away about gene-sequencing and RNA replication matrixes. At some point I started scrolling through the Vital-Stat report data and she said “Ooooh, what’s this?” I had been so excited to have someone around who actually knew what the hell I was talking about I forgot how incriminating the data might have looked. “Height. weight, bust size.” Britta said, grabbing the mouse and scrolling. “This looks like data porn.”

“Hey!” I said, trying ineffectually to take the mouse back. Her arm might as well have been the boom to a crane, I couldn’t budge it. Finally I gave up and said, “Look, that isn’t the only data I collect. I check for predispositions to all of the major genetic diseases. They get sent as separate alerts rather than as part of the main report.”

“So you’re not perv’ing out over bra-sizes?” Britta asked smiling with one eyebrow raised.

I wasn’t sure why but I felt somehow comfortable in her presence. Was it because she was being so good-natured about teasing me? “Maybe a little,” I admitted, smiling sheepishly.

She punched me in the shoulder and grinned wider. “Yeah I bet. Well, lets fire this thing up.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you want to know what I’m packing?” She shimmied her shoulders back and forth, wobbling her big boobs in my face. Normally I wouldn’t have given a girl as big as Britta a second look, but I had to admit her cavalier confidence was alluring. Her jugs sloshed back and forth, straining against her bra like two whales preparing to breach. I guess having a huge set of knockers didn’t hurt either. Suddenly, they stopped shaking. “Are you gonna stare all day or are we doing this?”

I must have blushed fifty shades of red because she gave another deep belly laugh. After taking a moment to compose myself I pointed across the lab table and said, “Put a sample of your DNA into that thing there.” 

She stood up, making me feel uncomfortably tiny with her massive body. She clomped over to the sequencing dish and dropped a strand of hair in saying, “Here goes!” Britta walked back over and stood behind me as we waited impatiently for the results. With a *BA-BEEP* the screen refreshed and Britta’s hand engulfed mine as she once again took control of the mouse. Simultaneously a heavy warmth engulfed my shoulder and to my chagrin I started to sprout wood. With her body pressed intimately against mine I didn’t even notice she had reached the main stats section until I heard her exclaim, “Oh my god, I do not weigh that much.” I looked at the screen.

Name: Britta
Nationality: English, Ukrainian, African
Skin: White, occaisional pimples potentially resulting from poor diet
Height: 6’
Weight: 264 lbs
Bust: 40-FF
Waist: 35
Hips: 62
Shoe Size: 12

“Uhh,” I said uncertainly, “It’s usually pretty accurate.”

“Are you calling me fat?” A vice-like pressure descended on the shoulder not already engulfed by Britta. 

“I didn’t mean- Its just that usually- You see there are a lot-” The pressure eased and Britta’s laughter vibrated through my body.

“I’m just fucking with you, Dylan. Chill, I know I’m a big girl. I’m not exactly shy about it.”

“Oh, heh… that’s good.”

“For future reference though, if a girl makes a comment about her weight she is looking for a compliment.”

“Oh.” I said, feeling a bit stupid. 

“Well?” she said impatiently.

“Well what?”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Britta gave me an exasperated look, “Well, can’t you think of something nice to say about me?”

“Oh!” I said, feeling dumber by the second. Her body was so hot and heavy against mine, I couldn’t think straight.“You’re very… curvy.” I said, weakly.

Britta frowned. “Isn’t that just code for ‘fat’?”

“No!” I protested. To think that just a minute ago I had felt almost completely relaxed around her.

“Relax. I’m just teasing you again. God, you’re easy.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I muttered unhappily.

“You don’t have any siblings do you?” she asked confidently.

“No, I’m an only child.”

“Parents not around much?” 

“I was an orphan.”

She ‘mmm-hmmed’ and continued questioning, “Lots of Foster homes?”

“Half a dozen, how did you know?”

“Psych is kind of my thing.”

“Psych as in Genetic Psychology?” GenePsych was a relatively new field but it had drawn a lot of scientific attention over the last few years. The basic idea was that even though people are influenced by their environment, they are still predisposed to respond to that environment in ways that are identifiable through genetic markers. Basically, it meant we each see the world through a unique genetic lens. 

“Yup. You’ve got a classic need for attention that was denied you in childhood. And I’d have to look at your genome to be sure, but I would guess you weren’t always a science whiz.”

“I worked hard,” I admitted, feeling very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

She must have noticed because she said, “Sorry. No one likes a pop psych-eval.”

“Its okay. Genetic Psychology is your field, I know what its like to not be able to turn that part of the brain off. But how did you know without checking my genome?”

“G-Psi courses include a lot of old school psych classes. Can’t understand the tech if you don’t know the basics,” she explained. Then, thankfully, she changed the subject “Let’s look at my wasted potential, shall we?” She scrolled down to her minimum stats.

Name: Britta
Min Skin: White, moles, ingrown hair 
Min Height: 5’4”
Min Weight: 162 lbs
Min Bust: 36-B
Min Waist: 32
Min Hips: 38
Mins Shoe Size: 5

“Wow,” she said. “Good thing I ate my wheaties huh?”

I laughed, feeling a bit more comfortable again even though her boob was still resting on my shoulder. My hand was starting to sweat underneath hers. “Keep in mind,” I said, “those measurements account for your current weight so if you lost weight your minimum measurements would decrease as well. 

“I see,” she said absently, and continued to scroll. Her max stats pulled up.


Name: Britta
Skin: White, unblemished
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 282 lbs
Bust: 40-FF
Waist: 36
Hips: 64
Shoe Size: 13

“Aww yeah, these babies grew to the max.” In the corner of my eye her hand raised up and give the tit not currently resting on my shoulder a healthy squeeze. My pants were becoming uncomfortably tight. “Good thing I didn’t get any taller though, right? It’s hard enough finding clothes as it is.”

“The height looks good on you,” I offered sincerely.

“Well, would you listen to that,” Britta said incredulously. “A real compliment. Theres hope for the boy yet.” She playfully mussed my hair again. “Speaking of which, where are your stats?”

Oh god. I groaned inwardly and spoke quickly, “This has been fun. Really, it’s been great meeting you and all but I need to study. There’s a lot-”

“Ohhhh no, I don’t think so. You’re aren’t getting off the hook that easy. I showed you mine, you show me yours.” Britta said, sounding determined.

I sighed. “I could have been taller. Happy?”

“Nope, not until I see those stats.”

The stiffness in my pants suddenly felt like a betrayal. “Fine.” I said, and pulled up file GP-0001, the first sample I’d ever tested; my own. I scrolled down to my current stats first.

Name: Dylan Anderson
Nationality: Irish, Polish
Skin: white, light freckles on back and shoulders.
Height: 5’3”
Weight: 122 lbs
Chest: 29
Waist: 28
Hips: 28
Shoe Size: 7

“There, now you’ve seen my stats.”

“Hey that’s not so bad. It could have been worse, right?”

“No,” I said glumly.

“Oh come on, show me your min stats.”

“You’re looking at them.”

“But those are your current- oh.” Gentleness crept into her voice. “I’m sorry. That’s rough.”

“Shit happens,” I shrugged.

“Well, let us see what might-have-been! OoooOooOoooo” Britta said, imitating the ghost of christmas past in an obvious attempt to cheer me up. I scrolled down to my max stats even though I could have listed them by heart.

Name: Dylan Anderson
Max Skin: white, light freckles on back and shoulders.
Max Height: 6’
Max Weight: 172 lbs
Max Chest: 34
Max Waist: 32
Max Hips: 34
Max Shoe Size: 11

“Hey, you got the best version of your skin,” Britta said cheerfully.

“It’s the only version of my skin.”

“Still the best.”

“Yeah, great. Can’t wait to show all the girls what great pasty white skin I have.”

“I’d hit it,” she said nonchalantly.

My jaw dropped. I’d never encountered a girl as forward as Britta. Perhaps a bit ironically- she had no filter to speak of. I looked sideways at her, wary of being messed with again but her eyes were focused on the screen. There was no indication she was messing with me.

“That… well, thanks. I guess.”

“Don’t mention it. But you’ll have to get me drunk first. I fancy the ladies… mostly.” Oooookay, I thought, I’m suite mates with a lesbian-leaning bisexual who just offered to have sex with me. I was more than a little concerned with the more than a hundred pound weight difference but judging by the wood I was still sporting, I wouldn’t have any trouble ‘performing’. Honestly though, despite not really being my type Britta’s offer made me feel a bit better.

“Thanks, Britta.” I said again, less awkwardly.

“Really, don’t mention it. You seem like a good guy Dylan. I can tell you’re pretty new at this whole boy-girl stuff.” She placed a finger over my indignant lips and continued, “Don’t get offended. It’s okay to be inexperienced. It’s kind of adorable really. And hey If you want, I’ll be your wingman. I happen to know a thing or two about making the girls howl,” she said, nudging me in the ribs. “If you know what I mean.”

Self-loathing washed away and I laughed. “Should I call you Iceman?”

“Hell no. And I am not calling your skinny ass ‘Maverick’ either.” Britta quipped with a smile that lit up her pretty face.

I loved that she got the reference. More than that, I loved the feeling that I had just made a friend.

“Hello.”

“Hey this is Dylan, we met in the coffee shop this morning.”

“Oh, right hey... Dylan.” Judging by the tone of her voice she had no idea who I was.

“I said I could make you taller,” I added, reluctantly preparing myself to explain why that was completely impossible.

“Oh, its you! I remember you! Yeah, I thought what you said was really interesting so I did some research.” Well, I thought, the proverbial jig is up. Then she surprised me and said, “I found some really interesting white papers on the topic, I’m sending them over to you right now.”

“Oh,” I said numbly. “That’s great.”

“That isn’t even the best part. Apparently there was a big study done a couple years back where they had some success. I’m sending you the project details.”

I was having a hard time believing what I was hearing. Research like she was talking about stopped slipping into the ‘public domain’ over a decade ago. Nowadays the Big Five closely guarded their secrets and the few indie companies left were no different. “I’m not going to get arrested for reading this I am?” I said warily.

“No,” she laughed. “Of course not. This is completely on the level. In fact there is an NDA in there you’ll need to sign.” 

My phone buzzed and prompted me to accept a file transfer. “Just a sec,” I said. The files downloaded instantly when I hit accept. 

I started skimming through the material and it quickly became clear there was some serious bio-engineering muscle behind the project. I recognized a couple of famous researcher names but more important was the company backing the study. Fempire Unlimited, a renowned genetics lab with a penchant for female empowerment which also happened to be one of the largest sub corporations of GeneTech Global. The GeneTech Global. Big five documents did not simply get handed to students. 

“You’re serious.” I replied, still struggling to understand the situation. ”How did you get this?”

The line was silent for a moment before she said, “I know people.” 

“Come on. You’re seriously not going to tell me how you got this?”

“If you aren’t interested just delete it.”

“No-no-no,” I said. It was hard to believe what I had just been handed. This was top-level research that I wouldn’t have dreamed of seeing for at least another five to ten years. 

“Sign the NDA and send it back as soon as possible so I can send you the rest.”

“The rest?” I said, dumbfounded.

“Yeah I only sent you the project details, the full analysis is over eight thousand pages.”

“Wow.”

“Should I take that to mean you’re signing?”

“Yeah. Umm, I’ll need to read it over first.”

“The NDA? It’s standard fare, just don’t tell anyone anything about it and you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah but, I should probably at least skim through it.”

“Sure, whatever you want Dylan,” she said casually. “I’m throwing a little party at my place tonight if you want to come by.”

“Really?” I said, sounding way too eager. So much for playing it cool. 

“Yeah it’ll be fun. We can discuss the research too if you want.”

I had to run a quick mental tally. Hot girl? Check. Party? Check. Opportunity to show off my scientific skills? Check. There was only one question left to ask.

“Do you have booze?”

“Of course.” High probability for inebriation, check. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Great, when should I expect you?”

“An hour?” I said uncertainly.

“Sounds good, but you better read fast.”

“Yeah,” I said, gathering my confidence. “No problem, I’ll give it a quick once over and then we can look over the main research together at your place.” 

“Sounds wonderful.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, it did.

We exchanged pleasantries and ended the call. I immediately began flipping through the NDA. It only took a few moments to identify a fault with my plan: it was forty seven pages long. “Standard fare, my ass.” I grumbled, looking through it as quickly as possible. There was enough legal jargon and technobabble in there to constipate a team of paralegals.

Thirty five minutes later I hadn’t even started getting ready. There was no way I was going to finish reading this. I had only understood maybe half of what I’d already read. Why did the big corps have to make their contracts so damned complicated? With less than twenty minutes left I gave up, impulsively signed on the dotted line, and sent it back. 

It was just an NDA anyway, I thought. What was the worst thing that could happen?

***

I arrived at the party in my best clothes; a thrift store polo and a pair of faded slacks. The building was white and included four massive stone columns reminiscent of government architecture. I knocked on one of the two massive oak doors at the top of the steps.

A tall raven-haired girl opened the door just enough to look down at me. Glitch techno spilled out and she said, “What do you want?”. I tapped the side of my glasses, pulling up the AR display to check the address. I was at the right place. “Well?” she asked bitchily, clearly short on patience.

“I heard there was a party.”

“Duh. Who invited you?”

Shit, I thought. In my rush to leave I had completely forgotten to get coffee girl’s name. Still, I wasn’t about to let this cranky bitch stop me from having the night of my life. “Her and I just met this morning, she gave me the address,” I said firmly.

The tall girl rolled her eyes, crossed her slender arms under her modest bust, then turned and said, “Hey Priscilla, there is some little nerd boy out here.”

Ugh. This was exactly the kind of shit I had assumed I wouldn’t have to deal with after high school. A distant voice barely audible over the music answered, “Let him in, Kate.” 

The bitch, who I presumed to be Kate, turned back around and sneered at me. “Just make sure you keep your little nerd hands to yourself.” Then she disappeared, leaving the door cracked open. 

I took a deep breath, woo-sah’ed, then pushed the door open.

The inside was, in a word, opulent. It was hard to believe I was still on a college campus as I found myself suddenly surrounded by gold inlays, decorative filigrees, and some very expensive looking art. The center of the room was dominated by a towering white marble statue of woman that looked like some sort of greek goddess with the inscription “Phi Kappa Fum” beneath it. My eyes lingered on it until a familiar voice pulled my attention to an open door. “Dylan! I’m so glad you could make it. Come in!”

I followed the voice into the room and recognized coffee girl right away. She looked in a beautiful white dress that hugged the curves of her upper body like a glove. The lower half was draped like a diaphanous shawl over the couch she was lying on. Five other girls were gathered around her with their bodies angled such that it was clear she was the center of attention. Something about the scene gave me the impression of a princess holding court. “Hi, uhh… Priscilla?” I guessed, uncertain it had been her voice I’d heard over the music.

“That’s me!” She exclaimed good-naturedly. “Come, sit down.”

“I’m not making space for a man,” Kate declared, defiantly. I stopped halfway across the room.

“Oh come off it, Kate. Can you stow the Femme Power crap for a minute.” Priscilla said, exasperated.

The tall girl pouted, “Why did you even invite a guy like him, Sila?”

“I’m right here,” I said, anger creeping into my voice.

“That’s enough.” Priscilla said briskly, “Kate, you need to go.”

“What!?” The obnoxious raven-haired girl exclaimed.

“I mean it. Out,” Priscilla commanded, pointing imperiously Then added, “The rest of you too. I’ve had enough girl talk today.”

A chorus of “aww, Sila” and other protests ensued but Priscilla drew herself up straight and waved them off as royalty might wave off ladies in waiting. I watched in curious amusement as the coterie of pretty girls filed out of the room. Kate stopped on her way out to give me a withering glare and say, “If you lay so much as a single finger on her I will cut your dick off.”

When they were gone I turned to Priscilla and said, “Kate isn’t big on hospitality is she?”

Priscilla looked pained. “I am so sorry about that. Kate means well but she can be a bit of a…” she trailed off.

“Bitch?” I offered.

Priscilla eyes widened and she covered her mouth as though she had been the one to say it. I balked, suddenly worried that I had just insulted one of her friends. Then her hands fell away revealing a mischievous smile. “Yes! I didn’t want to say it, but god yes.”

The tension drained away and I walked over to take Kate’s former seat on the plush couch. “So,” I said conversationally. “I guess it’s not much of a party anymore.”

Priscilla gently touched the back of my hand and traced upward, tickling my skin. Her hand stopped with her thumb lying over my wrist and gave my hand a squeeze. “On the contrary,” she said conspiratorially. “The party is just getting started.”

I looked around and confirmed we were alone. 

In exactly the amount of time it took me to do this Priscilla stood up, moved over to my part of the couch, and straddled me. I looked up at her in shock but before I could open my mouth she took hold of my hand and guided it under her dress. The heat between her thighs was intense and slightly damp. I finally found my voice and said, “I uhh…”

“Shh,” Priscilla hushed me. “Just keep your hand held out. This won’t take long.” With that said she began to grind urgently against my outstretched fingers. This can’t be happening, I thought, but my senses were making a very strong case that ‘this’ was indeed happening. The hot damp between her shapely thighs quickly elevated to furnace wet. Her large breasts jiggled vigorously beneath the clinging fabric of her gown. And a smell I had never encountered before, at once musty and sweet washed over me. Tightness developed in my pants swiftly and painfully.

“Mmmm,” Priscilla moaned. “It’s so much better with help.” I wasn’t sure how I was helping other than bearing part of her weight every time she thrust urgently against my fingers, but I wasn’t about to question it either. “Mmm, oh no.” Priscilla tone shifted to concern. “I don’t want to get sticky.” I looked at her with eyes wide, more aroused than I had ever been in my life and completely unsure of what to do. “Nnn,” she panted. “Cup your hand.” I cupped my free hand. “No, the other one!” she exclaimed urgently. When I did and she quickly reached down and pulled her panties aside. For one incredible, heart-wrenching, moment her steaming hot sex pressed against the skin of my palm and she cried out. When she pulled away my hand was smeared with girl cum. Dumbfounded, I stared at her with my hand outstretched awkwardly. “Don’t get that on the furniture,” she giggled.

For reasons unclear to me my palm had become the sacred vessel of her most intimate fluid. “What should I do then?”

Priscilla giggled again then reached over and said, “Whatever.” She dipped her finger in my palm and brought it back to her mouth. “You.” She sucked her finger clean. Her finger slipped out from between her lips with a wet pop. “Want.” I looked at the juices left in my hand, then back to Priscilla as her tongue swirled around the circumference over her finger, and finally back to my palm. My erection felt hard enough to cut through my pants like an exact-o-knife. As though in a trance I lifted my cupped palm and tested its contents. It was slightly sweet and warm. 

I glanced up and saw Priscilla watching me intently. Emboldened I turned up my cupped hand and sipped the rest of the fluid down. The salty sweet tang of her juices coated my tongue. It was a pleasant flavor. Priscilla smiled gleefully and leaned forward to whisper sexily in my ear, “I like a boy that swallows.” 

I gulped.

Priscilla left the room to ‘freshen up’, leaving me with a monumental case of blue balls. Not that I was complaining. Every second of her short but seductive ride was etched in memory. In an effort to calm down I pulled up the AR display on my glasses and navigated to the research Priscilla had sent over. Fortunately, the project synopsis was very informative. It read:

The purpose of the Atlas Rising Project is to reset select cells to an adolescent state through molecular biological recombination. It is understood that cells in an adolescent state are more susceptible to genetic manipulation and better able to manage primary, secondary, and tertiary functions in the host organism. 

Were they trying to turn back the clock? If cells could be fully regressed to a previous state it could mean a cure for a hundred different diseases! It could mean reversing the ageing process! This technology would open so many doors it made me dizzy just trying imagine them all. Then it hit me; they had failed. The project must have been scrapped or there was no way they would have let this document within a hundred miles of an undergrad like me. Then again, hadn’t Priscilla said something about them finding ‘some success’? 

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Britta that read: 

[hey mind giving me access to source for Vital-Stat? ]

[you code?] I keyed back.

My phone buzzed again. 

[no I just want to leak your source- of course I code dork]

One more quality to like about Britta. I replied with the uncompiled source from my phone. I had just started reading through the report again when Priscilla’s voice interrupted.

“Find anything interesting?”

I looked up to see her smiling at me. “You didn’t just stumble across this research in an afternoon,” I said accusingly.

Her smile didn’t falter and she replied, “I’ve had an interest in the topic for quite some time. You might say it’s a family tradition.”

“Is that how you got a hold of this? Was someone in your family on the research team?” As soon as I said it I realized that had to be it. It was the only thing that made sense.

“Something like that,” she said coyly. 

Well let her be coy, I thought. Finding out who she was related to on the research team would be simple enough later, for now my curiosity was sated. “Well, thank whoever it was for me,” I said, and my attention was drawn to a bottle of champagne Priscilla hoisted up. “What are we celebrating?”

“Aww,” she pouted sexily, “You haven’t got to the good part or you would know.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “The good part?”

“Flip to page 740, second paragraph up from the bottom.”

What the hell, I thought, does she know this whole thing by heart? I guess if I had access to research of this caliber I would probably know it by heart too. In fact, I was planning on it. I flipped to page 740 and saw it contained various test results. Each paragraph was prefixed by a number that I assumed corresponded to a specific test run. The second paragraph from the bottom read:

tf-362: Original samples yielded interesting results and the test was cleared for animal trials. While not effective in all cellular targets some cells were regressed as much as four years. The most impressive results were seen in Chimpanzee young adults: subjects experienced a complete hormonal growth and maturation cycle consistent with adolescence.

I read the last sentence again, just to be sure I was understanding it. “It’s exactly what you’re thinking.” Priscilla said; probably noting the disbelief painted on my face. “They were able to manufacture a second puberty in a living organism.”

“That’s… incredible,” I said, feeling lightheaded. “This is…” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

“Follow me,” Priscilla said, turning. “There’s something I want to show you.”

She lead me through a couple hallways and down a few flights of stairs. I was barely paying attention. I couldn’t stop reading the last line of the report. It was the missing link to my life’s greatest ambition. My science submission had been a way to ensure plants and other simple organisms reached their max genetic potential during their developmental period. For plants, which by and large were always growing, this was quite simple. For humans it was another matter entirely. But with this… I was unbelievably closer to achieving my dream of genetic perfection. I was so caught up that I nearly bumped into Priscilla.

She was stopped in front of a pair of sliding glass doors like the kind typically seen in supermarkets. What lay behind them, however, was far more interesting than a supermarket. The white tiled floor was filled with tables bristling with pristine glass beakers, shiny black plastic gadgets, and more pieces of equipment than I had names for. 

“Welcome to Phi Kappa Fum’s research facility,” Priscilla said, swiping a security card. The doors opened soundlessly and we stepped inside. 

“Wow,” I said. Trying to stop myself from jumping up and down with excitement like a gigantic nerd. “I’m amazed a sorority has this kind of equipment.” 

“Only the best,” Priscilla said as she adjusted her top, drawing attention to the only two things that could steal my attention away from a cutting edge laboratory. Her boobs jiggled hypnotically above the tight fabric. “Anything in particular you want to check out first?” 

My eyes snapped up, certain I’d been caught ogling her chest. If so her expression gave no sign. “No- I uhh. Is it okay if I install software on one of the PCs in here?”

Something suspiciously like disappointment flashed across Priscilla’s face but I couldn’t be sure because she smiled immediately after and said, “Of course, you’re free to use whatever you want as my guest.”

“Great, thanks.” I sat down plugged my phone into a computer, quickly dragging Vital-Stat and a couple other apps onto its hard drive. My phone buzzed and I snuck a glance at it. 

A new message from Britta read: 

[as I thought you aren’t tracking any psychological disorders associated with genetics... I’m fixing that for you ]. 

I smiled, reminding myself to thank her later.

I looked back at Priscilla. She was pouring champagne into a couple of tall slender beakers. When they were full of the bubbling effervescent liquid she sashayed over with a beaker in each hand, hips swaying sexily. “You still haven’t told me what we’re celebrating,” I said.

“Hmm? Getting access to groundbreaking research isn’t enough for you?” Priscilla said with mock surprise.

“No I mean- yes- I mean, thank you. It’s great for me… I’m just not sure what you get out of it.”

Priscilla laughed; a sweet sound, girlish and light. She leaned towards me and set our drinks down on the desk behind me. I became acutely aware of her bust pressed up against my arm. With her face only inches from mine she breathed, “I get you, silly.”

My penis stiffened and I said in an unsteady voice, “Me?” 

“If you’re interested.” Her breath was warm on my ear.

“Y-yes, o-of course,” I said, no longer certain we were still talking about science. 

A hand caressed my thigh. “Interested in making me taller?”. Another hand rested on my shoulder and squeezed. The warm curves of her body pressed softly against me as she pulled herself closer. 

“Yes,” I panted. 

Her exposed cleavage pressed against my chest. “Making me bigger?”

My head reeled as blood rushed to my genitals. “Yes,” I whispered hoarsely. 

She straddled my lap and whispered into my ear, “Make me grow, ” she said, her tone suddenly becoming more commanding. “bigger!” Her hands were all over me, drawing electricity from my body wherever they touched. “And bigger!” Her fingers clutched my arms with surprising strength. “And BIGGER!” Every time she said ‘bigger’ she climbed higher into my lap until her ample breasts heaved tantalizing inches from my face. Unable to speak I could only nod. I badly wanted to see her grow. To watch her expand larger and larger. To witness her become the goddess that Vital-Stat had told me she could -no- was destined to be. “Tell me you want it,” she commanded. The unmistakable musk of her arousal assaulted me, battering away whatever inhibitions I had left.

“I want it,” I mumbled.

“Tell me what you want,” she breathed huskily.

“I-want-you-to-get-bigger,” I said in a rush.

“Yes,” she gasped passionately, her legs contracting powerfully for a brief moment.

Emboldened I continued, “I want to make you huge.”

“Oh Dylan, yes,” she purred and dropped her shapely bottom onto my thigh. Her eyes bright with arousal, she began to grind against me. 

“Make…” I said. Her gyrating pelvis grazed the tip of my penis making every word a herculean effort. “You…” Her hands clutched her oversized breasts, causing them to swell over her bodice. “Perrrrrrrrrfffect!” I exclaimed, spraying cum into my pants. Still not satisfied she continued to grind against me faster and faster. Her breasts jumped wildly beneath her hands with every thrust. A steady moan began deep in her throat and began to rise higher and higher in pitch until it broke into a scream “AAAAIIIIIIIIIEYEEEESSSSSS!” She came. Priscilla rocked steadily against my thigh more slower and slower, in the wake of orgasm. When it was over she slumped against me and we both sat panting for a few long moments. 

Eventually, we separated.

“That was the best thing... ever,” I said, no longer caring about playing it cool. 

Priscilla tittered delicately behind her hand, somehow instantly reclaiming her regal bearing in the aftermath of that wanton display. Then she leaned forward and gave me a peck on the cheek. Looking demurely away she said, “I enjoyed it as well.” 

I savored the moment for a long while before speaking again. “Did you really mean what you said before?” I asked eventually, unable to restrain my curiosity.

“About what?”

“Wanting to get bigger.”

Priscilla shrugged and said, “Of course, who wouldn’t want to be the best version of themselves?” 

I had no answer for that. “What makes you think I can help?”

She revealed a mischievous smirk, “Well, you did win second place at Nationals with your science submission.”

“You looked into me!” I exclaimed without any real anger. I was actually a bit thrilled she knew about my work.

“Just enough to know we have similar interests.”

“You mean genetic perfection?”

“Lets call it: reaching our potential.”

“Ok, and what makes you think I can make you reach yours? You know I’ve only had success with plants, right?”

“Have you done any human testing?” she asked nonchalantly.

“Well... no,” I admitted. Human tests had to be approved and there was no way anyone was letting a high school student run human trials. I imagined a first semester college student wouldn’t fare much better. “There is all kinds of red tape. Even if I had a formula ready, which I don’t, it would still take years to get approval.”

“How long would it take you to make a formula?”

In theory I knew all of the genetic markers that needed to be targeted because they were the same markers that I used to generate data for Vital-Stat. However, creating the necessary genetic samples for splicing would take much longer, unless.... I looked around at the high-tech lab. Maybe with this equipment the time could be reduced significantly. I ran some quick mental calculations. Days? Hours maybe? “I don’t know,” I said finally. “I’ve never used equipment like this. Maybe I could throw something together quickly.”

“Tonight?” The excitement in Priscilla’s voice was palpable.

“Maybe,” I said begrudgingly.

Her grin in response was cheshire. “Why don’t you get started then. And I’ll go get ready for round two.” 

“Round two?” I said absently, still running mental math on formula specifics.

A hand gripped my thigh. “Maybe with less clothes.” Priscilla’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

My eyes widened as I took her meaning. “Right,” I said eagerly. “Round two is good.”

“I’ll be right back,” she said and quickly left the room. The doors closed soundlessly behind her.

I had a feeling that quality of the night’s proceedings very much depended on me having a formula to give her. With that in mind, I got to work figuring out what all the nifty metal arms and black plastic gadgets did..

Time passed and I began to get the hang of the lab. Everything I needed and more was there; machines to batch samples and perform other menial tasks while robotic arms managed the materials work with precision (handling glass with speed that was equal parts alarming and impressive). This left me in front of a computer orchestrating the proceedings like the sorcerer’s apprentice. Before long I had nearly half the lab running some task or another mechanical arms whirring, mixers churning, and everywhere the clink of glass and hum of electronics. At some point my phone buzzed with another message from Britta.

[I got everything loaded in and gonna re-run your last three samples]

I stopped typing furiously long enough to quickly text back, “sounds good”. Then went back to work, losing all sense of time as the orchestra of equipment built towards a crescendo

“Impressive.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the unexpected voice. Priscilla had slipped in without a sound. I looked away from the screen long enough to see she looked the same as she had earlier except that her hair was pinned up with oriental chopstick looking things. I turned back to my work and said, “It’s nearly finished.”

“Already?” Priscilla sounded impressed.

“This is a nice lab,” I said distractedly, absorbed in my work.

“Nicer with you here.” 

I smiled but didn’t reply- focused on completing the final portion of the formula. A dozen keystrokes later and I triumphantly settled my hands on either side of the keyboard. “It’s done,” I declared. Priscilla looked around at the machines still busily carrying out my instructions and I clarified, “The formula will take another minute or so to process, but I think its good enough to submit for a trial.”

Priscilla appeared thoughtful, “Have you thought about what you’re going to call it?”

I hadn’t. I started with the first words that sprang to mind, “Genetic… uhhh… transformation… formula?”

“How about Serum?” Priscilla suggested. “Genetic Transformation Serum.”

“GTS, huh?” I said, sampling the acronym. “Hmm... I think I like it. Gee-Tee-Ess. Its got a nice ring to it.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “It certainly does.”

“So what’s all this about fast-tracking human trials?” I said as casually as possible. “I’ll admit I never would have dreamed I’d see research like what you sent me earlier tonight, but that is one thing. Human trials are another entirely.” Even as I said this I knew I wanted her to prove me wrong.

“You let me worry about the human trials. Which one of these machines has the formula?”

“The one right behind me,” I said, jerking a thumb over my shoulder.

“Oh,” she said. “I think its done.”

I turned and saw that she was right, the serum had been completely and exquisitely prepared by my legion of robotic assistants. “There is enough in there to last for a month or more. I wanted to make sure the batch was large enough for multiple samples- in case we have to send it out to multiple labs.”

“Why would we do that?” Priscilla asked, her back turned to me as she approached the serum. 

“Because… we want them agree to trials?” I said, dubiously stating the obvious.

“I agree,” she said, her voice distant.

“To what?” I said tentatively. Her behavior was beginning to make me a little nervous. 

“I’m a human,” she said and turned to face me. A large beaker filled with the syrupy red fruits of my labor was clasped between her hands. “Let’s give it a trial.”

“What?” I said nervously, “You can’t do that. I mean- even if you did it wouldn’t do anything. To your body that is just a bottle of enzymes and proteins without the proper cells to bond to.” 

“Unless I’ve already undergone cellular regression.” Priscilla said.

“That- That’s not… When? How?”

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Dylan.” Priscilla eyes were far-away.

“No! Priscilla please. Think about what you’re doing. You could get hurt. We could get expelled.” I was panicking now. I started to move forward to take the serum away from her.

Before I could take a single step Priscilla brought the bottle to her lips and drank.

“No!” I shouted, lunging at her. She side-stepped easily and I hit my head against the desk. The ground came up fast and hard against my knees as I went down, groaning. “What have you done,” I groaned.

I heard a sharp intake of breath and Priscilla said, “Oh it tastes awful.”

My head ached terribly. “What have you done.” I repeated dully.

“When will it start? How long before I can grow.” I laughed. “Tell me!” she demanded.

I laughed harder, nearing hysterics. “Its a puberty! It takes months… years even.”

“That’s not fast enough.” Priscilla said, stomping her foot childishly. The sound of chugging filled my ears and I looked up to see her swallowing gulp after gulp of the formula.

“NO!” I shouted and lunged again. This time I was successful in knocking it away. The serum went spinning through the air, sending syrupy globs of liquid in arc’ing trails over tables, chairs, and electronics. The beaker shattered against the floor.

“You-” Priscilla started to say something angrily but doubled over in pain. “Oh god I -FEEL- it.”

“That’s not how it works!” I yelled. “The formula bonds to individual cells and forces them to replicate the optimum version of themselves. It doesn’t speed the replication itself!”

“It’s working!” Priscilla exclaimed, her voiced brimming with excitement.

“It’s not-” My jaw dropped. It was working. Slowly, almost imperceptibly Priscilla was beginning to grow. Priscilla’s legs lengthened, drawing her skirt higher and higher up her swelling thighs. Her bodice popped, making room for her expanding chest. Her breasts surged upward like bread dough rising from her suddenly overly tight top. She kicked off her shoes as her feet expanded, toes poking holes in her stockings. Stockings that were beginning to tear all up and down her legs. 

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. I was too stunned to speak. My phone buzzed. Numbly, I checked it and saw yet another text from Britta.

[so it turns out someone has a serious case of hypersexuality... and it ain’t me]

I looked at the heaving bust of my hostess, her face flushed with excitement- one hand already snaking down between her legs, and said:

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“Hell no I’m not making another batch,” I said, resolute in spite of Priscilla’s furnace hot body pressing into me. “Are you out of your mind?”

“You know Dylan,” Priscilla’s voice was throaty, “I can make it worth your while.” Her hand came to rest atop the traitorous bulge in my pants. Reluctantly, I pulled away from her warmth and retreated into the cooler air of the lab.

“No. Nothing is worth getting expelled for.” I said with less conviction than I had hoped. Her freshly expanded body looked amazing; Priscilla’s previously incredible curves had become even more exaggerated and her new height put her at least a few inches over me. Her tits wobbled heavily in their now inadequate prison as she slunk toward me, stockings tearing more with every step. “I have to go!” I said shrilly, and spun around. It took effort not to run out of the lab. Priscilla called after me but I didn’t trust myself to look back.

Somehow, I made it back to my dorm room.

When I walked in Britta was busily typing away at the lab computer. She seemed absorbed in whatever she was working on so I quietly slipped behind her. “Well, how did it go loverboy?” Britta said without looking up. 

I stopped. “Uhh...”

Britta turned, the chair creaking under her weight, and said. “Oh come on, you’re breathing like a racehorse. Either you got hot and heavy with someone or you ran all the way across campus.”

“The latter, actually,” I said glumly. Truthfully it had been a bit of both, but I didn't feel much like celebrating Priscilla's erotic teasing.

“Oh.” Britta sounded surprised and a bit disappointed. “How come?”

I had no time to come up with a good lie. But what could I say? That a crazy person just pounded down an untested formula in an unsanctioned human experiment? Instead I said, “Just uhh, you know… kinda felt like it.”

“Wow.” Britta’s eyebrows raised. “You’re a terrible liar. That’s good to know.” 

“Eh?”

“Means you don’t have a lot of practice,” Britta asserted.

“Oh.” I said, “Guess I never thought much about it. Well goodnight!” I turned to leave but Britta's voice stopped me.

“Nuh uh-uh, mister. Not until you spill.”

I was getting a bit irritated. “What are you, my mother?” I snapped. I wanted so badly to lie down, close my eyes, and pretend that tonight hadn’t happened. That my chance at a top-tier college degree hadn’t just disintegrated. On second thought, forget the degree- I’d be lucky not to wind up in prison.

“Whoa, that bad huh?” Britta said sympathetically.

Her genuine concern made me regret snapping at her. “Sorry. I just… Its just… Everything is fucked.” I began. Then I told Britta the rest of the story. The meeting in the coffee shop, the cryptic phone call, the opulent sorority. When I finished explaining the incident in the lab Britta crossed the room and gave me a hug. 

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” she said softly. Her heavy breasts cradled my head like plush pillows. 

“The university is going to find out.” I groaned. “They’re going to expel me for this.”

“Hey, lets just calm down and think this through.” Britta said holding me firmly. She smelled nice and when she took a breath the skin of her cleavage tickled my ear. I started becoming aroused and cursed Priscilla for getting me so riled up. Her hand began to gently stroke my hair and I shifted awkwardly so that Britta wouldn’t notice my growing erection. It didn’t work.

“Is that what I think it is?” Britta said and I looked up to see her smiling playfully down at my pants. “She left you high and dry huh?” Britta chided. Embarrassed, I tried to pull away, but Britta’s powerful arms tightened around me. “It’s okay, I’m flattered,” she said sincerely. “I wouldn’t make much of a practice partner if I couldn’t get a rise out of you, right?”

“P-practice partner?” I stuttered.

“Oh come on, you didn’t think I meant ‘what type of flowers to buy’ when I told you I would help you please the ladies…” I flushed a deeper red. “Oh my god. You did think that!” Britta swept me in a hug that was equal parts erotic and painful. My face was momentarily consumed in a deep valley of plush cleavage while a vertebrae or two popped under her bear-like hold. Then she set me back down and said, “Dylan, you are just too much. First, lets take care of your little soldier and then we’ll get to that other problem.”

She pushed me onto the computer chair. I looked up in shock at the behemoth girl now towering over me. She stretched and I watched in rapt amazement as her breasts surged against her t-shirt, revealing the outline of a massive brassiere. “Double-F,” she grinned. “But you already knew that.”

I nodded mutely.

“Alright, first lesson begins now. What do you do next?”

“Uhh…”

“You have read the mood.”

“Umm… the mood?” I said uncertainly.

Britta whipped off her shirt, sending her melons bouncing in their utilitarian white confinement. Her bra creaked in protest. “How about now?”

“Uhh, wow.”

“How would you describe it?”

Her breasts were still jiggling. “Amazing.” I said.

“The mood,” Britta laughed. “Not my tits. But thanks.”

“Oh, uhh... Sexy?”

Britta snorted. “Don’t say what you think I want to hear. Use your big head. What mood is my body language setting?”

I thought seriously for a moment. “Aggressive? I guess.” I said uncertainly.

“Good. Aggressive actions and body language emphasizing primary and secondary sexual attributes mean a girl wants to fuck... immediately. Don’t waste time trying to butter her up with compliments. Foreplay is still valid in these situations but we’re not there yet. For now, just focus on giving a girl what she wants. Lesson one: the first step of any seduction is to read your partner’s mood. If a girl wants to get down to business- then get down to business.”

“Okay, so by business you mean-”

Britta slapped her forehead, sending another shockwave of motion through her breasts, and said “Now you’re thinking too much.” Then our eyes met and she commanded, “Unzip your pants.” My erection surged and my mouth dropped open in surprise. I looked around nervously at the doors to the other rooms. “It’s just me and you tonight, buster.” Britta said.

Her confidence convinced me and, self-consciously, I began to draw down the zipper of my slacks. Almost immediately Britta dropped to her knees, putting her face nearly level with mine and positioning her huge tits tantalizing over my groin. 

“Just a handie, tonight.” She said matter-of-factly and her warm hand encircled my cock. A tingling sensation race through me. “Fast or slow?”

“Slow... maybe.” I said breathlessly.

Her hand began gliding up and down the length of my shaft, gently and expertly tugging the sensitive skin. Her huge breasts wobbled gently in her sturdy bra, obscuring her deft hand. “You really like big tits, huh?”

“Yeah,” I exhaled.

“I bet you liked watching that sorority girl’s boobs inflate earlier.” The scene was etched in my memory. Priscilla’s breasts expanding in her dress, creamy white mounds squashing together more and more tightly as they overwhelmed her top. “Hers are smaller than mine, right?” Britta’s voice brought me back to the present. I looked down at the massive jiggling mounds nearly resting in my lap. They were much bigger than Priscilla’s. 

“Yeah,” I gasped.

“Can you imagine these getting bigger?” Britta said, rocking her shoulders back and forth. Her bosom jumped and swayed with a life of its own, little swells of flesh surging over the rim of her bra like water in an overfull pool. “It’s already hard enough finding bras. Other clothes too,” she continued, “If I grew I’d never find anything to cover me. Can you imagine?” My imagination was running positively wild with the idea of Britta getting bigger. She was already the biggest girl I knew, if she got bigger… “Would you like that?” Her hand was moving more quickly up and down my throbbing erection.

“Yes.” I said softly.

“I’m sorry,” Britta said, further increasing the pace, “I didn’t hear. Could you say that again?”

“Yes.” I said loudly, voice powered by lust.

“You want my tits even bigger?” Britta said with mock exasperation, “You might not be able to breathe while sucking on them.” 

“Oh god.” I said, closing my eyes, imagining the feel of Britta’s breast swallowing my face as her hand pumped faster and faster.

“Touch them,” she commanded. I reached out with trembling arms and sank my fingers into her pliant flesh. They were soft and weighty and wonderful. I came immediately. Britta turned her torso to avoid splashing the underside of her breasts with my cum as it spurted over her hand. She continued pumping until I slouched over, spent.

A few panting moments later I found my voice. “Thank you.”

Britta smiled and rose to her full towering height. Placing her hands on her wide hips she said, “No need to thank me. I expect you to return the favor.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to that later.” Britta spun my chair around to face the computer and said, “Now zip up your pants, we’ve got work to do.”

“If you used nanoball sequencing where did you get the rest of the data on Priscilla’s genome?” Britta said, exasperated. I got the impression she didn’t quite believe that Priscilla had grown right in front of me- but she seemed willing to accept that something serious had happened. She had spent the last twenty minutes convincing me that we could dig up some dirt on Priscilla and lay the whole thing on her. 

“I found a match in a public database,” I explained. “It was submitted anonymously so I didn’t get any personal information.”

“Hmm,” Britta said, tapping her fingers on the desk. “Lets see if we can do a more thorough search this time... Can you hack?” 

“Maybe a little,” I admitted. She punched my shoulder. “Alright- a lot... jeez.” I complained and rubbed my arm.

“And you said there was a bunch of Feminazis with her when you came in right?”

“Just the one really, the others didn’t say much.”

“But the research you found had Fempire all over it, right?”

“Wait-wait-wait- You want me to hack Fempire to see if they have her records? Thats crazy.”

“I’m not saying go all black-hat-cyber-terrorist. We just need to match her DNA to a scholarship record. Just a little peek, you know.”

“I know I’m going to be in more trouble than I already am if I get caught snooping through Fempire databases.”

“Will you get caught?” Britta asked earnestly.

I hesitated. The scholarship database was probably not kept in the same cluster as their highly coveted genetics research. “No.” I sighed eventually. “Not if I’m careful.” 

“Alright then.”

It didn’t take me long to get into Fempire’s scholarship records. They were stored in a low level subsystem that seemed to be relatively insecure. “Priscilla, Priscilla, Priscilla,” I muttered, scrolling through a list of girls.

“Just add her DNA identifier to the query.” Britta said from somewhere above me.

“Right.” I replied wearily. I must be tired if I was forgetting to include multiple fields in an SQL search. I added the information and ran the search again. One result. I opened the file… And discovered that Priscilla Sendyne was an exemplary student with top marks. Irritatingly, her profile contained enough recommendations to make my application look pedestrian by comparison. The rest was pristine. No criminal record, no administrative actions, nothing. “Well,” I said, pushing in the keyboard. “So much for dirt.” 

“Come on, Dylan!” Britta was undaunted. “You can’t give up that easy.”

“You’re looking at the same thing I am, theres nothing here!”

“We have a last name now.”

“Great, fine.” I said and pulled up another tab. “Let’s find out how perfect her family is too.”

I opened a search for her mother, Anita Sendyne, and froze. The first link was a headline:

“Sendyne Steers Fempire Into Uncharted Waters”

I had missed the mark. Priscilla didn’t know someone on the research team- her mother ran the entire company! I quickly scanned through the story, which turned out to be a fluff piece covering various genomic research Fempire Unlimited was funding, before closing the window. “This is a disaster,” I said, standing.

“Come on Dylan, its not that bad” Britta’s hesitant tone was less than convincing.

“It is that bad! And you know it! She could probably cut the head off of the Dean of Admissions and get away with it!”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.” Britta said placing her hands on her wide hips.

“Am I? Anita Sendyne, her mother, is on GeneTech’s board of directors. Do you really think there is a limit to what they can get away with after the Congo incident two years ago?”

“That’s… Okay, maybe you’re right but-”

“I am right! And now I’m going to bed before I discover any more goods news,” I spat, and turned to leave. I was halted mid-step by a powerful hand on my shoulder. 

“Look, I get you’ve had a rough day, but there is an upside to this,” Britta said. 

“Let go of me.” I demanded. Rather than letting go Britta embraced me in a hug. I struggled to break free but it was like wrestling a bear, I couldn’t budge her. 

“Dylan stop, calm down.” Her voice was gentle, “Please?” I struggled for a few moments longer until, exhausted, I went limp in her arms. Britta waited for a while after I calmed down before saying, “You said she could get away with murder, right?”

“Yes,” I said resolutely.

“Then why couldn’t she get away with a little human experimentation?”

“Because she- oh,” I said as comprehension struck me. “Oh my god.” Excitement crept into my voice and I said, “You’re right! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before- Britta you’re a genius!”

“We do go to the same school you know,” Britta chided and released me.

I turned and looked up wildly curvy six foot tall landscape of her body to her smiling face. “Thank you,” I said.

“Don’t mention it.”

“No, I mean it. I owe you one.”

“I’m sure you would have figured it out after a good night’s sleep- but its never fun to go to bed angry. You still owe me one though, I hope you didn’t already forget about earlier.”

I blushed, “No, of course not.”

“Good. However… seeing as you’re pretty tired I’ll let you take a rain check.”

“Deal.”

“Just keep in mind if you want Little Miss Fempire’s protection you’re probably going to have to woo her.”

“Or give her more GTS,” I suggested morosely.

“GTS?”

“Genetic Transformation Serum, its what I called my formula.”

“Oh. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“No.” The wild look in Priscilla’s eyes when she was growing gave me chills just thinking about it.

“Woo’ing it is then.”

***

Classes the next day were uneventful. No message from the administration, no buzz around the student body about a girl that had shot up in height overnight. It was as if nothing had happened. If anything was surprising it was the amount of homework my teacher’s loaded on me. When I got back to the dorms I noticed one of the previously unoccupied bedroom’s had a door open.

“Hello?” I called.

“You must be the boy we got stuck with,” a female’s voice replied from inside the room.

“Nice to meet you too,” I muttered sarcastically, too quiet to be heard. More loudly I replied, “Sure am.”

A tiny girl appeared in the doorway. Blond ringlets framed a fair skinned face, blue eyes, and a petite slightly upturned nose. Petite was a good word to describe just about everything about her. No hips to speak of, a miniscule waist, and a non-existent bust adorned her short, skinny frame. She made me feel big and that was no small feat. I smiled at the unintentional pun.

“Britta told me about you, Dylan right?” She said with a sour look on her face. 

What was it with girls at this school? I thought. They’re either sex-crazed or man-haters. “Thats me. And you are…”

“Molly.” She said, “It’s nice to meet you… I guess.” She stuck out her hand.

I didn’t take it. “Did I do something to offend you?” I asked, unable to keep an edge out of my voice.

She retracted her hand and huffed. “You mean other than steal my girlfriend?” 

“What?” I said, baffled. The only person I’d done anything with was Priscilla and... “You mean you and... Britta?” I couldn’t imagine a more disparate pair than the enormous Britta and the miniature blond standing in front of me.

Molly golf clapped. “Ding ding ding!” 

I wasn’t sure what to say, I’d never been in a situation like this before. “I didn’t know,” I said apologetically. “I didn’t ask her about- I mean it wasn’t even my idea.”

Molly looked at me for a long moment then sighed. Her malice seemed to drain away and she said, “No, I’m the one who should apologize. Her and I agreed to... experiment- I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.” She stared at the floor and said, “Sorry for being such a drama queen... Can we try again?” She asked, looking up to meet my eyes. “My name is Molly. Molly Springfield.” She reached out her hand.

I took it and replied, “Dylan Anderson. Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too.” Molly said and looked me up and down appraisingly before saying, “Britta was right.”

“About what?”

Molly giggled and said, “You’re kinda cute.” 

“Erm, thanks. You have umm pretty hair.” 

Molly laughed harder. “Wow. She was right about you being a blank slate too.”

What the hell was Britta saying about me? “I’m not really sure how to take that.”

“Don’t worry about it. By the time we’re done with you you’ll be a real lady killer.”

“We?”

“She may be small but she’s fierce,” Britta’s voice came from behind me. “Good to see you two getting along.”

“Britta!” Molly gushed and dashed across the room. Britta swept her up in her arms and pulled her into a kiss. Their lips remained locked together for a while before Britta’s eyes opened to give me a little wink. “Alright alright, thats enough.” Britta admonished. “Any more than that and we’re going to have to charge him for the show.”

“It’s been so long!” Molly whined.

“Two weeks isn’t really that long, sweetie.”

“It felt like forever.” 

“Then why don’t you change into something… more comfortable and we’ll see how these dorm beds hold up.” Britta offered.

“Don’t keep me waiting!” Molly chirped and disappeared into her room.

When the door shut Britta looked at me and said, “Molly and I have a little catching up to do, any news on the growing girl front?”

“Not a thing,” I said.

“Hmm,” Britta said and looked thoughtful. “You’re going to have to go into the den of the beast, I think.”

“Could we not call it the ‘den of the beast’?” I said nervously. “Besides, maybe it will just blow over.” Britta gave me a look. “Okay, okay. I know. But I don’t know what to do. Priscilla is going to want more formula and if I refuse…”

“Don’t refuse then,” Britta suggested. “All you need to do is make an excuse to delay making another batch. Make sure she needs to keep you around. As long as she wants more of that stuff you can bet the campus cops won’t be coming after you.”

“I could tell her I need a blood sample to perform a full DNA analysis.” I nodded to myself, it was a credible excuse. “That should buy me at least a couple days.” 

“Now you’re thinking,” Britta declared happily. “We’ll make a little liar out of you yet.”

My excitement curdled a bit and I said, “I thought we working on the whole ‘woo’ing’ thing.”

“Yep,” Britta nodded.

“So... seduction is just lying?”

Britta shrugged, “Call it ‘garnishing the truth’ if it makes you feel better. And hey, if you mean every word- even better. Just don’t forget that as soon as you start saying things to provoke a specific emotional response you’re not being entirely honest.”

“I guess that’s true…” I said feeling a bit put-off. 

“Dylan, lovers have been telling each other little white lies for thousands of years. Here I’ll give you an example. Does this shirt make me look fat?” Britta straightened and thrust out her chest. The yellow shirt in question was plastered to her more than ample curves and rode up such that a small crescent of belly fat was on display. 

My face became instantly hot. “Uhh…” 

Britta laughed. “I’ve never seen someone’s face get red so quickly!” She bent over double still shaking with laughter and revealed a deep line of jiggling cleavage.

“Point taken,” I sighed.

Molly’s voice called from the other room “What’s so funny?”

Britta glanced at the door and said, “I better get in there. Remember, you just need to stall her.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

Fifteen minutes later after becoming uncomfortably aroused by the moans coming from Molly’s room I decided it was time to head out. I wandered around Campus a bit in the general direction of the Phi Kappa Fum while I sorted out my plan. By the time I got to the door of the imposing structure it had just started to get dark. I knocked, silently praying Kate was not around.

Luckily, another girl opened the door. “Can I help you?” she said.

“I’m here for Priscilla. She is expecting me.” Little white lie one, I thought, starting a tally. 

“Okay, come on in.” She lead me into the foyer and back towards the stairs before turning. “Can I ask you to wait here?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. The girl walked up the stairs and out of sight and I turned to glance around at the sorority’s decadently decorated interior. Seeing it a second time I couldn’t help but feel it was a bit garish. It was the kind of place someone with too much money and very little taste would make. I was trying to guesstimate the cost of the marble statue at the center of the room when Priscilla’s voice startled me.

“Couldn’t stay away I see,” she purred.

“Heh,” I laughed nervously. “I guess not.” I turned and saw an even more revealing dress than the night before. Despite having grown a few inches it appeared to be perfectly tailored to her increased height. A slash at the hip left a scandalous amount of thigh exposed in a fashion I vaguely recognized as oriental. The dress was a bit snug around the bust, I thought, unable to prevent myself from stealing a glance at the large orbs jutting to either side of her cleavage filled v-neck. I noticed a slight humming sound, but Priscilla started talking again before I could identify its source.

“Want to come up to my room?” She offered with a smile. Danger! Danger Will Robinson! I needed to focus on getting her down to the lab, I couldn’t draw blood in her room. “I’ve got a little lab in there if you want to whip up another batch of your… secret sauce,” Priscilla said as though reading my mind.

“Uhh,” I said, stalling for some excuse.

“Come on,” she said, taking my hand. “The other girls won’t bother us.” She lead me up the stairs, her full ass swaying sexily with each step. I wasn’t big on deities, but I started praying to every god I knew to strengthen my resolve. My penis, unfortunately, was more interested in bouncing ass than in answering prayers. 

I was half mast by the time we got to her room and slipped inside. The door clicked shut behind me and I started sweating, feeling trapped. Priscilla pulled me further into a room that was every bit as expensive looking as the floor below- if a bit more tasteful. I forced myself to admire a painting of cherubs dancing around a woman on the moon in an effort to curb my arousal. 

“It’s called ‘The Celestial Madonna’.”

“Ha,” I gave an honest laugh. “I get it. I wouldn’t have guessed you were a comic fan.”

“Genetic mutation has always interested me,” Priscilla answer seriously. “The idea of ‘mutant’ human beings is fascinating.”

“No kidding?” I said, beginning to see her in a new light. “Who is your favorite?”

She wrinkled her nose and somehow even that was sexy. “That’s kid stuff. I don’t even know why I keep this around except that it kind of a clever mash-up of my other love, 17th century art.” 

I didn’t know a thing about 17th century so I stuck to the familiar. “Oh come on. I was really into comics for a while too, especially the classics. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone,” I said.

She looked demure, “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

I smiled, happy to finally have the upper hand in a conversation. “Cross my heart,” I said. 

“My favorite was from the other big comic universe, umm…”

“DC?” I offered.

“Yeah, thats the one. Her name was Giganta.”

“Oh,” I said, “I don’t know that one.” I didn’t like the sound of her name though. 


“Really?” Priscilla said, “She wasn’t a mutant per-se, but her power always fascinated me.”

“No kidding? Its crazy all the stuff those artists came up with huh?” I said, wondering if I should have tried my luck with 17th century art.

“Do you know Giganta’s power was, Dylan?” Priscilla said, closing the distance between us. I took a step back and my heel hit the wall. I shook my head, glancing back at the door. I had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going. Priscilla stopped, her breasts inches from my chest, and said, “She could grow.” The humming noise I’d noticed earlier was louder now.

“Wow, crazy... heh.” I said nervously, “Who would have guessed?”

Priscilla’s proximity seemed to make the temperature rise ten degrees.“Just like you made me grow last night.” A bead of sweat fell from the tip of my nose and landed in Priscilla’s exposed cleavage. We both looked down at her chest as it rolled between her boobs. My erection started sprouting immediately and I turned away. 

“Are you hot?” Priscilla said sweetly. “Would you like some water?”

“Y-yes,” I croaked. 

She stepped back and I heaved a sigh of relief. “I’ll be right back,” she said and walked into the bathroom. I found the nearest chair and slumped into it. I had to get out of here as quickly as possible. The sound of water splashing into a glass came from the bathroom and I knew I had to think fast. Take control of the situation, Dylan, be assertive. I stood back up just as Priscilla entered the room with a glass of water. 

“I need to run some tests with your blood,” I blurted out.

Surprise lit her face and she paused halfway across the room. “For the serum?”

“Yes, I need to make sure your system is synthesizing the formula correctly.”

“I feel fine,” Priscilla said with a shrug and stepped forward to hand me the water.

I accepted the glass and took a long drink, buying myself time to think. “Still,” I began. “That formula was based on a model built for plant DNA, it isn’t optimal for human consumption. The work I did last night was guesswork mostly, it wasn’t supposed to be… consumed.” 

“Worked pretty well for guesswork.” Priscilla said running her hands over her voluptuous curves.

“With who knows what side effects? You’re not going to be very happy if you start sprouting leaves will you?” That was about as likely as her growing a second head, but I was overdue for white lie number two.

“Hmm,” Priscilla’s delicate red lips pursed thoughtfully. “It does make sense to perfect the GTS, unintended side effects could… complicate matters.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And the sooner the better, where is the equipment you mentioned?” I looked around but other than the bed and the furniture I couldn’t see anything resembling a lab.

Priscilla walked past me and picked up a remote. A moment later a whirring sound emanated from the wall as a chair recessed into and a lab rotated into view. Priscilla noticed my incredulous stare and said, “Isn’t it neat? They’re very convenient.” It was like a secret lab, I thought. How much money did these people have?

“Great, just come over and sit down please,” I said, not wanting to lose momentum.

Priscilla complied, seating herself next to the lab table with an arm stretched out. “I’m ready for my treatment, doctor.” she said coquettishly. I attempted to maintain a physician’s demeanor as I brandished a syringe. “Be gentle,” she cooed.

Leaning in I noticed that buzzing hum again. What the hell was that sound? “Don’t worry. With a nano-needle you wont feel a thing but...” I said while beginning to draw blood. “You already knew that.”

“Your bedside manner would benefit from a bit more intimacy,” Priscilla suggested as I withdrew the now-full syringe from her arm. 

“I’ll uhh, keep that in mind.” I said taking a step back. The plasma cylinder slid easily out of the syringe and into my pocket.

“You’re not going to stick a girl and run are you?” Priscilla asked, standing. She was between me in the exit, I noticed with dismay. “Come on Dylan, last night was fun right? I’ve been so bored being here all day by myself.”

So that’s why no one knew she had grown, Priscilla hadn’t left the building. She took a step toward me and slipped. Her body came tumbling forward and I caught her before losing balance myself. We toppled backwards onto her bed, her voluptuous weight body pinning me down. Her heavy breasts squashed against my stomach and I tensed. Was her body vibrating? To my surprise, she rolled off of me almost immediately and laid face down on her bed.

Stunned, I managed to sit up. Lying next to me Priscilla’s body was shaking slightly. “Priscilla? Are you okay?” I said.

“You think I’m a slut,” she sobbed.

“What? No! Of course not.” White lie three was almost easy.

“Yes you do,” Priscilla said and rolled over. Her mascara was smudged by tears. “I made you get me off within ten minutes of coming in the door last time.”

“You didn’t exactly force me.”

Priscilla propped herself up on an elbow, pushing her breasts together in a breathtaking display of cleavage. The erotic visage was slightly marred by the tears still running down her face. “Come on, Dylan. I’m not stupid. I know how I must seem to you.” 

“You are a bit forward I guess,” I conceded, bringing the lie tally to four.

“I humped your leg last night.”

“Okay a lot forward,” I said, not sure where she was going with this.

“I didn’t ask to be like this you know?” Priscilla said, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Its a condition, a genetic defect. A ‘nympho’.”

“You seem to manage it well.” I deployed white lie five with conviction.

“Really?” Priscilla said and sat up to reach reach under her dress. I turned away as her hand fished around between her legs. A moment later a buzzing sound filled the air and I turned back to see a small black device pressed between her fingers. “Does this look like I’m ‘managing it well’ to you?” The vibrator flung miniature droplets of her juices everywhere until she snapped it off. Priscilla stared at it for a few moments before her shoulders began shaking again. A tear splashed against her palm and my heart went out to her. 

I moved to her side and wrapped my arms around her. It’s okay,” I said. Her head pressed against my shoulder and shook vigorously. “I mean it Priscilla, you’re not a slut,” I said surprising myself with sincerity. The girl clearly had a wildly overactive libido and it wasn’t like I had put up any protest. If anything I was the one who should be ashamed for taking advantage of her. “It’s not like we slept together,” I said, for both our sakes. 

Priscilla sniffled and looked up. “You really don’t think I’m a slut?”

“Well, I guess that depends on how many other boys you’ve had on your bed today,” I quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

Priscilla half-laughed-half-sobbed in response and looked at the ceiling. A slight smile brightened her face as she wiped her eyes, further smearing her make-up. “Just you,” she said. 

“Well, there you go. As your doctor it’s my responsibility to release you with a clean bill of health.”

Priscilla looked at the black smudges on her hands and said, “God I’m such a mess. Still... thank you, Dylan.” 

“Anytime, but...” I hesitated, not sure if it was a good idea to press my luck.

“Yes?” Priscilla said with uncharacteristic vulnerability.

“This whole growing thing. It’s dangerous. And we could get in a lot of trouble.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Priscilla said softly, “Mom won’t let anything jeopardize my future... or my friend’s futures.”

“So we’re friends?”

Priscilla slapped my arm playfully, “Duh.” 

There was something incredibly out of character and endearing in the way she said ‘duh’ that I couldn’t help but smile. “We can put this whole GTS thing behind us then?” I asked, brimming with hope.

“Dylan. I already told you we’re not going to get in trouble so what are you worried about?” Priscilla demanded.

“Disease, mutation, I dunno- ethics!” I exclaimed, losing my cool.

“Being a mutant sounds sort of cool though,” Priscilla said, smiling.

“This isn’t a comic book Priscilla! You could get seriously ill- even die!” 

Priscilla took my hands in hers, infusing it with the warmth of her delicate touch. “Or you could make me perfect.”

Her words hit too close to home. “What if I fail? If something happens to you your family will bury me alive. And I… I couldn’t live with myself,” I said, my voice breaking at the end.

Priscilla fell silent. 

After a long period of contemplation she finally said,“Okay. We’ll let the tests decide. If you see anything dangerous happening in my DNA we’ll call the whole thing off and I’ll tell my mom everything that happened.”

“Its my call then?”

“Your discretion,” Priscilla agreed.

This was better than anything I could have hoped for. “Deal,” I said, relieved. I reached out my hand to shake on it when Priscilla suddenly embraced me. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

“That’s… don’t mention it,” I said awkwardly. She continued to hold me until I became acutely aware of her ample breasts squashed up against my ribs and the steady rise and fall of her chest. My own breathing quickened and I started to pull away.

“Don’t go,” Priscilla implored, meeting my eyes. “At least let me treat you to dinner.”

Feeling like I had a much better handle on the situation I nodded. “Okay, I am pretty hungry.”

“Good!” Priscilla exclaimed. She released me and stood up. “You’ll have to excuse me while I…” she glanced sheepishly at the vibrator still in her hand. “Freshen up.”

“Oh!” I said and made the mistake of standing straight up. My erection was obvious.

“Ooo, looks like I’m not the only one all hot and bothered,” Priscilla said gleefully.

“Gimme a break,” I said shifting my pants uncomfortably. “It’s not like I’m used to sitting with a girl in her bed especially not-” I stopped myself from saying something embaressing.

“Especially not what?” Priscilla asked expectantly. 

I muttered a response.

“Come on, we’re friends remember? Just tell me.”

“Sexy okay? You’re sexy.”

“Aww, that’s really sweet Dylan.” Priscilla said, “You know maybe we could…” She looked away, blushing. “You know… help each other out.”

I could scarcely believe this shyness coming from the aggressive girl I’d met the night before. It made me feel a bit more confident and I said, “Like last night?”

“Well,” Priscilla looked sheepish, “Maybe not exactly like last night.” Her tone changed. “Ugh, I hate this, I’ve been running this stupid thing all day-” she shook the vibrator “-and I just can’t. I need…” 

“Its okay,” I smiled, enjoying the role reversal. “We’re friends, you can tell me.”

“Please don’t make me say it.” Priscilla said pleadingly.

My penis was as hard as ever but for once I wasn’t fighting it. It felt good to be in control a bit. “Your wish is my command, your highness.” I said, giving a slight bow.

Clearly not amused, Priscilla spoke through gritted teeth. “Oh is it now?”

“Well,” I said, my confidence crumbling. “I-”

“Oh don’t back out now.” Priscilla said advancing on me, “You like seeing me squirm?”

The bed bumped the back of my legs. “A little, maybe,” I admitted.

“Then that’s what you’re going to get.” She pushed me back down to the bed with surprising force. Had she been this strong last night? A wicked smile was painted on her face as she bent over the bed and I watched her panties slip down to the floor. Her hand reached over my crotch and I tensed but it passed over me to the opposite side of the bed. She pulled herself onto the bed and straddled me. The familiar sweetness of her sex assaulted my nose as the damp heat of her crotch pressed against my stomach.

“Ready for your appetizer?” Priscilla said without any trace of her previous shyness. My breath caught as she began sliding up my chest. Her breasts jiggled and bounced as she moved up my body. Her naked sex suddenly filled my vision in the half-darkness under her dress. “Bon Appétit,” she declared, and sat on my face.

The glistening wet lips of her sex greeted me with a sloppy kiss. She was shaven except for a light fuzz that tickled my nose. The overpowering sweetness of her musk threatened to drown me. Tingling with excitement and wielding only the most cursory knowledge of cunnilingus I tentatively stretched out my tongue. The moment it made contact with her nether region two things happened. First, I tasted an incredibly sweet, musky flavor. Second, Priscilla moaned heavily and gushed girl-cum all over my face.

Her body twitched spasmodically for a few moments before she said breathlessly, “You have no idea how badly I needed that.”

Recovering from my shock of having elicited an orgasm on contact I mumbled, “Glad I could help.” from under her dress. 

“Oh you’re not done,” she giggled. “That just took the edge off.”

I opened my mouth to reply and her pussy dropped back onto my face, pre-empting any response. Despite feeling self-conscious over the rough treatment I was harder than I’d ever been in my life. The voluptuous orbs of her ass bounced against my chin as she shifted above me and I thrust my tongue to back inside her now soaking wet slit. Priscilla moaned again and returned with a thrust of her own, then another. She began to grind against my face, clutching my tongue in the powerful muscles of her vagina. 

In one smooth motion that never released my tongue from its fleshy prison, Priscilla swung her body around. Now facing away from me, her hand grabbed my dick through my pants. I let out a muffled yelp into her muff. She continued gyrating with abandon, moaning steadily. “Stick out your tongue!” she demanded. I was doing so without her telling me and didn’t understand until she raised off my face for a moment- then impaled herself down on my outstretched tongue. Her juices squelched against my face as she lifted up and repeated the motion. Each thrust bounced and jiggled her pert round ass lewdly.

Holy shit, I thought, she is fucking my face. Lights danced in my vision as I came harder than I ever had in my life. Priscilla massaged my penis while I thrust into the air and a sticky wet spot spread in my pants. No sooner had I sunk back into the mattress than she continued riding me as though nothing had happened. Juices flowed heavily, soaking my face as she plunged downward faster and faster. My tongue began to get sore and her syrupy secretions were making it difficult to breath through my nose. I withdrew my tongue to speak and Priscilla’s hand instantly lashed out to smack my chest. “Keep it out!” she shouted.

Stunned, I obeyed. Forced to swallow to avoid choking the world narrowed to an alternating series of wet darkness and gyrating flesh. Priscilla’s moaning condensed into a single escalating note as she pummeled my face face with her pelvis. My increasingly sore tongue was repeatedly sheathed in the furnace heat of her sex and slathered with sweetness. I began to suck gulping breaths between each thrust, desperate for air. Her hands braced on my thighs and I was shocked to find I was hard again.

“YES!” Priscilla cried, “Oh god, YES!” Her thighs crushed around my head and cum spurted into my mouth as though from a hose. It hit the back of my throat and I gagged, instinctively pushing her aside as I turned and coughed up fluid. 

I was still recovering when fingers twined in my hair and forced me to meet Priscilla’s devilishly glinting eyes. Her make-up was smeared such that she looked like some sort of crazed sex demon. “Oh don’t act like you don’t like it,” she said, squeezing my penis to emphasize her point. “You remember what I like though, right?” 

“Urgh,” was all I could manage to say. My tongue felt like it had been run through a blender.

Priscilla sighed and said, “I like a boy that swallows, Dylan. Don’t waste it.” And with that she dropped her muff back onto my face. 

I didn’t know whether to be terrified or impressed. How many times did she need to orgasm before she was satisfied? I didn’t have to wait long to find out. Priscilla’s fingers buzzed frantically over her clit and she slumped forward to brace herself on the headboard as a third orgasm came pounding down. Hot fluid splashed against my chin and then into my stunned mouth. It was an incredible quantity, filling my mouth and drooling over my lips. Her eyes watched me closely. Dutifully, I swallowed. 

Apparently watching me guzzle her cum was enough to bring Priscilla to another orgasm because she screamed in ecstasy and another jet of hot fluid erupted into my mouth. It was like trying to shotgun a beer, which I’d only ever done once. I gulped and sputtered down a cup’s worth of her juices, gasping for air. Mercifully, Priscilla rolled off and laid beside me. 

“Ahh, what a relief!” she exclaimed happily. “That was great, Dylan.” 

After regaining my breath I said, “Yeah any- I mean, you too.” I wasn’t sure if I was lying or not at this point.

Priscilla sat up next to me, flush with energy. I felt completely drained. “Aww, you’re still hard,” she said sadly. Well, I thought, not completely drained. “Let me fix that for you.” She scooted down the bed, unzipped my pants and had my dick out in an instant. The next instant my member was surrounded by the wet warmth of her mouth. Suddenly, having to swallow a bucketload of girl-jizz seemed a small price to pay for the incredible sensation of Priscilla’s tongue tracing circles around my shaft. 

I didn’t last long and to her credit, Priscilla didn’t miss a drop. 

Then she started to grow.

-- One Week Earlier --

“The president will see you now.”

Heavy black doors swung open with the hiss of a pneumatic pump. They revealed an enormous office: expensive rugs swimming in a pool of white marble, and the megascrapers of Neo Frisco’s skyline through an uninterrupted arc of crystalline glass. A desk and a tall, dark chair were silhouetted between the two tallest scrapers, barely discernible from megascrapers cutting the horizon behind them. The chair did not turn as the girl entered the room and came to stand in front of the desk. An uncomfortably long silence passed before the girl spoke. 

When she did it was begrudgingly, as though forfeiting some unspoken contest. “I’m here,” she said.

“Yes, I know,” a woman’s voice replied.

Another uncomfortable silence passed, the girl’s hands clenched and unclenched and she said, “Did you wish to speak with me or did you summon me for the pleasure of my company?”

The woman laughed mirthlessly then said, “Don’t be ridiculous. I have something important to tell you.”

The girl’s fists clenched tightly. “What?”

“Mind your tone,” the woman’s voice took on a dangerous edge. 

“Please, just tell me whatever it is you have to tell me so I can go. Neither of us enjoy these visits.”

“Are you certain? I was convinced that you have come to enjoy disappointing me.” The girl winced as though slapped. The woman continued, “However, that is precisely why I’ve called you here today. I'm giving you an opportunity to put an end to the travesty of these last few years.” The chair turned and revealed a stern-faced woman with chiseled features that was more often described as handsome than beautiful. Short cropped black hair matched the black business suit that clung to her large and distinctly feminine frame. Her lips twisted disdainfully as she said, “It would be a relief not to suffer disappointment every time I look at you. How the best minds in human genetics could produce such colossal failure is beyond me.” 

The girl stared at the floor and said nothing.

“You should have been perfect, the pinnacle of feminine power instead you-” the woman’s voice rose in anger. “You lust like a dog in heat. Like a pathetic... male.” She invested ‘male’ with the same regard others might give ‘cockroach’.

“I’ve told you I-”

“Yes, yes. You can’t help it? I don’t believe that for an instant. You simply lack Discipline. Restraint. Control. Everything that makes a woman superior comes from within.”

“Have you called me here to lecture me then?” The girl asked through clenched teeth.

“No. For once, you’re right. We’ve gotten off track.” The suited woman stood and took long strides around the end of the desk until she stood towering over the girl. “There is cause for celebration, one of my successes may give you another chance to... grow up.”

A note of fear trembled in the girl’s voice, “Please don’t send me to another psych treatment, I’ll do any-”

“Silence.” The woman interrupted sternly. “If I thought it would do any good you’d be there now. This is something else.” Their eyes met and she said, “There is a formula that will enable you to experience a second puberty. However, there is no reason to believe a new puberty will have a more favorable conclusion than the first, at least not without some additional component. Which is why, starting next week, you will be attending GeneTech Institute.”

“I don’t understand,” the girl interjected, confused.

“A young man by the name of-” the woman paused, and tapped a display on her desk. “Dylan Anderson, has developed a marvelous formula for forcing organism along their optimal genetic path. In time, with the right motivation, he will perfect this formula and Fempire Unlimited will reap the benefits.”

“But why send me? Why not offer him a research grant or just buy the formula when it’s complete?”

“This is exactly what I was talking about, it is as if you relish disappointing me.” The girl glared but said nothing. “How many times must I tell you that precious fruit must be tended carefully? If I did as you suggest then he would only be motivated by monetary gain rather than a worthy raison d’etre: the empowerment of womankind. True greatness is only achieved by those who believe in the necessity of their actions.”

“You wan’t me to… convert him?”

“What I want is for you to stop disappointing me. Nurture his awe of womanhood. Captivate his malleable male mind and drive him to perfect his work. Make his entire reason for being the fulfillment of Fempire’s ambitions. Do this while restraining your base urges- while staying in control, and you will please me. This is a test. Succeed and you will secure a key component for our cause and earn a place at my side. Fail and well... it’s better not to speak of such things.” The tall woman’s severe gaze lowered on the diminutive girl. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, mother,” The girl responded mechanically.

The woman returned to her chair and swiveled to face the window in silent dismissal. The girl turned to leave. She made it halfway to the door before her mother spoke again. 

“And Priscilla, don’t forget: fruit plucked before it is ripe makes a bitter harvest.”

Priscilla let the door shut behind her without a reply.

Priscilla’s eyes widened in fear. “Something is wrong,” she said. 

I watched in stunned silence as Priscilla began to grow. Unlike before it was not a uniform expansion, but a mismatched inflation. Like a parade float being filled with helium Priscilla’s appendages expanded one or two at a time, blowing up to comic sizes before deflating again as growth distributed to other parts of her body. Pain wracked her face and she doubled over. 

“Aaaaaaah, it hurts! Dylan! HELP ME!”

Startled into action I grabbed Priscilla’s shoulders and pulled her back down on the bed. She toppled over without resistance and curled into the fetal position against the sheets. A sheen of sweat covered her still-expanding body. “Lie down,” I said. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“NO!” she shouted.

“Are you out of your mind? You need medical assistance!” I shouted back

Her hand snatched my collar with inhuman strength. “Then YOU- Aaaaaaa- help. I’d rather- aaaaaaaggggh- die than- nnnnnnnggggg- fail now.”

“Fail? What the hell are you talking about?” I said, panic rising in my chest. Her body was already as tall as the bed.

Priscilla groaned again and gasped, “Make a new serum- rrrrraAAAAAGGH- something to counter the first.”

“I don’t even know what the first serum is doing yet!” 

Tears were streaming down Priscilla’s agony contorted face, “Please, Dylan.” Another wave of pain made her mouth open in a silent scream. When it ended she panted for a moment and said, “I’m begging you. If you call an ambulance now, we’re both dead.”

“What?” 

“My mother- AAAAH- won’t let this get out.”

I stopped moving. “What the fuck have you gotten me into?” I said angrily.

Another voiceless scream wracked Priscilla’s body as her ankles pushed over the edge of the bed, one foot half again as large as the other. Tears squeezed from her eyes as she whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

Thoughts raced through my mind faster than I could keep track of them, but one thing was clear. Priscilla needed help- immediately. I jumped up and pulled her blood sample from my pocket and slammed it into place in the lab’s gear. A few seconds later the computer began generating a full DNA analysis. I scanned the readout as it scrolled rapidly by. “This is wrong,” I said. “This isn’t your DNA, and there is too much repetition. This shouldn’t be anyone’s DNA.” I continued scanning the data. “This is way beyond what GTS could do, what the fuck is this Priscilla?”

A groan came from the bed, “nng-eered me.”

“What?” I said, unable to turn away from what I was seeing on the screen. The sound of steadily ripping fabric came from behind me.

When she spoke again I heard her clearly say, “I’m genetic-aaah- engineered.”

Suddenly everything made sense. Embryonic genetic engineering was the only way to achieve the kind results I was seeing. It had been outlawed worldwide for nearly two decades- ever since Brazilian Pandemic. In most places it was a crime punishable by death. Someone running a company for the Big Five would probably go to any lengths to cover it up. Fear would have been a rational response, but I could scarcely believe what I was seeing. It was incredibly exciting.

“This is insane,” I said, captivated by the data despite Priscilla’s relentless expansion. There was far too much to analyze quickly but the sheer perfection of everything made comprehending it straightforward. I realized suddenly that I could do this. I could fix her.

“Okay Priscilla, listen carefully. I’m going to ask you a series of questions and I need you to answer as best you can. Okay?”

Another groan emitted from the bed followed by a strained, “Yes.”

“Have you ever been sick?”

“No.”

“Received vaccinations of any kind?

“No.”

I continued asking questions and glanced behind me periodically to see her legs dangling off the bed, her dress in tatters, her breasts swelling to the size of watermelons. These details were interpreted as data points as I constructed a counter-serum. My predictions proved effective as she answered question after question in the way I anticipated. In record time the counter-serum was taking shape. 

I asked a final question, “How frequently are you aroused?”

She hesitated then said, “Always.”

My hands stalled above the keyboard. That was worse than expected. Priscilla let out a scream so loud that most of the floor must have heard. There was no time. I made some final adjustments and began the synthesizing process. A creaking noise came from the bed and I turned to see it sagging beneath Priscilla’s weight. She was easily over eight feet tall.

“Dylan.” She sounded exhausted and delirious, “I... tired... disappointment.”

I moved to her side, brushed sweat-slicked hair out of her eyes, and beheld a portrait of suffering. Her eyes were shut tightly, her nostrils flaring as she choked down short, labored breaths. “I understand,” I said. I didn’t say that I wasn’t ready to forgive her. There was time for that later, I needed to save her life first. 

The serum was still synthesizing when her head began to expand grotesquely. Then even her cries stopped, and I began to dread. When I finally administered the counter-serum I prayed that if it didn’t fix her it would put an end to her suffering.

Mercifully, she passed out. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, the swelling went down. Her body regained a uniform size as she began to shrink. I watched quietly as her body diminished back into the regular human range. When the process ended I measured her naked, sleeping form against the bed and guessed her new height to be a few inches shy of six feet tall. Her clothes were in tatters so I covered her with a sheet.

I don’t know how long I sat in silence watching her sleep peacefully as tension and adrenaline drained out of me but when she opened her eyes I felt very much like sleeping myself. “Dylan?” she said drowsily.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“It worked?” Her eyes blinked sluggishly.

“It worked. But there is bad news.”

“Oh Dylan.” Priscilla’s eyes flew open. She sat up and embraced me, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

I extracted myself from her hug and said, “Your DNA has mutated.” She returned my gaze with an unreadable look. I continued, “I’ve stalled the rampant growth, but I don’t know what other side-effects there will be. Your physiology is... beyond human.”

“I will still grow?” Priscilla asked nervously.

I hesitated, unsure whether to tell her what I suspected. On second thought I realized not knowing might be even more dangerous than knowing. “Yes,” I replied. “That much seems certain. My theory is the hormones generated by your arousal block your body’s growth hormones. This has probably always been the case. In fact, a standard genetic analysis should have proven this.” I looked at her accusingly.

Priscilla avoided my gaze. “All of my public records are forgeries, mother wouldn’t let anyone study me. She told me I didn’t reach my potential because I was undisciplined. I even went searching for the team that... created me.” She stopped speaking abruptly.

“And?” I asked impatiently.

“They were gone.” Her voice was barely audible.

“Gone where? To other companies? Other countries? What?”

“Just… gone,” Priscilla said softly. Silence fell like a pall. A door slammed shut somewhere in the building. When Priscilla spoke again she sounded on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry, Dylan. I-”

“Don’t. Just... don’t. I’ve had all I can take for one day.” I sighed wearily and began my explanation again, “You should think of growth like a river and arousal like a dam. Normally the dam was enough to hold back the river, but when you drank the first formula the river began to overflow. When your arousal subsided-”

“The dam broke,” Priscilla said, regaining her composure.

“Right. But that’s not the important part.” I shook my head, already regretting what I was about to say. “I had to strengthen the dam. There wasn’t any other way, there wasn’t time.” 

“What do you mean ‘strengthened the dam’?” Priscilla asked with trepidation.

“I made your libido stronger. How much, I can’t say. Right now constant arousal is the only thing keeping you from growing.”

“Are you saying I’m going to grow every time I orgasm?” Priscilla said incredulously, subconsciously squeezing her legs together.

“Yes, that is what I’m saying.”

“How much?”

“Each time? I dont know. It will take me weeks to properly analyze all the data. More than a person would typically grow in a day. A noticeable amount. A lot.”

“I see.” Priscilla did not sound especially upset by this news. I stood up. I needed to get outside and clear my head. “You’re leaving?” she asked.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll need another sample, your DNA is still mutating.” I explained, and left. 

Down the stairs, out through the gaudy foyer, and into the street. I didn’t stop until I reached my bed. Everything seemed distant and surreal, a world seen through the fog of perpetual lightheadedness. Before my head hit the pillow and I plunged into blissful sleep I had only one clear thought: 

I had created a monster.

There was something liberating about being a walking dead man. 

At least that it what I felt in the days after Priscilla’s rampant growth spurt. My situation had gone from bad to worse but I was more excited than terrified. Classes and even Britta had fallen off my radar, the only thing that mattered was reviewing new samples from Priscilla. That and making sure she didn’t catch on to the heavy dose of sedatives I was adding to her daily treatments.

Molly’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Have you seen Britta?”

“No,” I mumbled, not looking away from my monitor.

“What are you so obsessed with lately anyway?”

“Huh? Nothing,” I said absently. Priscilla’s mutation rate was off the charts. At the rate her cells were changing she could have developed cancer and cured herself of it in the same day.

“Come on, what’s the big secret?” Molly said, leaning over my shoulder.

I tabbed out of Priscilla’s data. “It’s nothing.” I repeated, slightly annoyed.

Molly frowned at me. “Come on, you’re not still upset about that stuff I said before are you?” 

“No, I’m just busy.”

Molly pouted cutely and said, “Well, I finished my homework and I can’t find Britta so you have to entertain me.”

“Why is that my job?”

“I’ve got nothing better to do than to bug you until you tell me what you’re working on,” Molly said, crossing her arms defiantly.

“If I tell you will you leave me alone?” 

“Probably,” Molly smirked.

I sighed and said, “It’s an extension of my high school project. I’m working on an adaptation of a formula that improves the genetic outcomes for plants.” It wasn’t a lie exactly.

“Improves them how?” Molly said, her interest piqued.

I had to be careful, but a little bit of detail couldn’t hurt. “Disease resistant, increased size, that kind of stuff.” 

“Whoa, bigger? Like those gigantic plants people bring to county fairs?” Molly said excitedly.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Awesome. What are you adapting it for?”

I hesitated, the conversation was headed towards dangerous waters. “Uhh, various animals,” I said finally.

“Oh wow. You could make giant dogs and cats! I have this cousin that is absolutely obsessed with giant dogs. She has a great dane that is this tall.” Molly said, raising her hand as high as her head.

“That’s big.” I said, waiting for the conversation to end.

Molly paused and for a moment I thought she was going to let me get back to work. I wasn’t that lucky. She said, “Too be honest, I am kind of obsessed with big things too.”

I had to smile at that. I’d heard Britta and Molly having sex more than a couple times. “I would never have guessed,” I said dryly.

“Oh shut up.” Molly punched my arm. “As if you don’t like it too. Britta told me how crazy you went over her.”

“She is sexy,” I admitted.

“Damn right, my baby is the best,” Molly crowed. She glanced around the room for a moment and said, “You know… if we’re going to share we should get to know each other better.”

“I thought thats what we’re doing right now.”

Molly snorted a laugh. “Hardly, but I know how we can change that.” I arched my eyebrows and she added, “Booze.”

“I don’t have any.”

“But ayyyyyyy-doooooooo” Molly sang as she skipped into her room. A moment later she was back out with a bottle of amber liquid. She grinned at me and said, “Lets play a drinking game.”

“I don’t know any,” I admitted.

“Come,” Molly said tugging my shoulder. “Grab a couple vials and sit over here.” I stole a glance at the beaker containing Priscilla’s next treatment, I hadn’t added the sedative yet. On the other hand Priscilla wouldn’t need it until tomorrow and it was becoming clear Molly wasn’t going to let me make any more progress tonight. 

Filling my hands with two empty vials I let Molly pull me over to the center of the room. We sat across from each other on the thinly carpeted floor and Molly announced her intention, “Truth or dare.”

“Oh come on, aren’t we too old for that?”

“No, because we aren’t going to play with the normal rules.”

Confused, I said, “What then?”

“We pick a truth or a dare then the other person has to do whatever we choose. Except-” Molly shook the bottle and said, “You can get out of it by taking a shot.”

“What if I dare you to-”

“No daring someone to take a shot,” Molly said with mock severity. “Also, no dares that are illegal.” 

“You mean aside from underage drinking?” I laughed, relaxing a bit. “Okay, how do we decide who goes first?”

“By gentlemanly conduct.”

“What does that even-” I started before realizing what she meant. “Oh har-har, fine. Well lets hear it, lady,” I said with sardonic emphasis on the last word. 

Molly smiled, “Truth: what about Britta are you most attracted to?”

I looked away shyly but after a moment’s consideration I decided I was not going to drink first. “Her boobs, I guess,” I said noncommittally.

“I knew it!” Molly said. “Not that I blame you, she has a quite set of fuck pillows.” I gaped at Molly’s sudden crudeness and she giggled at my reaction. “You’re missing out on her best feature though.”

“Oh really?” I said, recovering. “Then, truth: what part of Britta are YOU most attracted to?”

“Part? Well if I had to pick just one it would have to be her ass. She can balance a wine glass on that booty-shelf. I’ve seen her do it.” Molly held out her arms in a mock embrace of Britta’s derriere. “My turn. Truth, how many girls have you had sex with?”

Shit, I thought. I couldn’t tell her that without feeling like a total loser. I stuck out my vial and said, “Pour it.” Molly cackled and filled the bottom third of the vial. The liquid burned the back of my throat. “Ahh.” I said, shaking my head vigorously as warmth suffused my body. When it subsided I said, “Alright, truth: have you been keeping Britta to yourself because you’re jealous she took an interest in me?”

Molly scowled at me. “Maybe.”

“That’s not an answer! Now you have to drink.” I poured her a shot.

Molly looked me in the eye as she drank it down. “Dare: Take off your shirt.” I raised an eyebrow at her then shrugged and pulled my shirt over my head. The cool air in the common room made my nipples harden. Molly appraised me like a piece of meat.

Two could play this game, I decided. “Dare: take off all your clothes.”

It took Molly a moment to recover from her surprise. “As if, I’ll take a shot thank you.” I poured and she drank it down as smoothly as the first. From the look in her eyes it was clear she was done playing nice, “Dare, make a selfie dick pic your social profile picture.”

“Whoa, hell no.” I said, and took a drink. My head started feeling a bit fuzzy. I said, “Truth, what’s your bra size?”

“32-A,” Molly replied evenly. “Dare, text Britta that you want to take her from behind.”

“What!?” I exclaimed, “You’re nuts. Pour it.” The hot liquid slid down to join the first two. I was really feeling it now. “Dare,” I said. “text Britta to tell her you want a threesome with me.” I grinned, confident that she would have to take a shot. To my surprise Molly flipped open her phone and and started typing. “What?” I exclaimed, “You’re serious?” She spun the phone around so I could read her message. Sure enough Britta was the recipient and it read: [I want to have a threesome with you and Dylan]. She hit send. 

I was speechless. 

Molly smiled slyly and said, “Dare, take off your pants.”

My head was still spinning from the last couple shots so I reluctantly stood up and unbuttoned my pants. Kicking them off quickly I sat back down, and tried not to feel self-conscious being in my underwear in front a fully-clothed girl. Despite the awkwardness, I couldn’t get the thought of a threesome out of my head. “Truth, how many boys have you slept with?”

“Zero.”

“Really?”

“Really. There was a boy I fooled around with a bit in middle school but it never got far.” Molly shrugged, “I like girls.”

“And you’re comfortable having a threesome with me?” I asked incredulously.

“It’s not your turn to ask questions. Dare, take off your underwear.”

I took a good look the girl across from me: a thin torso draped in a sheer maroon blouse and lycra pants that hugged her equally scrawny legs. As non-threatening as she was I felt too exposed. Reluctantly, I held out my vial. When the shot hit my stomach I felt a little dizzy. I had to slow down. “Truth,” I slurred. “Are you really going to have a threesome with me?” It felt like a waste, but I had to know.

“If Britta is willing, I am.” Molly said seriously. “My turn. Dare: swap your underwear with Britta’s.” 

Aww damnit, I thought. It would have been better to be naked but if I took another shot right now I was going to throw up. “I don’t have a pair of her panties,” I complained.

“I’ll get them,” Molly volunteered cheerfully. She disappeared into Britta’s room. Moments later a pair of glossy purple panties came flying out of the room and landed a few feet from me. “Put those on, I’ll wait,” Molly’s voice called from behind the door. I looked at the crumpled set of panties thinking for some way out of this situation. I couldn’t think of anything more humiliating than wearing a pair of girls underwear. On the other hand playing this stupid game had just earned me a threesome. “Hurry up!” Molly called.

I put the panties on.

The material was silky soft and they were, of course, way too big. I had to hold the waist band so they didn’t fall down. The front had to be adjusted to cover my junk and the frills tickled my thighs. I’d never felt so awkward. 

“Are you done?” Molly demanded impatiently.

“Yeah,” I croaked and crossed my legs. 

Molly entered and I hunched forward to prevent her from getting a good look. Without laughing or teasing me she walked across the room and flipped on music. It was an old album, from close to the turn of the millenia. The bass was heavy, the vocals began:

Yo, I had to reinvent 
I put the V in vent
I put the heat in vents 
man I been competin’ since

Molly started swaying to the music. Her body undulated smoothly, hips shimmying down towards the floor in graceful arcs. Her stick-like figure wasn’t my type but her moves were undeniably sexy. She looked over her shoulder and said, “Have you heard this before?”

“No,” I replied, transfixed by her dancing.

“Thought we could use some music.” 

“Yeah,” I agreed, conscious of an erection budding in Britta’s silky underwear.

Molly sat down at last and smiled at me. “You’re not going to model those for me?”

I ignored her and said, “Its my turn. Umm...” I stalled while my mind sluggishly groped for a worthy challenge. “I dare you to wear one of Britta’s bras.” As an afterthought I added, “And you have to stuff it!” 

Molly laughed, “Aren’t you just copying my dares?” 

“No!” I exclaimed, and opened my mouth to protest further but realized I didn’t have anything to add.

“Hah! You totally are.”

“I told you I’m new at this,” I replied, a bit petulantly. The shots were getting to me.

Molly smiled and leaned forward to tug up the panties that had slipped down my waist nearly to the floor. She whispered, “That’s okay Dylan, I’ll go easy on you for your first time.” She really did have a pretty face. My head was spinning. A blond ringlet of hair fell between Molly’s striking blue eyes and she brushed it out of the way. Her smile widened and she said, “I’ll be right back.”

I watched her go and wondered if her hips always swayed like that. When she returned a huge black bra was dangling from her hand. “Help me with this.” she said.

“Uh, okay.”

“Just do the hooks,” she said and spun around, presenting me with her narrow back. I stood up, careful to keep a wide stance so Britta’s panties would stay up. Molly lifted her shirt and wrapped the bra around her chest, revealing three rows of hooks on a band that was far too big for her. A quick peek at the tag revealed “38-FF”. I fumbled at the hooks, aroused at how the thick band of the bra covered such a huge portion of her tiny back. There was something curiously sexy about the contrast. When I was done Molly let her blouse drop and said, “I need something to stuff this with.”

We both looked around the room. Her gaze settled on my discarded clothes. “Oh no. No way,” I said.

“It’s not like you’re wearing them,” she shot back.

The panties began sliding down my waist and I had to shift awkwardly to stop them from going into free-fall. “Fine,” I grumbled, sitting back down. Molly grabbed the pants first and stuffed them up her shirt. A few moments later my shirt joined them. Molly spent a while situating everything before turning back around. The result was a comically large set of lumpy breasts that strained the sheer material of her blouse to its absolute limit. Her taut, pale midriff was left exposed beneath the shelf of her faux bust.

“How do I look?” Molly asked.

“Ridiculous,” I answered honestly.

She snorted and said, “Look whos talking.” I tugged up the waistband of Britta’s panties defensively. “Anyway,” Molly continued, “It’s my turn. Dare you to to dance with me.”

“I can’t dance with these on!” I protested. 

“Then bottoms up!” Molly giggled, clearly enjoying my predicament.

“Wait, uhh…” I said, trying to come up with something clever. “You have to hold them up while we dance. I dare you to hold them up.”

Molly doubled over as she shook with laughter. “Deal!” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. Just then the music track switched and the lyrics started: 

Get on your knees- 
get on your knees- 
baby just get on your knees 

I wobbled to my feet and met Molly in the center of the room. Her hands wrapped around my waist to hold up the panties and I was forced to drape my arms around her neck in a reversal of the classic slow dance gender positions. Her enormous fake bust jostled against me as we began to sway. She was by far the more experienced dancer and I did my best to follow her lead. To my surprise, it was actually kind of nice. Then the door opened.

Britta filled the doorway. 

Molly and I froze. No one said a word and the chorus played over the silence: 

I don't need a dozen roses
You ain't gotta wine and dine, no
I don't need a pretty poet
Oooh, gettin' all emotional
You gotta beg for it, beg for it
I wanna see you lookin' up
Baby I'ma need you to beg for it

I was mortified, Molly was grinning. Britta spoke first, “I didn’t realize you were starting without me.” She looked me over and cocked her head, “And I don’t think purple is your color.” The door shut behind her as she stepped into the room, instantly dominating the space with her size and reminding me of why Molly and I were swimming in her underclothes. Still looking at me she said, “She made you play truth or dare didn’t she.”

I nodded, too embarrassed for words.

Britta smiled knowingly and clapped her hands together. “Okay, new game. Its just like Simon Says.” 

I didn’t have to ask who would be playing Simon.

“You,” Britta pointed at Molly. “Make me a drink. And you,” she said, offering me a smile. “Go wait for us on her bed.” I looked at Molly and she answered with a nod. Britta disappeared into her own room and I went to Molly’s. 

It was a girly girl’s room if there ever was one. Decorated in varying shades of pink, everywhere I looked there was some cutesy animal face peering back. Even her pens had a googly-eyed magenta-shelled turtles riding them. I jumped up onto the pink sheets of her bed and frowned as Britta’s panties slid down, forcing me to hike them back up. I never imagined my first threesome would involve cross-dressing but I guess I couldn't complain. At least they were comfortable.

Britta’s voice called out, “Go join him in your room sweetie, I’ll be there in just a minute.” 

The door opened and Molly paused at the threshold, fidgeting nervously. “I don’t bite,” I said.” She didn’t look convinced so I added, “Come on Molly, you were just teasing me five minutes ago, whats up?”

“I told you,” Molly snapped. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I haven’t either!” I shot back.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m just… wait what?” she said, confused. “You’ve never slept with a girl?”

“Why do you think I drank rather than answer earlier?”

Molly’s red lips pursed thoughtfully and she said, “I thought you were trying to be mysterious or something.”

“Well, mystery solved.” 

She smiled prettily, “You know that actually makes me feel better.” 

“Good,” I replied and patted the bed next to me. “Come on then.” Ignoring my gesture Molly walked directly up to me, took my chin and her hand, and planted a kiss on my lips. It was so unexpected that by the time I realized what was happening she had pulled away. Perfectly white teeth flashed in the cutest smile I had ever seen. Surprising both of us, I reached up and brushed a ringlet of blonde hair over her ear and leaned it to return her kiss. This time I savored the feel of her lips pressed against mine and breathed the faint, sweet lavender of her skin.

“Ahem,” Britta said from the doorway. My amazon roommate’s curves were poured into a black mesh bustier and matching panties that left very little to the imagination. Thick black straps stretched from her shoulders to the top of a semi-transparent bra that bulged with its heavy load, pressing her tits up into mirror crescents of milky flesh. Diaphanous black cloth covered her little pot belly beneath the shelf of her tits, tapering dramatically to an average waist before ballooning out into a set of truly monumental hips. To say she had an hourglass figure would have been an incredible understatement. Britta spoke again and startled me out of ogling her, “Where is my drink?”

“Oops,” Molly said. “I think I forgot it out on the table.”

“You’re going to pay for that later, little girl.” Britta said menacingly and stepped out. I looked at Molly questioningly but she blushed and looked away. I was about to ask why Britta seemed so upset when she returned. “Ugh, what was that?” Britta said, her face pinched in disgust. “Its awful.”

“Its just rum.” Molly replied with a hint of nervousness.

Britta grimaced and said, “Tastes like week old band-aids.” She walked over and her thick thighs brushed against each other, each looking nearly as large as my torso. Stealing a glance at Molly I figured they might actually be larger than her torso. Standing in front of us Britta rested her hands on her generous hips and began, “Alright, keep going from where you left off. Lets see how you kiss, loverboy.” Molly and I turned back towards each other with mirrored sheepishness. 

Kissing under Britta’s watchful gaze made me feel awfully self-conscious but Molly had a delicate touch that gradually enchanted me. Our lips brushed and parted, trailing slender tendrils of saliva that folded back when our lips joined again. I closed my eyes and focused on the tender feel of her lips pressed against mine and breathed the gentle lavender fragrance of her skin. 

“More tongue,” Britta said. I pushed my tongue into Molly’s mouth and she tensed, pulling away. “Put your arm around her back and pull her close, control her body.” Tentatively, I reached around Molly’s slender body, pressed my hand against the small of her back. She relaxed in my arms, becoming more malleable. Encouraged, I kissed her more aggressively. “That’s better.” Britta said encouragingly, “Show her who is in control.”

We fell back on the bed and continued to kiss. Molly began to squirm, dipping her head subtly away. “Don’t let her worm out of this, Dylan,” Britta said from behind me. “I’ll tell you a secret: Molly is very submissive.” This elicited a whimper from Molly whose mouth was otherwise occupied with receiving increasingly passionate kisses. I don’t know whether it was the liquor or Molly’s ineffectual struggling but I was quickly becoming aroused. “She loves being humiliated,” Britta continued mercilessly. “She especially loves feeling small and insignificant.” Molly began to whine softly in her throat which only seemed to goad Britta on. “Teasing her really drives her wild.”

Molly successfully broke our kiss long enough to exclaim, “Stop, Britta! You’re embarrassing me!” 

Britta continued as though Molly hadn’t said anything, “We need something to gag that mouth and I believe you have just the right tool for the job, Dylan.” Molly gasped and I turned to look at Britta uncertainly. Britta looked me straight in the eye and said, “Don’t make me spell it out for you. Do it.” I began to pull the purple panties off when Britta stopped me with her hand. “Leave those on, just move them to the side.” To Molly she said, “Aren’t I nice, sweetie? You can feel those silky panties against your face while you’re swallowing Dylan’s huge cock.” 

Britta’s comment seemed aimed more at humiliating Molly than complimenting me, but I appreciated it anyway. I straddled Molly and positioned my groin in front of her face. She turned her head away and released a defiant whimper. Despite my now painful arousal I felt for Molly and said, “We don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to.” Immediately, Britta grabbed my hand and guided it between Molly’s legs. She squirmed beneath me forcing Britta to pry Molly’s legs apart. My hand was shoved beneath the band of Molly’s panties where my fingers encountered the sopping moisture of her mons. 

“Does that feel like she doesn’t want to?” Britta demanded.

“No,” I admitted. “But-”

“But nothing, she loves being a sex toy. Don’t you sweetie?”

Molly whimpered softly.

“I dunno,” I said, feeling oddly guilty that my erection was nearly bouncing against Molly’s chin. “Shouldn’t there be a safeword or... something?”

Britta barked a laugh and said, “Molly, if you don’t put that dick in your mouth I won’t let you cum for a week.” The head of my penis was immediately surrounded by a warm wetness. I tensed in surprise, inadvertently pushing myself even further into Molly’s mouth. As Molly struggled to take accept more of my length, Britta pressed against me from behind, squashing her enormous breasts against my back. “Mmm, isn’t this nice, Dylan?” Britta cooed. “How does it feel to have a lesbian suck your dick just because her big, powerful girlfriend tells her to?”

“G-good.” I stuttered. 

“You better do a good job, Molly. Or I’ll have to punish you,” Britta said as she began to drag her breasts up my back. The pillowy smooth softness of her cleavage preceded the rubbery material of her bra as she slowly maneuvered her assets up to my head. After a short while Britta asked, “How is she doing, Dylan? Is she making you see stars?”

I was aroused beyond my wildest dreams but Molly was holding my penis in her mouth more than she was sucking it. “She’s doing okay,” I said softly, focusing on Britta’s heavy bust pressing softly against the back of my head.

“Only okay?” Britta rumbled. “Come to think of it, I don’t hear any sucking. Are you taking this seriously, little girl? Oh, I know what will motivate you: a little competition. If you can make Dylan cum in the next three minutes I’ll give you a very special treat. And Dylan, if you don’t cum in the next three minutes I’ll give you a treat instead.” I couldn’t help but grin; it sounded like a win-win for me. 

Molly slurped loudly, vacuuming my genitals into her mouth with the power and precision of a lamprey. Her teeth chafed against my skin and I winced and said, “Whoa take it easy!” She glared up at me before resuming with grim determination and a bit more finesse. Britta backed off, and with my head no longer cushioned by her pillowy tits my arousal began to wane. Molly’s lips pulled valiantly at my shaft but she seemed unsure what to do with her tongue. It felt a bit mean, but I closed my eyes and thought about the effect of microbial enzymes on cheese. Within moments my penis had softened further, eliciting a frustrated moan from Molly. 

“Uh oh,” Britta sang. “Sounds like some little girl isn’t going to get any special treatment.” Molly whimpered pathetically in response.

Guilt eventually won out over making Molly suffer and I let my mind drift back to Britta’s oversexed body. I stiffened and Molly, seeming encouraged, redoubled her efforts. “Use your tongue,” I said impulsively. Molly glared at me and I added, “I’m just trying to help. The area beneath the head is sensitive.”

“An interesting strategy,” Britta chided.

To my surprise, Molly stopped glaring at me ran her tongue experimentally around the head of my penis. “Ahh,” I said involuntarily, causing Molly to smile. She began working her tongue vigorously along my shaft, applying pressure with no apparent pattern. Despite her amateur technique I was quickly building towards orgasm. My breath quickened and I began to thrust into Molly’s face. She gagged briefly but continued sucking vigorously. The sheets tangled in my fists as an orgasm began to build.

“Three… two… one.” Britta counted. “Time’s up!” 

Molly ejected my dick from her mouth and shouted, “Damnit! I was so close. You were so close.” She pointed at me, “Admit it, you were close!”

“I-” I began.

“Doesn’t matter!” Britta interjected. “It’s my turn now. Scooch your butt to the edge of the bed, little girl.” She grabbed my shoulder, “And you stand up.” A part of me wanted Molly to finish, but more of me wanted to know what Britta had in store. I got up.

Britta got on the bed, swinging her leg over Molly’s body and facing me. Her thighs were meaty pillars that sank into the mattress on either side of Molly’s diminutive body, utterly dwarfing the smaller girl. Positioning her knees so that her gigantic ass poised above Molly’s face, Britta sat down. “Mmrrrrrff,” Molly said. My jaw dropped. 

“Don’t look so alarmed, she’s fine.” Britta said. “I know how much weight she can take.” She smacked Molly’s thigh and said, “Get busy little girl!” Muted slurping sounds began emanating from between Britta’s legs and a slow, satisfied smile crept across her face. “Take her pants off,” she said. Without further protest I peeled off the lycra pants, revealing a plain looking pair of blank panties. I was surprised they weren’t pink. “Those too,” Britta said, still smiling. Tentatively, I began to pull off Molly’s panties. She made it easy on me by straightening her legs, allowing me to swiftly remove them. Her tiny pink conch was completely shaved and glistened with moisture.

“You don’t have to worry about popping her cherry,” Britta said, as she began bouncing gently on Molly’s face. “That’s taken care of. Just stick it in.”

This is not at all how I pictured my first time, I thought, this is much better. I followed Britta’s instruction, pushing slowly into Molly’s warm wetness with daring only liquor could have given me. A soft cry punctuated the slurping sounds and Britta slapped Molly’s thigh again and said, “Don’t stop!” Then she thrust her chest out at me. “Your special treat, loverboy. Play with them as much as you want.” My erection surged, generating another muffled cry from below. I plunged my fingers into Britta’s pliant flesh, reveling in their weight and softness. She arched her back further, causing the negligee to creak as she reached behind and undid the clasp. Her tits settled at the perfect height for me to plunge my face between them, which I did immediately. Head surrounded by Britta’s massive boobs and dick by Molly’s tight slit I knew I wasn’t going to last long. Britta pushed my head away long enough to peel the straps off her shoulders. Free of their confines her tits bounced and rippled heavily. Britta’s hand snarled in my hair and pushed my face into her tit, guiding my mouth to a quickly hardening nipple. “Suck,” she commanded. 

A nipple as thick as my index finger pushed past my lips and I nibbled it gently. Britta moaned in response and bounced harder against Molly’s face. Delirious with lust, I reveled in Britta’s left tit bouncing against my face while the right collided against my cheek, softly slapping my face. Molly’s sopping pussy clenched around me as she tensed beneath the enormous weight of her partner. Britta started to pull away, lifting her breasts upward. I let out a pathetic “Ah-ah,” sound as her fat nipple slipped from my mouth.

It took me a moment to realize she wasn’t pulling away. Britta was growing.

Lost in sexual crescendo she didn’t seem to notice her body expanding. Molly’s soft whimpers developed a pained note as Britta’s thighs thickened. Britta’s already huge tits began blowing up, keeping pace with her widening hips and pudgy tummy. It was just like the first time Priscilla grew, only Britta was bigger. Much bigger. Losing control, I began to buck wildly into Molly’s tight conch. With eyes closed Britta reached up and cupped one massive tit, pinching her nipple as she rocked forcefully on top of Molly. The tiny girl beneath her was being utterly eclipsed, everything above Molly’s belly button was lost beneath Britta’s rippling mass. 

With a primal yell, I came. My vision darkened and a wave dizziness nearly made me fall. I reached out at the last moment and steadied myself on Britta’s thick thighs. When my vision cleared Britta was thrashing wildly on top of Molly, clearly deaf to the tiny girl’s pained yelps. 

“Aaaaaa-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” Britta screamed. 

Not knowing what else to do, I tackled her. I crashed into her soft chest only managing to rock her body slightly. She was still firmly on top of Molly, and worse- now I was too. But it was enough to get Britta’s attention. her eyes flung open. “What the hell, Dylan?” she said.

“You’re crushing her!” I shouted and rolled off. 

“Oh my god!” Britta exclaimed, rolling off of Molly. Molly’s face was a red as a tomato. Blonde hair was plastered to her skin with a mixture of sweat and Britta’s juices, but she was breathing.

“Are you okay?” Britta and I asked simultaneously.

Molly looked at me with battered, delirious half-smile. “Did she grow?”

I nodded, looking at Britta for her reaction. She looked confused. Molly closed her eyes, reached down to her pussy and started playing with herself. “Oh god, yes.” What, I thought, too stunned to speak. “So big,” Molly mumbled. Britta and I watched in rapt fascination as Molly built towards orgasm, muttering things “Bigger” and “Huge” and “So fucking big” until she orgasmed in a seizure-esque frenzy, twitching and panting until she finally lay still. No one said a word.

Finally, I recovered from my shock. “What. The fuck. Did you do, Molly,” I said haltingly, emphasizing each phrase.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied unconvincingly.

“Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Britta asked.

I jumped up and ran out to the common room. The beaker with Priscilla’s treatment was gone. “MOLLY!” I shouted, and stormed back into her room. Enraged, I started to stalk towards her when Britta jumped between us and shoved me back. I fell on my ass. Britta towered menacingly over me, appearing nearly as angry as I felt. She must have gained another six inches, bringing her up to around six and a half feet tall. A thrill of fear shot through me as I realized how powerless I was to stop her. She was too big, and too strong; now more than ever.

“Calmly,” Britta began, “Explain to me what just happened.”

Remaining on the floor, I took a deep breath. “Molly gave you the treatment I’ve been giving Priscilla. The one that is stopping her from growing out of control.”

“If it stops her from growing why did it make me bigger?” Britta asked. I had to admire her calm in the face of being told she had been exposed to a highly experimental genetically engineered virus.

“Because you-” I stopped, realizing I couldn’t tell her Priscilla was genetically altered from birth. “Because you have very different genetic dispositions. Think of it like a vaccine. I’m giving Priscilla a weakened version of the growth serum in order to trick her body into- Look it doesn’t matter.” I said angrily. “What matters is Molly gave it to you and now who knows what will happen.”

“I feel fine,” Britta offered.

“You look great,” Molly added cheerily.

I stared through Britta and said, “Why though Molly, why risk this?”

“Because it’s what she’s always wanted,” Britta answered. I looked up at her, uncomprehending. “All of her submissive tendencies revolve around a desire to feel small and helpless while being protected by someone big and powerful. It’s actually quite common in females, but perhaps not to the extreme Molly takes it.”

“Please don’t go all psychiatrist on me, Brit.” Molly said peevishly.

Britta wheeled on the small girl. “You’re lucky if ‘psychiatrist’ is all I go on you,” she said threateningly. “You didn’t ask me if I was okay with this, Molly. This little fetish of yours just changed my life, and we don’t even know if I can change back.”

“I- I’m sorry Britta.” Molly said, hurt. I couldn’t see her through Britta but I could hear the tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what came over me, I started to fix your drink and took a shot and then I just thought how great it would be if you were even bigger and I just…” she trailed off and began to cry. “I’m sorry Britta, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-” she started to babble between huge gulping cries.

As stupid as it was, my heart went out to her. “I’ll fix it,” I said. “I don’t know how yet, but we’ll figure something out.”

“It’s going to be hard to explain growing half a foot overnight,” Britta said skeptically. 

“I know,” I replied. “You may need to skip class for a couple days while I figure something out.”

“Well, I guess its not all bad,” Britta said, running her hands over her freshly expanded curves. Her hands stopped on her enormous bust. “Finding clothes is going to be hell though.”

Molly’s crying subsided. “D-do you like being bigger?” she asked with such transparent hopefulness that I had to laugh at the absurdity of it. Almost palpably the tension broke and Britta sighed.

“I’m not sure,” Britta said with wry humor. “But be careful what you wish for.”

“Dylan Anderson please report to the Dean of Genetic Research.” a woman’s voice blared from the loudspeaker overhead.

I looked up from the slide I was reviewing to see a crowd of students staring in my direction. A murmur passed through the class. Again the voice blared, “Dylan Anderson please report to the Dean of Genetic Research.” The Dean of Genetic Research and Development was arguably the most powerful person at GeneTech Institute. There were very few reasons to be called to their office and of those that might apply to me, I couldn’t think of any that were good.

My professor’s voice cut through the murmuring students, “Mr. Anderson, I’ll appoint you lab time to pick up where you left off. I suggest you move quickly, before your peers are further distracted.” The sting of the last few words crept into the collective conscious of the class and they quieted down as I made my way to the door, thoughts racing.

Could the GTS have gotten out? Had someone noticed Priscilla’s or Britta’s growth? It didn’t seem likely. Britta had been cooped up in her room for days and Priscilla was on enough meds to tranquilize a horse. Then again, Priscilla lived in a sorority. There was no telling who might run into her and blab to the administration. I plodded across campus, buying time to ransack my memory for some clue as to where I had slipped up. Maybe when I made a growth serum for a crazy sorority co-ed I’d known for less than twenty four hours? True, but not helpful right now, I thought grimly. Nothing that made any sense came to mind by the time I found myself standing in the reception area for the academic council. The secretary didn’t look up from his game of angry birds and said, “Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m Dylan Anderson,” I replied.

That got his attention. “Oh,” he said, looking up. “Third door down the hall on the right. Don’t keep Ms. Stratus waiting, she has already buzzed twice asking about you.”

“Thanks,” I said through a grimace. The secretary notified her of my arrival as I walked by.

I came at the end of the hall and stopped in front of her door. In big block letters It read: Jessica Stratus - Dean of Genetic Research & Development. Hesitantly, I knocked.

“Enter,” a woman’s voice called and I obeyed. 

The wall’s were dense with framed certificates and pictures of important people shoulder to shoulder with a fiery haired woman whose age was difficult to guess. She had a stately look about her that seemed suitable to her role. From behind an imposing wooden desk in the center of the room her eyes bore into mine like drills. “Come, sit,” she said with warmth equal to what one might offer an untrustworthy mutt. I sat down and focused on an area of spartan white carpet between my feet. 

“You have caused me a great deal of headaches the last couple days,” she began in a clipped British accent. “But know that I only want what is best for your future. That is what you want as well, correct?”

Her vague assertion did little to ease my concerns. “Yes,” I replied tensely.

“Good, because its important you understand what a serious impact this is going to have on that future. I have reviewed your application and your science submission in some detail. Your scholarships are well deserved and it is clear to me that you have tremendous passion for what we teach here at GeneTech.”

“I do.” I agreed with soft ferocity.

“Which is why it pains me to remove you from GeneTech’s standard curriculum.”

My throat tightened. They had found out, I didn’t know how but it didn’t matter. The greatest year of my life hadn’t survived a month. I swallowed bile and said, “I see.”

With a fresh brightness in her voice Ms. Stratus said, “I thought you might see it my way. Greatness is built on strong foundations, which is why having you participate in a collaborative study this early would be a huge mistake. I have been fighting to keep you in standard undergraduate studies but our corporate partner insists that your expertise is indispensable on this project.”

I met her frank stare with naked confusion. “What?” I said.

Her eyebrows raised. “They haven’t contacted you?” she scoffed. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. This has been a fiasco from the start.” She slid open a desk drawer and extracted a manila folder fat with paper. “Normally, the administration is notified of research opportunities well in advance of the semester. That way we are able to assist in selecting the ideal candidate for the work-study program. But this,” she shoved the folder onto the desk in front of me. “Was dropped on me at the last minute.”

With trembling hands I peeled back the cover and revealed the letterhead of Fempire Unlimited. I took a deep breath to steady my hands and began leafing through the pamphlet. It was an FDA approved human trial. Sweat beaded on my brow, and I tugged at my collar to relieve the tightness in my throat that had returned with a vengeance.

“You look surprised, but you have to understand that due to security concerns a copy of this information cannot be allowed off of secure servers. Don’t worry though, that isn’t real paper- we use an acrylic fiber for printing. GeneTech Institute is well funded, but we aren’t printing money here,” she said and laughed uproariously at her flimsy joke. 

What the document was printed on was the last thing on my mind, its contents were what concerned me. The trial was for GTS. There was no way they could have obtained so much information on GTS without accessing my personal computer, and if they had done that then it was all over. They had the leverage to do anything they wanted with me. I feverishly scanned the pages, desperate to find a light in the darkness. And then, on a formula covered page, I found something.

The recipe they had for GTS was the first version. They must have pulled it from the computers in the lab beneath Phi Kappa Fum. Without my recent changes there was no way they could verify that I had been tampering with human DNA. The first version required the target organism to be in a pubescent or ‘growth’ state. It didn’t contain any of the modified, and highly illegal, DNA from Priscilla. I heaved a sigh of relief.

“Now, I have done my part to dissuade them from forcing a freshman into a program they are not ready for, but ultimately the decision lies with you, Dylan,” Ms. Stratus said earnestly. “

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m still trying to take all of this in.”

“Of course,” she replied sympathetically, “This is a big decision. It is smart to take your time and think it over.”

“Can I take this with me?” I asked hopefully, hefting the folder. 

Ms. Stratus’s lips drew into thin line and she said, “I suppose I can get another copy from our partner.” Reaching into her desk again she extracted something that looked like an ipod attached to a big plastic paper clip. She fastened it to the folder. “Are you familiar with these?” she asked and I shook my head. “This device will track and secure that document. Taking it outside campus is a felony corporate privacy violation as is attempting to copy or reproduce it in any way. There is mono-filament in the pages that will notify the clip if any go missing from the folder. Also, while I doubt you’re the kind of student who would, don’t bother trying to photocopy or make digital images of any materials- that paper is designed to interfere with those devices. The clip can be used to track the document if you misplace it. If you misplace the clip contact me immediately. I recommend you don’t let any of it out your sight. Understood?”

“I think so,” I replied. It was difficult to believe there was so much secrecy surrounding this research project when Priscilla had handed me a digital version of one of Fempire’s completed projects less than two week’s earlier. Then again, she was the president’s daughter. 

“Good. Sorry to be short with you, but I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes so you’ll have to excuse me,” she said and turned to her computer. 

I departed with far greater haste than I arrived with. The potential of conducting a sanctioned human trial with a formula I had developed was staggering. It was everything I had ever dreamed of. Given enough time I could create a serum that wouldn’t require metahuman DNA like Priscilla’s. A pure formula to help people like me reach their true genetic potential and free them from nature’s freakish penchant for chance.

Maybe I could even use the project to cover up what had already happened with Britta and Priscilla. The thought stopped me in my tracks. That was it. Fempire was covering for Priscilla’s blunder. They didn’t want my ‘indispensible’ genius, they wanted plausible deniability for Priscilla’s sudden growth. I clenched my fists until it felt like my nails might draw blood. 

Could I walk away? What would happen then? The trials would continue without me, I realized. They could use the foundation I’d built to complete a formula of their own. The noble pursuit of genetic justice would be perverted to Fempire’s amoral ends. No, I wasn’t about to let that happen. 

GTS was mine.

Eight girls stood in a perfect and spectacularly varied row in front of me. Each one had been selected to partake in the first trial of GTS. All of them were incredibly excited save for Britta, who seemed to be faking cheerfulness, and Molly who looked like she’d rather be just about anywhere else. 

Getting Britta included in the trial had taken some convincing. The case I made for experimenting on genetic outliers ultimately won them over. Unfortunately, that same case had turned up Molly’s name in a search for girls on the opposite end of the genetic spectrum. The rest of the girls were selected from Fempire’s stable of scholarship students. One of them, Kate Abbey, I knew from an earlier run-in at Priscilla’s sorority. I was less than pleased to see her there, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Priscilla was as pleased as any of them, beaming and brimming with energy since I had stopped giving her sedatives the day before. 

DNA had already been extracted from all of the girls (Priscilla’s faked of course) and recorded in the research log. Likewise vital statistics had been recorded, dosage instructions outlined, and growth projections modeled. As the ‘Research Assistant’ it was essentially my job to do everything that the ‘Chief Researcher’, Melinda, didn’t want to do. Which, as it turned out, was almost everything. 

She had explained her feelings regarding the experiment on our first meeting: “Listen kid, I’m managing two other projects right now and this wasn’t even on my radar until last week. I wish to god I knew why corporate sent me to manage this shit show but I don’t have the time, or the budget, to help an undergrad get a gold star. Now, I know this formula was your baby and I heard the animal trials showed promise-” The animal trials were part of Fempire’s smokescreen, but I wasn’t about to point that out. “But if you want results you’re going to have to make this work, I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The only other member of the research team was a junior named Matilda. She was crazy smart but an otherwise unremarkable girl. A few inches taller than me with mousy brown hair, eyes that were set a bit too close together, and broad cheekbones that didn’t match her squat face. I felt a bit bad for her because, in harsh contrast, every one of the girls in the study was beautiful. Separate from the official research documents I had recorded all of them in VitalStat along with some format updating I’d made at Britta’s insistence.

Name: Sarah Bennings
Ethnicity: English
Skin Tone: White
Height: 5’6”, Min: 5’4”, Max 5’11”
Weight: 133 lbs
Bust: 32-C, Min: 32-A, Max: 32-D 
Waist: 26, Min: 22, Max: 30
Hips: 30, Min: 26, Max: 34 
Shoe: 8
Weight Distribution: Stores excess weight primarily in midsection and hips.
Notes: Very beautiful girl with auburn hair, could probably be a model and has the cutest accent. Would love to see her at max stats. Seems a bit aloof.

Name: Ayumi Sanada
Ethnicity: Japanese
Skin Tone: Tan/Beige
Height: 5’1”, Min: 4’11”, Max: 5’5” 
Weight: 112 lbs
Bust: 32-B, Min: 30-A, Max: 34-E 
Waist: 24, Min: 22, Max: 29
Hips: 28, Min: 24, Max: 30
Shoe: 6
Weight Distribution: Stores excess weight primarily in chest.
Notes: Very cute asian girl with an unusual max bust size and weight distribution considering her ethnicity. Pretty sure she’d look like a porn star at max stats. Was very flirty when I talked to her.

Name: Latoya Berkley
Ethnicity: African (African American)
Skin Tone: Black
Height: 5’8”, Min: 5’7”, Max: 6’ 
Weight: 180 lbs
Bust: 36-G, Min: 34-DD, Max: 38-J 
Waist: 27, Min: 25, Max: 32
Hips: 42, Min: 34, Max: 50
Shoe: 9
Weight Distribution: Stores excess weight primarily in chest, upper thighs, and glutes.
Notes: Ridiculous curves on this girl, definitely could give Britta a run for her money. Total party girl, with a dash of ghetto fabulous style. Was especially excited to have been chosen.

Name: Jennifer Flores
Ethnicity: Brazilian/Portuguese 
Skin Tone: Tan/Brown
Height: 5’5”, Min: 5’2”, Max: 5’10” 
Weight: 130 lbs
Bust: 34-B, Min: 30-A, Max: 34-C 
Waist: 24, Min: 23, Max: 28
Hips: 42, Min: 38, Max: 54
Shoe: 7
Weight Distribution: Stores excess weight primarily in glutes.
Notes: Absolutely ridiculous butt on this girl, and she knows it. Her biggest concern about participating in the test was over ‘losing her figure’, which she emphasized by smacking her ass. Appears her entire wardrobe is centered around prominently displaying her most ‘outstanding’ feature. 

Then came the four girls I already knew. Startlingly, Britta’s and Priscilla’s min and max stats had changed significantly from when I’d first sampled their DNA. Meaning the formula was altering their genetic makeup on a fundamental level, a worrying development to say the least. Even with that in mind, their stats were no less amazing. 

Name: Britta Aquafilter (lol Britta I know you’re reading this)
Ethnicity: English, Ukrainian, African
Skin: White
Height: 6’6”, Min: 6’, Max 7’4”
Weight: 294 lbs
Bust: 42-GG, Min: 38-F, Max: 44-I
Waist: 38, Min: 36, Max: 42
Hips: 65, Min: 60, Max: 70 
Shoe Size: 13
Weight Distribution: Stores excess weight primarily in chest, upper thighs, and glutes.
Notes: Best. Roommate. Ever.

Name: Molly Springfield
Ethnicity: French/Italian
Height: 4’11”. Min: 4’10”, Max: 5’4”
Weight: 95 lbs
Bust: 32-A, Min: 30-A, Max: 32-B
Waist: 24, Min: 22, Max: 26
Hips: 24, Min: 23, Max: 26
Shoe Size: 5
Weight Distribution: Even.
Notes: Poor Molly.

Name: Kate Abbey
Ethnicity: Russian/Polish
Height: 5’7”. Min: 5’2”, Max: 5’11”
Weight: 128 lbs
Bust: 34-C, Min: 32-A, Max: 36-DD
Waist: 26, Min: 22, Max: 28
Hips: 29, Min: 25, Max: 30
Shoe Size: 8
Weight Distribution: Stores excess weight primarily in stomach and chest.
Notes: The best part about Kate is that if she gains weight she’ll have a big fat gut. Maybe I’ll slip some appetite stimulant into her treatment.

Name: Priscilla Sendyne
Ethnicity: Swedish/Dutch
Height: 5’10”, Min: N/A, Max: N/A
Weight: 146 lbs
Bust: 34-F, Min: N/A, Max: N/A
Waist: 26, Min: N/A, Max: N/A
Hips: 34, Min: N/A, Max: N/A
Shoe Size: 8
Weight Distribution: N/A.
Notes: It seems VitalStat simulations are about as certain as I am on this one. A true wildcard.

I reviewed the data as the girl ran through a physical examination. Everything from their strength and endurance to their flexibility and hand-eye coordination had to be carefully recorded. While two of my subjects were contaminated by previous misadventures I was not about to let the other six slip by without rigorous scientific examination. This time I would make sure everyone stayed well within their original genetic parameters. First, I need to develop a new formula, I thought.

“I bet you’re loving this,” Britta’s voice startled me.

Recovering from nearly jumping out of my seat I spun to face her and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be taking a physical?”

Immediately I regretted snapping at her. Britta’s new height was intimidating especially from a sitting perspective with her towering over me. She laughed it off and said, “Just finished! But...” she touched a finger to her lips with affected coyness. “If you want to test my physical abilities I’d be more than happy to give you a demonstration.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I replied uncomfortably.

Britta took a step forward and her corpulent bust eclipsed my view of her face. “Are you sure you don’t want a demonstration?” Her tone suggested I would be missing out if I refused. 

“I have a lot of work to do.”

“So serious.” Britta complained. She leaned down and I was given a brief but monumental view of her cleavage before her hands slid under my arms and hoisted me into the air. 

“Waaaa,” I yelped.

“Lighten up, little guy.” Britta admonished as my feet knocked into the chair, rolling it aside. “Now, isn’t this more fun than looking at a bunch of data?”

“Put me down!” I demanded, glancing through the one-way mirror where the rest of the girls were being run through physical examinations. “Someone is going to see.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Britta said with sly smile. “Don’t you want to be surrounded by big, powerful girls?”

“What? That’s crazy.” I said, exasperated.

Britta’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, “Is it?” 

“Yes! Now let go.” I struggled in her grip but her hands were clamped around my arms with viselike force.

“Not until you admit that you like this,” Britta said with a smug half-smile.

“Come on Britta,” I complained. “I got you into this experiment so you wouldn’t have to be a shut-in for the rest of the semester.”

“Straight to the guilt-trip, eh?” Britta said, unmoved.

She was pissing me off. “I can get you removed from this experiment!” I struggled again. which only served to send a ripple through Britta’s cleavage.

“Oooh, threatening me now. This must be really difficult for you.” Britta said, fascinated. 


I stopped struggling and looked away. “Please, Britta. Put me down before someone sees us.”

“Mmm, begging. I am a fan of begging. Why dont you just admit you’re enjoying this?”

“Because I’m not!” I protested.

Britta said, “It seems I’ve struck a chord with you, Mr. Anderson. This is obviously hard for you to admit.” She took a deep breath, inflating her corpulent bust even further. “But the evidence is even…” she pulled me close. Her soft, heavy melons spread over my chest and she whispered into my ear, “harder.”

Belatedly, I felt my erection pressing against her stomach. Flushing with shame I quickly said, “Okay, you’re right. You win. Put me down.”

“Nu-uh-uh. You’re going to have to be more specific.” Britta chided. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I like being... “ I said, feeling incredibly awkward, ”surrounded by big girls.”

Britta was relentless. “What do you like about it?” 

“I dunno,” I glanced around, confirming for the umpteenth time that no one was watching us. “Its sexy- I just do.”

“Hmmm,” Britta’s lips pursed. “We’ll have to dig a little deeper on this issue next time.” 

“Next time?” I asked nervously.

Britta smiled and set me down without a word. Not a moment too soon because Priscilla came sweeping into the room. She looked at Britta and something like jealousy flashed across her face, so quickly I wasn’t certain if it had been there at all, before she turned to me and said, “We need to talk. Privately.”

“I was just leaving,” Britta said. Stopping in front of Priscilla she said, “My name is Britta by the way.” 

Priscilla accepted Britta’s extended hand and gave it a perfunctory shake. “Priscilla.”

“Nice meeting you. See you later Dylan.” Britta called as she retreated down the hall.

Priscilla shut the door behind her. “Who was that?”

“My suitemate,” I replied neutrally.

“You have a suite with other girls?” Priscilla asked, surprised.
“Dorms were full,” I explained.

“I see,” Priscilla said with a hint of dissatisfaction. “Well, we need to talk.”

“I’m listening.”

“Not here.”

“What’s wrong with here?” 

Priscilla gestured broadly at the room and then cupped a hand behind her ear in the universal ‘people are listening’ gesture. “Because I’m hungry and I made us reservations.”

“Oh,” I said, casting paranoid glances around the lab. “Right. Do I have time to finish what I’m working on?”

“No, we need to go now.”

“It’s only three O’clock,” I muttered.

“Come on,” Priscilla insisted. “Lets go.”

With a final surreptitious glance at the girls completing their physical examinations, I allowed Priscilla to lead me away.

The Millenial thrust into the sky like an ornate dagger, two brilliantly gleaming blades that cut the clouds. The taxi’s computer rattled off an endless stream of trivia about our destination: one hundred and seventeen luxury boutiques, sixty six world class restaurants, forty olympic swimming pools, and twenty five thousand rooms were just a few of The Millenial’s many amenities. 

“What’s so important that it couldn’t wait?” I said, staring into deep shadows cast by the monolithic megascraper. The city sprawled below it like rubble tossed from The Millenial’s eruption from the earth. It made me uneasy and I turned to look at Priscilla.

Her short red dress bared an impossibly long stretch of thigh that ended in a pair of black designer keyhole pumps. Everything from her painted toenails to her jet earrings was immaculately matched and crafted. In fact, the only blemish on her attire was where the dress radiated lines of stress around her prominent bust and that particular wardrobe malfunction didn’t exactly count against her. She looked stunning.

Priscilla finally noticed me watching and shifted to return my attention. The leather bench creaked beneath her and she said, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

My mind went blank and I had to clear my throat to buy a moment to collect myself. “I said tell me what you wanted to tell me.” 

“So brusque,” Priscilla said, feigning offense.

“I’m not in the mood, Priscilla.” Dylan replied testily. “What’s going on?”

“Come on Dylan, be a sport. Don’t make me ruin the surprise.” Priscilla said.

“I think I’ve had my fill of your surprises.”

This time the Priscilla’s hurt wasn’t feigned. She looked out the window for a long moment before she said, “You still haven’t forgiven me.”

“You could have died,” I started angrily, then added more softly, “and it would have been my fault.”

Priscilla’s eyes snapped back and held mine. “You mean you’re not upset because I jeopardized your career?”

“I- well, err- I mean I’m not happy about that either,” I stuttered, caught off-guard.

“So you care about me,” Priscilla pressed.

“Obviously I don’t want you dead!” I said, irritably, not liking the direction the conversation was taking. “I think that’s fairly standard.” 

Priscilla looked me right in the eye and said with quiet intensity, “Not where I come from.” 

I was at a loss for words and while I struggled to find something to say Priscilla darted forward and pushed her lips against mine effectively sealing any protest. I tensed reactively but the warm pressure of her lips gradually overwhelmed my resistance and I began kissing her back in earnest. Our tongues entwining and for a time the world disappeared. I languished in the sweet heat of her breath and plush softness of her lips. Then the kiss broke like spell and reality came rushing back. We were both panting to catch our breath. 

“Lets continue that later.” Priscilla said with a devious smile.

“Sure,” I said breathlessly.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. When we pulled into the underground garage of the hotel a concierge was there to open the door. Priscilla stepped out first and I followed behind her. Immediately, I felt out of place. Where the Phi Kappa Fum house was gaudy in its opulence, The Millenial was audacious in its display of wealth. The doorways, if they could be called that, were twin arches spread beneath the wings of a massive platinum eagle. As we moved into the foyer a dazzling array of lights and precious metals blinded me for a moment. 

A concierge emerged from the glare and spoke to Priscilla, “Mam, your usual table has been prepared. And a room-”

“That’s fine.” Priscilla interrupted. “We’ll be dining immediately, I’m famished.”

“Very well, should you require anything at all please let me know,” he said then nodded deferentially and departed. 

Priscilla turned to me and said. “Let’s eat.” Without waiting for an answer she turned and walked purposefully towards the elevator. I trailed behind, taking in the decor. The avian theme was pervasive, from talon capped balustrades to lighting recessed in cruel-looking beaks. It felt very much that I had walked into a den of predators. Fortunately, we didn’t have to wait for the elevator. Once inside Priscilla swiped a key card that caused a number of previously unlit floors to light up, 

“You have some kind of special access?” I asked.

Priscilla shrugged, “I have investor access.” I had no idea what that meant, but I didn’t press. We rode the elevator in silence while a stole the occasional glance at my date. Something about Priscilla seemed different… was she taller? I started to ask when the elevator open upon a softly lit hallway that lead into an expansive dining area complete with grand chandeliers and astonishingly tall bank of windows. I felt incredibly under-dressed in my ratty sneakers and plain white t-shirt. A tuxedoed maître d' looked up as the elevator opened and smiled at Priscilla, “Welcome back to Triturati, someone will show you to your table in just a moment.”

“Thank you but that won’t be necessary, I know the way.” Priscilla said, flashing a smile. I followed her through a sea of white pillars and black tables until we reached a spot by a long bank of windows. Looking out I could see half the city; pinpricks of light moving down lines that could only be cars along streets. Priscilla’s hand on my arm brought my attention away from the astonishing view. “Ever been in a megascraper before?” she asked.

“No,” I said looking back out the window. “How high up are we?”

“About a third of the way up the tower, one hundred and fifty floors or so.”

“Wow.” 

“Lets sit. You can enjoy the view while we eat.” I stared out the window for a few more minutes before turning back to the candlelit spread and Priscilla. The candlelight, the hotel, the view- all of sudden I realized we were on a date. It should have been obvious from the beginning but I’d been so preoccupied that I hadn’t put it together. Now that I knew, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. On one hand Priscilla had used me, but she was also giving me a chance to experience something I might never have otherwise. Maybe this was her way of apologizing.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked conversationally.

“Whatever changes you made to the serum, I think it worked.” Priscilla said, an edge of excitement creeping into her voice.

I cocked my head at her and said, “What do you mean it worked? I’ve been doing damage control so that you don’t experience another unchecked growth spurt. As long as you keep your sexual urges in check it should be fine.”

Priscilla bit her lip, “I know that's what you said but…”

“What! Did you masturbate?” 

“Can you speak up!” Priscilla said peevishly, “I don’t think the kitchen heard you.”

I was quickly losing my cool, “Fuck the kitchen Priscilla, if you orgasm there is no telling what could happen.”

“Well, that’s fine for you to say- you don’t have to live with an overactive libido.”

I laughed, “Sure I do, I’m a teenage guy remember?”

“Oh and you are practicing abstinence then? How’s that working out for you?” Priscilla fired back. The escapade with Molly and Britta flashed through my mind and I blushed. Priscilla guessed my guilt and said, “That’s what I thought.” The waiter came by to get our drink orders. When he left Priscilla continued, “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I wanted to tell you that the growth seems to be in check. I only grow a little bit each time.”

“Each time? As in more than once?” I said, barely containing my agitation.

“The first one was an accident. I was trying this thing I read about called edging and-” 

“Edging? What in the- actually nevermind. I don’t want to know. How many times did you… you know.”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven!” I hissed. 

“Yes, and I only grew an inch.” Priscilla said as if that settled the matter.

“I thought you looked taller,” I muttered, running some quick mental math. “I’ll need to take some new samples.”

“I thought you would be happier,” Priscilla sounded disappointed.

“I’m worried. Your body is mutating at a rate that is hard to keep up with. I don’t know how long we can keep this a secret. The other girls will grow over the coming months but if you keep… having orgasms, there will be no way to explain your rate of growth.”

“I know,” Priscilla said. “We’re in this together Dylan and I have a plan, but I need you to trust me.” 

I met her imploring eyes and sighed. “Okay, what’s your plan?”

“I can take control of the research from GeneTech, enroll myself in an accelerated R&D program, and take classes remotely. I can leave off anything incriminating in my reports to Fempire HQ while also avoiding being seen by other students.” 

“Sounds like you’ve put quite a bit of thought into this,” I said cautiously, “How do you plan to get control of the research project?” 

“GeneTech is receiving funding for the project from Fempire and the current research lead is temporary. All I need to do is get a new research lead approved and recommend moving the project to a more secure location.”

The candle flickered between us while I considered her proposal. “Who would lead the project?”

“Me.”

“You can’t be serious.” I said incredulously.

“I have the qualifications.”

“You’re an undergrad, same as me!”

“I’m also a genetic masterpiece and have been studying genetics my entire life.”

“Humble too.” I added sardonically.

Priscilla laughed, “And don’t forget, my mother runs the company. Besides, I won’t be doing it alone. The contract you signed guarantees you work for Fempire for at least two years.”

“What contract?” I said, confused.

“The NDA.”

“The NDA… wait, what? Are you serious? You had me sign a contract that forces me to work for Fempire?” I said angrily.

“That was before I knew you, I was being cautious.” Priscilla with a matter-of-fact tone. “Anyway, don’t get so upset. I can nullify the contract.”

I leaned back. “Oh, I guess that’s not so bad.” 

“If you come work for me.” Priscilla finished. “At least through the end of of the school year.”

I felt like I was getting whiplash. “You mean you’re going to hold me to that contract?” I could barely believe what I was hearing.

“Would you rather be pulled from the project?” Priscilla replied archly.

That caught me off guard. “Well, no.”

“Alright then what is the problem?”

“I don’t like the idea that I’m not in control of my life.”

Priscilla grinned, “That’s right,” she sang, “I own you little man.” 

I answered her grin with a scowl and sad, “This isn’t a joke Priscilla. I’m not a pawn in whatever game you’re playing.” 

Priscilla’s smile faded and she turned away, pained lines creasing her face. A long silence passed before she said, “We are all pieces in someone’s game, but you’re not my pawn Dylan. If anything you’re the king- If I lose you the game is over. Even so I- I’m sorry for getting you involved.” She met my gaze, and the flickering candlelight glittered the tears her eyes. Her voice broke, “I-If I could take it back I would, but it’s too late now. Maybe it was too late before we met.” 

“I don’t understand,” I said, shaken by her confession.

She rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. “I know, and I can’t tell you here. But I will. I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

“Of course, why start being honest with me now? Maybe I should just walk away. What if I just get up and leave right now?” I said, glaring at her across the table and acutely aware of my angry voice echoing out over the near-empty restaurant. 

Priscilla shook her head. “Nothing at first. After a while you’ll get an offer for a job. Only it won’t be just any job, it will be this job I’m offering you except with a different company and a different title. But it will be the same research.”

“You’re telling me that no matter what job I take in genetics this project will follow me around? How is that even possible?”

“When GeneTech Global wants a job done- it gets done.” Priscilla replied flatly.

“And if I abandon genetics research entirely?” I asked angrily, nearly shouting. If the restaurant hadn’t been so empty I would have been concerned about drawing attention, but there wasn’t a soul in sight.

Priscilla shrugged, “You might be okay for a time, but after a while a family member would get sick. Or someone would have an accident. The only treatment would be expensive, and produced by GeneTech. How will you pay for it?” Priscilla paused to let the implications of what she was saying sink in. “No matter what you do they will find a way to get what they want.”

“You’re telling me I should work for people who would do that kind of thing?” I said angrily.

Priscilla sighed and said, “No, I want you to work for me so you never have to go through any of that.”

“Or what? You’ll come after me?” The tablecloth bunched beneath my fingers, a glass wobbled and nearly fell. Priscilla caught it at the last moment.

“No. Dylan, I would never... I... Listen, I am the last person who would wish this on you. I’ve never had a choice. Taking your freedom is the last thing I want.” She sounded sincere but I didn’t know what to believe anymore. 

Just then the waiter arrived to take our order. I’d lost my appetite but Priscilla insisted on ordering for me. I let her do what she pleased while I stewed. Was there really no choice except to get further involved with Fempire? Could I even trust what Priscilla was saying? She had every reason to keep me under her thumb but then again she wasn’t the only one. GeneTech Global, or at least Fempire, clearly had plans for the serum. The research group they had created with the school had been thrown together absurdly fast. Normally a team would take months, years even, to rally around a project as ambitious as mine. And that was the problem, it was mine -- my dream -- to unlock the secrets of genetic perfection and I would have come at least this far with or without Priscilla. 

The waiter arrived with bread and I picked at it without enthusiasm while the dark orange band above the horizon faded until the city below was engulfed in shadow. During the long silence Priscilla withdrew into herself, hazel eyes dark with sadness that seemed at once deep and immediate, like a scab ripped from an old wound. I realized I had to say something. “Okay, I’ll work for you.” When she didn’t look up I added, “I suppose we’re in this together.”

“You think I’m a monster,” Priscilla said sadly as though I had not spoken at all.

“I think a certain beautiful heiress isn’t getting any pity from me tonight,” I said peevishly.

Surprisingly, Priscilla smiled and met my eyes. “You think I’m beautiful?” she asked.

Her comment caught me off-guard. Girls are ridiculous, I thought. Recovering I said, “Of course, everyone does.”

Priscilla flashed perfectly white teeth at me in a smile and said, “That’s the first time you’ve said it... Thank you.” Was she insecure? The waiter arrived before I could think any more on the subject; filling the table with delicious smelling pasta and an array of sauces. My stomach growled in anticipation and Priscilla decided it was time to change the topic. “Well, if you’re not still mad at me we can have a bit of of fun tonight.” She emphasized the type of fun she was talking about by leaning over the table and pressing her breasts between her arms, creating a hypnotic swell of cleavage. They bounced and swayed as she gave me a show. She laughed, sending ripple through the firm gelatin of her bust and said, “You really like boobs huh?” I looked away, embarrassed. “Don’t stop looking, Dylan. I want you to look.” She continued her sexy display by rocking her chest slowly back and forth. “I want you to watch them grow. They’re going to get so big tonight, I can feel it. Don’t you want to watch them get bigger and bigger? All of me getting so big I don’t fit in this tiny little dress anymore?” She must have pressed her arms together harder because cleavage swelled even further- seeming ready to explode from her dress.

Then, as suddenly as it started, Priscilla ended the show. My disappointment must have been obvious because she laughed and said, “Let’s eat first. Later, I’ll show you my room.”

With those words seared into my mind I ate quickly. Unfortunately, Priscilla’s appetite seemed to have grown even more than her body and she ate enough for three people. She heaped pasta onto her fork in seemingly endless bites that caused even the studiously polite waiter to raise his eyebrows. On the other hand the extra time made standing up from the table less of an embarrassment in spite of Priscilla’s surreptitiously lewd behavior; slurping lengthy noodles into her mouth while staring into my eyes, moaning suggestively as they slid down her throat. When the meal ended we headed back to the elevators and I had to resist walking double time, mostly because I didn’t know the way.

The hotel for all its opulence could have been a rickety shack for the attention I gave it following Priscilla up to her room.

Paint could have learned something from the way Priscilla’s dress clung to her heart-shaped ass: Two plump orbs that rubbed together like well-filled red balloons. I nearly ran into her when she stopped in front of her door. Dinner and the walk seemed to have taken forever and I was half certain she had sashayed slowly down the last hall just to make the wait more agonizing. Thankfully, she didn’t waste any time in the living or kitchen area and headed straight into the bedroom. I followed, already pulling off my shirt in anticipation. 

I was halfway done tugging my pants off when I realized she was motionless in the center of the bedroom faced away from me. Did she want me to undress her? I finished pulling off my clothes and padded up behind her, plush carpet squishing pleasantly between my toes. I reached for her zipper and had only just started tugging it down when she turned to face me. My hands were inches from her breasts but I resisted squeezing them, instead opting to pull at the strap to her top. Her hand swatted mine away.

“I thought-” I began.

With a sly smile Priscilla shook her head at me and said, “I want you to undress me…” she reached down and tapped my hard dick. “With this.”

“I think that’s going to be a little tricky,” I laughed, “It doesn’t have an opposable thumb.” 

Still wearing a mischievous smile said, “You’re a smart boy Dylan, I bet you can figure it out.” I was about to say she was being ridiculous when she lifted her dress enough to reveal she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Her pussy glistened expectantly.

Suddenly I remembered what she’d said at dinner. “You want to grow out of that dress? I’m not sure that is a good idea...” My cock betrayed me, growing painfully hard at the thought and Priscilla’s hand squeezed it in response. 

“Really? Which part of you?” She teased breathily. Her hand gave me another squeeze and all rational thought fled. I pushed her onto the bed and thrust into her with more force than I intended. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. Oh god, I thought, I hurt her. Before I could finish the thought hot fluid gushed around my penis and a smile tugged at the corners of her open mouth. Had she just orgasmed on penetration? “Keep going,” Priscilla coaxed, “don’t stop.” I continued thrusting into her, on the verge of cuming after only a few moments. Desire to satisfy her warred with my urge to finish. I forced myself to slow down, changing the pace. Her breasts gyrated wildly, barely contained beneath red triangles of cloth. 

A minute later Priscilla cried out, “Nnnnnnn… Yes! Don’t stop!” and shuddered as another orgasm rocked her body. Her pussy clenched down painfully and for a moment I stalled mid-thrust as her body quaked with the aftershocks of of orgasm. A small tearing sound began and it took me a moment to realize the source. Priscilla had begun to grow. It was almost imperceptibly slow, and I quickly scanned her body for an obvious sign. The taut flesh of her stomach was encased in skin-tight fabric and her thighs, already half as wide as my torso, were only visible from the corner of my eyes. A popping noise drew my attention to the strap of her dress, and I saw immediately that one of them had frayed leaving a thinner strand of cloth to contain her burgeoning tits. Priscilla thrust into me on each downstroke and despite lying on her back her swelling breasts swung toward me heavily- each time eliciting another creak or groan from the fabric of her dress. Another pop came as the left strap joined the right, fraying under the combined abuse of sex and growth. 

Suddenly, I could no longer hold back. Sensing my impending release Priscilla slid deftly away, pulling me onto the bed with her. My cock pulled free and for an instant I thought she was going to leave me that way before her hand encircled my shaft. She guided my hands up her body and stopped when I was level with her midsection. “On my tits,” she said, and the words alone were enough to finish me. I blacked out momentarily and when my senses returned Priscilla was finishing cleaning herself with a finger. She caught my eye and sucked the last of my jism into her mouth with a knowing smile. I took uneven, gulping breaths as I recovered until Priscilla gave my shoulder a gentle push and said, “You’ve got to keep me satisfied until your little buddy has recovered.” Dazed, I faced her pink, wet snatch with light-headed bemusement. Impatiently, Priscilla pulled my face between her legs and said, “Come on, this dress isn’t going to break on its own.” 

I began to lap at her pussy and found my mouth filled over and over with the copious secretions from her previous orgasms. Rivers of hot fluid drizzled from between her lips and onto my face and tongue so that I had to tilt my head back at an uncomfortable angle to avoid breathing her syrupy fluid into my nose. The thick fragrance overwhelmed everything, drowning me in her musk. I began to harden faster than expected and was nearly fully hard by the time I’d cleaned her pussy of its syrupy flow. As if to challenge that notion Priscilla orgasmed again, freshly lathering her sex with juices. 

I leapt up and planted myself back between her legs. Priscilla gasped as I entered her. The straps of her top had frayed until only the tiniest tendrils of fabric hung on. A tiny voice in the back of my mind said this was probably not a great idea. Priscilla met my third thrust, and with a heavy bounce both straps exploded; flinging strips of fabric over her shoulders and leaving the now useless cups buried beneath her jiggling, expanding bust. Her nipples were swollen pegs nearly an inch long that danced erratically atop her wobbling melons. The little voice in my head fell silent. 

“It broke,” I managed to say between panting breaths.

Priscilla shook her head. “The whole thing, I want to grow out of all of it.” I quickly surveyed the rest of her dress and was shocked to find that it was holding up better than expected. The hem, which had begun at mid thigh, probably would not have covered her sex if she were standing. The expensive-looking fabric was bunched where she had pulled it up but appeared intact. A closer look revealed two triangle tears had formed around her hips and I wondered how much she would need to grow to split it entirely. She was definitely bigger; how much I couldn’t say. Her thighs were nearly as big as Brita’s when we had first met. And Priscilla wasn’t nearly as heavy.

“Well don’t just stand there looking at me. Keep going.” Priscilla ordered. It irked me a little that she was so bossy, but I guessed being an heiress will do that. I returned my attention to giving her what she wanted, and quickly found I wanted it just as badly. We continued for a few more minutes like this until Priscilla stopped me by pulling away. She flipped over on the bed and arched her back, lewdly offering me her backside. Her ass had grown along with the rest of her and I was certain she had grown well beyond 34” hips. The fleshy swells of ass that faced me now were like something out of a rap video: impossibly voluptuous. Driven by instinct I slipped into her again and wrapped my arms around the swollen hills of her rear. A heavy ripple passed through them with every thrust and was every bit as enticing as her breasts had been. 

A couple of Priscilla’s orgasms later I was beyond my ability to hold back. I came again, nearly as hard as the first time and barely pulled out in time. Again my vision darkened and when everything came back into focus I saw that torn fabric stretched from her hips half way up her sides, stopping just below her ribs. The dress, which had been painted on to begin with, was now mangled and distorted. Priscilla’s flesh welled between every distended thread where the stitches had come apart and new tears had formed beneath her arms and in the center of her back. I was reminded of the Hulk. Only Hulk had never split a red dress with impossibly large curves and perfectly smooth skin.

“It’s trashed... Priscilla... we did it.” I said, breathing hard.

“NO!” Priscilla exclaimed, “It’s still on me, keep going until there is nothing left!” Her tone allowed for no argument, but I offered one anyway.

“I can barely move,” I said truthfully.

Priscilla looked at me with an odd mixture of irritation and concern “Then lie down, I’ll take care of it.” I shrugged and did as she asked. “No, on your back.” I adjusted and Priscilla straddled me, her increasingly massive body looming. “Stick out your tongue, and keep it out.” She ordered.

I sighed, and did as she asked. In moments her pussy squelched into my face with furnace heat, and her neatly trimmed bush tickled my nose. Her knees sank into the bed beside me and I shuddered at the thought of bearing that weight myself. Priscilla began to ride my face with mechanical determination. Her suffocating weight and gushing sex made every breath a struggle. It wasn’t long before I started seeing spots in my vision. After the first orgasm I thought she would certainly stop to catch her breath- or at least let me catch mine but her thrusts continued unabated. As her crested another climax I finally decided I’d had enough. I threw my weight against her thighs, intending to push her off. She didn’t budge. How big was she? Desperate for air I started to panic, I tried to yell but without air all I could manage was a distressed moan. Priscilla must have taken it for encouragement because rather than stop, she sped up.

Her mons pounded into my head as her weight bore down, crushing the air from my chest. I flailed but my arms were like lead, everything seemed to slow down. As she lifted up a hot glob of cum slid free of her pink lips -- I opened my mouth to suck in air -- the whitish fluid distended and morphed as it fell -- a rasping croak ripped free of my throat -- the glob entered my mouth, a tiny portion splattering against my lips -- it hit the back of my throat and the croak became a gurgle. A moment later, everything went black.

---

Intense pain gripped my chest. Colors swam in my vision and ragged coughs ripped through me, expelling fluid. Strong hands rolled me over so that the liquid fell onto the bed. I coughed out a small puddle before I could breath evenly and it took long moments before I noticed that someone was talking to me.

“... killed you. Oh my god what did I do. What have I done.” Priscilla was babbling.

I tried to speak and croaked something barely audible. The second time I managed to say, “I’m okay.”

“You weren’t breathing!” Priscilla exclaimed and I could hear the tears in her voice.

I tried to make light of it and managed a weak smile. “Yeah that wasn’t very fun,” I said. Rolling over I saw that Priscilla had succeeded in shredding the dress; it hung from her in tatters. Then I realized she was on the opposite end of the bed from me. I sat up and the room tilted wildly. When it settled I saw Priscilla’s concerned look and what I had been afraid of. She was huge. 

Priscilla’s earlier growth, Britta’s growth, they couldn’t compare to this. Even sitting down I could tell her broad shoulders, thick torso, and huge bust were radically enlarged. What have we done, I thought with less regret than I should have felt and quickly shoved the thought away. There would be time to deal with my feelings about Priscilla’s growth later. “How are we going to explain this?” I demanded.

“What?” Priscilla replied, confused.

“You! You’re huge!”

“Oh that,” Priscilla said dismissively, “I’ll take care of it.”

“This is getting out of hand,” I said shaking my head.

“It’s fine Dylan. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m - No. I… I don’t know what I am. I need to get some air.” I stood up quickly and regretted it as the room shifted sickeningly around me. 

“There’s a balcony.” Priscilla called after me as I stumbled out of the room. I found it and pushed the glass doors open to a blast of ocean-chilled air. The balcony was as large as my dorm room and furnished, but I pushed past the padded chairs to the stone railing. The ground was impossibly far below me, and lights oozed and shifted like spilled paint. 

I threw up. 

When I was done I stumbled back and sank into a chair. So much for dinner, I thought. Stars glittered in graciously fixed positions above and I watched them and tried not to think about everything that had happened tonight. I felt hungover and exhausted. After a while I heard the doors swing open behind me. 

“Are you alright?” Priscilla asked tentatively. 

“I threw up, but other than that I seem to be fine.” I said absently, watching the sky.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean are you okay with this situation, with the formula, and Fempire and... “ Priscilla voice trailed off so that I barely heard her say, “Me.”

“I don’t know.” I said. How could I know? Everything was happening so fast every time I thought I had a grasp on my situation- it changed. First it was just keeping Priscilla’s growth a secret, then it was helping run a major study with my formula, now I was being co-opted from school entirely for Fempire? Nothing was working out the way I had expected. The best year of my life was shaping up to be the last year of my life if tonight was any indication. I said, “Everything is fucked up.”

“Even me?” Priscilla asked, her tone almost pleading me to deny it.

I laughed, and hoped Priscilla didn’t notice the edge of hysteria that crept into my voice, “Especially you.” I stood and faced her, gauging her reaction. Wearing only a towel she immediately looked away, unwilling to meet my eyes. Emboldened, I continued: “Do you think I like having no control of my life?” Priscilla shook her head, eyes bright with unshed tears. Something dark and ominous fell over me, a revelation I couldn’t bear to accept. The weight of it spilled words like blood from a press. “Do think I want to be your toy?” Your most precious possession. “Do you think I like being crushed beneath you like a bug?” Yours to crush. “Do you think I want to suffer for your pleasure?” Always, eternally. “Are you even human?” Genetic perfection. “What kind of freak did really they make in that lab?” A goddess.

Every word was a knife that cut us both. Priscilla’s tears fell freely, and I hated her for exposing these feelings only slightly less than I hated myself for hurting her. “Get out,” Priscilla’s voice cracked when she spoke, still not meeting my eye. 

“Fine,” I said and started to push past her. She was incredibly big now, easily over seven feet tall and I had to angle myself awkwardly to get by without bumping into her. 

She spun as I went by. “Get out,” she said and there was something grim and foreboding in her tone. I met her eyes and for a moment was paralyzed by the fury I saw in them. An icy chill laced my spine as I realized how easily she could break me. Some nihilistic urge begged me to stand my ground. Priscilla screamed, “GET OUT!” and the urge shattered like glass in a hurricane.

Like a coward, I fled. 

A cold reception awaited me my first day at Fempire. The staff was thin, many members were still in the middle of transferring from other projects. Melinda, the former chief researcher was not part of the new team leaving the assistant Matilda as the only familiar face, aside from Priscilla. Her and I had not spoken for weeks and when I arrived she was distant and withdrawn, saying only what was necessary to get me started working. 

I had spent every moment since that night trying to figure out what to say to her. How to tell her I was sorry. It was stupid, she had almost killed me and I was the one that had to apologize. Only that had been an accident and what I’d done was… It still hurt to think about. How could I want to subjugate myself to someone? But no matter how much I tried to deny it - there it was: a need to be hers. First, though, I had to get her to stop hating me. 

Half a hundred times I started dialing her number only to put down the phone, unable to make the call. What could I say? That I had been angry about a near-death experience? It was believable but a lie. It felt wrong to replace one set of lies with another, and I could think of nothing else to say short of how I really felt. And I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that, I could still barely think it without cringing. 

Eventually Britta and Molly noticed I was shuttering myself away and forced me to tell them what was going on. I told them the truth, part of it anyway; that Priscilla and I had been a bad fight and I didn’t feel much like talking or hanging out. Britta said something to the effect of “Moping never solved anything” and I told her I just needed some time, which seemed to work because they hadn’t bothered me since. Unfortunately my seclusion provided little in the way of answers. 

I convinced myself that apologizing over the phone wasn’t good enough, it was something I needed to do in person. I would do it today. Only Priscilla wasn’t making it easy. Every time I tried to get some time alone with her some person or other would walk into her office asking questions or requesting resources. I had to make awkward circuits around the office to keep checking her office and started to grow nervous that someone might notice that I’d gone to get a cup of coffee half a dozen times in under an hour. At least the coffee made subsequent trips to the bathroom genuinely necessary. 

At the sink I scrubbed my hands furiously, as though something clean must be forgiven. When I stepped back into the office I nearly bumped into Priscilla heading into the ladies room. “Erm, sorry.” I said. Her size was startling up close, the top of my head was level with her chest and it was difficult not to ogle the broad orbs pressed heavily into her blouse. She started past me without a word - even a glance - in my direction when I recovered enough to say, “Priscilla.” She hesitated and for a second I thought she was going to ignore me when she turned to face me with an unreadable look. “We need to talk,” I said.

“What can I help you with?” Priscilla’s voice was flat, businesslike.

“That’s not…” I started, tripping over my words. “I mean there are some things I need to say to you.” I glanced back at the office, acutely aware of the sudden hush as ears strained to listen to our exchange. “Privately.” 

Without batting an eyelash Priscilla replied, “I assumed you said everything you wanted to say the other night.” I flinched at her words. Somehow her unaffected tone made it worse. I opened my mouth to speak but the sound caught in my throat when her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, drilling into me. I froze, trapped by her unflinching gaze until her focus flicked away. “You may wait in my office,” she said absently, and disappeared into the restroom.

I heaved a sigh of relief, wiped the nervous sweat from my brow, and plodded to her office with my heart beating so fast it felt I’d run a marathon. Too much coffee, I thought as I sank into a one of the chairs arrayed in front of Priscilla’s wide desk. Her office was, like the rest of the building, mostly unadorned with personal items. No one had fully unpacked yet, and judging by the row of closed boxes lining her walls Priscilla hadn’t even started. I fidgeted nervously trying to figure out what I was going to say and hadn’t gotten past ‘I’m sorry’ before Priscilla walked in. 

Shutting the door she crossed the room to sit behind her desk and I could feel the floor tremble slightly from her weight. Her chair creaked as she settled her weight into it. She was far from fat, but at more than seven feet tall her voluptuousness meant a considerable amount of weight. Almost clinically I began calculating what the chief component of her increased weight would be, bones typically only accounted for roughly 15% of body weight, her musculature was a bit greater than average though I suspected that was more due to spectacular genetics than any special effort on her part. Her BMI was probably not much higher than 20% even accounting for her large mammary glands. Priscilla cleared her throat and I realized I had been staring at her chest.

I looked away making a strangled sound and spoke before I could think “It wasn’t what it looked like, I was trying to determine your weight.”

“I see,” Priscilla said doubtfully.

“Honestly, Priscilla I-” I stopped myself. If shame could be concentrated my body was a distillery, but I had things to tell her that were more important than covering for a simple misunderstanding. Swallowing hard I said, “The other night I said some things that I didn’t mean. I was scared-”

“Scared of me,” Priscilla interrupted.

“Yes- no-” I grit my teeth, “Dammit Priscilla it's more complicated than that.” This was not beginning at all how I’d planned or at least how I would have planned had I been capable of planning.

Priscilla leaned forward and her soft voice was menacing, “Do not forget that while we are here I am your employer and you are my employee.”

I shivered “O-okay.” When satisfied that I had been adequately cowed she leaned back, generating another groan from her chair. The buttons on her blouse squeaked as the fabric pulled tight around her bust. After a moment of awkward silence I continued, “I won’t try to justify the things I said to you. They were cruel and wrong and if I could take them back I would. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Her laugh was short and mirthless. “You didn’t hurt me,” she said dismissively. “Was that all you had to say?”

My heart sank. “Priscilla, please… Don’t do this. if you won’t accept my apology at least believe that I didn’t mean... any of those things I said.”

“If all you want is for me to accept your apology then consider it accepted. Will that be all Mr. Anderson?” Priscilla said curtly. Every word drove ice into my chest.

“No, that’s not what I want Priscilla I want y-” 

A knock came from the door before I could finish and Priscilla waved them in. The door opened a crack and Matilda leaned in, “Mam, the test subjects have arrived,” she said.

“Thank you Matilda, have them begin the tests without us. Mr. Anderson and I will only be a moment.” Matilda nodded and left. 

When the door closed behind her I turned to Priscilla and said “I want to be with you.”

Priscilla gave me an appraising look and said, “You’re with me right now.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” I persisted stubbornly.

Priscilla tapped thoughtfully on her desk, staring at the ceiling as though considering a difficult problem. “Maybe,” she began, “you could prove yourself to be a dutiful employee.” She met my eyes and said, “If you do a good job here at the office I suppose, as a fair employer, I would have to consider you for other… roles.” 

My heart soared, a second chance! “I won’t disappoint you.” I said eagerly. 

My words seemed to trigger something because the faintest flicker of uncertainty flashed on Priscilla’s face. Whatever it was she recovered quickly and said, “Good, then you can unpack these boxes,” she indicated the row along her office wall, “After the tests have been completed.” Unpacking boxes seemed a bit of a waste of my abilities, but I hardly cared. I walked out of her office feeling like a tremendous weight had been lifted from my shoulders and nearly skipped over to the lab. 

When I arrived the girls were being run through the gamut of tests. Physicals, blood tests, and others far more targeted and specific were all carried out in the same large room by a team of qualified scientists. Dozens of sensor pads were attached to each girl that monitored everything from heart rate to hormone levels. It didn’t appear that anyone needed my help so I settled into a workstation and brought up their physical details. Incredibly, all of the girls had grown at least an inch! That was nearly twice as much as I had anticipated for two weeks of exposure to the serum. There were, however, two outliers. Molly had not grown at all and the Brazillian girl Jennifer Flores had grown a shocking three inches. 

Watching Jennifer swagger around it was clear she was enjoying the extra height. Her abundant hips swayed hypnotically as she ran through a stretch routine while waiting in line for one of the other girls to finish being examined. The girl had a butt that could put Britta’s to shame. Like two basketballs stuffed into skintight blue lycra her ass bounced and flexed as she bent into her stretches. I completely lost track of what I was doing while watching her. Then Britta appeared and I was floored. 

She was amazingly huge. A plain grey shirt hugged her curves like a second skin and her jeans appeared to be so tightly packed that the slightest wrong move would split them apart. The computer showed she had grown an inch and a half which put her around six feet eight inches, but it wasn’t her height that stunned me. it was how powerfully built Britta’s body was. Priscilla may have grown to over seven feet tall but she had a relatively normal, albeit voluptuous, build. Britta was thick and the extra weight was made all the more noticeable by her increased size. There was no doubt it my mind as to who would push who around if she and Priscilla were to face off. Every part of Britta was large, especially her feminine attributes. Britta’s cup size had measured GG on a six foot frame, but they were at least a couple cup sizes larger now that she was 6’8” and her hips were broad enough to brush against doorways. I had to reassess the idea that anything about Jennifer could put Britta to shame. Standing side by side it was clear that while Jennifer’s shapely behind was spectacular in comparison to the rest of her body she still had some serious growing to do before she could compare with Britta. I closed my eyes and counted backwards from ten to quell my suddenly uncomfortable arousal.

After calming down I pressed a button to activate the intercom between the observation room and the lab and said, “Molly Ringwald, please report to the observation room when you’ve completed your physical.” The formula’s unexpected effectiveness was something I could deal with. Molly’s complete lack of growth was another matter entirely, and I suspected I knew the reason for her ‘curious’ results. When Molly walked in sheepishly dragging her feet, my suspicions were all but confirmed.

“You didn’t take the serum.” It wasn’t a question.

Molly’s mouth opened, froze, then snapped shut again. She seemed torn between lying and shouting at me. She settled somewhere in between, crossing her arms over her flat chest she glared and said, “What difference does it make? This is all just a cover anyway. You said so yourself.”

The last thing I needed was someone overhearing Molly say something like that. “It makes a difference because if you don’t take the serum they will find out and you’ll be removed from the program.” I said gratingly. 

“Good, I never wanted to be in this program to begin with,” Molly snapped.

“How did you even avoid getting dosed? They administer it in the lab.” I replied, purposefully ignoring her.

“I told them I have a phobia of needles and they gave me some gelcaps.” Molly’s defiant stare dared me to challenge her.

I frowned. No one told me the serum had been added to gel caps. What else hadn’t they told me? “No one watched you take them?” I said quickly, trying to cover my sudden uncertainty.

Molly shrugged, “Yeah they watched me take them, but it isn’t hard to fake swallowing a pill.” That meant any of the girls could smuggle out a pill. What would happen if GTS hit the streets? What would someone pay for a pill that brings them closer to perfection? The thought made me shudder. 

“Your blood tests are going to show that you don’t have any formula in your system, did you think about that?” I said more harshly than I intended. Before Molly could reply the door opened and we both turned as Britta walked in. 

“I sure hope my little lovers aren’t fighting.” Britta said, her tone making it clear she could see that we were. Her arms crossed under her prodigious bust, a far more arousing sight that when Molly did it, and she looked at us sternly. Molly and I started to speak angrily at the same time our voices rising until Britta nearly shouted, “Enough!” Taking a calming breath that swelled her bust over her arms she said continued in a gentler tone, “Can you two please get along? Dylan, you can’t blame her for not wanting to change her entire genetic make-up. You know she got roped into this.” I started to mutter an irritable reply but Britta talked right over me, “You can either help her cover it up or you can have her removed from the study.”

It was difficult not to accuse Britta of taking Molly’s side but one look at her convinced me arguing wasn’t going to help anyone. Least of all my case which left me to ponder Britta’s options. The problem with removing Molly from the study was someone else need to replace her and that would only increase the chances of the drug getting out. There were already too many people in the project just to cover for Priscilla that more was the last thing I wanted. “Fine,” I said, “But covering for her isn’t going to be easy. Once everyone sees she isn’t growing it’s going to draw attention.” Britta raised her eyebrow at me in a way that said she expected me to figure it out. I sighed, “Maybe if I introduce some of the stabilizing agents I’m trying on Priscilla I could resequence the proteins...” I trailed off realizing I was starting to ramble. Britta and Molly were both staring at me expectantly, “Never mind, I’ll figure something out. Britta you should go back to the lab.” I said and immediately felt awkward for giving orders to a girl whose boobs were very nearly over my head.

Luckily, Britta took it with good humor, “Okay, but we need to ask you something.”

“What is it?” I said, a bit hesitantly

“Winter break is coming up and Molly and I decided we want to do something fun. We thought you might want to join us.”

My first thoughts were for the million things I wanted to test with GTS but spending the holiday with Britta and Molly could be interesting. I shot a glance at Molly who had the grace to stop glaring at me and look a bit embarrassed besides. “Sure, okay. What did you have in mind?”

Britta launched into describing the plan excitedly, “There is a big sponsored event for the school called Super Survivor being hosted on an island. Teams of three compete in a bunch of trials and competitions. Plus we have to find food, shelter, and all that other survival stuff. The best part is the winners get two years of tuition free. Sign-ups only run through the end of next week and they expect it to fill up well before that so we need a decision from you asap.”

Being cooped up in a tent with Britta for two weeks didn’t sound bad at all even if I did think all that fake survivor junk was silly. I looked again at Molly, unsure if she really wanted me along. She seemed to understand and nodded. That settled it, “Okay then, sign me up.”

“Great!” Britta beamed. “We’ll help you get over her in no time.” Was that what this was about? Britta turned and walked out, her heavy steps thudding powerfully through the floor, before I thought to ask. Getting over Priscilla was not exactly what I had in mind, but it was probably better I didn’t tell Britta that either way. 

“You should get back too Molly… I’m sorry I snapped at you.” I said sincerely.

“It’s okay. I know you’re under a lot of pressure. Just don’t forget who your friends are, okay?”

I told her I wouldn’t and turned back to the observation room. How much bigger would these girls be by winter break if they kept growing like they were? Just a few months ago I would have worried about them, maybe some part of me still did, but it was all I could not to shiver in anticipation.

Winter break drew nearer as the weeks passed and I gradually accepted my new position in life; Priscilla’s peon. I fetched her coffee, sorted her paperwork, moved her furniture, and a dozen other menial tasks that weren’t even the worst of it. Priscilla had decided all things demeaning and humiliating were tasks I needed to perform for her. The worst of it began the third day of the first week. Priscilla returned from the corporate gym glistening with sweat, and pulled me into her office behind her. 

“My feet are killing me,” she declared and sat heavily into her chair, causing it to groan loudly. Even sitting she seemed to loom over me.

“Do you need me to get you something?” I had fallen into the habit of asking her what she wanted almost every time we spoke and I rarely went away without some petty task.

“I could use a massage.” Priscilla said as she leaned back and stretched, subtly reminding me of the extent of her new size. From tip of toes to top of outstretched fingers she must have measured more than ten feet. She seemed to be growing right before my eyes as her body unwound in a chair-squealing stretch that sounded like it popped at least a couple stitches. Priscilla seemed unconcerned, new clothes arrived for her daily, something I only knew because she sent me to launder them.

A massage sounded like an opportunity for some intimacy and I barely kept the eagerness from my voice when I answered, “Okay, I’m a little rusty but I think I can help.” I started to move around the desk behind her when she stopped with a glance.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean my back.” She lifted her feet and set them on the table, “My feet are sore.

“Uhh, okay sure.” I walked back to the front of her desk and sat down. The balls of her huge feet rested on the corner of her desk, each more than twice the size of one of my hands. Worse, they were slick with sweat from her workout and I could smell funky odor rolling off them in waves. I’d never smelled anything from Priscilla that was less than pleasant but this was something else. I glanced at Priscilla and thought I caught the edges of a smile disappearing from her face. 

With more than a little trepidation I pressed my thumbs into the soft calluses of her foot. I was so pleased that she gave a contented “Mmm” in response that I almost didn’t mind the gagging odor emanating from her massive feet. Her toes wriggled happily as I dug my hands into the sweaty mass of calloused flesh. 

“A bit harder please, I can barely feel your hands.” Priscilla said lazily suppressing a yawn. I grimaced and pressed harder, feeling my hands already beginning to cramp. 

Ignoring the growing pain in my fingers I continued for a couple minutes before saying, “You know Priscilla, I was thinking-”

“Hold that thought, Dylan. I have to take care of some business. No, don’t stop, you can keep going until I finish these calls.” Without missing a beat she spoke into the phone, “Yes, this is Priscilla Sendyne calling about the centrifuges that are to arrive next week...” For the next thirty minutes she made business calls and I lost precious time I needed to complete my own work while being forced endure her post-workout stench and an increasingly deep ache in my fingers. Anytime I relented even for a moment she would “tsk” or make some other irritated sound until I resumed serving her.

And that incident was only the first of many. Priscilla “supervised” me struggling to move heavy boxes to high shelves that she could have managed herself with ease. She had me deliver high-end cuisine from across the city causing me to miss my own lunch in the process- as even the cheapest meals on their menus were far beyond what I could afford. She even made me pick up her dry cleaning, but on that account I snuck some alone time to masturbate furiously while holding her enormous bra. It wasn’t my proudest moment but Priscilla consumed so much of my time during normal working hours that I didn’t have an opportunities for much else. By the time I got back to the dorms not even Britta could stand between me and sleep.

The abusive treatment continued until I felt I had to say something. Was she never going to forgive me? If the only thing she had planned was to make me regret what I’d said she had already more than succeeded. Was she just going to use me now? The thought should have made me angrier than it did. The previous night Priscilla had kept me late arranging a heavy picture on her office wall and the massive framed painting left a crick in my back that kept me up half the night. I slept straight through my alarm and arrived at the office bleary-eyed and deeply grateful that it was the end of the week. 

People bustled about the office as I stumbled to my work station. My desk had been moved to sit right outside Priscilla office, as though I was her secretary which I suppose in a way I was. Before I could sit down her door flew open and she urgently waved me inside.

“Why are you late?” She hissed the moment the door closed behind me.

She had grown over the weeks and I was forced to look up at all seven and a half feet of her but for the first time in a while found I was more angry than afraid. “This has to stop,” I said with less energy than I had hoped. I needed coffee badly.

“You’re right, tardiness will not be tolerated. Especially from someone who is supposedly showing me they can be a model employee.” I opened my mouth with an angry retort ready when she said, “You told me you would have the compatibility report to me by this morning. It’s after noon already!”

That stopped me cold. Priscilla had been telling me for a week that she needed to present a report to Fempire’s board today and I had a feeling it was not something she was simply trying to torture me with. Still, she had run me so ragged she could hardly blame this all on me. “I have most of it ready, I’ll send it to you from my workstation right away,” I said with frigid professionalism and turned to leave. Priscilla’s hand on my shoulder stopped me.

Something in my voice must have struck her because she said, “Dylan… I’m sorry.” We stood still for a long moment before I turned to look over my shoulder. “I know I’ve been horrible to you lately, but you really hurt me and… Look, we can talk about it later maybe over dinner, but right now I need your help.”

Weeks slaving away for Priscilla felt like far longer and I’d nearly given up so that when her words first registered I couldn’t believe them, but one look into her unblinking eyes convinced me she was being sincere. Elation rolled through me like lightning, shattering a bitterness that had started to take hold. Stunned I managed to reply, “LIke I said... I can send the report from my station.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Priscilla said and flushed red. “I’m so horny I’m losing my mind. This conference call has me so on edge I can’t seem to… you know.” The mild shock of Priscilla needing to reach orgasm at work was easily eclipsed by seeing her actually nervous. 

And I could hardly believe my luck; we could skip straight to make-up sex! Just then footsteps passed by the door outside her office and reminded me this wasn’t exactly the right time and place. “Well we can’t do it here, the whole office would hear y- us.” I barely stopped myself from accusing her; even though she was the noisy one.

Priscilla was too preoccupied to notice my slip. Absently her hand sank into more-than-a-handful of swollen tit and began kneading it through her cream colored blouse. Her voice was husky, “I have to be in the video conference in less than half an hour and I need to cum before then.” With a hand still massaging her breasts through her clothes she froze, suddenly realizing what she was doing. Her hesitation only lasted a second before a seductive smile slid across her face. “If you do a good job helping me I’d have to consider you for that promotion we talked about.” Instantly, I was as hard as I’d ever been. Her huge hand was clearly overmatched by the even larger orb hidden inside her sheer blouse. A hint of a dark bra was visible through the semi-transparent material and above it heavy crescents of pale flesh surged over the cups and against the thin fabric. With her other hand she beckoned me closer. I obeyed.

Priscilla backed away, leading me across the room like a puppy following its master. She stopped by sitting down into her high backed office chair which squealed in protest at accepting seven and a half feet of horny coed. Concern over being heard was all but forgotten when her impossibly long legs parted and her hands came up to giver her bust another suggestive squeeze. She reached out and took my hand, pressing it against the hot mass of her tit. Holding it It was like trying to palm a basketball so I settled for sinking my hand into it until warm flesh swelled around my fingers like dough. Priscilla gave a soft, contented moan and grabbed my other hand. Rather than bring it to her other breast she pulled down forcing me to my knees in front of her. I felt a momentary pang of sadness as my fingers slipped from her breast as it rose out of range. The rough carpet grated uncomfortably but I barely noticed as the now familiar musk of Priscilla’s sex wafted up from her pleated grey skirt. 

Her scent had driven my wild from the first but now it was like a cloud crowding every rational thought from my brain. Was increased pheromone activity a side-effect of her growth? Maybe it was part of… Her hand on my head pushed me down further, aligning my face with the source of that intoxicating smell. She wasn’t wearing anything under the skirt. “I thought we were going to have sex.” My own voice sounded as if heard through earmuffs, fuzzy and distant. 

In contrast Priscilla’s voice rang like a bell, “I need you where you are.” Her hips slid forward and legs pressed against my sides forcing me under her desk. Grey darkness enveloped me as Priscilla’s skirt closed over my head. The incredible aroma of her sex was everywhere, accompanied now by damp heat that immediately beaded sweat on my brow. Slick, silky skin brushed against my nose leaving a warm trail of liquid on my face when I started to pull away. Two things happened simultaneously, first horrible guilt flooded my conscience. Second, Priscilla’s legs clamped me firmly against her sex, silencing the guilt so thoroughly I wonder if I had felt it all. And why should I feel guilty anyway, it wasn’t like… Like… Why was it so hard to concentrate? I suddenly felt stifled in the musky heat between her enormous thighs. I opened my mouth to speak just as Priscilla gave another squeeze and my tongue pressed against her sex, turning my words into a muffled ‘MmHmmph’. Priscilla ‘mmm’ed’ softly in reply and patted my head through her skirt. Why can’t I think straight, I thought. I had to get air, that must be it. I started to pull away again when the door opened.

I froze. 

For the briefest moment adrenaline cleared my mind enough to realize my best chance of keeping this secret was to stay hidden beneath Priscilla’s desk. Priscilla must have thought the same thing because her fingers twisted in my hair to hold me in place.

A female’s voice spoke from the doorway, “Hey Sila, I-”

“Do you ever knock?” Priscilla interrupted.

“Sorry Sila, I guess got too used to dorm life.” The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“Knocking is expected there too.” Priscilla said icily. “Is this important? I have urgent business to attend to.”

“Jeez Sila, sorry.” It was Kate! How nice would it be to hear Priscilla rip her a new one? I almost wanted her to stay just to listen to her get taken down a peg or two. Kate rushed into her explanation, “I just wanted to tell you that Amber dropped out of the event and I know you said you were too busy but we need a third now and I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

“I really don’t have time for this right now,” Priscilla said, punctuating her statement by rubbing my face in her crotch. Did she want me to keep going with Kate right there? I could hardly believe it but when I didn’t react she did it again and said, “I have a very important meeting and there is work that needs to be started immediately.” She stressed ‘immediately’ so much that it was clear she was directing it at me. After another moment’s hesitation I began tentatively lapping at her sex, cringing at the soft wet noises and praying that they were only loud to me because my head was shoved between her legs.

“I know, I’m really sorry to bother you...” For once Kate sounded abashed and I would smiled in satisfaction if my face had not been half-swallowed by dripping pussy. Priscilla’s hand lovingly stroked my hair. I’m her favorite now you stuck-up bitch, I thought. Kate was quick to remind me why I disliked her. “I just don’t think any of those pathetic men should win the survival contest. If you join us we’ll win for sure.” I nibbled Priscilla tender nub and her body tensed. I’ll show her how ‘pathetic’ men are when she’s begging me to… The fog rolled back over my thoughts just before Priscilla replied,

“I’ve got a full course load and I’m running a business, I don’t have time for games Kate. Anyway, don’t you have something better do then try to make people feel bad about themselves?” I lapped away happily, Priscilla had never tasted so sweet.

“I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad, Sila.” Kate said, letting slip a little irritation of her own. “Men need to be shown their proper place, if they feel bad about it that is their problem.” 

Priscilla’s thighs tightened painfully around my head and only relaxed when I slowed down. Then a few moments later they squeezed again more gently than before, stopped, then squeezed again. This repeated a few times before I realized she wanted to match her rhythm. When I did her hand resumed lovingly stroking my hair. “If you believe that you’re fooling yourself, Kate. You’re not happy until a man grovels like a worm at your feet.”

I thought I heard Kate mutter “exactly where they belong” but it was difficult to hear much of anything with Priscilla’s trunk-like thighs cradling my head. More audibly Kate said, “Whatever. If you want to come pack a bag and meet us in front of the house tomorrow morning. The shuttle leaves at 9 AM.” The door clacked shut and I returned my attention to pleasing Priscilla.

A crick was forming in my neck when Priscilla intoned huskily, “You’re doing well, ahh short stuff. I think you’re definitely, mmmmm, going to get that promotion.” A dopey, happy sensation filled me. Her tangy juices coated my face and sloshed into my mouth in such quantities that I knew she must have already cum at least once or twice. Yet she was building up to something bigger. Her chair creaked constantly as she rocked against my face, leaving little room for air. Massive silky thighs squeezed my head impulsively, a painful and invigorating reminder of the power that came with her increasing size. 

Suddenly her thighs bore down like a vice and fluid gushed over my face. I closed my eyes against the hot, syrupy flow. Amazingly only the softest ‘aaaah’ escaped Priscilla’s throat as she crested the wave of orgasm. When her thighs relaxed their torturous grip on my head and I sucked in a grateful breath of Priscilla-flavored air. “Four minutes to spare,” she declared happily.

After a few more panting breaths the fog seemed to clear from my thoughts and I said, “You gotta be careful, your body is lot more powerful now.” Priscilla’s chair slid back so quickly I nearly face-planted on the carpet. 

Then she was in front of me, her eyes staring into mine. “Did I hurt you? Oh god Dylan I-”

“No,” I said quickly, “At least nothing that an Advil won’t take care of. It was just a little... scary, that’s all.”

Priscilla was visibly relieved. She shook her head, “I thought I hurt you again.” She looked away and her eyes tightened with pain, “I would never hurt you, Dylan. Never on purpose.” With such heartfelt concern in her voice If she had told me she loved me I couldn’t have been happier. Only… why did I feel strangely disappointed as well. Maybe because I was as desperate to cum now as she had been when we started. That had to be it. 

“I know,” I said. “It’s okay Priscilla, really. Just be careful is all I’m saying.” It was difficult to speak with gravity when my face was covered in cum, but my words seemed to reach her because a relieved smile replaced the pain in her eyes.

“I’ll be more careful from now on,” she said. “Being this big is harder than it looks.”

“I’ll bet,” I replied dryly.

Priscilla appeared thoughtful for a moment, “Speaking of which, are you upset you haven’t been able to use the serum on yourself?”

Her question caught me off-guard. I wasn’t sure what to say because the truth was part of a conversation I wasn’t ready to have. How would she look at me if she knew that for weeks every time I masturbated I imagined her towering over me. Fantasies that always ended with me suffering to please her. It wasn’t the suffering that did it, just the willingness to do anything- be anything she needed me to be. Could she love someone like that? Maybe it was a conversation I’d never be ready to have. “I need to get you that report,” was all that I said.

“Oh, right.” Priscilla nodded, “I nearly forgot.” She moved out of the way so I could crawl out from beneath her desk. I hastily scrubbed my face clean with tissue and Priscilla assisted by running her fingers gently through my hair, combing it into something more presentable. When she stopped I stepped away and was nearly out the door when Priscilla spoke, “Oh and Dylan.” I turned to look up at the statuesque figure of my classmate, employer, and goddess. 

She favored me with a smile and said, “You got the job.”

The brisk winter air swept in from the ocean in chilly gusts that left me clutching my jacket tightly. Despite the cold I couldn’t help but be excited. Two full weeks in a tent with my roommates was more than worth the time away from the lab. The idea of a couple weeks outside didn’t sound too bad either. With the relentless hours Priscilla had worked me I’d rarely seen the sun or much of Molly and Britta for that matter. 

Molly sighed irritably for what seemed like the tenth time in as many minutes. “What is taking her so long?” 

I was in too good a mood to let Molly’s irritation get to me. “The ferry doesn’t leave for another twenty minutes, she has time.” Molly grumbled something beneath her breath and I had to suppress a smile. Telling her she looked adorable when mad was a good way to get her irritation aimed at me, so instead I said “Let’s see if we can find a brochure or something. Knowing the island could be advantageous.” Molly only nodded, still scowling.

It didn’t take long to find what we were looking for. The docks had all sorts of tour information and guides and the most difficult part was sorting the advertisements from the information. Finally I found a brochure that was for people who wanted to visit the island without a guided tour. It turned out the park had some interesting history.

Seraphim State Park was built on what used to be called Angel Island. Its naturally mountainous terrain kept it above water when sea level rose up to claim swaths of old San Francisco. A handful of wealthy preservationists enacted in a bold plan to keep the park above water using bio-engineered coral that buoyed as the water level rose. There was a bunch of information about the coral being anchored to the original angel island, the transfer of topsoil, and other geological achievements that I skimmed over.

The section concerning the current island contained the information I was looking for. The center of the island stayed true to the Angel Island in that it held a forested mountain, but the Seraphim version had made some interesting additions. Most notably the new island was more than triple the size of the original, and a large part of that was sandy beaches. Other additions included multiple camping areas, a cliff called Lucifer’s Fall (a name I could only shake my head at), and an ocean observatory with an underwater section for monitoring the land anchors and other oceanographic science. 
While I was happy to escape from work the thought of conducting research in an underwater lab sounded pretty cool. Almost like a secret base or something. Molly shouted and I nearly jumped in surprise.

“We’re over here!” Molly shouted again, waving her arms as she jumped up and down. There was no one around us to block the view of her but I guessed it was a habit from being so short. Molly was one a very few people I was taller than and considering I was barely over 5 feet tall myself- that was saying something. The shuttle was disgorging passengers onto the sidewalk and it I didn’t have to wait long to see who Molly was waving at. 

The bottom of the shuttle dipped below the curb as Britta stepped off then rebounded as her weight transferred to the sidewalk, leaving the entire shuttle bouncing and shaking as though someone was trying to tip it over. She looked our way and grinned but all I could do in return was gape. Britta had grown since I’d last seen her. Priscilla was intimidating at seven feet tall but nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of insignificance that rolled over me as Britta approached, happily munching away at a bag of potato chips. When she got a little closer I realized it was not one of the little individual bags people usually ate either, she was munching on a family sized bag of chips as though she planned to finish it. As if to confirm my suspicion she peered disappointedly into the bag before crumpling it up and tossing it into a recycling bin. 

Up close I could hardly believe how massive Britta had become. Her thighs were wider than my torso by far, just one leg probably weighed more than I did. Hips wide enough to hide two of me standing shoulder to shoulder narrowed at her waist before flaring back out to support the massive set of tits that loomed over me. Priscilla was voluptuous, but Britta was downright pornographic. Her blimp-like mammaries were level with the top of my head and each was larger than it by a fair margin. A thick strap covered a portion of astonishing cleavage and secured a large duffel to her back. It was more than twice the size of the backpack I was carrying. Standing as close as she was now I couldn’t see her face over her incredible bust.

“... so we got past the prelims automatically due to good grades.” Molly was saying.

“So there are more teams?” Britta said, sounding confused.

Molly sighed in a way I was all too familiar with. “Duh. That’s what I’ve been saying, it’s not eight teams its sixteen.” Sixteen teams? I wasn’t too familiar with the game but sixteen sounded like a lot. 

“I see,” Britta rumbled. Her voice had become a touch bassier, but in a pleasant way. “Well, I’m not waiting for the ferry to get here to set this bag down, I’m tired of carrying it.” Before I realized what was happening Britta pulled the strap over her head and shoved the bag into my arms. “Here you go, Dylan.” Immediately I struggled to bear the incredible weight- it must have be more than a hundred pounds! Sheer terror gripped me as I toppled backwards under the load, certain I would be crushed into the pavement. Just as quickly as she handed it off Britta scooped the bag off my chest, for a brief moment I was suspended over the pavement before I realized my death grip on the duffel’s canvas was unnecessary. I dropped back to the ground and took a few calming breaths before realizing Britta and Molly both were laughing hysterically. 

“Oh Dylan,” Britta said, shaking with laughter, “If you could have seen the look on your face.” She continued laughing until a stitch in her side caused her to bend over, revealing a wobbling crevasse of cleavage I could hide an arm in. Wiping a tear from her eye Britta looked at me and said, “Oh don’t be like that, this bag probably weighs as much as you do. I was just having some fun.” 

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re going to be picking on me all break?” I said over Molly who had begun snorting with laughter. 

“Hmm,” Britta said, her laughter finally subsiding. “I think maybe you’ll like how I pick on you. We’ll have all sorts of fun.” She gave a very pointed look down at her cleavage before she held my gaze with a mischievous smile that I suddenly found myself returning. It was impossible to stay mad at Britta, she was too playful to be cruel and if she was a bit pushy… well, she was used to being a big girl and getting her way. Only now she was a REALLY big girl. A horn sounded somewhere nearby.

“I think that’s us.” Molly said, peering across the dock on her tiptoes. 

I let myself lag behind the girls as we made our way to the ferry, admiring Britta’s tremendous backside shifting from side to side. Half-way down the dock she turned her head and said, “See? I even packed my beach balls.” When I realized she was referring to the gigantic globes of her ass we shared a laugh.

All sorts of fun indeed.

***

The ferry ride to Seraphim Island was uneventful. One of the other teams was aboard but they kept their distance. I recognized one of the girls from the GTS study right away. Latoya Berkley sat between two boys that were clearly vying for her attention. At over six feet tall it wasn’t hard to see why. She had curves that rivaled Britta’s (at least Britta before she started growing) and dark, coffee colored skin that she wasn’t shy about showing off. They occasionally shot glances in our direction before turning to speak to each other in hushed tones. When I started in their direction all three of them turned around to face pointedly away. Molly explained a lot of people were taking the game pretty seriously. Apparently fraternizing with the enemy was off the table. The rest of the trip was made in silence.

Sparkling white sand and towering palm trees were a welcome sight when they rose into view. We docked at a small port and shouldered our heavy packs in preparation for a hike. Britta was the last off and the ferry lurched nearly as badly as the shuttle had when she stepped onto the gangplank. We weren’t three steps from the boat when she held us up to pull another full sized bag of chips from her duffel. “What?” she challenged, noticing my raised eyebrow. “It takes a lot to maintain this girlish figure.” She gestured broadly at her expansive curves.

“I have no doubt.” I said wryly. Something like amusement sparked in Britta’s eyes. I hoped it was amusement.

“You’re gonna regret that later,” Molly said, giving me a smug look. 

“Yeah yeah.” I said, waving them forward. “Let’s just get to wherever we need to go.” 

“Wait.’ Molly said just as I turned. “The rules state the team captain has to carry all of the packs to the campsite. It’s symbolic of supporting the team.” She paused for effect before continuing, “I can’t do it and we know Dylan can’t either.” I couldn’t wait to wipe that smug smile off her face. “So that leaves Britta. You have to be captain.” Neither Britta or I had done more than skim the rules. I was hoping orientation the following day would explain everything, until then Molly was our best resource. 

“Seriously?” Britta sounded none too pleased. 

“It’s either that or we leave our stuff here. It’s your own fault you packed half the pantry.” I was shocked to hear Molly call Britta out, especially after the warning she’d just given me but there it was. Britta seemed unperturbed, only sighing at having to stow her chips when we handed over our bags.

I felt bad. Even with the prank Britta had pulled earlier my bag was over thirty pounds and I knew Molly’s wasn’t much lighter. Molly had explained earlier that each survivor could bring one bag with as much as they could carry. I’d packed two changes of clothes, food, a compass, and a few other odds and ends I hoped would be useful. I suspected we’d all done about the same and regretted we hadn’t coordinated who should bring what. 

Heavy bags or no, Britta set the pace as we left the beach for the line of trees, her long strides eating up as much ground as two of mine. The sun was high in the sky and the chill ocean breeze gave way to a muggy heat. We stopped briefly to allow Molly and I to peel off our outer layer of clothes and continue on in t-shirts. After that Britta maintained a solid pace, marching through dense undergrowth before the terrain changed again and we began hiking upward into foothills. Britta slowed considerably as we climbed, and before long she was breathing hard. I said, “We don’t have to race, the contest doesn’t officially start until tomorrow right?” I glanced at Molly, who nodded in reply. Britta didn’t stop or look back.

“If we stop I won’t want to start again,” she panted. “The sooner we get this over with the better.”

That was the end of conversation until we reached a dirt road that cut through the undergrowth parallel to the mountain. We stopped long enough for Molly to pull out a map and point us off to the right. The worst of the climb was over but Britta was pouring sweat and looked ready to collapse under the weight of the three packs. I had to say something, “I doubt they meant one person had to carry all three packs at once. You’re probably allowed to make trips.” 

“No! She has to carry everything!” Molly said quickly then paused, maybe realizing how alarmed she had sounded. She continued in a somewhat embarrassed tone, “I mean... that’s what the rules say.”

Britta’s eyes narrowed suspiciously for a moment before she turned and said, “That’s that then.”


Fortunately, we didn’t have much further to go. Britta stumbled into camp and had to catch herself on a tree. She shifted the bags to the ground while she caught her breath. I was breathing hard myself, a semester spent cooped indoors had taken its toll on my stamina but I could only imagine how Britta felt. Molly at least seemed in good condition, a light sheen of perspiration shone on her forehead but she wasn’t breathing hard. 

Britta finally regained enough composure to push away from the tree and address us, “Now, that’s done with. My first order as team captain is to get camp ready. Molly, pitch the tent. Dylan, come help me unpack.”

After handing off the tent (apparently they had coordinated who would carry that) Britta pulled me aside to organize our supplies. “I’ll take care of unpacking, I want you to read through this,” Britta handed me the rulebook. “The parts about preparation and getting to the event.” I shot her a questioning look but she’d already turned away to unpack.

Reading through the rules that didn’t concern the main portion of the contest didn’t take long. When I finished I looked over to see Britta propped against a tree hungrily spooning food out of a large can. “Was there anything you wanted to know specifically? The only things it mentions aside from being allowed to bring a bag is a banned items list and a reminder to follow whatever instructions the administrators give us.”

Britta stopped stuffing her face. “Nothing about the captain having to carry everyone’s bags?” That amused spark was back in her eye.

“No,” I said, suddenly uncertain. “I don’t think so, do you think Molly just misinterpreted something?” Britta had already gone back to eating and only shrugged in response. Whatever was going on she didn’t seem in any rush to discuss it so I set to unpacking my own bag while I waited for her to finish eating. I couldn’t get it out of my head that something was going on between Britta and Molly, but I had no idea what.

“Ahh, that hit the spot.” Britta said after a while. She set the can aside with a hollow thunk and said, “I heard the the other girls in the lab talking last week, I think most of them are here on the island. Maybe all of them.”

“Really?” I set my bag aside to stare at Britta. “All of them?”

“I think everyone wanted to show off their new physique what better way to that then at a recorded event. They are filming all of the challenges and who could pass up the chance to get seen by so many people?” She laughed when I raised my hand. “Well, you’re not a teenage girl with delusions of grandeur. That aside, I think it will be fun.”

I smiled back. “I think so too.”

“If you two are done sharing a moment- the tent is ready.” Molly said peevishly. What had crawled up her butt? Was she jealous Britta was spending a little time with me instead of her? That was ridiculous… But if true the next couple weeks were going to be rockier than I had hoped. 

“We can’t go to bed yet anyway. Why don’t we start a fire and see if we can come up with a plan.” Britta said, but she didn’t get up. Clearly starting the fire was a job for someone else and one look at Molly convinced me I’d rather be somewhere else anyway. 

Gathering wood didn’t take long, but tinder proved to be a challenge. I finally settled for snapping a few twigs from a dying shrub. Molly had matches that worked for getting the fire started and after that the rest was simple. Before long we were gathered around the fire exchanging stories. The weather was warm without being stifling and the air was rich with the scent of trees and flowers. Even Molly couldn’t stay mad.

As midday gave way to evening we were all smiling and laughing so much that for a while I forgot all about GTS and its dangers. I forgot about the city, miles distant, and the impossibly tall towers of the Millennial visible through gaps in the trees. Maybe, even if for only a moment, I forgot about Priscilla and the mess I was in. Out on the island it felt like no could hold us accountable.

We ate as the sun dipped below the horizon and by the flickering light of the fire I noticed what Britta was eating. She caught me looking and raised a conspiratorial finger to her lips. I glanced at Molly who was focused on her own food and shrugged. Whatever was going on between those two I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. After that Britta did a better job at keeping the label on her can hidden. When we finished eating Britta announced it was time to pack it in.

“It’s still early,” I said. “The sun just went down.”

“We don’t know how early they are going to come to camp to wake us up so we should get to bed sooner than later.” Britta replied, making a show of yawning and stretching. It was impossible not to watch her huge breasts strain against her tanktop. Molly caught me looking but rather than give me a hard time she only smiled. The fire really had improved her mood and I was a little sad when I doused it. 

The tent was made for a family but it was still a bit of a tight fit. Molly and I were small but Britta was so tall she had to lie at an angle through the middle of the tent which left Molly and I an awkward triangular space to either side of her. It wasn’t cramped exactly, but it was cosy. 

Thankfully, no one had forgotten their sleeping bag. Britta’s was a plaid monstrosity that I joked she’d stolen from Paul Bunyan. I was a bit disappointed when both girls jumped in with their clothes on but before long Molly’s clothes began ejecting from the top of her bag. No ‘bonus adventures’ tonight I thought disappointedly. Then Britta emerged from her bag with only a bra and panties on. 

The brassiere had enough fabric to make Molly a shirt and the panties could have made an entire dress. They were both tight on Britta. Black satiny material strained around her abundant curves and little crescents of breast pooched out near her armpits where the bra failed to accommodate their size. I would have given anything to read the tag, the bra was enormous but Britta was even bigger! As I watched Britta shifted over towards Molly’s sleeping bag then slid her huge butt over the opening. Molly was preoccupied with disrobing and didn’t notice until Britta had firmly sealed the exit to her bag. 

“Uhh… Britta?” Molly’s muffled voice was muffled.

“My dinner was great, how was yours Dylan?” Britta said as though Molly had not spoken.

“It was fine,” I said absently, wondering what Britta was up to.

“Molly, do you know what I had for dinner?” Britta said. Her grin was pure evil.

“No…” Molly’s muffled voice was hesitant. conveying the same sense of ‘where are you going with this’ that I felt.

“Well you’re about to find out!” Britta trilled gleefully. Before I could guess what she meant a deep rumbling sound thundered from beneath Britta. Had she just… Molly began to wail.

“Britta, noooooooo!” Molly whined loudly. “Oh god Britta it’s awful how could y-” This time the rumbling sound was accompanied by an unmistakable ripping- Britta was cutting a massive fart! Shock must have been plain on my face because Britta looked at me then threw back her head and laughed wickedly. Suddenly it became clear why she would want to hide eating pork and beans from Molly. “Stop Britta, please oh god it stinks jesus Britta you’re GROSS!” Judging by the way the surface of the bag was flexing Molly was struggling now. Her complaints continued in an unbroken stream.

Britta spoke over her, “Did you enjoy watching your big strong girlfriend carry those big, heavy bags all the way to camp?” Molly fell suddenly silent. Britta looked at me, grinning. “Little Molly just loves when her big strong girlfriend uses her big muscles for her. It really gets her juices flowing.” Smiling even wider, if that was possible, Britta extended a finger towards me. I wasn’t sure I wanted any part of this but then I remembered the smug looks Molly had given me earlier. Maybe a little payback was in order after all. I pulled Britta’s finger.

A rumbling explosion of gas was quickly overwhelmed by Molly’s wailing voice, “NO BRITTA PLEASE STOP” *cough* “YOU KNOW I” *cough* “HATE THIS” *cough*. I started to feel a little bad for her. Britta on the other hand was relentless, discharging blast after heinous blast into the sealed sleeping bag. Suddenly, after a particularly rank sounding emission, Molly’s tone changed dramatically. With panic in her voice she said, “Britta… let me out. Right. Now.” Britta moved aside and Molly darted from her sleeping bag not sparing a glance at either of us as she ran out of the tent. 

The sounds of her heaving up dinner caused me to turn in shock but Britta only returned a satisfied smile. I decided to reassess what Britta was capable of. As though reading my thoughts she said, “Oh don’t give me that look. Molly would enjoy almost any punishment I gave her. This is one of the only options I have if I really want to make her sorry.”

I guess that made sense. Molly openly craved being dominated as much as I secretly craved it. Still, Britta’s methods were… creative to say the least. I wondered if I would be able to look at her the same after this. Thinking on it a bit more I realized that if anything this cemented my impression of Britta. She was comfortable being the freak, the center of attention, and most of all- herself. I suspected Britta’s personality wouldn’t change if she had been Molly’s size or twice as big as she was now. The latter caused me to shudder involuntarily.

When Molly returned to the tent she gave a Britta a dark look but when she turned to me she actually flushed in embarrassment. Britta held Molly’s bag open for her and I caught a whiff of the sulfuric stench that had been deployed earlier. It was enough to make me drop my nose beneath my own bag. Molly must have noticed too because her nose crinkled and her face went pale. I thought she might run back outside for a second but she seemed to regain composure and managed to shake her head.

Britta looked amused. “I guess I can let you sleep with me tonight, but only if you promise to be a good girl.”

At once Molly was demure and meek as a kitten “I’ll be a good girl, Britta.”

“That means no more dirty looks at Dylan.”

“What! I didn’t-” indignation flared on Molly’s face before she caught Britta’s flat stare. The next moment her eyes were on the ground and she mumbled, “I’ll be nice to Dylan too.” 

“Good girl,” Britta said warmly and opened her bag for Molly to slide in. I felt a momentary pang of awkwardness, like I was a voyeur in someone else’s intimate life. Britta and Molly were showing me parts of themselves they probably never showed anyone except each other. Slowly the awkward feeling gave way to something else. It felt good to be in their confidence, like I belonged. I wasn’t even that jealous when Molly slid out of sight into Britta’s sleeping bag.

“Goodnight Britta, Goodnight Molly.” I said, letting my eyes close.

“Goodnight Dylan,” Molly murmured softly. 

A long silence was punctuated by a sharp hissing sound rising from Britta’s sleeping bag.

“Damnit, BRITTA!”

I smiled, already drifting off to sleep. Nope, not jealous at all.

Tires crunching against gravel brought me awake. For a moment I panicked at my unfamiliar surroundings until a soft snore and the rasp of my sleeping bag on canvas gently reminded me of where I was. I released a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. Then, quietly as I could manage, I crawled over Britta’s massive body. It dawned on me that I could have straddled the widest part of her hips without my feet touching the ground. Inconveniently, the thought of straddling Britta caused instant arousal and I forced myself to think of something else so I could to greet whomever had come into our camp.

Pulling on a shirt and slipping out of the tent my attention was quickly drawn to a man approaching from a jeep parked nearby. He was an average looking guy in the jeans and a slick-materialed shirt that was popular with outdoorsmen. He approached me and in a friendly voice called, “Good, you’re up!” I accepted his offered hand while blinking the sleep from my eyes. I mumbled a good morning to which he replied “I’m Frank, nice to meet you Dylan. You and your team need to come with me to The Yard. You don’t want to be late.” 

“What time is it?” I turned at the voice to see Molly sliding from the tent looking twice as groggy as I felt. Her blond hair was in wild disarray, her shirt rumpled, and her eyes squinted against the light of dawn. Clearly she had not slept well.

“It’s time to get going,” Frank said with an irritating amount of energy. No one should be that awake at this hour, it just wasn’t right. “Don’t worry about your bags. Just get dressed and meet me in the car.”

***

In less than five minutes we were cruising down the dirt road. Molly sat shotgun after muttering something about car-sickness which left me in the back with Britta. Her wide hips pushed into my seat and I was more than happy to share her warmth in the chill morning air. After the jeep turned towards the center of the island we began climbing steep hills that caused the engine to groan. During one particularly steep climb Frank shot a glance back at Britta probably wondering if the vehicle was capable of hauling her bulk around. Fortunately, I don’t think Britta noticed. 

The Yard turned out to be a plateau halfway down the mountain at the center of the island. There was a stage at the far end of the grassy area and I guessed the area had been made for concerts or something. A few of the other contestants were already there but it seemed we were one of the first groups. Frank departed with a brief farewell and we crossed the green by ourselves towards the stage where everyone waited. I didn’t recognize anyone in the two groups already there, one group all-male and the other all-female, and neither did Britta or Molly. We took a seat in the grass and waited for everyone to arrive.

We didn’t have to wait long, teams began arriving almost immediately. One group looked like the stereotypical California surfer jocks, tall and athletic. Another group of two guys and a girl were barely taller than I was and all wore glasses. The rest of the groups fell somewhere in between those two extremes of the spectrum, but the division between the contestants who qualified through academic achievement and the ones who had not was clear.

Two teams contained familiar faces. Latoya’s team we had met on the ferry ride in, but to my great chagrin Kate’s team was there too. They were an intimidating group; not one of them under six feet tall. A classic beauty of a Brit, Sarah Bennings was the shortest of the three. She carried herself with the sort of aloofness I’d often seen in women who knew all too well how attractive they were. Kate, who walked at her side, was a bit taller and pretty enough herself, but I knew exterior beauty disguised a rotten core. The third girl quickly attracted a small group of hangers-on with whom she appeared to be flirting. Jennifer Flores, a brazilian with a modest bust and an anything-but-modest backside, was close to six and a half feet tall, larger than either of the others. At a word from Kate she left her worshippers behind and joined the two towering girls in striding across the lawn. 

Every head turned to watch and the each girl in the amazon trio appeared to drink the attention in their own unique way. Jennifer flashed flirtatious smiles at anyone who caught her eye, Sarah glided like a queen in a royal procession, and Kate maintained the arrogant smirk of someone who expected to be worshipped. They stopped half a dozen paces from where we sat. For a moment Kate’s eyes locked on mine and her sneering smile caused my teeth to grind. 

“Don’t let her get to you,” Britta said placing her hand on my shoulder. “We’re here to have fun, remember?” I turned away from Kate at her touch and tried to think happy thoughts. Fortunately, the last group arrived moments later and the presentation began.

“Welcome, Survivors!” A loudspeaker brought everyone’s attention to a middle aged woman on stage. “I’m sure everyone is anxious to get started so I will keep this brief. For the next two weeks this island will be your home. You will have to find food, shelter, and water if you want to survive. If you run out of any of these resources at any time you will have only 24 hours to find replacements. Longer and you will be disqualified. You were each allowed to bring supplies but I regret to inform you they have been confiscated.” 

She paused for effect and murmurs rippled through the crowd. It was as I expected but one guy shouted that they ‘couldn’t take our stuff’. The woman calmly explained, “All of your belongings will be returned to you at the end of the contest, but there is another way you can get your possessions back- challenges! Every day you’ll face a new challenge and if you are victorious great rewards will be yours.” The speech was painfully canned and my mind wandered. 

After a while her tone changed suddenly and she said, “Our first challenge begins right now! If you’ll make your way to east side of The Yard you will see a game everyone should be familiar with!” Organizers hustled everyone away from the stage to an area I’d overlooked. Grass ended in a muddy rectangle with a knotted rope lying across it. Tug-of-war, I thought dryly, how creative. 

Following instructions from the administrators two teams lined up and after a loud pop began pulling aggressively. I turned to Britta and said, “This is going to be thrilling.” In answer she pulled me under her arm and gave me noogie. Having the side of my face pressed against a tit bigger than my head caused an uncomfortable stir in my pants. Unable to help myself I tilted my head against the weight of her breast and had to strain the muscles in my neck to get it to budge upwards; it was heavy! 

“Don’t be a stick in the mud. This could be fun.” Britta’s voice rumbled against me powerfully, but her tone was playful. Finally she let me go and I reluctantly sat back up, shifting to hide my arousal. Scattered cheers brought my attention back the the tug-of-war for a little while.

Mostly I snuck glances at Britta rather than watch the contests until, finally, our team was called. Britta lept up with impressive agility considering her size and Molly and I rose behind her. As we walked to our places I appraised our opponents. Two girls and a guy they appeared to be the outdoorsy type. They were of average height and build, tanned and clearly eager to get started. One girl’s muscles flexed visibly as she peeled off an outer layer of clothing to reveal a tight blue t-shirt. I wondered if this might be difficult even with Britta on our side. Blue shirt girl took up position in the middle while the shortest girl stood in front and the guy picked up the end of the rope at the back. 

Our team mirrored their distribution with Molly (our shortest) at the front, me in the middle, and Britta at the back. An administrator asked if both teams were ready and everyone agreed. The starting pop was still ringing in my ears when the rope jerked in my hands and I started to topple forward. Quickly I braced my feet and saw Molly doing the same. My arms strained and every muscle in my body tensed as I pulled with all my might. Gradually my feet began to slide forward, plowing furrows through the thick mud. Our opponents shouted encouragement to each other as they started to overtake us and Molly let out a whimper as her chicken-bone arms wobbled with the effort of holding onto the rope. The crowd began to cheer.

Behind me Britta’s spoke softly so that no one else could hear, “I think that’s enough playing around, you ready to win?” Was she not trying already? It didn’t seem likely Molly and I could make three fit opponents struggle as much as they were. Suddenly my feet stopped sliding forward and my outstretched hands pulled towards my stomach in a smooth, effortless motion. It was like they simply started feeding us the rope. The excitement on our opponents faces changed quickly to grim determination then again to shock. Even louder cheers echoed from the crowd. Walking backwards was effortless now, and I turned to look at Britta. She was taking patient, measured steps back while leaned away from our opponents- letting her superior weight do the work. Her confident smile made it clear she was enjoying herself immensely. The cheers from the crowd swelled into a roar as the front girl on the other team went down and was dragged across the goal line. 

I turned to see Molly watching Britta with flushed cheeks, though from exertion or arousal I couldn’t say. I could only hope my own feelings were equally difficult to discern. “We won.” Molly said, breathing heavily. More like Britta won, but that went without saying. 

On our way back to sit down the guy from the enemy team trotted up to Britta. “Hey, congratulations,” he said wiping sweat from his brow. “You got us, but I have to ask... are you one of the girls from that experiment everyone is talking about on campus?” 

“Yep.” Britta said cheerily and straightened to emphasize her incredible height. “What gave me away?” 

The guy’s voice was awed and more than a little intimidated.“Wow. How tall are you?”

“Seven one.” Britta said happily. 

“Wow.” The poor guy didn’t seem to know what else to say. To be fair, I wouldn’t have either. Finally he recovered and said, “Well good luck in the rest of the competition. After this is over I’d love to hear more about... the experiment. Maybe over coffee?” 

“She is spoken for,” Molly said, piqued. The poor guy actually blushed and I would have felt bad for him had I not felt just a smidge of the jealousy Molly was displaying. He mumbled something unintelligible and melted back into the crowd. When we sat down I smiled at Britta and said, “Seems like you’ve got an admirer.” Britta snorted a laugh and said she had all the admirers she needed with a purposeful look at Molly and I. That left me with a warm fuzzy feeling that didn’t dissipate until Kate’s team started their battle. 

Hopelessly mismatched the bespectacled geeks squared off against the amazonian trio. Mutters ran through the crowd and I caught the words ‘one-sided’ and ‘unfair’ before the players finished taking their places. The moment the match began all three amazons hauled mightily. Their opponents collapsed into the mud, pulled off their feet in an instant. Mercilessly, Kate egged her teammates on and they dragged the opposing team through the mud until one had crossed the goal line. Kate jumped up and down shouting in excitement when the match was called, but the crowd’s enthusiasm was dull. It seemed no one wanted to watch a one-sided slaughter. My heart went out to the defeated team as they trudged from the field covered head to toe in mud.

The second elimination round went much the same as the first. Britta made it a bit sporting then carried our team decisively to victory. The amazon’s humiliated a group of boys. When Kate’s derisive laughter followed them off the field and I was torn between wanting to beat Kate and wanting avoid her entirely. Fate decided for me- in the semifinals we were matched against them.

“You better hope they let you shower afterward nerd boy,” Kate taunted as we took our places at the rope. “Because you’re gonna get mud on your face.” No witty comeback came to me so I only scowled in response.

“Lets beat these guys Britta,” I said softly enough that they couldn’t hear me. 

“I was planning on it.” Britta replied firmly.

We all waited in anticipation for the start of the round. When it came I hauled with all my strength, determined not to be overwhelmed in an instant like the previous teams. My effort turned out to be in vain because Kate’s team simply pulled normally on the rope. Apparently they were changing things up for us, most likely in recognition of Britta’s incredible power. However, they were gaining ground. Slowly but steadily my feet were sliding forward. “Come on Britta, don’t give these jerks an inch.”

“I…” Britta began with a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “They’re strong.” I redoubled my efforts, hands tightening on the rope until the coarse threads made patterns in my palm. “Don’t worry Dylan,” Britta said with renewed confidence, “I’m stronger.” She made good on her claim because suddenly Kate’s team was sliding forward. A collective “ooooo” sound escape the crowd, no one had seen Kate’s team give so much as an inch, but Britta was taking two... four... six... They continued to slide forward and I glanced behind to see Britta leaned way back, her heels churning in the mud. 

Suddenly the rope went slack in my hands. I turned in time to see Kate’s team almost running forward. With a yelp Britta hit the ground behind me, the sudden slack making her lean work against her. With Britta down the other team stopped moving forward, just short of the goal line. With victory in sight I pulled with everything I had, panting from the effort, “Come on Molly, we’ve almost got them.”

In defiance of my words Kate’s team took one small step back then another. “I can’t pull well like this, I have to stand up.” Britta said, agitated. “Be careful a second, I have to take a hand off the rope so watch your footing.” Mud squelched as Britta scrambled up. 

Seeing her off balanced Kate shouted “NOW!” and the amazons yanked the rope. The power of their pull twisted my footing, I struggled to stay standing as I spun to face the crowd. A split-second later Britta’s towering body loomed over me and time seemed to slow. Molly was shouting, the crowd was roaring, and Britta was falling. For a moment an enormous wobbling bust hurtled towards me. Britta plowed into me like a freight train. Breath was crushed from my lungs as her tremendous mass drove me into the mud. I gasped and my mouth was stuffed with clothed tit. Britta’s unbearable tonnage buried me in muddy coffin. Everything started to go dark and...

I blinked.

My head was cradled in Britta’s lap. “Dylan are you okay?” A mixture of concern and anger painted her face. 

“Did we win?” I said groggily.Britta just had time to shake her head sadly before a paramedic asked her to move aside. She gave way grudgingly and they began their examination. The results were that I was muddy, bruised, and sore- but otherwise uninjured. 

Eventually they let me stand and as though cued the crowd broke into applause. I gave a little wave and let Britta support me as I limped out of the mud. I glanced at Kate who looked liked she wanted to gloat but couldn’t with so many people watching. She settled for giving me a knowing smile. My hands clenched until my knuckles turned white. 

To my great disappointment Kate’s team went on to beat the surfer jocks in the finals who in turn beat Latoya’s team. When it was over the rewards were announced: The amazons were given a full bag of supplies, a map, and an advantage to be used in a future challenge. The surfers were given a full bag of supplies and a map and the two teams tied for third place were given a full bag of supplies. All of the other teams were given a percentage of a single supply bag, which for teams at the low end meant a pitiful handful of items. Fortunately Britta chose her own bag which let us walk away with an incredible amount. 

With the challenge ended everyone was given instructions to make a shelter wherever they could and to keep in mind that enemy teams could steal supplies. It was basically tag rules with a twist, if you could remove supplies from an enemy camp without being touched you could keep it. If you got touched they had immunity from your team for the next 48 hours and every team would be informed of the would-be thieves camp location. This made frequent theft risky because if you slipped up enemy teams would know exactly where to find you. I thought the whole thing was a little silly, but that feeling was gradually being overwhelmed by a desire to beat Kate.

We wandered the forest in search of a good place to camp. Steering clear of the other teams was a given, but finding shelter was more of a problem. None of us were nature people and making a lean-to or whatever makeshift shelter was appropriate wasn’t really an option. The day drug on. Sore and limping from the challenge I was ready to settle for sleeping under a tree when Britta swept me up in her arms. “Hey!” I protested. 

“Shush.” she said gently, “We’ll find something faster if I carry you.” A strange mixture of emotions knotted my stomach but I relented. Having her carry me felt sort of nice. I glanced at Molly and she looked away immediately, but I thought I caught a jealous glint in her eye. We continued our search with Britta’s bust jostling against my midsection as she hiked through the forest. Before long my erection was poking into the underside of her boob. Britta looked down and gave me a smile and a wink. 

“Hey,” Molly’s voice called from somewhere behind us. “Come look at this, I think I found something.” Britta followed the sound of Molly’s voice down a small ravine in the side of a hill. At the bottom, was a depression that lead into a cave of sorts. The dark orange color of the cave was strange until I remembered that the entire island had been grown from artificial coral and the topsoil and vegetation only added later. “I think it’s big enough for all of us to fit.” Molly said uncertainly. 

It turned out it was exactly big enough to fit the three of us comfortably. I could hardly believe our luck and I said so. “Luck?” Molly scoffed. “I passed up four of these that weren’t big enough and one that was so deep and dark that I was too scared to go inside.” I was impressed, I hadn’t seen any of them. As if reading my thoughts Molly said, “Someone’s gotta carry their own weight around here.” It was was an obvious jab.

Britta set me down gently then put her hands on her hips and began threateningly, “Molly…”

Molly nearly jumped. “I know, I know.” To me she said, “I’m sorry, Dylan. I know it’s not your fault that you got hurt. Anyway, don’t worry we’ll get those stuck-up bitches before this is over.” There was no question as to which stuck-up bitches she was referring.

“You think so?”

Molly nodded firmly. “I have a plan.”

“What plan?” Britta said, interested.

Molly rifled around in her clothes for a moment before producing a medicine bottle. She uncapped it and poured a handful of tiny white gelcaps into her hand. I recognized those gelcaps and my heart skipped a beat. She had been saving them up the whole time.

“We make Britta bigger,” Molly’s voice dripped with anticipation. “A lot bigger.”

Light rain fell outside our small cave making soft pitter-patter sounds on the dense foliage. I had expected Britta to deny Molly outright. She had not.

“But this is a bad idea,” I pleaded with Britta. 

“I dunno…” Britta said thoughtfully. “It might be nice to grow a bit more.”

“How can you say that Britta?” I may have been thinking it, but to hear her give voice to my desire was something else entirely. “You’re over seven feet tall already! Isn’t that enough?”

Britta looked down at me over her enormous bust. I had to force myself to stop imagining her cleavage swallowing my head. “Sex with Molly lately has been incredible.” I stared at her incredulously. We were talking about irreversibly increasing her size to inhuman levels and she was thinking about how it could improve her sex life? Britta was many things but reckless was not one of them. Could Priscilla’s DNA be causing other side-effects? Without a lab and some samples I had no way to be sure.

“We’re talking about a permanent life cha-” I started.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic.” Molly cut in. “Britta’s size hasn’t been a problem so far, has it babe?”

“Not really.” Britta shrugged.

I sighed in exasperation and said, “You actually want to go through with this?” 

For a long moment the only sound was the steady drip of rain outside. The solid, earthy scent of the forest seemed to contrast with the wild beating of my heart. Finally, Britta broke the silence. “For a very long time I had a hard time accepting who I was,” she began, speaking softly. “I tried dieting, wearing baggy clothes, hunching my shoulders, I even walked with my knees bent a bit for a semester in high school- all so no one would notice how much bigger than other girls I was. None of it worked, of course. I just kept growing. Then, after studying psychology for a while, I started to accept myself. It wasn’t overnight of course, but gradually day by day I started to be okay with being different. Not long after that I met Molly.”

“She was super hot,” Molly chimed in.

I felt a stab of jealousy as they exchanged a warm look and immediately felt guilty for it. Britta rushed on, “But accepting isn’t the same as wanting. Sort of the same way you make peace with a pet dying, you’re never happy about it- you just accept it and move on. A part of me never stopped wishing I could be like everyone else. Then, out of nowhere, you made this formula. Suddenly the same type of girls who would tease me in in grade school were jealous of me. It’s like a light switched on, I realized that what is considered beautiful has never been constant. A hundred years ago it was tall rail-thin girls. Fifty years ago, it was short girls with big butts. Heck during the Renaissance a woman with all this.” Britta gave her shoulders a healthy shake, her bust wobbling heavily. “Would have been the pinnacle of sexuality. Maybe a new era is coming. An era where big is sexy. An era where being me isn’t something I have to accept- its something I get to enjoy.” Britta tapped her lips, searching for the way to phrase what she wanted to say next. “I guess what I’m saying is; if big is in, I am not about to lose my edge.”

Molly walked up and gave Britta a hug. It was like a child hugging her mother, Molly’s arms reached barely halfway around Britta’s girth and her head rested against the bigger woman’s broad stomach. Watching them smile while holding each other drained the fight out of me. Britta must have noticed me sag because her face sobered and she said, “Dylan, if you think this is too dangerous- I won’t do it.” 

“I…” What could I say? The entire experiment wasn’t ‘safe’. It would be hypocritical to try and stop her now. Or was I just telling myself that? Like Molly, some part of me desperately wanted to see her grow. I said the only thing I could say, “It is up to you.”

“Okay.” Britta’s smile returned. “Let’s do it.” 

Molly separated the pills into equal piles and handed one of the piles to Britta. Without ceremony Britta tilted her head back and tossed the pills into her mouth and swallowed. The rain outside started falling faster, drumming against the leaves. There was nothing to do but watch.

Britta was wearing a grey t-shirt and blue jeans, both of which conformed tightly to her massive seven-foot frame. Her blond hair was pulled back in ponytail that reached just below her shoulders. Massive sandaled feet were spread wide, she seemed to fill the cave all by herself, Molly and I were simply filling the gaps. “Your clothes will rip,” I warned.

“I want to feel it.” Britta whispered, her lips parted expectantly. She was eager. A deep contrast from the last time she had grown in front of me. Things had changed. Or GTS had changed her, the unwanted thought surfaced. Before I had a moment to consider it further, Britta began to grow. 

The first sign was the leather strap of her sandal. The left broke a moment before the right, making two distinct popping sounds. Britta kicked them away as the stitching of her jeans began tearing at her calf. Creamy white skin puckered through the dense threads of blue denim as the tear ran up her thick, powerful thighs. The snap to her jeans exploded off and hit the cave wall with a loud click. Britta moaned contentedly. The grey t-shirt stretched thinner and thinner as she grew. Soon a monstrous black bra was clearly visible beneath the straining grey fabric. The sound of stretching, groaning cloth could be heard clearly over the rain. The bottom of Britta’s heavy stomach crept into view as the hem climbed towards her rapidly enlarging bust.

From the beginning the black bra was overmatched; flesh pooched over the top where the cups were unable to contain her overdeveloped breasts. They inflated like fleshy balloons. Heavy swells of tit swelled over the edge of the bra and crested like gelatinous waves washing over a beach. The underwire pulled away from her body as her breasts expanded in every direction, leaving a steadily widening swath of underboob. Even the area gap of fabric near her armpits began to fill with wobbling breast meat. The bra surrendered with a loud snap, spilling Britta’s massive tits further into her already straining shirt. Rapid-fire popping noises came as stitches broke but, miraculously, the shirt held on. It’s hem was above her cavernous belly button. 

Every part of her expanded to unreal proportions; thick and powerful arms swelled larger than my thighs, hands stretched large enough to easily palm my head, towering meaty pillars for legs that exploded outward into a set of hips nearly a yard wide, and huge feet grew huger still- enough to bury most of my torso were she to deign to stand on me. Of course, her weight would probably kill me if she did. A quick calculation told me she weighed well over six hundred pounds! Nearly three hundred kilograms! Over a quarter of a ton of oversexed female! 

Britta shifted and pulled the now useless bra out from beneath her shirt. Her fat nipples and wide areola were clearly visible beneath fabric that had stretched to near-complete transparency. Her head thunked against the ceiling of the cave, and broke the silence. Everyone spoke at once.

“Oh-em-gee, baby you’re so huge!”
“Britta....”
“Ahhhhh, I’m… hungry.”

Britta’s eyes were closed, her face painted with ecstasy. She didn’t seem to notice she had hit her head. Her eyes flew open and her expression was nearly feral. “Food, now.” Britta snarled, snatching up her bag and nearly tearing it open. The broken bra sailed away from her hands as she discarded it to use both hands to rifle through her bag.

“Britta,” I croaked. “You’re immense.” She had to be over eight feet tall. I felt like a dwarf next to her, eyes level with her belly button. Molly started bouncing up and down in excitement, heaping Britta with saccharine praise. After a few moments of listening to her I collected the bra- it had enough fabric to make me a shirt! A small white tag stuck out from the band just before a row of four heavy duty hooks that read: 40-H. “This isn’t right,” I said. “You should only have gone up a few cup sizes from your original size. Your bust is growing faster than it should.”

Molly snorted. “Speak for yourself Dylan, I can’t wait to dive into those love pillows.”

“This is serious-” 

“Seriously awesome.” Molly interrupted before rolling her eyes. “A hot girl with big boobs just got even bigger boobs, what are you complaining about?”

I wanted to glare at Molly but I couldn’t take my eyes off of Britta as she began cramming twinkies into her mouth. “It won’t be awesome if she has an unstable growth episode like Priscilla did,” I said. I had told them about how she’d grown out of control and been forced to endure incredible pain. Molly’s expression tightened unhappily at the reminder. 

“Mmf. I feel fine Dylan.” Britta said, pausing to swallow. “Great even. Just hungry… and horny.” 

Molly’s grin was triumphant. “See Dylan? Stop worrying and enjoy yourself.”

Britta stopped eating to give us a lascivious smile. “I know what will make you feel better Dylan, why don’t you inspect these huge titties. You know... Make sure there isn’t anything wrong.” Britta lifted her shirt and her breasts raised with it, nipples pressing so deeply into the overtaxed fabric that they nearly ripped through. Instead, gravity finally dropped them from the tight grey shirt in a wobbling waterfall of tit. They bounced and jiggled for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a brief moment. Britta’s breasts were incredibly youthful and firm for their size, riding defiantly high on her chest with fat nipples that pointed straight ahead as though in challenge. Britta cupped one massive jug, which overflowed her hand, and rolled a nipple suggestively between her fingers. She let out a soft, bassy moan and said, “Come. Suck my nipples while Molly eats me out.” 

It wasn’t a request.

Molly moved without hesitation, helping Britta out of her torn jeans with worshipful reverence. The throbbing in my own pants began overpowering other concerns. I moved forward, entranced by the firm peg of flesh Britta was rolling between her fingers- encouraging it to swell to even greater size. Yet as I drew closer I could see it was tantalizingly, infuriatingly out of reach. Molly was having the opposite problem, having to crouch slightly to position her head in front of Britta’s crotch.

Britta laughed. “I’m too tall for Dylan to suck my nipples but not tall enough for Molly to lick.” She gave a dramatic sigh, “I guess I’ll have to sit down. Clear away you two, unless you want to be sat on.”

“You can sit on me Britta!” Molly said excitedly. 

Britta laughed again. “Maybe another time Molly, I don’t think there would be anything left of you between my ass and the cave floor.” Molly actually looked dejected! Was she out of her mind? Britta pushed us away while she settled to the floor. Molly quickly recovered from her disappointment and crawled between Britta’s thighs and it was incredible to see her tiny body dwarfed by Britta’s huge legs, like a tiny skiff sailing into a berth meant for a much larger vessel. Molly’s dainty feet only extended a few inches past Britta’s enormous ones. 

Powerful fingers pulled me close, bundling me into Britta’s lap before I could protest. I wasn’t sure I wanted to protest. Her handling me so easily sent a shiver of excitement down my spine and I let her adjust me so that I was lying across her lap with my knees even with her right thigh, leaving my feet to dangle. Britta’s thighs were so thick my couldn’t reach the ground and even with Molly between them no part of the tiny girl and I touched. Britta’s left breast lay heavily against my midsection. She lifted it so that the nipple brushed my lips and said, “I want this one as hard as the other.” Referring obviously to the other nipple which she was still pinching between her fingers. I pulled the flesh nub into my mouth and was shocked at how much of my mouth it filled. It was as thick as my thumb and nearly half as long. It tasted like Britta.

I lost myself in her breasts. Her wide areolae wrinkled and contracted, drawing more skin into her nipple as it hardened. When she removed her hand I felt its silky weight settle onto my palms and I sucked harder for the realization that simply holding her bosom required effort. How much harder would Britta be to please if she continued to grow? Her nipple, now fully distended, brushed the roof of my mouth and I sucked it in further. Hard. Britta moaned followed by a crinkling sound. My eyes fluttered open and I saw- she was eating!

Judging by the loud slurping noises below and the twitching muscles of Britta’s thighs; Molly was performing vigorously. My own attentions had Britta’s nipple as hard as stone, so firm that even pinched between my teeth it was as wide as when I first started sucking. And yet Britta was stuffing food into her face with a determination that made it seem as though Molly and I were incidental. I opened my mouth but the moment Britta’s nipple slipped free she turned to glare at me over the box of cheese crackers she was devouring. I smartly looked away and pulled her nipple back into my mouth.

Eyes closed, reveling in Britta’s soft skin and magnificent breasts, I heard an empty box hit the floor. Then Britta’s left arm wrapped around me and tugged my zipper open. Her hand lifted my turgid member free of my pants and began pulling in delicate, expert strokes. I felt a stab of humiliation at the feel of fingers nearly as large as my penis handling me as though I might break if she squeezed too hard. In a moment of animal panic I realized she could do just that; break me like a twig. The wave of fear passed as quickly as it came, Britta’s hand caressed me with expert care and I shuddered as sexual electricity surged through me. Britta went a step further, and cried out in ecstasy as Molly brought her to orgasm. 

My face was shoved deeper into her tit. The soft curve of her breast brushed against my ear with my mouth still firmly latched onto her nipple. My head was completely engulfed in Britta’s huge jug. Her hand pressed urgently, fingers curled in my hair. I couldn’t breath. She was smothering me with her overdeveloped mammary! Just as my tit-darkened vision started to haze Britta’s grip relaxed. I reeled back, gasping for air. Britta panting, wiped a dollop of cream from her mouth before shoving some unidentifiable confection between her plump lips. Molly had not relented in the slightest, if anything the slurping, sucking noises were even more pronounced. Britta hummed in satisfaction, giving me a few more moments to catch my breath before shoving my face back into her breast. I obediently sucked her nipple into my mouth and she returned to jerking me off. I was even harder than before.

Brief seconds passed and I passed the point of no return. I came wildly, bucking and writhing in Britta’s arms. I nearly gagged as Britta’s fat nipple bumped against the back of my throat. In my frenzy I’d sucked nearly her entire areola into my mouth. “Easy there tiger.” Britta admonished, “Don’t want to bite off more than you can chew.” I could only cry out in response as climax dimmed my senses. Sticky wetness spread over my crotch.

When it was over I was stunned to find that I was still somewhat hard. Britta noticed as well and said, “Looks like someone is ready for round two.” On anyone else I would have called her expression perverse, but on Britta it was… hungry. Her eyes widened as though she’d just had an idea. Confirming my suspicions she said, “Molly, if you can make me cum before I make Dylan come I’ll let you be my slave for the week. But if Dylan cums first he gets to be my slave instead.” Molly’s reply was a muffled ‘Mm Fmmph’ that Britta took to be agreement. The corner of her lips twitched in what might have been a smile. She looked at me and said, “Sound fair?”

“Uhh.” Was all I managed to get out before she scooped me up into her arms and pulled my tip between her plush lips. 

“I need something to wash down all that food,” she mumbled around the head of my penis. “Think you can help me out?” She didn’t wait for my answer and groaned when she pulled my length easily into her mouth. The warm wetness of her tongue coiled around my shaft like a snake, impossibly long. I shuddered, fighting the urge to cum prematurely. Or did I want to be Britta’s slave? With my balls resting on her the edge of her lips- the only thing I was sure I wanted was more of what she was giving me. At that moment nothing else mattered. 

Maybe the desire to continue experiencing Britta’s expert blowjob kept me from cumming too soon or maybe Molly was just that good. Whatever the case, Britta groaned around my cock as she shuddered in orgasm. Her throaty moans, so intense, vibrated my penis and suddenly I was joining her. We finished cumming together,and I bucked feebly as she relaxed her hold on me. What seemed like gallons of cum jetted into her mouth, more than even the first time. Britta swallowed it all in a single gulp. I sagged in her arms, exhausted despite having done very little. 

Britta leaned back, smiling contentedly, yet that hungry look was still in her eyes.“Mmm, looks like you win this round Molly. Or should I say: Slave.” Britta pursed her lips thoughtfully. Such incredible lips, I thought numbly. “What should I have you do first,” she said tapping a finger idly against those cushy lips. “Oh I know, how about you get started on round three while I have a snack!” Molly whined submissively and a moment later the slurping noises began again- more slowly this time but even wetter than before. Britta must have created a lake down there! 

Britta shifted, lifting her knees and drawing her feet in towards her body, crushing my body between her soft stomach and meaty thighs. My torso was and upper thighs were pinned beneath the soft, heavy weight of her bust while my head was cradled in the crook of her arm, leaving my legs dangling like a child sitting in a too-large chair. My crotch was positioned between her giant boobs, a position that any other time would have had me harder than diamond. Cumming twice in under ten minutes had, for better or worse, left me feeling sluggish and more than a little sleepy. “You look like you need a break little guy so I’m going to enjoy my snack but feel free to help yourself to anything that looks good.” I couldn’t see Britta’s face over the swell of her swollen breast but I could hear the smile in her voice. Two mountainous tits that laid across nearly half my body, their gelatinous pressure was like being swallowed by an overzealous recliner. A silky smooth and incredibly warm recliner. With turgid nipples that wobbled and bounced every time Britta reached for another bite of food. It was a good thing no one made chairs like Britta; I’d never get anything done.

I rested in a daze while Molly lapped dutifully at her mistress and Britta gorged herself on the supplies she had brought. Eventually, the subtle shifting and wobbling of Britta’s breasts on my body stirred arousal. It was almost alarming how quickly I went from utterly exhausted to… well, still utterly exhausted but also incredibly aroused. In fact, my penis seemed like the only part of me that was hard, the rest of my body hung limply from Britta’s lap. With an effort I positioned my burgeoning erection between Britta’s heavy tits and thrust between them. 

“Oooh, looks like someone has ahhhh-” Britta cut off as she rode out a third orgasm that had been a long time in coming. While she shuddered in pleasure I struggled to press her bloated tits more tightly around my penis, a difficult proposition from my position. Britta seemed content to let Molly bring her down softly while I struggled to maneuver her impossibly heavy breasts. My hands and arms were slick with sweat and her breasts slipped out my grasp, sliding across my stomach and thighs like slippery seals. Britta giggled at my struggles and continued munching snacks almost as if I was her entertainment. I realized with chagrin that I probably exactly that. I guess I couldn’t fault her for having a little fun at my expense after giving me two incredible orgasms, but did she have to laugh so hard? Her body shook with laughter so much that her breasts became even harder to wrangle. 

A cool goo dribbled onto the head of my cock and my toes curled involuntarily. “There,” Britta said. “That should help a bit.” Lube, I realized. I didn’t see how that was going to help, I couldn’t keep a hold on her tits from this position and lube would only make it worse. My struggles continued for frustrating minutes until I finally pushed her tits away in frustration. It was mortifying that I couldn’t manage a tit fuck. My arms felt like cooked spaghetti. Britta finally took pity on me and said, “Alright slave, you can stop. I can barely feel you anyway. Get up here and help Dylan.”

Molly struggled to her knees between Britta’s legs and I saw her face was cherry red and soaked. Even her hair was drenched, it looked like she’d been out in the rain. “Wow,” Britta mumbled around a bit of food. “Thats a lot of pussy you’re wearing Molly. I know. Why don’t you share some with Dylan?” I looked at Molly in confusion but she seemed to know exactly what Britta meant. She leaned in and kissed me. The pungent scent of Britta’s pussy crashed into me. Molly’s tongue snaked into my mouth and I immediately sampled what Molly had been smothered in for the last half hour. It was overpowering! Despite that I found myself kissing her back, overwhelmed by and craving Britta’s aroma, her taste, in equal parts. “Oooh, thats sexy.” Britta intoned huskily. “You know what though, slave… I think you left quite a mess down there why don’t you go clean some more of it up and come back.” Molly gave Britta a pitiful look before ducking her head back down. The now familiar slurping noises came again.

“That’s it. Clean me up slave.” I felt practically forgotten as Britta moaned in renewed arousal. A minute passed before she said, “Why don’t you give Dylan another taste.” Molly obeyed dutifully. When she rose up this time she looked even more bedraggled than before, but she didn’t waste anytime in wrapping me into another pussy-reeking kiss. I could taste Britta’s juices kept warm by Molly’s tongue, she was making me taste her sex through Molly. I felt unbearably humiliated for Molly as much as myself; a strange submissive empathy that somehow made it more shameful than if I had had to clean Britta myself. Britta couldn’t get enough. “Fuck, that’s hot. Do I taste good Dylan?” she crooned. I couldn’t bring myself to speak. Britta suddenly stiffened. “Molly, down. Now!” 

I tried to sit up in alarm but the weight of Britta’s breasts made it awkward, like doing a sit-up with a pair of watermelons strapped to my chest. Before I could make a second attempt I realized that Molly was licking Britta’s snatch again. Britta’s tense body made sudden, obvious sense. She was about to cum again. I didn’t have to wait long. This time her entire body shook with orgasm- it felt like an earthquake. “Moll- Slave. Don’t swallow.” Britta gasped. “I want Dylan to have it.”

Mollly surfaced, her face dripping with a fresh coat of Britta’s ejaculate. When she leaned in to kiss me I could smell the difference, a sweeter- saltier smell. Her tongue was stiff, like a towel that had been soaked and left to dry in the sun, but the juices running off it were copious. She pulled back as she finished depositing Britta’s cum, leaving a gooey string trailing between our lips. Britta shuddered, an aftershock from the previous orgasm. 

To my overwhelming chagrin, I came too. Nothing touched my penis. I simply swallowed Britta’s hot, creamy cum and erupted. Erupt might have been a generous term for the meager load I expelled- certainly far less than what Molly had fed me from Britta. Yet it was accompanied by bone-deep shame. Here I was, positioned between the biggest, sexiest breasts I’d ever seen and I hadn’t cum from conquering those voluptuous hills, but from the shame of being served Britta’s cum second hand through Molly. I turned my head away, pressing my face into Britta’s side. My eyes felt damp. Sweat must have run into them. 

“Oh, Dylan it’s okay. It’s okay.” Britta said, rocking me. Somehow she made it better. Somehow she made it worse. “You’re with friends, we’re just having a little fun.” Britta paused then chuckled, “Well, a lot of fun. Either way there’s no reason to be upset.”

“You don’t get it,” I choked out.

“She gets it fine, dummy.” Molly’s sympathetic voice softened her words. “You just had your first truly submissive sexual experience and you weren’t quite prepared for it, but that’s okay. No one is judging you Dylan.”

“I’m judging me.” I said quietly. I couldn’t tell her it wasn’t my first.

“Dylan.” Britta said sternly. “That was one of the best orgasms I’ve had in my life. Just take the W guy, it doesn’t matter how you get it.”

I pushed away from Britta and she helped me stand. The cave felt suddenly hot and claustrophobic. The pitter-patter of rain had grown into a torrential downpour. “Thanks for saying that Britta.”

Britta grunted dismissively. “I meant it. I have half a mind to start you on a new diet with a very special main ingredient.” Molly started to laugh then snorted loudly and stopped abruptly before snickering again. Even with my back to her I could sense her embarrassment. Britta laughed at Molly and suddenly I couldn’t hold back any longer. 

I started laughing too. 

They made it impossible to stay, well, anyway they didn’t want me to stay I supposed. When Molly finally brought her fit of snort-laughter back under control she grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. “Feel better?” she asked. Her concern was so genuine it was touching. 

I nodded. “Yeah it’s okay. I’ll get over it anyway” I said.

Molly appeared thoughtful for a moment. Then her face went slack and expressionless.“You - are - one - of - us - now.” Molly said in a halting robot voice. “You - will - serve - the - mistress - as - part - of - the - collective.” A pillow crashed into her head nearly knocking her over.

“You’re such a dork, Molly.” Britta said. 

“That’s slave-Molly to you,” Molly replied primly, dusting off the pillow that Britta had thrown. 

“I’ll slave-Molly you.” Britta said, standing up. She immediately bumped her head on the ceiling. “Ouch, damnit.” She glared. “Who picked this tiny cave anyway?” She looked around as if seeing it for the first time. Her voice was serious when she said, “I grew quite a bit didn’t I?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and said, “Still think was a good idea?”

In answer she stalked over to the opposite side of the cave where I was standing (two whole paces for her) and loomed over me. I backed away involuntarily, feeling an animal urge to flee from this massive creature towering over me. Rain quickly damped my shoulders and back. Britta looked down at me for what felt like an eternity, a smile slowly creeping across her face. She said, “Dylan if I could,” That hungry look had re-ignited in her eyes, like a fire that temporarily hidden by the trees flashing back into view. No, more than that. Like the sun breaking free of the clouds. “I would do it all over again.”

“Did anyone pack a mint?” Molly called from inside the cave. I released a breath I had not realized I was holding.

“Come on,” Britta said without any hint of menace. “You’re going to catch a cold out there.” What the hell, I thought, was she fucking with me? I hoped that was all it was. I hoped the formula wasn’t somehow... changing her. But that was ridiculous. Any irregularities would have shown up in my tests. 

***

I woke the following morning to a strange crinkling sound.” Blinking sleep from my eyes I looked for the source of the disturbance just as Molly slipped back under the blanket. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I had to pee.” Behind me Britta was a small mountain under the blanket which rose and fell gently with her breath. 

“What was that?” I whispered back.

“I dunno, some wrapper. Britta made a mess.” I sat up and quickly scanned the cave, and rubbed my bleary eyes. Trash was strewn everywhere and the supply bag was deflated, lying in the corner. 

I laid back down, wondering if I could squeeze another hour in before we had to hike to the next challenge. Then I registered what I’d just seen. I lurched back up and eyed the supply bag with a growing sense of disquiet. Reluctantly I drug myself out of bed and navigated the maze of trash toward the duffel. Looking down at it my fears were confirmed. The food was gone. All of it. 

I spun and tried to inventory the flattened and discarded packaging, guessing at how much space it would have taken in the heavy duffel. Too much. I couldn’t be certain all of it was on the floor, but it was close enough to not make a difference. Britta had eaten all of our food in a single night! “Molly,” I hissed.

“Whu,” Molly said absently, already drifting back to sleep. I walked over and shook her, “What? Jeez.” Molly said grumpily, pushing away my hand.

“Britta ate all of the food.”

“So what? We’ll get more.”

“Molly, there had to have been over forty pounds of food in that bag.”

She caught the note of alarm in my voice and spoke more cautiously, “That sounds like a lot I guess.”

“It is more than lot Molly. It’s an enormous amount. More than any human being could possibly eat in a night.”

“Where are you going with this?” Molly said crossly.

“The only way Britta could have eaten that much food is if her body was rapidly metabolizing it.” I explained more patiently than I felt. 

“Well, Britta is a big girl,” Molly said, shrugging.

“Britta isn’t just a big girl,” I whispered, shooting a glance at the massive coed’s sleeping form. “She is a growing girl. And if my guess is correct she doesn’t need the serum to continue growing.” Concern bloomed on Molly’s face and she turned slowly, following my gaze to Britta. “If her DNA has mutated to the point where her growth is self-sustained… I’m not sure there is anything I can do to stop it.”

Molly swallowed audibly and said, “She seems to enjoy being big. How bad can it be?” 

Britta shifted and her stomach rumbled loudly. “Mmm…” she muttered in her sleep. “So hungry.” Molly looked at me, eyes wide. We knew what each other were thinking.

We were going to find out exactly how bad it could be.