Secret Nightclub

Anya's fingers moved, and a deep thrum began to emanate from the speakers. It was a low, raunchy resonance, laying down the foundation for what was to come. The rest of the band soon added their instruments, and the slow funk slickly filled the hall air.

Now even the louder members of the audience were taken into a new stupor. A hush fell over them as Anya's low, husky voice began to croon the first lines of 'Black Velvet' as she sashayed gently towards the centre stage. A dusk of blue light, thick with the fog of dry ice, dappled her path and reflecting off the black leather outfit. The bait was dropped.

As she moved, the sultriness of her voice carried through into the movements on her bass guitar. Her fingers slid up the fretboard, and the rhythm pulsed anew, building upon itself. The audience was entranced now, fully hers for the taking.

The frequency enticed and overcame, and the crowd before her swayed only lightly from some preternatural instinct. Like the roar of a tiger, it left no room for rational thought. With her foot she gently pressed down on a pedal, and the speakers at the back of the ballroom came to life, slowly swelling the chamber with sound.

As it washed over them, at the back of minds a tingling was felt. The bassline was so heavy, so overwhelming. Sweat began to gather at foreheads, and breathing to become ragged, in time to quickening heartbeats.

Anya's- no, the voice, impelled and impassioned. A chord within the listeners was struck, and then they began to respond to the commands.

Men shuddered at the front of the crowd as they felt themselves, already somewhat intoxicated with arousal at this vision, grow harder still. The verses alternated. The ladies were on each second one hit with a euphoric heat deep within, and nipples pointed tense and loins became moist. A chorus of sighs of varying cadences escaped them.

Anya could observe their reaction, and nodded to Ivan, the drummer. He slowed his fills and closed the snare drum, while increasing the hits on the bass drum. There was hardly any need. By this point the band were infused with their own sound as it was, and all that was left was to carry their eager fans further.

This was pink noise.

The waves rose, and all through the room garments began to tighten. The males felt their trousers bulge at the crotch, their erections pressing hot and hard outwards, further than they ever had before. A trickle began to gather in the panties of the women there, and the room seemed to shrink a little as their bodies too began to push outwards in firm piles of pliant titflesh.

None were fully aware or conscious at this point, and gone was the chatter of anticipation that had filled the entrance of the Amsterdam nightclub. They were wired to the speakers, gushing with the sonority. Anya, though not undergoing any transformations herself, began to tremble as the tide of a pent up orgasm began to ache below the carved mahogany that had become a part of her.

In the middle a tall, dark haired man, surrounded on all sides, blinked and gulped for a moment as he felt a twinge as his cock hit the ten inch mark. A little ahead of the majority of others, an almost cognisant thought approached his mind, before his manhood met the cold steel of his zipper as he burst through his boxers. Muscles had begun to lightly ripple through his arms, and his fists clenched once before he was enveloped back into the fold.

On the right the thick, black rimmed glasses of a tipsy girl, over on a break from the prestigious university she attended, tipped askew. She had carefully studied the terms before entering, but no amount of schooling in the field of law prepared her for the elation she felt as her wool sweater dragged over her rising nipples. She had started out the night as a generous C cup, and had nurtured that bounty with a few too many pints of beer. Her long, blonde hair, curled into ringlets for the evening, fell to the sides of her chest. It pushed out, filling with every note. She wobbled on her high heels momentarily, before some sixth sense refound her new centre of gravity, adjusting her to the pair of Fs riding high on her chest.

Buttons pinged beside her from the more jerky growth another woman experienced. The psychologist's deep eyes, normally filled with understanding, were glazed beneath a film of lust. Her lips moved in echo to the words, growing fuller with each syllable. She sounded sibilances with a tongue that had grown just a little longer and more agile behind her now bee-stung lips. The cupid's bow pinched a little in tandem with her deepening cleavage, and her tongue, like her eyes, rolled back, the former encountering a severely diminished gag reflex. Her hands found purchase on her breasts, which had bloomed from a flat canvas into a swirl of contour.

In time with Anya, she moved along a scale, punctuating harmonics by worrying each nipple. Her body began to sag from the indescribable pleasure was indescribable, but the top heaviness of her new D cups above a slimmed waist was soon righted by a boom from below. She would later spend much time analysing why she had kept her old pencil skirt and she scribbled notes in the book she hoped to publish. The cloth was even now stretching, and there was no hope on Earth that she would be able to pull the skirt down over her increasingly massive booty. Her ass pushed out, firming and delectable, smooth with a hint of muscle beneath a gentle layer of body fat, without the slightest hint of cellulite. The white linen shirt had long exploded, and the pushup bra would surely be next. Somewhere in her mind she looked forward to that, and would have smiled if she weren't too busy groaning as she came.

Anya's bandmates were fuelled by the crowd, and sought to play ever more powerfully, embellishing each new crescendo. Janks, the lead guitarist, bobbed her head, luxuriant in her new body. She had finally had her last operation, and was now fully a woman where it counted. She had only wished that she too could be subjected to the changes, but for this they all of The Muses needed to be playing, and it didn't work on them at that time. Even so, they all felt the backlash of ecstasy from the crowd sledgehammering into them. As she pushed down hard on the tremolo, she saw Ivan crash down on the cymbals, and upon releasing it back up a sound pervaded even through the dense atmosphere, joining and combining with it. Turning her head she saw the pants of several men in the front row split clean open and foot long cocks began to jut forward. The sight made her lick her lips a little, and she gave them a special treat. A series of quick hammer-ons and pull-offs saw veins bulge, and their hulking members, gained significant girth to match the new impressive length.

Only Janks could ever really maintain much composure from the players. Anya was beside herself, and occasionally stopped to play one handed as she fondled herself. When she began to play a solo with each hand, her strumming drove most beyond the brink too, and a few below found themselves entangled with others in similar passion.

A bombshell whose flaming red hair was now well past her knees straddled a man whose bulging muscles had shredded asunder his entire suit, leaving only his tie in place. As she lifted a leg and began to lower herself on to his massive meat, it seemed as if her knees were sliding up beside his torso. As she sunk on to his dick, an elephantine monstrosity of easily sixteen inches and counting, her body began to expand to take on the challenge. Her pussy wetly sucked at the penis, as around her bodies became sexier in all manner of ways, and she moaned, eyes closed, the pale freckles standing out on her slightly reddened skin. The white strobes flashed twice before she raised herself and let out a yell, spearing herself upon the shaft. That action put her from a leggy 5'10 to the height of a small giantess, easily seven feet tall by any estimation.

She ground down on to him, determined to take him to the very hilt, boosting her at least another foot. Below her the Adonis pushed, every muscle straining on his shadowed form. His biceps swelled enormously, and he let out a growl as he flipped her humongous form, several inches taller than a moment before, right on to her back, his cock still inside her the whole time. His back could be seen glistening, wide as an axe handle, and vibrated with the muscles as they worked, thrusting into the growing redhead. A spray of ejaculation forced her to yield, whimpering in pleasure as he fucked her, on and on, becoming instantly hard each time he came. This concert would be a long one.

The law student still stood in the spot, shaking. Her wool sweater, still holding together by some miracle, was drenched in sweat. Her breasts pushed out, huge on her frame, and the pale brown of her areolae could be seen through the increasing gaps in the fibre. The feeling, like white hot needles pressing into her libido, had rendered her completely rigid, else she might simply collapse under it. Her somewhat narrow, almond eyes, formerly almost black, were open now, vacant but for a fire blazing beneath the now icy coloured surface. The petite girl stood there, her dyed ringlets unfurling again slowly in the heat, the heat she was in. Her mammaries were glorious, her bust now measuring in feet, and still on they pushed out. Unlike many others, nothing had changed aside from her eyes, and she was otherwise an ordinary looking oriental girl. Each breast, however, starting just below her delicate collar bone, currently fell in an exquisite teardrop shape to below her waist. Also, unlike many, her back had not gained appropriate musculature to withstand their weight, and soon she would be pulled over by them. This was what, in the depths of her eros, she waited for. She had quivered at the prospect, yet now was like a statue, still but for the flood of manila threatening to burst from beneath the sweater. She was out of control now, no longer having to be efficient and on top of things. Soon they would be on top of her.

A copper coloured Hispanic pair flexed as they went beyond body builder proportions. The man and woman were a pair of twins, and their bodies were even now moving in unison. They had each discovered a partner, the male being taken by a seductress whose hips, twice the width of the rest of her svelte form, were tightly coiled around his torso, pumping his iron rod for all it was worth. A derisive chuckle radiated from her as he groaned beneath her. Her legs gyrated back and forth, her ass heaving from past his knees and eliciting spurt after spurt of cum, but without a single sign from her of being satiated.

The sister, equally ripped at this point, had found a lithe younger man, at least ten years as well as inches her junior, and was grinding against him, hands splayed above her head. The lad, a normally quiet only child who spent his summers away from Harvard in Europe, was responding with equal vigour, running his delicate pianist's fingers and orchestrating all over her body. Her abs rippled forth at his touch, multiplying from a four to a six and finally to an eight pack, eliciting a series of coos from her. However, the Peruvian was surprised when she wiggled her toned gluteus maximus against his groin to feel no hardness there. A primal urge drove her to try again. She spun in vexation and quickly collapsed before him, insensible in her need to get him hard, and had just pulled down his pants to see an average sized flaccid cock when, upon grabbing at it and pulling him toward her voracious maw, she was catapulted several feet backward by the monster that decimated his Y fronts. Their eyes locked, and he grinned, his white teeth dazzling in the stage lights.

The smell of her sex was potent, drawing to her partners of all shape and form, but the mentalist was too wrapped up in herself. She frantically masturbated, her head a vision of erotic imagery, a soundtrack to the music that was unlocking her innermost self. Her lips had stopped expanding some time ago, only to be replaced by the engorging of the other set. Her labia lapped at her fingers edaciously, and she grinned, pleasing herself as only she knew how.

Frustrated lovers nearby congregated around a man in the remains of a cashmere shirt trying his utmost to jerk off as many horny cocks as possible. His own penis had seen to his own jeans, and only the belt remained girdled around his waist, the rest beneath him in Bukake pool to which he was now himself adding.

The psychologist meanwhile loosed little screams to match Anya's, though she did not come as fast or easily as the singer-bassist. The pencil skirt was ripped up the seam at the back, exposing the lower half of her massive rear. Her other hand groped at it, the hard grip feeling the expansion spread the fingers inexorably. Her thighs had thickened too, a curvaceous taper matching the magnificent posterior above it, while leaving a little extra on the shelf to enhance the bubble-butt look. Her thumb tore at her clit, ravaging it remorselessly, desperate for release. In the time it took her to come again Ivan had had to replace a drumstick which he had knocked out of his hand mid-orgasm. Anya had incorporated a titillating series of squeals into a vocal solo, spurring the crowd further.

In a corner a mass of ebony skin concealed an orgy. Blues notes and boob muffled the moans of a couple as their desperately fondled each other in between the hills of tit. Two each tongues stroked and licked the other's labia, mouthed and delicately nibbled clits, and finally delved into more secret parts. Around them their breasts grew, further and further, seeking to outweigh their very bodies, with all signs of success. The floor there was slightly stained as one began, her very being surmounted by pleasure to exude pale fluid from her teats.

A broad and muscled back loomed, hair glistening. A middle-aged, bearded man grunted as his shoulders widened and his ass tightened, the muscles becoming ever denser. In front of him stood an hourglass in human form. Her hips were at least three feet in width, backed up by an ass that stuck out another couple of feet and quaking, ample thighs and calves. Her torso was ludicrously contained in a lace corset, the top of which had long since burst open to reveal the ripe melons within. Her slim waist, tiny by proportion, peeked out from between a gargantuan pair of boobs, which filled, roundly spilling put over the floor around her. The buxom wet dream was absorbed in rubbing and jiggling her tits all over the dong poking from the top of the cleavage. His dick was bigger than she was, save her tits. As if in competition, his member mushroomed out from the top, only for her to erupt further to encase the cock. At this point he, a seven foot titan, was aiding her in the titfuck him with one hand, and the other gripped the bangs of her pixie haircut until there was too much bap between them. His lady ballooned in the surprisingly diminished space and her ass colliding with another bloated form. A small chain reaction sequence later, the attention of a sizable group of spellbound listeners was piqued, initiating one of the first of several orgies.

This was why the band only performed live. Flesh boomed in every direction, dwarfing the act on stage. Yet on the music continued, ringing out to the audience, making them erupt further and further in sensual rapture. On and on the tune ran, and with the beat things just continued to get larger and life.

Anya was so engrossed in the song that she was unaware when a hand as large as her guitar shifted on to the stage and a huge finger began to rub her crotch through her jeans. Her reaction to the stimulation was to heighten the enchantment of her voice. The band members responded, and the music took on an ethereal quality. Other expanded members of the crowd had ended up closer to the stage, and some began to lavish the band members with their affectionate praise, the psychosomatic effects making sure, however, never to disrupt the integrity of the playing. Anya let loose a ripping cry, screaming "Bigger!" and began to moan as the slender finger continued to palpate her navel. Janks erupted into a guitar solo, being stroked on all sides by adoring males. 'So many cocks, so little time,' she thought to herself, allowing herself a brief moment to squeeze one, resulting in her being showered in an inordinate gush of semen.

It was a good thing this was a massive hall. The red head beneath the man was enormous, having been pumped up to unimaginable proportions through the setlist. And she was not the only one. A few men had grown too, but not to the proportions of the female giantess enthusiasts, who towered above the others. The largest must have exceeded thirty to forty feet, and was rapidly stretching further, her feet drifting down the length of the hall in a frenzy. The cold marble sent shocks along this giantess, and she lay there in her curtain of black hair, festooned with lovers as they played and sucked on her. Her attention was for Anya alone, to make her make her bigger. She caressed the singer's pussy, alternating between roughness and gentleness. When, with amazing expertise, she slid down Anya's skinny jeans, and probed further, Janks knew there was trouble. But alas, she was so confoundedly distracted. Still playing, she headbanged to the music she was making, up and down on a dick. This man had kept to a manageable size, and she dextrously took him whole, taking his cum, only to find him hard again and waiting again. She knew she had lost control, that the concert needed to end, and soon. She wondered if it were too late somewhere far back in her head.

Ivan too was long gone. His arms shot over the kit, drunk with pleasure. He was playing blind, purely through muscle memory, as his face was completely immersed in a rapidly enclosing sea of tit. Like a chorus, the audience's moans joined with the bands.

They had never had an audience this large, in both senses. Measures of feet were rapidly being replaced by yards, and even the hall was becoming rather cramped. The raven haired giantess was still the largest, and now even her pinkie was too big to slip in and out of Anya, but instead roamed her crotch, razing her clitoris. Cocks stretching longer than their owners, some of whom seemed to be walls of muscle, were all about. Never in history had there been such pieces of ass as were here either. Buttocks flared, the curves becoming sexier by the moment. No mortal could have stood their ground without being cripplingly turned on. Clothes at this point were virtually a joke from some distant past, and sopping rags could occasionally be seen.

A few of the stage lights had been smashed, and there were some holes in the stage itself, leaving only the flashing blue strobes. Fog billowed around the breasts around Ivan, and the entire hall was consumed by the aroma of sex.

Janks blinked, once, twice, and looked down at the hard shaft in her mouth. She was almost fully aware of her surroundings, still a little hazy, and shut her eyes to clear her head. She did not stop moving up and down on the pole though. She opened them again, letting the cock pop from her lips and stood to look around her. It was a beautiful chaos. Her eyes flitted around, taking in the plethora of curves, hard and ample, before doing a double take. Some of the crowd were getting really big - Too big.

The biggest concern (literally) was the woman pleasuring Anya. Anya was long beyond any sane control, and she could not even see Ivan behind the horde of busty females surrounding where his kit had been (and presumably still was, because the sound of the drums still crashed over the music), so Janks knew she would have to try and do something herself. She also knew that she could not safely stop playing, but that they would all need to stop at the same time. The only way to do that would be to cut the power she supposed. She turned to move upstage, and walked into the beefiest man she had ever seen at any of their concerts. His eyes were a hazel, and showed no recognition, but only worship, and he kneeled, extending his hand towards her nethers. She gasped at his touch, but quickly remembered Anya's fate and, bracing herself (as well as cursing the unfairness of having to be the compos mentis one), she ran fully up his big arms, noting the complete lack of dent she made. Once atop his shoulders, she ran down his back and leapt off, before dashing across the stage.