Connie's Weed Pt. 01

Silence, then a deep exhale and the rustle of clothes.

"Marge?"

A moan followed, one of those moans. It cut right through the fog in Connie's head. She swiveled to her friend.

"Marge?!"

The girl clutched her breasts, staring at Connie while her eyes opened wide. To the sound of slowly rending seams, her fingers spread apart. "Connie," panted Marge, her sudden influx of lust quickly turning into fear, "stop it! Please! I didn't mean to mock you! Stop it! I'm still growing! That's too big! Too heavy!"

Connie staggered back and shook her head.

"I wasn't aiming for you! I want my own—"

Marge dropped to her knees, clutching her swelling breasts. "Connie! Oh gods, Connie, they're blowing up! I'll burst! Make them stop!"

Her new heavy-duty bra gave in with a snap, followed by Marge's painful yelp as its straps whipped against the bulging flesh of her mammaries.

"Connieeeee! I'm growing too big! I can't — I'm turning into a freak! Conniieeee!"

"All right!" She waved in Marge's direction, unsure of what to do. "Uh — shhdop! Stop it! Breasts, I command you to stop!"

Crrrreeeeeaaak.

"Not working! Unnnghh! Oh please! Try harder!"

The loops of the knitted sweater spread wider. Marge's skin began to show through the distended fabric. Like the late-comer to a party, her nipples now swelled larger, trying to catch up on her breasts' head start. They popped up into two strawberry bumps. With a snap, they broke through the wool that quickly distended into an overflowing fishnet top.

"It's not stopping! Please, do something!"

"M—maybe if I — can I touch them?" stammered Connie.

"Hurry and do it! Oh gods, I'm burning up from the inside! I'm stretching so taut, it stings! Connie, please!"

With trembling hands and her fingers splayed, Connie knelt down and touched the heaving soccer balls. She exhaled loudly. The round masses of Marge's flesh felt awesome. Swollen, somewhat taut, and yet soft enough to bulge out between her fingers. And they grew, unrelentingly, their skin shuddering and distending eagerly into the palms of her hands. Connie's breath quickened. Marge's bloat did the same.

Marge grabbed her wrists and struggled to push Connie's hands away.

"Let go! It's not working! They're only growing faster!" she gasped.

"No! Wait! Maybe if I squeeze them—"

Connie dug her fingers into the sensitive orbs as they outgrew pumpkin size. The only response was a sudden jump in size, and not for the smaller. Runs appeared and crisscrossed all over the fabric as it neared its limits. Connie jerked back, fell from her haunches on her rear and lost her grip. Marge yelped, stooping under her udders' increasing weight, and began to sob.

"What are you doing to me? It's only gotten worse! Oh heavens, why? Why?!"

Connie gulped. Her face burned red with embarrassment. She struggled for words, and then she blurted out in a stuttering confession: "M—maybe because I don't really want it to stop."

Marge stared at her, wide-eyed. Her jaw moved silently as she gasped for air, and then she screamed: "Connie! Are you mad? I'm blowing up! I'm turning into all boobs! Stop it!"

"Marge, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I can't do a thing about it! I just need to see how you burst out of your clothes! Oh gods, just seeing you stretch that sweater over your chest this morning has made me horny as hell! I know I shouldn't, but I must see how you swell out of your garb. I promise, I'll wish you smaller afterwards. But right now, I must — I —"

"Connie! Oh please, have mercy! You don't know how that feels! I'm tearing apart! I can't stand it! It's so tight! It stings! It's like my breasts are filling with boiling water! It's gushing into me! I'll burst!"

Connie bit her lips. You've got power over it.

She stood up and stared down on Marge, how she kneeled before her, her hands groping frantically at her breasts. At breasts that grew and bloated more with every passing moment. Her eyes, full of panic and fear, begged mutely. Yet all Connie could think about was, that cleavage! It's swelled out almost as far as her thighs! The sweater's just tatters! It's about to give!

Connie gulped, and then she shook her head, with sudden unflinching determination in her gaze, and took a step backwards. She stared at the skin that slowly rose out of the remains of Marge's neckline.

"I'm sorry! I won't stop it now." She raised her hands and clenched them into fists. "Grow — grow faster! Yes! Grow bigger! Bigger! Much bigger!"

The expansion gained speed. The silent clearing filled with faint sounds of stretching, of ripping fabric, of bubbling liquid and groaning tissue. Marge's face contorted. Veins and sinews appeared on her neck as she grimaced and panted:

"What? Oh please, don't—we've been friends all the years—why do you—listen, I'm sorry I caused you all that trouble that one time with the weed, I never—"

You've got power.

The booze in her system made Connie brave. She leaned over, pointed at her friend's head and giggled, "Marge, be quiet. You like it, do you hear? You want to swell really big. The bigger the better. It turns you on. And don't worry, you won't burst, ever, no matter how big you get."

As if Connie had flipped a switch in Marge's head, her friend's panicky voice turned into a hoarse moan that seemed to go on for an eternity. When it finished, she inhaled deeply and purred with a raunchiness that sent shivers down Connie's spine, "Ooooh, so that's it?" She licked her full lips. "Little Connie wants her monster tits friend to be a bouncy boob bimbo? Little Connie wants to hug two big milky hooters? Little Connie wants to get suckled by some of that?" Marge slapped her arms hard into the quivering, bouncing mass of her boobs. "Little Connie wants to jump around on a boob bed? Rrrrawwwrrr. Come here, girl, let me show you what it feels like to be bigger than big. Come on, sit on my breasts. Crawl on them! Feel them grow and stretch under you! And then let me bury my face between your thighs and eat you out."

Marge stared at Connie, her eyes now burning with feral desire. She dug her fingers into her straining hemline and pulled. The cloth rent with a clear, high screech, and the orbs spilled out, dragging her the rest of the way down to the floor. They rebounded and needed quite some time to find their weighty, sloshing rest. Marge knelt on the floor, her arms halfway around the round masses, corralling them as well as she could. Her efforts grew vainer with every quiver and stretching pulse, and she slowly rose from her haunches to her knees to keep on top of her growing bosom.

Connie bit her tongue to fight her dry mouth. Her breath quickened and came in spasms of arousal. And with a delighted yelp, she threw herself at the trembling, round beanbag chairs of milk glands that her friend offered.

She rested on her stomach on the flattened cushion of throbbing tissue that was Marge's left boob, holding the nervous nipple between her thighs. Marge's spherical pillow of warm glandular mass served as a shared comfortable rest for their forward-slanted bodies as their lips met and their tongues united in a fierce, untamed kiss. With their arms interlocked, they devoured each other with a passion. Connie quickly learned that a slight squeeze with her legs against the rough teat easily pushed Marge over the edge into a rampant climax, and she gave her friend a chain of gushing orgasms, drinking the moans and gasps straight from her gaping mouth.

After an especially strong squeeze, warm wetness trickled down Connie's legs. Marge's face contorted in ecstasy, and her eyelids fluttered shut in time of her mouth turning into a gaping O. She humped against her own breast, again and again, and the warmth on the skin of Connie's legs spread rapidly as creamy milk gushed and sprayed from the ducts in Marge's nipple and soaked Connie's trousers.

"Oh yes! Milk me! More! More! Drink from me!" Marge groaned, bouncing into her own breast like humping a giant rubber ball.

The sweat made Marge's skin slippery, and the milk spraying with each of her ecstatic bumps into the pair of each almost one and a half yards across balls of her breasts didn't help. Connie lost her grip and slipped down the orb, landing with her crotch right on the protruding can-sized nipple. Marge yelped in delight and shuddered backwards. The move yanked the rough protrusion out of Connie's clutch, and the amateur witch stumbled and fell on her back in front of the towering pair of orbs. She clambered away, but the ground was a morass, drenched with milk. She only pushed lumps of soaked earth around instead of crawling to safety.

Marge noticed the attempted retreat of her friend, disappeared behind her breasts as she knelt down to add more batch, and smacked her lips.

"Tsk-tsk. Nuh-uh, flat tits can't just run away now. You want it, you'll get it. Let's play some more, darling!"

She jumped up, throwing herself at her breasts. The two orbs lurched towards Connie, rolled over her legs and pinned her to the ground. Marge struggled to keep her balance. Spread-legged, she held her one breast with both arms, the one breast that had Connie buried under it. Marge groaned. Jolts of delight surged through her body with every push and prod and punch as her helpless catch tried in vain to break free.

"Marge! Get off me! Let me go!" came Connie's muffled voice out from under the giant breast.

Marge didn't listen. Well, she listened, but a mean streak wandered over her face.

"I said drink from me!" she hissed.

Marge grabbed her boob with both hands and pushed and pulled at the almost immobile orb. The undulating movements rubbed the can-sized nipple over Connie's face, again and again. Connie punched and shoved with her hands and feet against the soft, yielding sphere pinning her down, but its tensile skin just absorbed all of her struggling movements. Instead of giving her air to breathe, each push expressed more of the warm milk. She swallowed, coughed, spat and gargled helplessly.

I—I must shrink her! She's gone mad! She'll drown me! Shrink! How do I — a balloon. Imagine a balloon. And now I let go of the nozzle —

Marge froze and gasped for air. Connie's eyes grew big. And so did the nipple right in front of her. It opened up, stretching and changing into a hollow, thin-walled five inch tube, opening a pipe right into the heart of the sponge of distended milk ducts inside the tent-sized breasts.

Oh nooooo—

The last thing Connie saw was something white jumping out at her. She raised her arms to shield her face, and then the warm, arm-thick jet splashed all over it. She sank into a quickly growing bubble of milk forming under Marge's mammoth breast.

She didn't hear Marge's panting and moaning. She only heard the gargling and bubbling of the dozens of gallons of milk being expressed at once and rushing against her, until finally the pressure in the trapped milk bubble lifted Marge's spending boob up and broke the seal. On the crescent of the white wave, Connie washed out from underneath the orb. The liberated surge carried her and sent her tumbling away like caught in the crosshairs of a water gun.

~~~

Connie coughed and wheezed, lying in a white puddle on the soaked forest floor. The gushes had subsided, finally. She staggered to her feet and clambered to her delirious friend. Marge's limp body slowly descended, resting on her deflating breasts, and still a rich stream of milk bubbled out beneath her flattened cleavage. Seeing the cushions of skin as they contracted and disappeared under the girl's torso unsettled Connie, even though Marge still quivered with delight, enjoying every twitch and contracting ripple that ran through her chest.

Marge shook her head and sent sweatdrops flying from her spiky hair. Panting, she pushed herself up on her hands and feet, her now melon-sized gland bags swaying and spraying, and finally she settled on her haunches. Both she and Connie got a good glimpse at her dangling breasts as the orbs lifted themselves off Marge's thighs in their shrinking skin and crawled higher on her chest. They assumed their old-new firm shape, slightly undershot their size and bounced back in a cartoony, rubbery way. Her skin shone golden in a sun ray that pierced the forest twilight. What remained of Marge's clothing was in tatters, soaked in mud and milk and sprinkled with old fir needles.

Connie stooped, grabbed her friend's shoulder and shook her gently. "Marge? You hear me? You okay?"

The dripping young woman nodded, still stunned and dazed, slowly feeling up her breasts. Her hands barely fit around one at a time. "Mmmh. Sort of. Was that real? Did you really—?"

"I don't know! Maybe? It's all a blur. I mean, look around! Everything is soaked! What do you remember?"

Marge narrowed her eyes and jumped at her.

"All of it! You blew me up like a damned rubber fuck toy! You drunken bitch!"

"Marge, I—," wailed Connie, backing away and cowering down in expectation of a punch or a slap. Instead, the bare-breasted girl licked her lips, grabbed Connie's shoulders with both hands and grinned, pulling her tight for a fierce hug, passionately kissing her cheeks.

"Oh Connie! That was totally rad! The best rush I ever had! You think you can do it again? Only bigger? More? And, can you do my ass, too? Like, a huge, round, fat ass? Oh please, please, once more! I'll make out with you for as long as you want, just blow me up again!"

"What? No!" Connie raised her arms in defense and stuttered, "Marge, no! I — I need to think about what all that means! I — let's just wait a day or two, okay? I—I gotta get sober, can't think like that. Gods, I'm all wasted. I'll drive you — no, you drive, here, take my car keys, gotta get you home now, you can't ride your bike with your clothes soaked and torn like tha—mmmgff!"

Marge shut her up with another fierce kiss that went on quite a while until their lips parted with a smack. The black-haired young woman poked the tip of Connie's nose and smiled.

"What would I do without you, Miss Sensible, eh?"

~~~

To Be Continued in Connie's Weed, Part 2: Standing On The Bosoms Of Giants

~~~

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