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Breaking the writer's block(and bra)Slowly the noise of stretching fabric filled the room as the dress widened under the swelling spheres within. Still numbed from the shock Roxanne stumbled backwards, almost tripping over the spell book she had dropped earlier. Her back hit one of the numerous book shelves in the library, forcing her stop. Pressing her hands against the books the wizard student nervously looked at her breasts, watching them grow from ripe cantaloupes towards larger sorts of melons, being far bigger than the formerly lithe girl had intended them to become. The cut in her already revealing dress widened under the increasing bulk of her buns while the pressure be Breaking the writer's block(and bra) by ~I3reacl
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Breaking the writer's block(and bra)Slowly the noise of stretching fabric filled the room as the dress widened under the swelling spheres within. Still numbed from the shock Roxanne stumbled backwards, almost tripping over the spell book she had dropped earlier. Her back hit one of the numerous book shelves in the library, forcing her stop. Pressing her hands against the books the wizard student nervously looked at her breasts, watching them grow from ripe cantaloupes towards larger sorts of melons, being far bigger than the formerly lithe girl had intended them to become. The cut in her already revealing dress widened under the increasing bulk of her buns while the pressure be
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## Breaking the writer's block(and bra)

- by ~I3reacl, Dec 7, 2012, 10:58:13 AM
- Literature / Prose / Fiction / Romance / Erotic / Short Stories

Slowly the noise of stretching fabric filled the room as the dress widened under the swelling spheres within. Still numbed from the shock Roxanne stumbled backwards, almost tripping over the spell book she had dropped earlier. Her back hit one of the numerous book shelves in the library, forcing her stop. Pressing her hands against the books the wizard student nervously looked at her breasts, watching them grow from ripe cantaloupes towards larger sorts of melons, being far bigger than the formerly lithe girl had intended them to become. The cut in her already revealing dress widened under the increasing bulk of her buns while the pressure between her breasts increased the bigger they got. As the red fabric was pulled forward it slowly uncovered more of her bust’s sides. Pushing herself off from the shelve Roxanne put her hands on her breasts, feeling them fill out the small empty space in her palm. With a strange mixture of worry and excitement she ran her hands over her swelling curves while staring at them, memorizing every detail of her milkjugs as she watched
No, milkjugs wasn’t enough. Huge milkjugs maybe, or ample? The word “massive” came to mind due to both starting with “m”, but just pairing a word for “breasts” with a synonym for “big” wasn’t really original. Maybe something to describe their appeal? Astonishing, amazing, mesmerizing – mesmerizing, that was a good one! It started with “m” and even had a sound resemblance with memorizing, making the sentence sound even better.
With a strange mixture of worry and excitement she ran her hands over her swelling curves while staring at them, memorizing every detail of her mesmerizing milkjugs as she watched them bulge out from her body. Her fingers gently stroke over the even fabric of her dress, having become so thin she could almost feel her skin through it. As her hands reached the uncovered sides of her bosom Roxanne winced slightly. Touching her firm spheres directly the young woman gulped, but still plunged her fingers into her firm
Plunged? Could you say plunge when pressing your fingers into breasts? With a quick click in the taskbar the word document got replaced by a dictionary internet site. “Plunge”, meant as much as “dive in”. Maybe a bit too abstract… Taking another look at the sentence the word “firm” was used twice, and another word was looked up for it, too. Stout, hard, tight – none really seemed to fit for non-squishy breasts. After searching two more websites with no results “firm spheres” was eventually replaced with “round bumps”.
Touching her round bumps directly the young woman gulped, but still pressed her fingers into her firm meat. Meanwhile the front of her rack continued to reach forward while the rest of her breasts swelled into every direction, blowing up like a pair of balloons.
No, mentioning balloons didn’t really fit into a magic medieval scenario. Plus that metaphor was way too overused.
With a loud sigh Phoebe leaned back against her chair. Her hands slid off the keyboard as she let them hang over the armrests. With her naked feet she spun her office chair around, turning for a few seconds. As she started to feel dizzy from moving in circles she stopped, looking into the opposite direction of the monitor. She took a glance at the clock above the TV. Half past six. She still had two hours before her parents would come back from the movie with her little sister. That was a lot of time, but she doubted to get the story done by then if she continued in that speed. And who knew when the next opportunity to write would come up?
“I wish they would release ‘Winnie the Pooh’-movies in a weekly rhythm”, Phoebe murmured to herself, leaning against the headrest as she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. Depending on the light the colour of her iris could be described as anything between grey and blue – some people even told her she actually had green eyes. Staring at the lamp hanging from the ceiling Phoebe crossed her legs on her seat, stroking the black denim of her wide jeans slightly. Why did the only computer in the house have to stand in the living room anyway? Sure, it was a family computer, she didn’t expect it to be put it into her room. But there were some private places in the house suited better for a PC than the living room – there was actually an entire room they didn’t need for anything but storage the old toys and baby stuff when she and her sister had been younger. They could just throw this all way and turn it into a small office room for the entire family, so everyone who wanted to do some browsing could have a little privacy. “Maybe that’s the reason why it’s here”, she mused. “So Mom can check the websites Dad visits. And vice versa.“
With another sigh she put her feet back on the ground and turned the chair around. As she faced the monitor again she stopped. The momentum of the turn caused the tips of her dark brown, almost black hair to fall in front of her eyes – her bangs always had the tendency to block her sight. She didn’t dare to cut them as short as the rest of her hair however for she was afraid people could see her forehead. She always found her hairline was WAY too high. Whipping the strands from her forehead she lowered her gaze back towards the PC. Again she checked the time. According to the computer it was actually two minutes before six. Still her fingers tapped nervously on the armrests, as if she expected her parents and sister to appear in the window door on the other side of the room any second and see her super-secret word document she had buried inside six hidden folders in the depths of the PC. What if they came back earlier, she wondered in a moment of nervousness. But she quickly shook off that thought. They had just called ten minutes ago they had arrived at the cinema, and were on the way to their seats. The movie would last one and a half hour, and then they would need at least another half hour back home. Plus even if they suddenly appeared and looked through the window, all they would see was her in front of Word. It wasn’t like the text formed a pair of giant breasts one could see from ten feet away.
While she calmed herself the thought struck her again to just confess to her parents and friends. It would make writing stories much easier since she didn’t need to be so secretive about it, and certainly put a huge weight off her chest. But not even a second after it had struck her she immediately scratched this thought as well. It wasn’t like she was afraid to tell them. She just couldn’t imagine how her parents would react when she told them their shy little daughter had a growing breasts fetish. To everyone in her environment, she was actually known as a rather prude person – which she was most of the time. The most revealing thing she ever put on was the short-sleeved red T-shirt with the yellow rubber duck logo on the front she was wearing in that moment. She couldn’t watch pornographic material without feeling sick, blushed whenever she saw too much naked skin (independent of the gender) and found it silly how many concerns promoted their products by showing half-naked women and men. Her friends often teased her about her shyness, especially when they started talking about boys and her only contribution to the conservation was to blush the entire time.
There was only one aspect of her that didn’t seem to fit into her otherwise sheepish personality: Her fetish for growing breasts. They didn’t need to be naked, there didn’t need to be sex involved, it actually didn’t even matter if the breasts got really big. But the thought about breasts growing rapidly out from a woman’s body always had a strange kind of fascination to her, and certainly provided a form of satisfaction, even arousal. She had often wondered why she had these fantasies, especially since she was a girl and, as far as she knew, not lesbian. It could be because of her lack of own feminine curves, her appearance being pretty well described with the word “slender”, if not even thin, but that was probably though too short. It was most likely something in her genes, she thought. Probably from her dad.
At first she had played this part of her down. But once she had made her first experiences with the internet and found she wasn’t the only person obsessed with growing breasts she slowly came more into contact with that side of hers, started looking at pictures and reading stories. The latter especially enticed her, for a really good BE story was the best way to portray the swelling of a bosom. A year ago she had gathered her courage and begun to write BE stories herself. The response she had gotten was rather positive, so she had continued. She soon grew to like writing a lot, and it quickly became one of her hobbies. However, she had never told anyone of her family or friends about this hobby. She just couldn’t imagine how any of them would react once they found out the shy and prude Phoebe had a fetish. Plus the sheer thought of going to her parents and telling them about it made the shy and prude Phoebe blush already. “Everything will be better once I get that laptop for Christmas”, she told herself. Then she would have more privacy and could write more regularly. Sometimes she wondered if it was really a good thing though to go deeper into this BE thing, or if she should fight it down – it was sort of woman-discriminating and -objectifying, she couldn’t deny that. Then again she didn’t really hurt anybody with it, and having sexual fantasies wasn’t a crime. The stuff she produced couldn’t even be called pornographic, barely erotic. All she did was writing about women growing bigger breasts. Surely it wasn’t something to be proud of, but at least she didn’t have any fantasies involving striking people with whips or binding them to the bed or something.
She then realised ten minutes had passed without her writing down anything. “I’m wasting time”, she murmured. Putting her focus back on the word document she pressed her elbow against the desk, and leaned her head against her hand. As she scanned her text for errors she stroke with her index finger over one of her pimples. It wasn’t like her face was stained with them, but she had three of four on each of her cheeks, plus a few on her forehead, and various blackheads. The nineteen year old mournfully wondered when puberty would finally be over for her. “At least I can still hope to grow some curves”, the slender girl joked, though she knew a late growth spurt was rather unlikely for an already 5”74 tall girl. The red pimples and spots on her face were made even more apparent by the bleak tone of her skin, the only slightly tanned part of her face being her big nose. Around it her skin was a little red, as if she was having slight sunburn. All in all Phoebe was far away from having a perfect appearance, but she certainly possessed her own visual charm.
After she stroke her pimples a bit she lifted her head, and put both her hands on the keyboard. She tapped around on the keys, making a dissatisfied frown as she read the text on the screen. Her lack of time to write wouldn’t be so much of a problem if she wasn’t so damn picky. No matter what she wrote, she was never satisfied with it. She always was afraid her growth descriptions to sound weird or that it made no sense what she wrote – or even simpler, that it was just bad. She constantly tried to tell herself not to worry too much, but she couldn’t shake off the thought her writing was flawed and clumsy, no matter how much praise she received. And the reception her stories received everytime she uploaded one were always very positive, almost euphoric. Although sometimes, she did wonder if it was really her writing people loved or just the fact she wrote about growing boobs.
As she was reading her manuscript she found several sections she would like to scratch out and write completely new. “As the red fabric was pulled forward it slowly uncovered more of her bust’s sides” – there was something about the sentence she didn’t like. It sounded so simple. She put her hand on her mouse, but hesitated to move the cursor. Eventually she let go, pressing her hands against her face. What else could she say? “The fabric moved over her roundings”? “It was stretching around her curves”? It didn’t really make a difference. Ignoring it for the moment she put her hands back on her keyboard, staring at the end of the last paragraph. She tried to think of a way to continue: “while the rest of her breasts swelled”… she stared at the sentence for one minute. Then for two. Two became three, and soon three became five, and so on. Eventually it was half past six and she was no word further than half an hour ago.
“Damn writer’s block!”, Phoebe mourned. Feeling extremely tired and worn out she sat quietly for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. As she swallowed and noticed her throat was kind of dry. She rolled her head over the headrest, looking at the bottle of lemonade next to the monitor. “Maybe a little sip will give me some ‘inspiration’”, she murmured, raising an arm. While grabbing the lemonade her eyes were fixated on the word document, Phoebe thinking of how to continue as she opened the bottle. Her breasts swelled – her breasts grew – her breasts expanded… quickly she ran out of synonyms. Another sigh made its way out of her mouth. It was only a matter of time before she would open up the internet browser in frustration, visit youtube and then spend the rest of the evening watching stupid videos until her parents came home. Or, she thought as she put the bottle on her lips, she would end up on deviantart looking at BE pictures she had seen a hundred times already.
Tilting the bottle she let the lemonade flow into her mouth. A surprisingly sour taste hit her tongue. She liked sour, but she didn’t expect the taste to be so intense. Quickly she pulled the bottle back from her lips, cautious not to spill anything on her shirt or keyboard. She gulped down the sour lemonade, panting a little as she let her tongue hang out from her mouth. “Wow, that’s one hell of a lemonade”, she said to herself, putting the bottle back on the desk. Leaning back in the chair she stared at her story again. How should it continue? Phoebe scrolled through the document, searching for a cue, while with her other hand she scratched her chest as it was itching slightly. If she just could get an inspiration from somewhere. Scratching her chest with both hands as the itching got stronger she thought about searching the internet for one, in form of an image or story – no, that never worked. The only “inspiration” she got there led to many things, but writing wasn’t one of them. She pushed herself a bit back from the desk, crossed her legs and looked up at the ceiling again. Her shoulders twitched slightly as the itching in her chest got stronger, and she began to wriggle slightly inside her chair. She scratched her flat bosom ever stronger, almost damaging the rubber duck on her T-shirt. “Jeez, what is this?”, she asked annoyed, looking down on her slender torso. “It’s almost as if in one of my stories, just before the girl realises her boobs are getting-“
As she continued to scratch herself she suddenly noticed the flesh was slightly pressing back against the tips of her fingers. Immediately she stopped, thinking at first to be hallucinating. Through the itching in her chest however she realised there was some other sensation in her chest, a feeling she denied at first. But after a few seconds it became pretty clear to Phoebe her chest was swelling out from her body, softly pressing against her top. Throwing her glance down her chest she watched quite perplexed two distinct bumps rising up from the fabric of her T-shirt, each only a few millimetres thick, but slowly growing.
“WHOA!”
The chair fell over as she jumped up. Wide-eyed Phoebe stared at her chest, grasping her hands around the little bulges in her top. She gasped as her non-existent breasts surged against her palms, slowly filling out the space in her hands. “Wha… what the hell?!”, she screamed. Where a few moments ago only the sight of an even area had met her eyes a pair of little mounds was poking out from her body, only subtly, but her top was definitely more filled out than it should have been. The itching in her chest decreased the further her breasts rose up from the rest of her chest, their slopes growing and spreading out over the upper half of her torso. While the “roots” of her breasts expanded their curves steadily arched forward, increasing their volume and the roundness of their shape. “What the hell?!”, Phoebe shrieked again, the small swells compressing the fabric of her shirt between her palms and rising roundings. “Did… did I just get warped into one of my stories or what is going on here?!”
She wondered for a moment if she may have fallen asleep in front of the PC and was dreaming. But while breast expansion had been part of her dreams before it usually involved other characters she had seen pictures of in the internet, not herself. Plus for a dream, putting the growing mass of tissue in her top aside, things were making too much sense. In a dream nothing was constant. From one second to the next the environment, the people around you, even who you were could completely change. Phoebe’s situation however stayed pretty much the same, with the only inconsistence being the steadily larger size of her bust. As she stood in front of the desk her breasts slowly flowed out from her body, pushing on her hands and pulling her T-shirt around them. She could clearly feel her fingers squeezing against her flesh, bending under the rising curves of her bosom as it vaulted forward. The more she became aware these sensations were real the less Phoebe was able to believe it. Partly panicked she groped her growing breasts as if to check this was really not a dream. Concentrating on her breasts she could clearly feel them bulge through the space between her fingers, steadily reaching forward and throwing larger wrinkles. Their size wasn’t very striking, but already rather apparent compared to before, probably able to fill out the cups of an A-cup bra. “O-oh my gosh”, she whispered, slowly accepting this was really happening. Watching her bosom blow up she swallowed dryly, not knowing what she should do. Should she get hysterical? Freak out? Or be happy one of her most intimate fantasies was turning into reality? Nervously she rubbed her fingers over the stretching fabric of her T-shirt, feeling each additional ounce of mass in her hands.
The movements of her fingers stopped. Phoebe still stared at her growing bosom, but it seemed like she wasn’t really paying attention to it. Raising her glance she looked at the monitor in front of her, seeing her open word document. Her hands carefully left the surface of her chest, revealing the little bump that reached out a rough half inch from her body, and moved towards the keyboard. As she leaned over the desk she felt her breasts “hanging” against her top, at least as much as a pair of mini-breasts could hang. She hesitated a moment. Slowly at first, then steadily faster she typed, adding word after word to the text on the screen.
Meanwhile the front of her rack continued to reach forward while the rest of her breasts swelled into every direction, Roxanne feeling each additional ounce of mass in her hands.
Phoebe looked at the text. Though she tried to concentrate on what she had written her breasts didn’t vanish from her focus completely as they continued to expand. They were quickly conquering the little slack in her T-shirt, pulling the fabric tautly around them. A few seconds later her fingers flew over the keyboard again.
Meanwhile the front of her rack continued to reach forward while the rest of her breasts pulled the already constricting fabric of her dress even tauter around them, Roxanne feeling each additional ounce of mass in her hands.
She looked at the revised sentence. At the same time one of her hands left the keyboard and went back on her bosom, gently squishing and rubbing the firm mass of meat as it charged into new territory. Keeping one hand on her chest she put the other on her mouse, and marked the first part of the sentence. While stroking her bosom with one hand she rewrote it with her other one:
Gently squishing and rubbing the firm mass of meat as the front of her rack was charging into new territory her breasts pulled the already constricting fabric of her dress even tauter around them, Roxanne feeling each additional ounce of mass in her hands.
Phoebe removed both her hands from their current positions and put them on the edge of the desk, examining her work. Almost unconsciously she began to nod, and a small smile spread over her lips. Still leaning forward she suddenly straightened her body upon realising the swelling sensation had left her chest. Immediately she looked down on herself, quickly examining them. To say her breasts were big was still far of an overstatement, but the rubber duck logo of her shirt was lying over a small bulge that stretched the fabric of her T-shirt slightly. They were still so small they barely touched each other inside her top and had practically no curves, being not more than a rather plain pair of domes. As Phoebe stared at her small breasts she noticed something else: They were deflating. The volume of her bump was slowly decreasing, her expanded mammary tissue seemingly moving back into her body. Phoebe let out a sigh that could be both interpreted as relief or disappointment. Many questions though were hanging inside her head, the most prominent being: why?
A trigger, she thought, there must have been some kind of trigger. But what could have caused it? She took a look through the room, searching a (more or less) plausible explanation for her sudden growth spurt. Eventually her eyes met the bottle of lemonade on the table. “That’s crazy”, she murmured. She then looked down on her chest again. “On the other hand, my boobs just blew up. And lemonade that makes boobs blow up isn’t crazier than boobs that just blew up.”
For a moment Phoebe stood quiet in the room, staring up and down between her bosom and the lemonade. Behind her she could hear the ticking of the clock, while she could feel the pressure on her shirt steadily weakening as her chest sunk back into her body. Her fingers twitched slightly as she reached out a hand towards the bottle, carefully grasping it around the neck. From her desk then she slowly raised it towards her mouth. She had forgotten to put the top back on it, so she just placed the bottle on her lips. After hesitating a moment she tilted it slightly.
Again the sour taste hit her tongue. She endured it longer than last time, gulping three mouthfuls of the lemonade down before she released it from her mouth. Just as she had put it back on the desk the itching in her shrinking chest returned, but she decided not to scratch herself. As it steadily grew more intense she wondered for a moment if scratching might be necessary for the growth to begin, when a feeling of swelling answered that question with a clear no. Having almost deflated to their previous non-size her breasts abruptly reversed their direction, starting to grow out from her body again.
For a short moment Phoebe stared with big eyes at her bust, before moving her glance to the bottle of lemonade as she had just proven it had been responsible for the expansion. After a few seconds the increase in flesh on her front threw her out of her trance, her disbelief getting replaced by a nervous, but positive excitement. Quickly she set the chair back down and placed her little rump in the seat. She put her hands on the keyboard, closing her eyes as she focused on the feeling of her flesh swelling against her T-shirt. The curves of her breasts steadily vaulted, forcing their form on the fabric of her top. As the bump ascended from the rest of her figure and the front of her bust line moved away from her the area her bosom required on her torso slowly expanded. The tops of her little perkers reached upwards while the bottoms swelled into the opposite direction, becoming gradually rounder and more voluminous. This was true for the sides of each her breasts as well as they were flaring both outwards and against each other. The empty space created between them as the fabric was lifted off her chest steadily shrunk, their inner curves gradually arching towards each other. In the very moment the walls of her cleavage came into contact, softly squeezing their swelling slopes Phoebe let out a gasp. It was unrelated to a form of arousal however, but instead a sign of a burst of inspiration that overcame the young writer. Swiftly her fingers started to work on the keyboard, her imagination fuelled by her growing sweater meat as she typed.
Keeping her hands on the sides of her bust its curves continued to vault. Her dress had moved so far over her breasts it showed their entire sides, lying as two horizontal straps of red fabric over her perkers. The cover on their more private areas was forcefully bending under her arching bosom despite being near the maximum of what it was capable to stretch to. All around the slopes of her breasts were spreading out into every direction, keeping the firmness of her rack intact even at the absurd dimensions they had blown up to. Roxanne almost gasped as the tops of breasts larger than her head ascended towards her face, being on height with her neck already. Meanwhile she felt a rising amount of her body below her bosom being covered by the shadow its underside casted, while the sides of her bust flared beyond her shoulders, pushing her hands along. With each millimeter her breasts surged outwards the pressure in her generous cleavage increased, her breasts squeezing against each other on a rising, steadily flattening surface. As her dress…
Phoebe suddenly stopped. Just as she felt the spurt of her growth coming to an end the spring of her inspiration was dying off as well. She glanced down at her chest, seeing it was by a good notch larger than last time, dancing on the rim between A- and B-cup. The bump in her shirt then began to deflate again, moving back into her body. Still a bit nervous, but more confidently she grabbed the bottle of lemonade. More determinate she took another sip, again swallowing more lemonade than she had on her last drink. The itching immediately returned, and a few seconds later her deflation turned into inflation once more, the rubber duck on her shirt getting pushed forward by a growing bosom again. As it was pulled around her bust she felt her shirt was slightly starting to move all over her body, slowly being wrapped around her curves. It was low, but her top began to make some noise as it tightened around her globes. Though it could barely be heard it sounded almost as if the fabric was screaming in pain, begging her swelling mounds to stop. Mercilessly however her mammaries reached out from her, growing from slight bumps towards a pair of round domes sticking out to the front. Clearly leaving A-cup measurements behind it looked like a pair of tennis balls was tucked under her shirt, while inside her top the little meat buns were rubbing with gradually more force against each other. Despite the lack of a bra they firmly pointed out from her chest, as if gravity didn’t have an effect on them. Phoebe looked down, her initial worry and shock completely getting replaced by amazement as she saw a small rack where a few seconds ago there was a nothing but a plain board. The sight of her little bust and the sound of stretching stitching made her fantasy climb new heights, and as her bosom continued to spread into new dimensions itself she busily wrote down her experiences.
As her dress continued to move over the curves of her globes Roxanne could hear the noise the fabric made while stretching around them becoming quickly louder. With her breasts steadily growing larger they soon breached on what her dress was able to handle, her clothes almost screeching around her expanding bosom. The pitiful screams of her wardrobe however didn’t have any effect on her swelling mammary melons, merciless trying to tear it apart to make room for their impressive girth as they were clearly outgrowing her head. With the space between them having become rather limited they forcefully rubbed against each other, leaving not even a milimeter of cleavage between them. Roxanne saw and felt the immense size of her assets, but what amazed her even more was their gravity-defying firmness. Her doubts and worries dissolved as she got aware this were her breasts, breasts that a few moments ago hadn’t been there. A smile crept over her face, and
Phoebe tapped around on the keyboard, waiting for an inspiration. As the stretching of her shirt became lower she grabbed the bottle again. Four gulps of lemonade went down her throat, and even before she put it back on the desk she could already feel the itching in her chest. This time it only took very shortly before the itching calmed down and her dying growth spurt received a boost. Phoebe began to really like the feeling of her T-shirt being strained over her burgeoning breasts as they were flattening out all remaining wrinkles on the fabric, making it lie skin-tight around their rising slopes. Her fingers twitched on the keys, Phoebe putting her head back slightly as a foreign pleasure build up in her. In a sudden motion her hands changed their position from the keyboard right on the front of her arching bosom, ruffling the tight fabric around it slightly. Touching her mounds she could feel their curves distending from her body, swelling against her palms and squeezing against her fingers while the pressure between them also increased. Gently she pressed her wrists into the flaring flanks of her bust, sensing they not only looked firm, but their structure was actually rather stout. Still, her fingers left slight sinks on the fabric as she dug them into her bulging flesh. A satisfied sigh slipped through her lips. With every inch of her hands she tenderly massaged her little hemi-spheres as they slowly grew out to a pair of spheres. Ploughing her palms and fingers through her swelling flesh she leaned further against the lean of her chair, savoring the feeling of growth. As she kneaded her breasts she felt them slowly outgrowing the space of her hands, becoming too large to hold them entirely. Their shape was about to completely change from half-spherical to full orbs, their curves bending outwards while moving out from her body. While she continued to expand from the size of grapefruits steadily into a buxom D-cup Phoebe removed one hand from her bust, and while busily massaging her chest with one hand continued to write.
A smile crept over her face, and her fingers twitched slightly on her swelling breasts. After tapping around on them for a bit she spread out her fingers as far from each other as she could, putting the surface of her hands on the sides of her swelling rack. Fighting against the distending slopes of her bosom her palms, wristlets and fingers all simultaneously pressed against them, forcing a soft imprint into the massive flanks of her bust. The front line of her bosom moved a little further forward while her cleavage got even more compressed. Her dress also groaned a little louder as Roxanne squeezed her breasts, using steadily more force since their resistance increased the bigger they became. The wizard student gulped, but then let out a very content sigh of satisfaction. Rolling her eyes she leaned even further against the shelf behind her while sticking out her chest from her body, making the perky pumpkins look even more prominent. The front segment of fingers crooked and straightened at an asynchronous rate as she began to knead her firm flesh – tenderly, but with a strong touch. Massaging her chest like this the growth began to feel even better to her, agitating her hands to move steadily faster. Soon she was basically ploughing through her meat like a farmer through his fields, going over the gradually increasing surface of her bottom’s flanks. Feeling her already outrageously large orbs bend beneath her hands and gain ever more lushness spurred the ecstasy of the young woman even further.
Despite being in the middle of a “writing spree” and her growth making no signs of dying off yet Phoebe grabbed the bottle, and put it on her grinning mouth. The sour taste almost burned her tongue as she gulped down the lemonade, drinking a rough quarter of the bottle’s contents before she put it down again. A single drop of it dripped on her shirt, right on the rubber duck that was lying over a pair of apparent mammary glands around the diameter of CDs. No itching overcame her chest this time, but the lemonade directly went into her already rather sizeable assets. Wearing a big smirk on her face Phoebe felt her expansion accelerate, her bust swelling faster and faster out from her. Its sides were reaching the edge of her lean body, the widest part of her globes starting to lap over them, while the pressure in her cleavage caused the front of her breasts to shift slightly to the side, making it rub over the fabric. Having one hand still on her bust she moved it to the most protruding parts of her breasts, stroking the foreside of her bosom as it surged steadily further away from her. Her shirt was growing so tense she could hear small stretching sounds whenever she moved her fingers over the taut fabric. Playfully she drew circles over the curves of her bust, listening to the “music” her top made. It was getting hard to hear though as the noise of stretching cotton was getting louder in general, trying to contain her breasts as they swelled into E-cup-territory, getting close to F and beyond. With her breasts steadily approaching the size of her head their tops were also rising nearer towards her neck, the perfectly round slopes bulging evenly upwards. Moving her hand to the undersides of her bosom she felt it being just as firm on the other side, not sagging down the slightest, but keeping a spherical, globular shape. As she could see her cleavage through her T-shirt, the taut fabric starting to become transparent her hands twitched nervously. While she had the urge to grope herself numb she instead removed her hands from her bust and put them back on the keyboard, quickly starting to write so she could distract herself a little from the joy of growth – but really, only a little.
With her excitement growing almost faster than her breasts Roxanne left any plausible size measurements behind, becoming abnormally busty. Having slipped out completely of the cover her dress could provide the flanks of her bosom stood out from her flimsy clothing, shining bare in the light. Being far wider than her shoulders and hips on their widest parts they soon were large enough to be visible even from behind, lapping greatly over her body, and reached bit by bit further to the sides. Additionally to the sound of stretching stitching she could also hear the first threads popping on the ridiculously strained “holders” that rested over the private areas of her bust. Becoming steadily thinner ever more cleavage was exposed, the tight valley of flesh having shrunken so far there was barely any place for her curves to arch towards. As a result the protruding foreside of her globes shifted a little to the side, causing them to rub over the tense fabric. Feeling pleasantly aroused by her growth Roxanne pressed her fingers a little deeper into her breasts. While stroking her stout meat constantly harder she began to make circling motions with her hands, steadily enlarging until she led them from the top of her breasts over their front down to the bottom, and then back up over their vaulting flanks. A short glance down and her sight was met with tight cleavage between the ascending tops of her bust, being nearly on height with her chin. Smiling at her steadily larger pumpkins of meat she closed her eyes, while trying to restrain her hands so much she wouldn’t hurt herself.
As she wrote Phoebe’s own breasts continued to wrap ever more fabric around themselves, making it creak steadily louder as it stretched over her billowing curves. The bulbous attachments projecting from her chest steadily conquered the empty space surrounding them, having turned into voluminous stacks of meat larger than the bosoms of most grown-up women. Her bust front was almost eight inches out from the rest of her body, moving bit by bit further forward while vaulting to a constantly rounder surface. On the sides they were nearly overlapping her arms, having grown out so far from her body they really looked like a pair of small balls tucked under her shirt. The tops of her mounds reached the bottom of her neck while their bottoms reached the top of her belly. As she continued to write her breasts were starting to block her sight on her keyboard. Phoebe had to lean forward to be able to see it completely. Her breasts hung against the slightly transparent fabric of her shirt, making it groan a little louder while the rubber duck on the front was starting to get blurred.
A low tearing sound came from her left breast. On the side of the holder-like band of fabric a small rip started to form at the center of her bosom, slowly extending to the right. A symmetrical rip appeared on her other breast a moment later. As her dress began to give in her bust seemed to reach out a slightly faster pace while some pressure was released from her cleavage. Roxanne looked up from the swelling surface of her bust straight forward, watching the tops of her globes ascend into her sight. With a wide smile she put her hand over the widest parts of her breasts, letting them swell against her palms for a few seconds before she harshly grabbed her mammary meat. Fighting against their firmness she formed two bulbs with her fingers, slowly twisting the flesh around. She gasped loudly as she let go of her breasts and they jumped back into a perfectly spherical shape, while at the same time the wizard student slightly went into her knees. Roxanne put her arms on the bottom of her bosom so it’s immense weight wouldn’t drag her down, while softly stoking over the bulging slopes.
Despite getting bigger than her head Phoebe’s breasts still were incredibly firm, their lower curves feeling just as round as everywhere else as she rubbed her hands over their undersides. Small rills were drawn by her fingers into her bosom as they drove over the fabric, immediately bulging out again once they left their current spot. Phoebe could feel how the slopes of her breasts were gradually growing beneath her palms, while at the same time she began to feel her breath on the top of her bosom as it arched upwards. As she put her hands back on the keyboard she pressed her arms into the sides of her assets, squeezing their widest part until they reached only to the roots of her shoulders. The front of her rack surged forward, pressing against the rubber duck logo. Although it was the thickest part of her shirt it became slightly transparent, while her cleavage shined clearer through the rest of her top.
Becoming as thin as the fabric of a negligee her dress bit by bit gave away, the rips getting steadily larger. Only a few millimeters and it would completely split apart, and her naked orbs would spill out of their flimsy cover. Very slowly and gently she moved her hands on the front of her breasts, rubbing as thoroughly through her flesh as possible before she placed her palms on the peaks of her orbs. She waited a moment, letting her mammaries press with all their force against her dress and hands as they billowed to a pair of giant medicine balls. With a snapping sound both her dress eventually gave away. Roxanne let the fabric slip out beneath her hands, feeling it glide down her curves. It was a very soft feeling, as if someone was stroking her with a feather. At the same time she felt her bosom jiggle slightly, wobbling forth and back from the release in pressure.
The first seams popped in the red stitching of her top, Phoebe feeling the fabric glide over her bust as the connections in it loosened. Having outgrown the breasts of any girl or woman she knew they had wrapped the majority of her shirt around them, revealing her slim belly as the hem had been lifted up. She almost believed to hear her breasts rubbing against each other, being cramped by the limit of her top and her arms that still squeezed them together. With her upper arms she began to rub the sides of her bosom while she continued to write, feeling the
firm flesh move as she intensely groped the front of her rack. Ripples and waves went through it, intensifying the harder Roxanne fondled herself. The motions caused the parts of her dress still lying on the top of her bosom to slide down as well, falling to the ground as her dress had been held around her neck. Completely naked her assets continued to swell larger, Roxanne still massaging them while going deeper and deeper into her knees. Their increasing weight made her go down until her butt was almost on the ground, her breasts pressing against her thighs. She pressed her back against the shelve behind her, trying not to fall forward because of the weight of her bosom. It was so heavy it caused her
back to ache, Phoebe almost feeling her spine crumble. Despite their compression she could still feel the roundness of her spheres, being probably firmer than any other parts of her body. Thinner and thinner her shirt grew around them, making every inch of cleavage clearly visible through it. The bottom of her globes was
reaching her belly button, pressing with rising force against her knees and thighs. Roxanne was almost sitting on the ground, her breasts so huge she could barely keep her hands on their fronts. Reaching upwards they started to press against her chin, forcing her to raise her head
so she could still see the keyboard despite her bosom blocking her steadily more of her sight on it, but despite the hardships she took in
every single milligram her breasts gained, every inch her bust line surged forward and every
bit of volume added to her bosom with great joy, massaging her flesh with her arms until the
friction caused it literally to become hot and she had to
stop her caressing, but still slightly twitched her
fingers on the spreading surface of her
breasts, eventually not caring
anymore as the weight of her breasts caused her to topple forward and collapse in ecstasy.
Raising her hands from her keyboard Phoebe slid down her chair until her butt nearly feel off the edge. Her mammaries wobbled, both from the impact as well as from Phoebe’s laboured breath as exhaustion was overcoming her. While drops of sweat started to run down her forehead and the rest of her face she could feel the growth of her assets slowing down. “Wow”, she whispered. “That was…” She looked down on herself, flashing a smile as almost her entire sight was filled out by her huge bosom. “…very productive.”
Slowly she sat up again. Her movements were very careful as she didn’t want to ruin her shirt, the fabric squeaking at every little motion as if it was about to burst apart any second. As she sat in her chair again she admired the size of her breasts for a moment, each being around as large as a pumped up volleyball. She watched the last phase of her growth, the rubber duck stretching until it was roughly twice as wide as before she could see and feel no more gain in hjer assets. She continued to stare at their marvellous magnitude until she could feel them starting to deflate again. The sight of her bosom moving back into her body made her frown for a second, but then Phoebe shrugged, causing her shrinking spheres to jiggle, and raised her glance towards the screen. Leaning forward so her bust wouldn’t block it she looked at the text in front of her, a rather satisfied expression on her face. Placing her hands back on the keyboard she added a small ending to the story, in form of Roxanne’s teacher (a middle-aged sorceress) coming into the library, interrupting the growth of her student, scolding her for searching using a spell from her private library without permission and sending her off so she can prepare a “cure”, but once the embarrassed Roxanne has dragged her bosom out of the library her teacher picks up the book with the BE spell and begins chanting the incantation – Phoebe giggled as she could already imagine the comments demanding a sequel. Once she was finished she nodded in approval, smiling upon her creation. All left was to check for spelling errors and she could upload it before her family returned.
As she read the story however her satisfied smile slowly turned into a critical frown. Putting her elbow on the desk she leaned her head against her fist. Her arm graced her bosom in this position, pressing slightly against it, though the contact got weaker the smaller her breasts became. Looking at the segments she had written before the “incident” she found them to be not nearly as good as the rest. Also, upon examining the product of her inspiration a little closer, she couldn’t help but think at certain passages they still could be better. “The motions caused the parts of her dress still lying on the top of her bosom to slide down as well” – would people really get she meant the holders were connected at her neck like on an evening dress? And while the general level of detail was okay there were still a lot of segments that could be fleshed out in her opinion, or be revised for a better style. It especially bothered her to have used the term “medicine balls” in a medieval scenario. She tried to think of a comparison more fitting, but nothing that size that was commonly known and existed in the Middle Ages came to her mind. Frustrated she leaned back against her chair again, letting out a sigh.
Almost slyly she looked at the bottle of lemonade. It was still half-full.
Her gaze shifted to the clock at the PC. To her surprise it was just a few minutes before seven, meaning she had still a good hour left. She looked at the story in front of her while tapping nervously on the armrests of her chair. As her breasts had deflated to a pair of small melons she grabbed the bottle. “I think I can come up with something better”, she murmured, putting it on her lips.

# Breaking the writer's block(and bra)by ~I3reacl

Literature / Prose / Fiction / Romance / Erotic / Short Stories©2012-2013 ~I3reacl
Mature Content
The idea for this story is actually “ancient”, I got it around two years ago. Back then I didn’t have a laptop, and since my PC is placed in a rather public place in our house I could only write when nobody was around or I could be sure they were busy(nobody of my family or friends knows about my fetish – or at least I hope so). It’s much easier now with a laptop, I can even write in public places. Still, I decided to finally write this little story about a girl who secretly writes BE stories, and even though it doesn’t quite represent my situation as much as it used to there’s still quite some self-reflection mixed into it (I’m not a girl though, just to avoid questions ). Plus writing a BE story with a BE story within seemed like it would be fun. Enjoy!
(Before anyone asks about the lemonade: A miscast magic ritual performed by an alien race caused a malfunction in a futuristic machine which led to an overdose of radioactive growth hormones to be added to it. And milk was somehow involved too.)
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~Solo49 Feb 2, 2013
This is a great Story.
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~Koboldkeeper62442 Feb 2, 2013
Great writing. It's verbose without being padded, and the tempo is impeccable. Plus it's a good BE story too. Plus meta humor. All told, it's a breath of fresh air.
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~I3reacl Feb 2, 2013 Hobbyist Writer
Call me silly, but I didn't understand half of what you said
Sorry, English isn't my first language. I can't really make much out of words like "verbose" or "impeccable". I think I understood enough though to know it was a compliment, so thank you
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*Forcedlactationlover Feb 23, 2013 Hobbyist Writer
I'll help here. 'Verbose' means 'wordy', or 'using many words' (I'm assuming that they are good ones) without overdoing it.
'Impeccable' is 'without error' or maybe, in this case 'superb'.
'Meta' here probably means 'good' or 'excellent', although in a literal use, it would mean 'beyond' or 'transcending' humor.
Just out of vulgar curiosity, what is your first language? Because you do use English very well.
Oh, yes, his comment was a great compliment.
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~I3reacl Feb 24, 2013 Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the explanation Now I finally know (and that) how he praised me^^ And my first language is German.
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~Musetry Dec 30, 2012
...that concept- part of it anyway- seems very familiar to me...
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~I3reacl Dec 31, 2012 Hobbyist Writer
Girl drinking stuff and getting bigger boobs?
Yeah. I can imagine you once read something similar
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~Musetry Dec 31, 2012
I meant the shyness part. XDDDD
you were close, though.
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~I3reacl Dec 31, 2012 Hobbyist Writer
Well shy girl getting bigger boobs isn't any more original, yeah
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~Rabukurafuto Dec 20, 2012 Writer
That was supremely sexy. I wish something like that would happen to me when I'm looking for inspiration for breast expansion stories. You continue to be the absolute master of describing growing breasts.
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~I3reacl Dec 22, 2012 Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the awesome compliment! Hope I'll stay worthy to that title in the future
Well one can always hope, right?
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~Enragh Dec 12, 2012
Great story dude, if you were to make a sequel, maybe make it on the teacher that walked in at the end? Just a thought, or maybe continue a sequel with this character?
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~I3reacl Dec 13, 2012 Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for pointing out the completely obvious
Just kidding. But I am able to see the obvious options for sequels I put into the story myself.
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~Enragh Dec 13, 2012
Lol, my bad, haha, didnt mean to point out obvious
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~I3reacl Dec 14, 2012 Hobbyist Writer
No problem ^_^
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~ToshiR Dec 12, 2012
Great story!
Even the story within the story is great!!
I love the descriptions, and the fact that the "main" character actually has some depth to her.
Very well pased, nicely described and fantastically wrapped!
PD:
The notes in the description are a very good detail. I really liked the character so much, I didn't even care about explanation on the lemonade. I think that's the mark of a really good story, so far as the characters are well fleshed out (no pun intended) the circumstances are besides the point.
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~I3reacl Dec 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer
Thank you kindly for the comment It's nice you like this story overall, from character to setup and growth. Yeah, for that kind of story, it's the best if to lure the reader in so much he doesn't start questioning the (missing) logic^^
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~T-Danger Dec 8, 2012
Awesome story! This is a great take on the old 'Expansion writer experiences growth herself' trope, and it's almost two stories for the price of one. Some great descriptive prose too.
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~I3reacl Dec 8, 2012 Hobbyist Writer
Thanks
Hm, I haven't actually seen any BE stories with this kind of scenario, despite being so obvious. You know any good ones?
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~MasterArchfiend Dec 8, 2012
This is great. I love how it shows the writer's scenario while presenting the inner story. I had the same problem for awhile, although I rarely write about my fetishes.
It is also very...O///O I love it.
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~I3reacl Dec 8, 2012 Hobbyist Writer
Thanks Guess some of it can go for all kind of writing.
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~MasterArchfiend Jan 15, 2013
Yep. It can be difficult, especially if you don't want the people you live with to read it.
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~Musicmaster1216 Dec 8, 2012
(Before anyone asks about the lemonade: A miscast magic ritual performed by an alien race caused a malfunction in a futuristic machine which led to an overdose of radioactive growth hormones to be added to it. And milk was somehow involved too.)
Honestly, this is what made me laugh the most. Use ALL the BE causes!
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~I3reacl Dec 8, 2012 Hobbyist Writer
I actually thought about making an in-story explanation for the lemonade, but when I ended up at alien rays I just thought "screw it" and came up with this
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~js1234 Dec 7, 2012
(Before anyone asks about the lemonade: A miscast magic ritual performed by an alien race caused a malfunction in a futuristic machine which led to an overdose of radioactive growth hormones to be added to it. And milk was somehow involved too.)
In reading these kind of stories, I ignore these kind of details. Ida been none the wiser sans the coment.
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