Connie's Weed Pt. 02

Connie forced her eyes open. Even through the curtains of salty slime covering her face, she saw that her whole shape glowed from the inside out. She radiated her power eagerly, and as she did, a horrible weakness grabbed hold of her limbs.

— I do?! I— she's sucking me dry!

She stared at her hands. The glistening coat left a feeling of softness and warmth as it soaked quickly into her body. Her skin started to wrinkle as the flesh beneath it was slowly digested. Her bodily substance evaporated and rose, soaking as a glowing mist into the stretching and expanding mountain of girl towering over her.

"Uuuuhhh!" rumbled Marge's voice. "Oh my sweet little darling, you're such a delicious witch! Look at me! Look how tall I am now! Unngh! My tits are so big! I can't even see my feet any more! You must be almost empty, so now I can give you what you always desired. Oh yes, I'll give you two huge udders now, too, I'll fill you with all my milk. So come here, let me rub some more of my magic juice into you!"

Connie shook in catatonic stupor and finally slipped into merciful unconsciousness, her limp, emaciated body splayed in the puddle of ooze in the palm of the giantess. Marge's finger slid up and down her body, squeezing and prodding it every now and then like a tiny sponge. Slowly, the pool of foam grew shallower as Connie swelled rounder.

~~~

Marge gently brushed a newspaper-sized fingernail against Connie's head. "Wakey, dear! Wouldn't want to miss your final change, would you?"

The tiny doll on Marge's palm surged and screamed.

"Shush! You're disturbing the neighbors." The tip of Marge's pinkie was enough to cover Connie's whole face and to shut her up. When the giantess lifted it again, Connie kept quiet. Her mouth moved. Marge leaned in and strained her ears to make out the whisper.

"—Need to stop that," wailed the insect in her hand. The giantess laughed.

"Stop? Now that you're all prepared and stuff? Oh come on, Connie! I know you want to swell and grow like I did, and now I can give you that! Besides, look at you. You're only half-changed. You can't go out in public like that!"

Connie lifted her hand — so heavy! — and stared at it. Her fingers — her hand — her arm — her body —

"What have you done?!" She stared at her swollen, bloated, fattened shape. Her belly was a wobbly, squishy abomination squeezing apart her sagging melon breasts which half-hung, half-rose by sheer volume from her chest. Her cheeks — tears welled in her eyes as her thick fingers, barely able to bend for the spongy flesh bulging around her bones, touched the half-orbs that rose from her jaw.

"What? Of course I had to soak you in my juices. It'll make you nice and stretchy, in fact, it's almost done by now. Really, sweetie, you've got to listen to me once in a while. Nice and easy now, hold your head still, I need to make your mouth fit to — hold still, I said!"

The giantess changed her grip and pinched Connie's head between thumb and forefinger. She dipped her other hand's pinkie into her soaked cunt and aimed the glistening tip at Connie's tight-lipped mouth.

"Gmmmp—!"

The little doll dared to put up a little resistance! Marge wiggled her pinkie, forcing it in between her toy's lips.

Shlurp.

Connie's puffy lips stretched like rubber over the head-sized tip. It was as if there wasn't a single bone left in her bloated, jellied shape. She distended like a silly putty doll as Marge's finger dug into her and widened her mouth and throat into a pink, gaping receptacle.

The finger left her, only to wander over her breasts, kneading and prodding the squishy bags. Connie's nipples danced and jumped through the rifts and crevices of Marge's fingerprint like a needle over a scratched vinyl, and to her shame and horror, her engorged nubs sang along as the giantess played a frantic symphony of lust on her body.

She wanted to scream, to wail, to — to do anything at all. Instead, her mouth remained in the distended, funnel-like pouting shape that Marge's finger had stretched it into, and her body was a limp lump of coagulated rubber.

"Now we're talking! Get ready to swallow a big gulp from me!"

Marge raised her to her condo-sized breasts.

~~~

Don't do that to me, please.

Connie's mute pleading went nowhere. All she was still able to do was to swivel her eyes as she was lifted up along the skyscraper that was Marge's perfect body. Every detail on her former friend's figure zipped by like under a magnifying glass. The muscled midriff, the shadows of the giant breasts, the balcony of firm flesh as it rose in front of her, the halo of dark skin around the —

Gods and heavens —!

Milk leaked from Marge's nipples. It might've been a tiny white droplet emerging from a pin-sized milk duct if she were still a woman of five feet. At her current size of a hundred or more feet, things were different. The white spills bubbling from the sewer pipe of rough flesh joined at its underside and cascaded down in a thin white waterfall that dispersed into spraying droplets before it even came near the ground.

If Connie were still a human being, she would've stopped breathing now. With her mind trapped in the only vaguely human, rubbery suck-doll shape, she was forced to remain mute and motionless while Marge grabbed her own breast and aimed the foot-thick nipple at Connie's mouth funnel. The giantess' thumb and forefinger kneaded her own barely yielding flesh. More white delicacy spouted from the nozzle.

"Now be careful with your powers, sweetheart! Don't make my breast go all-out udder on you, I don't know how much you can take in one go!"

Squeak. Squeak. Shluup.

The cylinder of warm, slippery skin fit like a hand into the glove of Connie's mouth. A rush of peace and warmth flooded over her.

Mouth. Nipple. Nothing could've been more natural, or more cozy. She even managed to move her lips a little bit and sucked on it, like a tiny living milk pump stuck to the tit of a she-titan.

"Mmmh. Oh, this feels so good! Right, let's get it started. Just a few days of feeding, and you'll be as tall as me." Marge's fingers held Connie in place, and her other hand squeezed the domed areola. Connie's throat fluttered around the sudden jet of warm motherly nurture that thundered into her. Her arms and legs slowly rose, spreading out from her rounding torso as her growing potbelly extended into her chest and hips.

More.

Connie wasn't sure if that treacherous thought was her own, but she liked it. She liked how her body grew taut and firmed up, how her breasts joined her belly's swelling, how the pitiful mounds turned into dangling, bobbing orbs.

Yes, more.

So good. Want. More. Bigger gulps. Much bigger. Marge, give me all you have.

It spelled her doom.

"Connie?! Gods, Connie, no! Not again! Not now! What are you doing to me? Unnnnhhh—!" Marge threw her head in her neck as the surge of ecstasy hit her. Suddenly, there was more, more, too much weight on her chest. She dropped to her knees and keeled over backwards, flattening a whole city block with her body alone. Moments later, the buildings all around crashed down and disappeared into the fog. Squirming on her back, wrestled down by her inflated, stadium-sized breasts, Marge struggled to keep the distending milk blimps from flowing over her face.

The tiny balloon woman sticking to Marge's throbbing, spouting nipple was barely visible over the curve of the white wall in front of the giantess' face.

"Connie! Connie, stop it!" came her wail from somewhere behind the curve. Her voice turned into gasps. "You can't — too much! So — full — milk —"

Connie sucked stronger and narrowed her eyes.

Marge, all of it, for me!

Marge's buds opened wide.

~~~

Breastgasm, was the closest thing to a thought that remained in Marge's head. Her nipples erupted into a pair of thundering geysers. One sent a foaming bolt of milk straight up into the air, and seconds later, the thick white lava spattered down all over the giantess' writhing body.

The other breast discharged straight into Connie's bloated shape. Her circular lip-seal around the fluttering pipe that aimed right into her body prevented her from really smiling in the wave of bliss, but she half-closed her eyes as the fountain rushed into her, feeling the sweet surge in her body like a deep breath of warm air that made her chest swell. She quivered and stretched, a constantly growing orb of skin rising on top of the endlessly spending breast.

Where moments before still had been the hint of a waist on her grotesque shape, there now was only a single, round orb that begged, stole and borrowed skin from any place it could find. Connie's arms and legs shrunk and spread out into her globular body. Her bloated breasts joined shortly afterwards, and as her diameter quickly passed the twenty-feet mark, there was nothing left of them but a pair of dish-sized, slightly darker spots on the swelling sphere. Two patches of blond hair remained, a curly one between a tiny pair of feet, and the other just to the north of where the throbbing spout disappeared into the squeaking and screeching bubble of skin, and that was it.

Marge's hands clawed their way up over her own sagging mountains as she desperately tried to reach for the sucking ball on her breast that pressed down into her cleavage, growing bigger and heavier each second.

"Got to — pull you — off before —," she groaned, grinding her teeth.

More, sang the happy, addled brain in Connie's almost absorbed head. Milk began to seep in tiny droplets from her overfilled skin. Shiny stretch marks zigzagged from her navel, from her feet, from her wrists.

"Connie, please — too much! Too — gods, too late —"

Tears itched in the corner of Marge's eyes. Connie's power still throbbed into her, her breasts surged bigger one more time, squeezing another truckload of milk through her itching nipples, filling the fifty feet orb beyond its limits.

Ripping pain bit into Connie's right wrist, and she heard the wet bang, felt the sudden splash of liquid —

~~~

Darkness.

Connie screamed, twitching and thrashing, trapped in a moist wrapper. Her eyes snapped open. By the side of her head, a faint red glow —

It said: "3:17 am"

Her trembling fingers found the switch of her bedside lamp. She stumbled from the mattress and put the plastic cup that she had spilled in her nightmare's flailing back on the nightstand. Stooped, panting and swaying, she crawled along her student flat's short corridor and clambered into the tiny bathroom, steadying herself on the edge of the sink as she reached for the faucet.

The cold water in her face calmed down Connie's racing breath. Shaking all over, she curled up in her dressing gown and sat down on the plastic lid of her toilet. Connie froze when the damp cloth of her nightgown made contact with her thighs.

Her fingers traced the dripping folds in her crotch, and she shuddered with arousal as her fingertips touched the engorged head of her clit. She didn't even need to bring her hand close to her nose to perceive the fresh smell of her own raging lust clinging wetly to her fingertips. As much as she detested the idea, the climax of the horrible nightmare had given her a gushing orgasm stronger than anything she'd ever have believed possible.

Bursting gets me off. I'm even more of a sick freak than I thought, she sobbed quietly.

~~~

Chapter 6: Invitation For A Transformation

~~~

Come 2 me. Bring car. Hurry!

Connie stared at her mobile. The year-old off-color snapshot of Marge's grinning face and the cryptic short message beneath it stared back at her. Connie didn't know what to make of it. She didn't know what to expect. Matter of fact, she rarely knew what to expect from Marge, but this time, the lurking images of last night's nightmare rose in her head, again and again.

The quarter of an hour drive through the city's traffic seemed like an eternity to the nervous student until she finally pressed the buzzer of Marge's condo. The door was pulled open before Connie could lift her finger off the button. Marge stood akimbo, dressed in her gaping leather jacket, jeans and a denim blouse struggling and almost overwhelmed by her boobs, and peered up to her friend.

"Damn, finally! What kept you?" She determinedly grabbed Connie's arm and pulled her along as she strode to Connie's beat up rust bucket of a car. "Come on, let's give that gift of yours another spin! To the mall! You drive!"

"Whoa, back off!" Connie wrestled free and raised her hands in defense. "My gift? You made yourself a pair of boobies in the first place! That wasn't my doing! Remember?"

"So? They looked like silicone-pumped crap. Then you came along, and suddenly they turned into the best natural pair I've ever seen, less owned, and I got the whole package of killer abs and a super butt on top of them." Marge leaned in and punctuated her words with her finger on Connie's chest: "So, gift. Yours. And don't you forget about the forest! Make 'em bigger, make 'em smaller like that?" She snapped her fingers and grinned. "Face it, you've got the touch, Connie."

"Yeah, whatever. Whoa, waitaminute, the mall? In public?! You're nuts if —"

"Oh shut up! Listen to me for once, 'kay?" Marge stepped closer and lowered her voice to a conspiring whisper. "I don't want you to turn me into a boob balloon again today, I just want to see if you can play that trick on others, too. No touching. From a distance. Just give a few of those bored housewives an extra cup size or two. Imagine, we could make millions! Boob jobs without surgery! What, you haven't wondered the whole night how to turn that gift into money?"

"Not exactly," mumbled Connie.

"Good thing you've met me, then!" was Marge's reply as she grabbed her friend's arm again. Connie stumbled along, enthralled by Marge's spunky demeanor.

~~~

In front of the small table at the bistro, people hustled by, paying no attention to the pair of young women stooping over their coffees and gossiping.

Sweat ran over Connie's forehead, and her clenched fingers ached.

"So?" she rasped.

"Nothing at all. She's still fat as hell and barely a B. You're not just, y'know, faking it?"

"Marge, I tried. I really tried. I just can't do it any more."

"Right, just wanted to make sure it's not just a talent of yours. So, berry time! Come on, out with the flask."

Marge watched as Connie poured a few drops of the ethereal liquid into her cup and raised it to her lips.

"Weird how it makes circles in the coffee but you can't see it. Well, I can't see it. So, how does it fell?"

Connie swallowed. "Feels like — like —" She blinked. "Like nothing. It's a white fog when it reaches my eyeballs, it blinds me for a second or so. And then, I don't know, it's as if everything is closer, as if I just need to reach out and I can touch the world."

"Wow. Lucky you."

"Yeah. Lucky me," snorted Connie. "I'd rather have your rack than this weird gift."

Marge tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. "Okay, so now that you're berried up, try that one over there! Yeah, her, she surely won't complain. And you better aim right this time."

Connie glanced over her shoulder and focused, concentrating on the not-quite-remarkable body of the passer-by, a middle-aged woman.

Grow D-cups!

Nothing.

She shook her head and felt a huge rush of relief as she said, "Doesn't work any more, even with the berries."

"Maybe say it aloud? Come on, try it again," Marge begged, with far too much gleeful eagerness for Connie's taste. Connie's eyes narrowed.

Yeah, now you can't get enough of it, huh? How would you like it, suddenly bursting out of your clothes right in the middle of the mall?

Marge turned pale as her blouse slipped out of her belt and rode up on her chest. "Not me," she hissed through tight lips, stooping and twisting away towards the wall, clutching her chest. "Connie! Are you mad?"

"Oh darn!" Connie slapped her hand on her mouth and waved frantically with the other one in Marge's direction. "Stop! Stop! Shrink! Stop — phew."

The straining folds around Marge's blouse buttons disappeared. Exhaling loudly, the buxom raven cast an accusing look at her friend. Connie blushed and kicked her friend's leg under the table before she leaned in.

"Marge, don't give me that stare!" she whispered. "It wasn't my idea to try it here, remember? No more screwing around with that in public, okay? Right, now we know I've still got it. I don't need to say it loud, I just need to think in the, uh, general direction. So there must be some difference between that woman and you."

"She had no berries!" they both blurted out at the same time.

~~~

Connie and Marge stared at the rows of plants in their secret clearing. The nearby puddle of milk had almost disappeared, though the forest floor was still soggy and squelched under the soles of their shoes.

"So, how many flat-chested clients can we gladden with that?" inquired Marge.

Connie gulped. This was it. Marge was unable to see the many, many stems of ripe plump berries glowing with power.

This has got to stop!

"A — ah, one or two, maybe. If we're frugal. There's almost nothing left on the stems."

Marge cursed. "Great! You just had to swallow all of it, didn't you? Oh well, let me think about it — right, so we won't start spreading the good boobs around just yet. Let's move our own beauty clinic to next year. Maybe we can sow some more, or split them, or something. You figure it out. What's left from this batch, keep it safe for me!" She jiggled her ample breasts. "Might need to grow these sisters some more after all. I've got a job interview coming up, you must make me gorgeous for that. Well? Pick up what's left! In the meantime, I'll drive my motorbike home, and once you're done here, come over and help me breast up!"

Connie shook her head. "Marge, I think we better —"

"Don't leave me waiting!" Marge yelled over her shoulder, and Connie's protest drowned in the sputtering engine of Marge's motorbike. She sighed and bent down.

~~~

One or two? Connie stared at the overflowing bucket in her hands. I could probably turn every single woman in the city into a blimp with that, and that's just from one row. I mustn't tell Marge. This is all getting out of hand. I should just — just — trample them, and throw the berries away, and — and —

She gulped.

You've got power over it. The thought was soothing.

Power. Feeling the world, holding its strings in her hands. No longer being left out. Feeling in charge. Feeling control.

Yes. Connie nodded to herself. I've got it under control. Just need to stop worrying for once. I just need to keep Marge from getting boob-happy. Shouldn't be much of a problem.

She turned back to her work. The harvest yielded almost a gallon of the glowing, strangely weightless liquid. Connie filled it into a plastic canister that she hid under her bed, and though she wouldn't admit it to herself, there was a tiny part of her mind that silently hoped that the weird glow and the power would fade soon. She only put a small vial into her backpack before she drove over to Marge's place.

~~~

Marge opened the door, wearing a woolly, much too big bathrobe.

"There you are! So, how much —"