Connie's Weed Pt. 03

"Connie!" barked Marge. "You're the clever one! Come on, I can't — gods, I can't be found like that! Connie! Snap out of it!"

Connie gulped. Then she took another step backwards, and gulped again. She cleared her throat. Another gulp, another cough.

How to put it, how to put it.

She scratched her head.

"M — maybe, maybe there are some berries left. Let me sneak out —"

"To the plantation? Please, no! It'll take you an hour or longer! The next break starts in thirty minutes! Someone will call the janitor! They'll find me!"

"No, I mean, I — I got some ..." She sighed. At least there was no way Marge was going to jump up and slap her this time. "I still got some juice at my place."

~~~

"You still got some?" Marge exhaled in profound relief. "Thank heavens!" And, pointing at her fourfold ball-and-chain, she immediately added, "Well? Hurry!"

"I'm on it! I'm on it!" Connie struggled with the window handle. She opened the milk glass pane and threw a checking glance outside. "Gotta climb down the vines, I can't lock the door from the outside. Marge, you really, really, owe me for that one!" She swung her legs over the window sill. Moments later, she was gone.

"Hey, Connie! Say, just how much of the juice have you — Connie!"

No reply. Marge sighed and rested her chin on her hands. Her elbows dug into the soft pillows of her upper breasts.

Pffft. She'll need fifteen minutes at least.

Booooring.

She crossed her arms and observed her left nipple that peeked out over the horizon of her mammaries. Marge walked her right hand's fingers over her jugs, faking goose steps with index and middle finger. She flicked against the plump strawberry of flesh and shuddered at the touch.

Damn, that's pretty sensitive. Cool.

A playful pinch sent heat through the whole orb. Goosebumps spread over her body. She squeezed harder and inhaled sharply.

Whoa! That's pretty nice. H—hey!

Marge's midriff started to quiver in tiny spasms, and her point of view slowly rose. The joints between the tiles wandered over her skin as her breasts grew firmer and lost their flattened shape.

Filling up! Oh fuck, I'm— waitaminute...

Her fingers suddenly dripped with warm wetness, and the upward movement stopped. She raised her hand to her face and sampled the white coating.

Mmmh... Sweet. I guess I can milk a quarter of an hour from that.

Marge reached blindly for the domed areolae. Her mouth spread into a happy smile as she cupped the palm-sized mounds and twisted her nipples between her fingers. Firm and taut as her breasts had grown now, she couldn't dream of pulling them close enough to her lips to suck on the plump nipples. Marge settled for her agile tongue instead, stretching it out to lick and prod and strangle her teats one after the other.

~~~

Connie stared down on the puddles of milk on the floor.

"Marge!"

"Oh what? I got bored and played with my new assets. It's not like my milk bar will go away by itself. So, you're all berried up again?"

"You bet. Here, that one's for you." She handed a test tube to Marge and watched her gulp down the fresh shot. The glow spread under her skin only moments later. Connie scratched her cheek, pondering.

"Right, last time, there was a whole lot of milk in your breasts, and they shrunk after — oh no!"

"Connie, don't oh no me! What is it now? We've got maybe fifteen minutes left! Come on, get my nipples spraying."

"I can't!" The blonde shook her head. She realized there was another problem waiting.

"What do you mean? You must!" Now there was panic in Marge's voice.

"Look around! There's no floor drain in here! If I make your boobs let down now, the milk can't go anywhere but outside! Do you remember how much you squirted the last time? I almost drowned! If you let loose here, the whole corridor will be ankles deep in milk! Unless —"

"Unless what? — Ouch!" Marge cringed. "Ow—ow—ow! Let go! Let go of my nipples! Let — oh gods! What are you doing? Are you — You're squeezing my nipples shut with your mind!" Her breath came quicker. "Don't do that! It's like kneading them! It makes my breasts wake up again! Oh gods! Getting fuller!" The pressure kept on rising in her exited glands.

Connie knelt down in front of Marge's right breast, Marge's upper right breast, to be precise. Her splayed fingers enclosed the doming, plate-sized areola and began to send the firm, milk-soaked flesh into wavy motions. A groan mixed of fear and lust slipped over Marge's pouted lips. Eyes closed, Connie mumbled and whispered.

"Connie, talk to me! What are you doing — I'm — I'm too full! I'm —"

The whole three-feet orb undulated steadily now, and every wave running into Marge's ribcage took a little gush from the trapped milk and spread it out under her skin. The swelling wandered lower, a warm wavefront of liquid creeping down along Marge's toned midriff. Soon, her chiseled abs disappeared under round bloat. A growing potbelly squeezed forward between the dangling lower pair of her breasts. Hot skin stretched slowly and steadily from the end of her ribcage to the top of her pubic bone and wedged Marge's pulled-up thighs apart, spreading her legs as she straddled the expanding ball bulging from her center.

"Connie, I — I don't like that! I don't like that at all! Tell me what you're up to! Are you knocking me up?!"

Without opening her eyes, Connie groaned, "Can't move you about if you're four solid udders. And you don't fit into one of the stalls either. So it's belly ball time for now. Gonna roll you to the sinks, hang your crotch over one and drain you trough your vag."

Marge stared at her with wide-open eyes. "Connie, that's about the sickest thing I've heard in while!"

"I—I'm sorry, I—"

The raven-haired girl laughed. "What for? Sounds like fun! Squirting O of a lifetime! Hurry up and do it!"

~~~

Sweat ran down Marge's contorted face as she stooped over the sphere of her womb, clutching the four-feet spread of squeaking skin with arms and legs, rocking back and forth helplessly.

"In—intense! Guuhhnnn! Connie, hurry! I can barely hold it together! My belly! My belly's bursting!"

Connie stopped her pumping and ran her fingers over the straining orb. She sensed power, sheer, raw, trapped power, coursing through the balloon. She shook her head.

"Fat chance of that. Feels like you could swell on forever."

"Uhhhh—Gods! F—forever?!" Marge licked her lips. "Really? Hhhhaaahhh! K—keep going! Mmmmh! I'm — so — wet — dripping — down my legs — Connie — rub me! Grab my — pussy —"

Connie ignored Marge's lecherous pleading and kept on kneading and squeezing the breasts until the lower pair was absorbed into the round protrusion and the upper pair rested its old buxom-yet-possible size on the orb that Marge's front had birthed. She grabbed the shoulders of her panting friend and stood up, tipping the bloated girl towards the row of sinks.

~~~

The cold enamel pressed into Marge's thighs. Connie wrestled her hand through the tight, sweat-greased fold between Marge's taut womb and her legs. Her fingertips touched wet, wiry, curly hair, then a swollen, stiff nub slick with sticky ooze.

"Yes! Yes, pinch it! Rub it!" gasped Marge. "C—cummin'!"

"Oh, you will! And for once I'm happy you didn't wear panties today. Right, you'll get horny now. You'll have the gushing climax of a lifetime," sneered the blonde into her friend's tense face. Her fingers kneaded the throbbing clit. She focused, digging her fingertips into the swollen lips at the top of Marge's vulva.

The white bolt of magical discharge struck. Marge's eyes fluttered shut as she felt her cave become wide, flooding with the hot liquid from her giant paunch. Her entrance opened up, the liquid shot out in one single, massive bolt, and the sink filled to the brim with sweet milk in seconds. Connie gasped and quickly covered the distended hole with her hands to quench the tide.

"Hold it tight!" she commanded, and Marge's labia contracted and wrinkled up like a sphincter in her palm. The riptide turned into a trickle.

"No! Let it out! Let it out! Must keep cummin'," squeaked the inflated girl.

"Oh shut up! I need to think!" She gave Marge's buttocks a push, and Marge rolled over, just barely able to stop her momentum with her arms thrust out ahead, hanging upside down from the orb of her own belly.

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit. She's too full. Too much. The sink can't take all that, not in ten minutes. Too much spill. Can't — but, what if —

She knelt down and inspected the two-inches chrome tube that sprouted from the wall and ran up into the basin, and then turned and thoughtfully looked at Marge's pussy and the thin current of milk that still seeped through the cramped labia valve under the bloated, high-lifted buttocks.

~~~

"Right, Marge, now go lower until you feel the tube against your — you know."

Connie laid on the cold tiles and watched as Marge bent her knees further. The girl had her back to the wall and her thighs wide. The gurgling four-feet sphere of her belly rested on the cool floor between her feet, and inch by inch, she lowered her crotch towards the pipe. The sink laid in shattered pieces in the corner by the door. Only the chrome-plated drainpipe angled out and up from the wall, and now Marge's crotch slowly descended towards it while Connie aimed the tip.

"Haaah—!" Marge jerked and shivered as the cold rim touched.

Connie's fingers tugged and pushed until the position was right. Moist and slippery, commanded her thoughts. Immediately, thick whitish drops appeared in the depths of Marge's reddened funnel. Connie's fingers splayed into the swollen labia, pulled them apart and followed the penetrating pipe.

"Unngh — I like that dildo," came from somewhere above the expanse of stretched skin.

Connie frowned and shook her head. A sigh, then she focused on the obedient flesh in her grip and ordered, "Right, now — open up!"

Hissing and bubbling marked the beginning, then a deep rumble went through the old walls of the building. The tubes clanged and trembled. The noise of mechanical mayhem drowned out Marge's moan of relief. The vastest part of the milk avalanche thundered down the drain it was intended to go, yet some thin white jets still found their way around her muscles' seal. Connie hurried to crawl away before she got soaked too badly. Stooped, panting and shivering, one hand against the wall, the other on her knee, she watched her impaled friend's rapidly shrinking belly. Marge's head dangled in mindless ecstasy as she power-flushed the vintage plumping of the old building with milk.

~~~

"Let's never, ever, do that again, okay?" gasped Connie, kneeling down in front of her friend and squeezing the last of the bulging belly inwards until it snapped back by itself into the enviable shape of a super heroine's abs.

"At least let's not try it again in a place without adequate sewers," grinned Marge, brushing her sweat-drenched hair from her face. She rose, and the pipe disconnected with a shluurp-pop. Her fingers traced Connie's chin. "Mmmh. Still was quite a trip. And just how much of our magical juice have you saved, you little liar?"

Connie threw her head in her neck, shook it, closed her eyes and sighed, "Marge, please, no!"

~~~

Chapter 9: The Rise And Fall Of Major Boobage

~~~

Connie glanced around the terraces of the auditorium. This was the third time in a week that Marge had missed one of the morning courses. The place by Connie's side was empty. The first few times, she had worried that Marge was angry at her for something or other, but when Marge showed up late, she acted in the same weird blend of brash affection as always. Something kept her up at night, though. Shadows showed under her eyes. Connie had asked. Marge had laughed and pinched her cheek, spilling nothing. Strangely enough, Marge hadn't asked for enhancement either since the botched make-out in the toilet. Connie was rather sure she hadn't done any wishing, yet Marge behaved a lot less erratic than before. They still met to cuddle maybe once or twice a week, and even then, the overflowing raven was more than happy to just let Connie hold on to her breasts, no demands, no questions asked.

~~~

"I'll be gone for a week," Marge announced suddenly. Connie turned her head from the taste-free lunch in the canteen and frowned.

"A workshop," continued the black-haired young woman.

Connie's stare didn't really light up with understanding.

"Modern dance," Marge finished.

"Modern dance?" And, after a few seconds, Connie added, "You?"

"Well, yeah. Guess what? Someone noticed my balcony! And I don't mean one of these beaus that drop their trays in surprise when they see me in the queue. No, this is serious. Been there for auditing the last few times I was late, y'know? They think I've got potential. Just need to hone my skills a bit, they said."

Connie frowned. "You remember what you told me, about when you become too eager? About stopping you?"

Marge laughed. "Really? Can't imagine why I should've told you something like that!"

"Well, you're becoming too eager now, again. Do I need to stop you, for your own good?"

Connie backed away when Marge suddenly leaned in and narrowed her eyes.

"Don't you dare," growled the young woman.

Connie didn't.

~~~

The cell phone clunked to the ground and kept on wandering over the floor with each buzzing of the ringer. Connie groaned as she fished for it, reaching it with two fingertips only until she struggled from her bed.

"Marge, what is it this time?" mumbled the tired student, rolling back into her bed. She glanced at the clock.

Five a.m. Figures.

Contrary to her expectations, Marge's voice was neither slurred nor sprinkled with incoherent giggles. Granted, there was the Marge-typical background of a noisy party, but for all purposes, Marge didn't seem her early-morning inebriated self for once. Connie's brain finally picked up speed. Time zones. Wonderful things, until they bit you in the ass at five a.m. because your sorta-best-friend probably hasn't got a clue about them.

"Marge, what continent are you on? You realize it's early early morning here?"

"Silly, I know! It's early morning here, too. I'm almost next door, in the northern district of the city. You got a pen and paper? I'll give you the address. Come and pick me up! I've got big news for you!" Her voice turned away, and Connie could barely make out the "Gee, she thought I'm on holiday! Oh, she's so sweet, you gotta meet her!" and then the giggle of at least two or three other women in the same room.

After Connie jotted down the street and number, she yawned, "Marge, that's all across town! Can't you get a cab?"

"A cab? Connie, if I wanted a cab, I would've called one. Come on over! This is important! You've just got to come over and see it! If you hurry, you'll catch my last show for today!"

Click.

Uh—oh, was the summary of Connie's thoughts as she reached for her clothes.

~~~

"Uh, hi, I'm —"

Connie gulped. She had circled the building three times with her car, just to make sure she had the right address. It was a nightclub of sorts, though it lacked any blatant advertising save for a small brass sign with the establishment's name. The man at the door, blocking Connie's way now, was a head taller than her and built like a brick wall, and just as easily impressionable. He measured her up with a detached, professional gaze and came to the only possible conclusion in light of her last-decade tree hugger outfit.

"No."

"No, see, I don't want to go in there, I'm just here to pick up Marge. She — she just called me, said I had to come over and ..."

"Of course she did. D'you know how many times I heard that in the last hour alone? Still, no."

"You don't understand! I'm her friend! We've been to school together, and now she's studying with me."

The brutish guy cocked his head and grinned.

"Uh-huh. Humm, you're a bit taller than her. Pretty flat, too. So I guess you're her man girl with the strap-on?" he inquired.

"Wha—? No! No, we're not — she's just — we — we're not doing these things!" blushed Connie.

"Yeah, right. So our Margie is a shy little lady and you two are just cuddling in bed, eh?"

"Yes! No! I — I mean, I —"

"Oh lay it off. You're not getting in there tonight. Not in that outfit, you don't."

"Ah. So you don't need this job any more, Carl?" came Marge's voice from the shadows of the corridor, accompanied by the tock—tock—tock of impossibly high heels. The bouncer shrunk in her icy stare as she slunk closer, wrapped in a dressing gown.

"Sorry, Miss Marge. Won't happen again. I thought she's just another of those fans —"

"You're not getting paid enough to think, Carl. Now remember this: She gets in whenever she wants to," sneered Marge. "So, Connie, come with me." She glanced over her shoulder as she put her arm around Connie's waist. "And, for the record, yes, we are cuddling."

~~~

Marge led Connie down the faintly lit corridor. "What a jerk! Hey, sweetie, listen, I just need to do another da capo, they're all going crazy over me. Do you hear them? And it's almost six in the morning, yet the place is still packed!" Giggling, she added, "Fuck, it's great to be a star!" She pushed a door open and gently shoved Connie inside. Snapping her fingers, she told the bartender, "Jacky, the lady's with me. Whatever she wants, it's on the house. Give her a table near the stage." Marge winked at Connie. "Make that a solo table. And if anybody tries to hit on her, hit 'em with the two-by-four. Wouldn't want to make my best friend feel uncomfortable, eh?"

"Buh — gah — wha — Marge—!" stammered Connie, but her friend had already disappeared backstage.

The bartender curtsied to her. "If you'd please follow me?"

~~~

Connie trailed him as he led her through the maze of tables to a small alcove by the side of the stage. None of the other guests gave her more than a passing glance. When the waiter asked for her order, she just shook her head and slipped thankfully into the concealing shadows of her seat. The quiet murmur of people waiting filled the room. Connie quickly scanned the place from the corner of her eyes.

A silvery pole in the center of a circular pedestal marked the front end of the stage. From there, the elevated floor of illuminated plastic tiles widened, forming a triangle with its base at the curtain. The whole place didn't quite fulfill Connie's crude movie-powered mental image of "seedy strip joint," and for that, she was quite thankful. It reminded her more of some kind of vaudeville club.

Caught unaware, she jerked in her seat when the deafening, lecherous moan of a giantess made the glasses rattle. Only after the echoes and the drumbeats set in did she realize it was the soundtrack to the next performance, blasting from some unseen but impressive speaker system. The lights dimmed down further until a single spotlight pulled the glittering curtain from the near impenetrable blackness.

~~~

Two hands grabbed the edges of the curtains and threw them open when the next bass pulse ripped through the air. Connie recognized Marge in an instant. Her face was hidden by the brim of her huge cowboy hat, but there couldn't be another pair like those humongous breasts in the world. Two more beats, a dizzying spin that sent those mind-blowing jugs flying, and then Marge stood wide-legged in the spotlight. Rhinestones sparkled on her thigh-high brown leather boots with the impossible heels, the short brown leather chaps and her tautly filled denim shirt. Its massive content had two more beats to calm down again as Marge stood like a statue but for her gyrating hips, but the quivering breasts just couldn't stop sloshing that fast for sheer volume.