Stacked Like Pancakes

The straining in my jeans returned. More stitches came loose. The buttons slowly tore their openings. The seams of my pant legs began to bust apart. Stitch by stitch, they went, leaving loose, white frays between gaping holes at my thighs.

My bra ceased to be a bra now that the cups contained nothing, but instead stretched like a rubber band across my boobs, pressing deeper and deeper into mounting titflesh. I took a brief pause between pancakes to reach behind me and see about unhooking the band. It was pulled taut and I couldn't stop long enough to wrestle with it. In very little time, I had become addicted to pancakes. Come hell or high weather, I had to have more.

Brandi ran out of counter room for plates and ran out of plate room for new stacks so she started stacking stacks on top of stacks. The Great Wall rose higher.

Pretty soon, my pants were little more than tightly threaded tatters over my legs. Fed up, I tore off what was left of the frayed fabric. It easily came apart to my knees. My thighs and hips were bare and exposed. I pulled the loose denim from under my giant tush and kicked off what was left around my ankles, letting it fall to the floor.

I was so wide! My hips extended far off the stool. My thighs seemed too big to be mine and I wondered for a second if they belonged to someone else and I'd misplaced my own today. Not that that made sense.

I slipped a hand behind me and got a bigger surprise. What the fuck. Is that all me? Is that my ass, surging over the stool?

As I went on eating, I could feel my ass, my hips spread out further and further. My bottom was a pincushion, making this stool a flimsy needle, propping me in the air. My bottom felt so big and soft...it was like sitting on big, comfy pillows.

I groaned. My bra was giving me such unspeakable pain now. It was worse than my jeans. The hooks in my band were bent out so far that they poked straight into my back. Oh god, please make it stop so I can just go on eating.

Brandi heard my cries, set a bag of flour on the counter and came to the rescue. She went back behind me. "Here, let me help you with that," she said.

Her hands lifted my shirt. Her fingers dug under the taut elastic of my bra. My fork was still in motion as her fingers wrapped around the band. She yanked.

snap!

I shrieked. My fork did somersaults in the air. I felt my bra suddenly constrict in my shirt like a burst balloon. Something exploded into view beneath my eyes. I looked.

I was gasping for air. When oh when oh when did my boobs get so HUGE? My t-shirt was absolutely filled with tit. The turquoise material stretched around me, pulling my sleeves from my armpits. My nipples poked through the fabric like angry nubs. Softballs. I had two, big fleshy softballs, right in front of me. I was now, probably, as cartoonishly buxom as Brandi.

I looked over at Brandi. Not quite as buxom, because Brandi's boobs now seemed visibly past head-sized. They were swollen to the size of overtaxed party balloons. Her nipples looked like ready-to-pop wine corks.

Brandi slipped a hand into each of my sleeves. I obediently drew my arms up as she pulled the straps of my ruined bra around them. Then, she reached down my collar and snatched the worthless garment out from my shirt. The bra seemed like dolls' clothing compared to my ballooned boobs now. Brandi dangled it in the air like a discarded stripper garment. "Don't think you'll be needing this anymore," she said with a little smile, and patted the side of my boob like she was giving me an attaboy. She went over to the sink and dropped the bra in the trash.

I was past embarrassment now. I shifted in my seat, feeling unfamiliar weight jostling on my chest, and scooted my huge bottom towards the counter.

On and on, I ate; Brandi baked. My ass and thighs built up beneath me, pouring over the stool. My super-stretchy cotton underwear was taut across my immense butt cheeks. The stool groaned and creaked with my increasing weight. But, my boobs were the main attraction. Every time I looked down they seemed bigger, blowing up inside my t-shirt like ripening melons. Their weight dragged harder on my chest. My back tightened. I could just about feel my nipples pressing deeper and deeper still into my tank top and t-shirt.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was scared. I was mostly naked and had just put on...oh, how many pounds? 60? 70? A lot. All above and below the waist.

But pancakes took priority over everything. Brandi kept the stacks piling up. Pretty soon, she ran out of stacks to stack on, so she stacked stacks on top of stacked stacks. The Great Wall grew into a pancake fortress.

Pretty soon, Brandi ran out of milk. Go figure. While she had a whole stockpile of flour, butter, baking powder and everything else, she'd only had three juice jugs of milk. Was she finished baking now?

She took a measuring cup from a cupboard and set it on the counter.

Then, she did something that got my attention. She lifted her fuzzy gray sweater up over her bra, and lifted her bra over a huge, fat, super-swollen breast with a dark, wine cork nipple fully exposed. She took the breast up in her free hand, leaned in, and drew it over the measuring cup and started tweaking her nipple and massaging her areola. Until...

Milk.

Oh. My. God.

She squirted a thin stream of it into the cup. Brandi glanced at me as I gaped. She winked.

Brandi's milk wasn't from any store. No wonder she was using juice containers. If Brandi was lactating her own milk for her pancake-batter and I was eating the pancakes, then...

If anything could have made me drop my fork and just leave in horror, it was the sight of Brandi filling up that measuring cup, right in front of me. Yes, I had known that something was not right all along. But, to have visible proof of it in the form of Brandi baring her breast and lactating into a glass bowl, right in front of me...it was like she had crossed a boundary. A line that had always existed between us was now surpassed and I was seized with a sense of fight-or-flight.

For just the briefest moment, I felt as though I could just leap off the table and run, without pants, without a bra, with my huge butt cheeks exposed and my boobs ajiggle and my thick nipples jabbing through my shirt. I swear, I swear, I swear, I was about to do it.

But, I looked down at the partially eaten pancake on my plate. I looked up and saw the fortress of pancakes, waiting for me. Desire welled up in me once again and my panic subsided.

Whatever. It's a natural ingredient, I said to myself. My fork went back to business.

But, I went on watching Brandi. It was mesmerizing to see her fill the entire measuring cup. Halfway through, she drew back her leaky left boob and replaced it with her right one. Milk was soon brimming over the top of the cup. "Whoops!" she said, stopping herself as a trickle dribbled onto the countertop.

Brandi's boobs were visibly smaller now, closer to head-sized. I checked my own. I had exceeded her in the boob department now. My stretched out tank top and t-shirt couldn't hide the fact that my boobs had grown wider than soccer balls. My nipples drove through the fabric like tent poles through tarp. Even my areolas where visibly bulging through the fabric. The unfamiliar weight was doing a huge number on my back and in that moment, I wouldn't have minded if these massive boobies got bigger still so they would sit in my lap and give my back a rest. But that didn't seem likely to happen before I burst out of this shirt.

And I had resigned myself to it: I was definitely going to burst out of this shirt. And, this underwear, too.

Brandi's baking slowed. Her work was winding down. I kept eating. Even now, I was never tired of yet another fucking delicious pancake.

My boobs stuffed my shirt like a piñata. Warm, tightly packed flesh pressed into my torso, surging around to my sides. My tank top and t-shirt were running out of give, reaching a point of maximum stretchiness.

Rrrip!

Oops. There went my panties at my butt. My ass was fully exposed now. The cotton still held around my massive thighs, but that wouldn't last.

The Great Wall was starting to come down, brick by flat, fluffy brick. It was some consolation to my distressed mind that once I had eaten all of these pancakes, another wouldn't tempt me. A paradoxical defense against temptation if ever there was one, I know, but it was the only consolation I had.

Brandi got more than two more cups of milk out of her boobs before she was evidently dry and down to coffee can size. Her rack was back to buoyant and jiggly instead of turgid and heavy.

Rrrrrp! Rrrrip!

My underwear, breaking around my thighs. So long forever, panties. You were a good friend, hanging in there for me...

I wasn't sure just how bottom-heavy I was now because all I could see when I looked down was tit stretching my t-shirt to impossible lengths. But, given how much of me I could feel bugling over the back of the stool, over the sides, everywhere...well, to say the least, I was officially a fat bottomed girl. Welcome to the club, Alyssa, have a seat. Try not to break it.

Brandi came around again and plopped two more pancakes on the fortress.

"That's it!" she said, "Enjoy the rest."

"Mmm," I said, mouth full. I swallowed. "What...what are you doing to me, Brandi?"

"You're doing it to yourself, Alyssa. I never made you to eat my pancakes."

"That was...that was your milk in the batter."

"Yep!" She came around behind me, slid her arms around my waist and rested her head against me. "And it does a body good, too" she said, feeling me up, running her fingers over my massive jugs, in toward my tiny waist and out once more over my super-curvy hips. My nipples hardened and I felt a sigh rise up in my lungs.

Oh god, am I enjoying this?

I felt Brandi's palm trail down my backside until she got to my huge butt cheek. Her fingers tested my soft flesh. She took a handful and squeezed.

I moaned.

What would Xavier do if he knew that my friend's caresses were really turning me on? What's happening to me?

"I'm going to clean the kitchen now," said Brandi. "You keep up the good work!"

Pretty soon, tears formed across my t-shirt. Small holes broke out and got bigger and bigger. My tank top started to go, too. A wedge-shaped hole formed in the white material and gradually widened, letting more and more creamy, pale flesh billow out.

My t-shirt and tank top became strained, cotton nets over my huge, heavy breasts. I was tired of having to break through clothes.

C'mon, shirts. Just pop. Just break and let me be free. It's not like I can hide anything now...

I gobbled up another stack. My ginormous hooters finally dealt a killing blow to the fabric. They welled up out of a big hole where my nipples were and sent a trail of threads, popping apart, up and down the material.

Two humongous boobs burst into the light of day. They were warm and heavy against my thighs. Slight movements sent swells of jiggles up and down them.

I threw the white and turquoise tatters from my shoulders and got back to the longest breakfast ever. Even now, my colossal curves were hungry for more

The fortress of pancakes, once a mighty and imposing citadel, was leveled by a hungry Tits n' Ass Behemoth. I watched my boobs, roughly basketballs in size, advance across my lap, pressing into the edge of the counter, giving me less room to lean over my plate. Monstrous titflesh widened and fattened. My body was busy trying to keep balance as my ever-expanding hips and bust added more teetery weight to the stool.

I ate as Brandi cleaned a bajillion dishes. Measuring cups, mixing bowls, spoons, spatulas, juice containers... Then, she wiped the counters and mixers and scraped the oily gunk from the griddles.

My boobs grew and grew and grew. My huge, naked body shivered with sensation as my nipples drove into the counter, getting thicker and harder against the painted wood. The sensation made the hair on the back of my neck stand.

Even as my brain was inundated with sensations of pancakey-wonderfulness, I found myself struggling to resist new urges. The feeling of Brandi's hands on my body had stirred something inside me. I kept shaking off flashes of lustful fantasy: Brandi, squeezing my boobs; Brandi, licking the inside of my thighs; Brandi, sucking on my swollen teats.

These thoughts made me incredibly guilty. I had never cheated on Xavier before and intended never to do so.

Stop thinking about her, Alyssa. Think of Xavier!

But that didn't help. Conjuring up Xavier's image only made my horny fantasies more scandalous. I scolded my dirty mind as I pictured Brandi, Xavier and myself, all naked, in the throes of a blissful, ultra-fleshy ménage à trois...

What was wrong with me? Brandi was my enemy, not my friend. She had deceived me. She had fed me her breast milk and altered my body. And now, she was penetrating my mind, drawing me deeper and deeper into a state in which I couldn't say no...because goddammit, I didn't want to.

I shook my head and I opened my eyes. I swore, I could see my boobs springing out another centimeter with every swallow. I could feel my nipples getting just a bit fatter, pressing harder into the counter. I could feel the weight mounting up another notch...

This can't be real. My boobs are as big as beach balls and I've eaten dozens and dozens of pancakes and I'm so horny for Brandi and my butt is about to level this stool. Time to WAKE UP, Alyssa. You're just lying in bed, having a silly, sexy dream. It's time to get up, shut off the alarm and take the next subway to Brandi's place. You're probably already running late...

No use. I was still here in Brandi's kitchen, with the tits and the ass and the pancakes and my curvaceous friend who was looking more desirable to me by the minute.

At the last mile, my boobs, by their huge, fleshy weight, unwedged themselves from between the counter and myself and slipped from my lap to either side. I almost fell, face first into the table with their weight but I caught myself with a forearm and drew myself to a sitting position. I arched my back and pressed on, fork, tongue and teeth working in harmony to get through the Very. Last. Stack.

Brandi was finished cleaning. She stood by my side, watching me finish.

Three pancakes left...

Two pancakes left...

One more...

Brandi cheered as I swallowed my last bite. "You did it, Alyssa! You ate all of them! You're amazing! Guess how many I made in the end?

"How...how many?"

"A hundred and twenty-two. Nearly double Lainey's total!"

I was exhausted. I had eaten and eaten and eaten, bursting through my pants and bra and shirt and panties without ever stopping. I felt like I'd run a marathon. How much time had passed since I first set foot in Brandi's condo? I felt like I'd been here for hours, if not for ages.

"What time is it?" I said, hazily. I was disoriented. And naked. And horny.

"It's just after two," said Brandi.

Two. Nearly fours hours, eating. My fork-wielding hand was sore and tired. My jaw ached. And my back...

I had to get off this stool.

Not an easy task. With a hundred and twenty-two pancakes stacked on my frame, simple maneuvers were not the same.

It was a lot of work even setting a foot on the floor. When I shifted my weight off the stool, I twisted a little too quickly and my butt knocked it over. A parting gesture, I suppose.

When I first sat on that stool I was a size 12. Now, I was a size who knows, and my butt and hips and thighs and boobs extended to far off places, redistributing my weight and leaving me with an unfamiliar center of gravity.

I took a step and fell.

BAM! Jiggle jiggle jiggle jiggle...

"Oh, Alyssa, are you alright?!"

Wobbly flesh everywhere. My boobs were right in my face. My butt must have been even bigger than I imagined, because I was feeling waves and undulations in places I didn't know I had places.

I looked up at Brandi. "What...happened to me?"

She squatted and patted my head. "It's aright, Alyssa. You'll get used to it."

"What...what did you do to me Brandi? Tell me."

Brandi slipped her sweater over her head, exposing bowling ball breasts. She unhooked her white, lacey bra and threw it aside. Her nipples reared in my face, full and fat in their milk-swollen glory. She was ready to express again.

Oh god, I'm sorry Xav...I don't know if I can resist her...

"The pancakes were a ruse," she said. The virus that Lainey caught...she passed it on to me, that day that I went to her place. I ate her pancakes and caught the virus and I was a changed woman. Mentally, physically, in every way. And now Alyssa, my friend, you've eaten my pancakes and I've passed the gift on to you."

She put a hand over my shoulder and with a firm thrust sent me tossing to my back. A mountain of butt flesh gathered beneath me. Two mountains of tit swung on top of me. She straddled me over my tiny midsection and stroked my boobs and squeezed them and fondled my nipples, which I couldn't see now but were obviously very big, judging by how wide Brandi opened her mouth before her face disappeared behind the fleshy tit horizon to take them in.

I felt her boobs and her hair and her cheeks and she leaned in to kiss me. I was crying, but not only out of guilt.

"Oh Alyssa, your boobs are so huge and beautiful. Wait 'til Lainey hears how BIG I made you! Oh, god, I want you so bad!"

We kissed and fondled and felt. And then, she climbed over my colossal tits and guided her nipple into my mouth. Her boobs were plump with milk.

"Finish me off, Alyssa. Get the rest of it."

My lips locked onto her and I drank, feeling every change in my body as the stream of milk sprang forth, satiating my appetite, building up in my boobs and butt and thighs...

Brandi stood me in the mirror when we were done.

From hip to hip, I was a full yard. That was as wide as the doorway of Brandi's room, forcing me to angle myself sideways to get through. My butt cheeks were globular and buoyant and looked like huge twin beach balls in the mirror as I glanced at them over my shoulder. When Brandi saw my ass move as I walked, she said I was a wave of perpetual jiggle, swaying this way...that way...this way...

My thighs were nearly as thick as my butt cheeks. They curved in huge arcs with my hips and tapered down to my knees. My calves had filled out a bit too, which I was honestly thankful for. It made the transition from colossal hips to tiny ankles look more gradual.

My boobs had blown up into massive armfuls. I was a full meter from one tit-flank to the other. Like enormous, fat teardrops, they stood, naked and proud, too big for any bra to support. I was shocked by how round they were, despite their size. Brandi had transformed me into a walking, jiggling caricature of the prototypical female form. My nipples resembled the tips of summer sausages, dark and thick and ripe. They quivered fussily with every step I took. How I could actually carry these mountains of tit--well, I'm still guessing.

In between gargantuan boobs and humongous hips was my itty-bitty waist. It had not changed even a bit, but in comparison to its neighbors, it looked like it had shrunk. Hip-to-waist ratios like this don't exist in nature. I checked myself in profile and caught my breath. I looked like an optical illusion. My ass projected an unnatural distance behind me and my boobs jutted an equally improbable distance in front. A teensy little midsection held the planets together. Gosh, to think that I used to be self-conscious of my tummy.

As I gazed at myself, dumbfounded, Brandi kept practically leaping into my boobs, hugging them, nestling her head in the fleshy expanse. The girl was enraptured with my body. I tried hard not to enjoy her attentions too much.