Connie's Weed Pt. 02

Connie held up the tiny vial between thumb and forefinger.

"— Oh crap. That's all of it?"

"I'm sorry, Marge. Hopefully, it'll be enough for your — hey now, what kind of company wants big breasts for a job interview after all? You're not — no, you can't be that hard up for cash, you — oh gods, Marge — not that kind of a job — Marge —?!"

"Oh, that," smiled Marge. "Was just a ruse to bring you over quickly."

"So, what — what do you want me to do?" Connie avoided her friend's eyes and breasts, looking straight at the wall over Marge's shoulders.

"Gee, Connie, do you think I'm stupid? You've been all over my boobs, just because you can't hex your own. Guess what? I don't mind! Here, you grab them! Have fun with them!"

Marge laughed as she let her bathrobe slip from her shoulders and stood stark naked, with her legs slightly apart, in front of Connie. The tall girl gasped, spun around and slammed the flat's door shut to keep any prying eyes out.

"Marge! So ... so you're really comfortable with this?" gulped Connie, choking on her words as she turned back and looked her friend up and down. "I — I never thought you'd, y'know, uh, you'd be — you always had, uh, boy-friends, and y—you ..."

Marge's fingers brushed gently over Connie's arm, yet the slender girl jerked away like hit by a punch. The buxom raven chuckled. "Oh Connie! Cutie, this is a special present just for you. I'm so sorry that you can't feel how great these are." She hefted her breasts and pinched her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. "Were you never curious how another girl's boobs felt? You never got down to do a little, heh, experimenting?"

Connie shook her head and measured up her friend. Marge's proportions were perfect. Her friend was still half a head smaller, but ... statuesque was the word Connie was looking for, and the self-confidence Marge exuded by the gallon made her seem much taller. The curvy young woman didn't care for her shy friend's uneasy stare at all when she grabbed her own crotch and started kneading the soft folds of her vulva.

"So, sweetie," breathed the raven-hair while she worked up her arousal with her slender fingers, "you gave me these — uuuuhh!" Her hands returned to her her breasts and dug into the abundant flesh. "The least I can do is let you play with them. As long as you make them bigger, I'm all game. So, how you wanna play this?"

"Slowly," mumbled Connie. "Very, very slowly."

Marge laughed. "Like in, chaste cuddling in bed? Awww sweeeet. Oh well, you'll at least let them swell a teensy tiny bit, eh? Here, step behind me, and you can be my hand bra for today."

"And no growing," gulped Connie. Marge pouted.

~~~

Warm. Warm and firm-soft, and oh so heavy. Connie exhaled hard.

That's what E feels like. I —

Her fingers undulated over Marge's ample mammaries. The big nipples stuck between Connie's fore and middle fingers, rough and hard like thimbles. They begged of her to let loose all of her weird gift on them. Connie shook her head.

— I mustn't let them grow. I mustn't breast.

Marge rolled her shoulders and pressed closer to Connie's body. Her spiky hair tickled Connie's face.

Don't even think about it. Gotta be careful. It's breast if I — I — No! Gotta Breast. Focus. Gotta focus.

Chained to her friend's body, Connie followed her into the bedroom.

~~~

"So, how'd you like your borrowed boobs?" whispered Marge over her shoulder, lying on her side in her wide bed.

No reply. Her tall, slender friend had slipped away into sleep, still spooning up on her and cradling the abundant pair of Marge's breasts. Marge sank back into her pillow and smiled.

Sweet Connie. One of these days, I really need to teach you to be a bit more outgoing, my bookworm. Well, it's a start, you daring to grab my puppies when you're sober.

Marge gently patted the cups of Connie's hands on her mammaries. A vague itching and throbbing filled the heavy mounds, and Marge smiled expectantly.

Feels great. Oh well, some shut-eye before the party starts won't hurt me either.

~~~

Marge woke two hours later while Connie still napped. The raven-haired girl looked over her shoulder and brushed a stray strand from her friend's peaceful face before she freed herself from Connie's embrace. She climbed out of bed, slowly, to not disturb Connie's slumber, and looked down on the curled-up figure under the sheets.

Oh Connie. You haven't slept right in days, have you? Always worrying, studying, thinking. You really needed a little time out.

She probingly hefted her own breasts and grinned.

And these two — just what I hoped for. Quite a bit more than before, no matter what you said.

Marge grabbed her new leather bodice and sneaked into the kitchen. Slipping into her party outfit took some time and effort, but admiring herself in the mirror more than made up for that. Her chest rose out of the low frame of the neckline in two pale, taut spheres, and the reflections of the spot lamps in the corridor sparkled on the leather of her thigh-high black boots. She fastened her choker and struck a pose.

Damn, I really need to get a whip to go with that outfit.

Marge took out her mobile, made a quick snapshot of herself and typed "Party?". She flipped through her address book, knowing that it didn't really matter who she'd send it to. Five minutes, tops, and a car would be waiting outside.

~~~

Steel howled, and heavy machinery came crashing down all around. Connie sat bolt upright in the bed and cast panicked glances around.

She needed another minute until she managed to find the knob to turn down the volume on Marge's stereo, choking the grunts and screams of the lead singer. Even with the loudspeakers muted, some of the rattling and rumbling remained. Connie brushed the curtains aside. Rain whipped against the window panes, and every now and then, thunder rolled in the distance.

Despite the rough wake-up call, Connie felt surprisingly refreshed. A tad disoriented from waking up in somebody else's bedroom, yes, but refreshed nonetheless. She looked at the clock, then she ran her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes.

Now who in their right mind has an alarm going off at 2100?

"Marge?"

The bedroom was empty. She checked the other rooms, but found herself alone in Marge's flat. On the kitchen table laid a hand-scribbled note.

Gone 2 party. Don't wait up. If you leave, just pull the door shut. I've got my keys. You're welcome to wait for xtra cuddling when I get back home.

P.S.: U still got it, even in your sleep. Thanks for two much needed extra inches. Gonna blow those wannabes away now!

~~~

By the light of the next day, Connie and Marge stood side by side amidst the remainders of their plantation. The storm had felled a tree, and the tumbling log had flattened the rows of the magical plants for good.

Marge blew a sigh through her pouted lips. "Great. Well, that's it for our beauty clinic, I guess. Did you find that bush outside the university again?"

Connie shook her head. "They started excavating for the new auditorium last week. Nothing left there, either. Sorry, Marge."

Marge shoved her. "Yeah, sorry. Oh come on, I'm not dumb. You're glad your career as boob witch is done for. You don't have to feign concernment. You sure you didn't wish for that to happen?"

"Marge! No, I did not wish for that to happen! Besides, I haven't found anything about those berries and weather. Dammit, all I could think of was trampling them myself! So you better think twice about how you want to spend that last vial dangling into your cleavage."

Marge pulled it out by the thin chain around her neck and dangled it in front of her face, smiling.

"Oh, I will, my dear. I will."

~~~

To Be Continued in Connie's Weed, Part 3: Two Much By Far

~~~

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