Karen and Her Amazing Ever-Expanding Breasts

by Arthur Saxon
arthursaxon@zombieworld.com

Karen Montague was good at her job.  She was a customer service representative for a clothing company, and her capable handling of even the most difficult customers had not gone unnoticed.  It had, however, gone unrewarded, and this sometimes made her upset.  She had been at the company for six years now and was beginning to think that this was as far as she would ever be allowed to climb.  She figured she knew why - she was small and timid and flat-chested and tended to take a back seat in any conversation with her colleagues, and it was difficult for her to assert herself in the right company.  The management no doubt valued her in her current position and had long ago decided she was not management material.

She laid most of the blame for all this on her flat chest.  If she were more buxom, she frequently thought to herself, she would be more confident, more attractive, more able to get people to pay attention to her.  She thought of Sarah Benson, the marketing director, whose ample bosom and sunny disposition ensured she was the belle of the ball at every company dinner.  Sarah had often, of course, faced the opposite problem of having to prove that she was not just a bimbo with a big chest, but she seemed to have managed it with aplomb.  Karen admired her greatly.

Karen’s supervisor was a woman named Gina Howard whose chest was, while not exactly large, at least of respectable size.  She was almost as confident, sexy and popular as Sarah, and Karen looked up to her, too.

Time and again Karen considered having breast implants, but the thought of such an operation made her feel queasy - she was of a rather squeamish disposition.  She had tried various ‘herbal’ treatments that claimed to increase breast size, but none of them worked.  Sometimes she would catch sight of large-busted models on the covers of magazines on the top shelf in her local newsagent, and she would pause a moment to stare wistfully at the oversized mammaries.  For she often privately fantasised that her breasts were not just as big as Sarah’s, but even bigger – twice as big perhaps – and men fell over themselves to be around her.  It was a silly fantasy, perhaps – such enormous breasts might prove as great a hindrance to her career as her flat chest – but  at least she would have attention and her self-confidence would soar.

She was returning home from work one evening when she noticed her neighbour, Michael, working in his garden.  He was a young man, bespectacled (although he did not appear to be wearing his glasses at the moment) and rather geeky, and undeniably clever – he had bought his semi-detached house next to hers a couple of years ago, when he was only nineteen, having landed a job as network administrator for a local security firm.  Since then he had often annoyed her with his loud heavy metal music, which she detested, though on the whole she got on quite well with him.

He was in the process of pruning his hedge when she backed into her driveway.  She switched off her engine and got out of her car, then walked over to her side of the hedge.  “Hi,” she said.  “How are you?”

“Not too bad, thanks,” he replied.  “Just mowed the lawn, now I’m tackling the hedge.”

“Nice day for it,” she said.  “I don’t often see you out in the garden.”

He chuckled.  “That’s because I’m not often in it.  But I’ve left the computer downloading some big emails, so I thought I’d do something outside while it’s sunny.”

“My lawn could do with a mow,” remarked Karen, looking down at the ankle-high grass.  “But it’s hard to find the motivation when…”  She broke off as she looked up at him and realised his attention was directed elsewhere.  She followed his gaze and spotted a young woman walking down the pavement on the other side of the road.  She had an ample chest and Michael was obviously appreciating it.

“Hey,” said Karen.  “Am I distracting you?”

He looked back at her guiltily.  “I’m sorry, that was rude,” he said.  “I do apologise.”

Karen sighed.  “It’s okay,” she said.  “I’m used to it.  Everywhere I go I’m surrounded by women with bigger … proportions than me – it’s just not fair.”  She pouted.

“I’m really sorry,” said Michael, looking briefly at her chest.  “That was insensitive of me.”  He stared at his shoes awkwardly for a moment, then looked up.  “Mind you,” he added, “I’m sure you’re better off being your shape than hers…”

Karen raised an eyebrow.  “How do you figure that?” she asked.

“Well, she’s an office cleaner, as I understand it.  You’re a … what was it?  A saleswoman for FMR?”

“Not quite – I work in the customer service department.  But still, I’d give anything to have her chest.  Nobody notices you if you’re as flat as I am.  I once cut my hair short and wore a pair of jeans on a trip into town – do you know that the guy behind the counter at the bank called me ‘sonny’?  It was so humiliating!”

Michael shuffled from one foot to the other, obviously a little uncomfortable in this conversation.  “Have you ever thought of … you know … implants?” he ventured.

“Often,” she said.  “But I’m terrified of operations – can’t stand to think of myself being cut open.  Ugh!”  She shivered.  “And before you ask, I’ve thought of falsies, too – but I’d feel like a fraud if I wore those.  I just can’t win!”  She sighed, then noticed that Michael was rubbing his chin in thought.  “What is it?” she asked.

“Hmm, nothing,” said Michael.  “Well, I don’t know … maybe I have something you might be interested in.  Something that might possibly be able to help you.”

Karen was instantly intrigued.  “What’s that?”

Michael leaned over the hedge and whispered conspiratorially, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course,” Karen whispered back.

Michael straightened up.  “Why don’t you come round later?  Say about eight o’clock?  It’ll take me a little while to get it ready.”

“Get what ready?” she asked.

“You’ll see,” he promised enigmatically.

 

Karen was in two minds as to whether to take Michael up on his invitation.  On the one hand she could not help wondering about his intentions, and she certainly did not want to lead him on – he held no appeal for her whatsoever.  On the other hand she was highly curious as to what he might have that could possibly help her.  In the end she bit the bullet, walked around to his house, and rang the doorbell.

He answered it and motioned for her to come in.  “It’s all ready,” he said.  “Do come in.”

She followed him inside, and he led her through to the living room.

“Have a seat,” he invited her.

She sat down on the sofa and he placed a huge, old, dusty hardback book on her lap.  When she opened it she saw with some surprise that it was full of hand-written pages which were covered in strange symbols she did not understand.

“Wow, this looks really old,” she said.  “Is this Egyptian?”

Michael shook his head.  “No, the Egyptians used picture-writing – hieroglyphics.  These are runes.  This book is from this country – well, Wales actually, and it’s more than seventeen hundred years old.  I think.  I can’t really be sure, but that’s my best guess.”

“But isn’t it worth a fortune?” asked Karen in disbelief.

“It would be,” said Michael, “if anybody knew of its existence.  But I only recently found it and I haven’t told anyone about it yet.”

“Why not?” inquired Karen.  “You could make a fortune with this!”

“Possibly, possibly not.  I found it on council land, so I suspect the council would try to claim it for themselves.  To be honest it’s worth more to me in my own hands.”

“Can you read the writing?” asked Karen.  “I knew computer programmers were smart but I didn’t think they could read runes!”

Michael smiled.  “I’m not a programmer,” he said, “I’m a network engineer.  But anyway I taught myself how to read it.  I’ve had it for over eighteen months now, and I’ve been studying it in most of my spare time.”

“And what is it about?  Is it a poem?  A story?”

Michael shook his head.  “Better than that,” he said.  “But you have to swear you won’t tell a living soul about it.”

“I promise.”

“It’s a spell book,” said Michael.  “Sounds crazy, I know, but that’s what it is.  A magician’s spell book.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m deadly serious.  It’s the real thing.  I’ve tried one of the spells and it worked…”

“It worked?”

Michael nodded.  “Absolutely,” he said.  “I told you – it’s the real thing.”

“But,” Karen objected, “there’s no such thing as magic!  It’s all just illusion and sleight-of-hand.”

“You’re thinking of conjuring,” he corrected her.

“Well yes, but there’s no such thing as real magic – that’s just fantasy!”

“So I thought, too,” said Michael, “until I started reading this.  It’s totally genuine, though – written by someone called Oswulf the Fair.  In his prologue he tells of how he completely changed his physical appearance by a series of incantations which are all laid out in full later in the book.”

“And you can read all these spells?” inquired Karen.

Michael nodded.  “I can.  So far I’ve only tried one, but I dare say they all work.”

“So why don’t you recite a spell to make you rich?” asked Karen.  “Or a spell to transport you to some tropical island with dozens of buxom maidens to indulge your every whim?”

He chuckled.  “Because it’s not that kind of spell book.  I think he may have written others, but this one deals only with the human body.  Oswulf had been an ugly child, apparently, but he made himself incredibly handsome by means of the spells in this book.  Or so he reckons.”

“So … where did you say you got this book?” asked Karen.

“I’d prefer not to say,” said Michael.  “I’m hoping to find the others close by, if they still exist.  But I can tell you that this was sealed in an airtight container, which is why it has survived in such perfect condition until now.  Of course, it won’t survive for much longer unprotected, which is why I am currently in the process of translating it and putting the English version on to my computer’s hard drive.  It’s a big job, but I should be done in another couple of weeks.  Then I’ll probably send this book to a museum or something.  I should get some money out of it.”

“Good luck,” said Karen.  “So, what do you think you can do for me?”

“Well – you want a bigger chest, don’t you?”

Karen gasped.  “You can do that?”

“I think so.  To be honest it’s not as easy as it sounds.  Magic is nothing like I would have thought.  There are no spells to specifically increase breast size.  I’d have to use a combination of three spells, and they’re damn tricky to get right.  I managed to fix my eyesight, but I nearly blinded myself in the attempt.”

And then Karen noticed that he still wasn’t wearing his glasses.  “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed.  “You can see perfectly now?”

“Not quite perfectly, no,” he admitted.  “But I can certainly resolve car registration numbers at the required distance, and my optician tells me I no longer require glasses – he says it’s a miracle.”

“Wow!”  Karen was highly impressed.  “Let’s waste no time then – what do I have to do?”

Michael laughed.  “Steady on!” he said.  “I wouldn’t leap before you look, if I were you.  Every spell has certain side-effects, and I should brief you on those before I start.”

Karen nodded.  “Okay.”

“Right.”  Michael pulled out three sheets of A4 paper which bore computer printouts.  He looked at the first.  “Okay … spell number 843.”  He raised his eyes to look at Karen, explaining, “This changes the size of an object.  Any kind of object, I think, though it may apply specifically to body parts.”  He looked down at the page again.  “Possible side-effects include disproportionate changes in size of individual parts of the item on which the spell is cast – should be cast very carefully and if possible used in conjunction with other spells to ensure that stretching or breakage does not occur.”

“Ouch!” said Karen.  “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

Michael nodded.  “Which is why I’m using three spells instead of two.”  He placed the first sheet of paper at the back of the pile and began to read from the second.  “This one, spell number 192, ‘enhances the character of the female bosom’.  That’s what it says here.  Side-effects, depending on which other spells are used in conjunction with it, can include lactation in particular, and possibly production and excretion of other bodily fluids, such as sweat, vaginal discharges, watering of the eyes and increased mucus production.  Probably not all of them at once,” he added, looking up at her.  “But I would brace yourself to undergo one or two of those at least.”

“Sounds icky.”  Karen wrinkled her nose.  “What’s the third spell?”

“Spell number 670 – this is a regenerative spell, causing living material to rebuild itself.  I know it doesn’t sound exactly appropriate, but from reading Oswulf’s journals I get the impression this can be used together with spell 843 to increase the size of a body part.  And it’s this one that will regulate spell 843.  The regenerative spell encourages things to grow in proportion with one another.  Or so I gather.  Side-effects … side effects side effects…  Ah yes.  Um, nausea and vomiting if prolonged, sudden, rapid peristalsis in various parts of the digestive tract, and changes in the nature of bodily excretions.”

“Surely he didn’t use the word ‘peristalsis’,” objected Karen.

“Of course he didn’t – that’s just my translation of his rather limited medical vocabulary.”

“Hmm – some of those side-effects sound kind of unpleasant.”

Michael nodded.  “Well, nobody’s saying they’ll definitely happen,” he said, “but it’s a risk you’ll certainly have to think about.  Of course, it partly depends on me – casting a spell is quite an art, and if I get it wrong it could be disastrous.  But if I get it right then the side-effects should be kept to a bare minimum.  And if I get it wrong, there’s a good chance I can cancel the spell before the effects become too bad and try again.  That’s one of the great things about this book – it contains a nullification spell that can stop another spell in its tracks.  It can’t reverse a spell’s effects, unfortunately, but it can stop it so that I can work on a fix.”

Karen nodded.  “Okay,” she said.  “Let’s do it.”

Michael looked surprised.  “You don’t want time to think about it?”

“No – I might chicken out.  I want you to cast the spells tonight, as soon as possible.”

“Um, fine – I can cast them right now, if you like,” he said.  “Come with me to the garage – I have my things set up in there.”

Karen got up and followed Michael as he led her into the kitchen and through the back door into the garage.  Here Michael directed her to stand in a chalk diamond that he had drawn on the floor.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a pentagram?” inquired Karen, stepping into the centre of the diamond.

“No, a pentagram’s supposed to protect you from evil,” said Michael.  “But I think even that’s a bunch of crap – nothing in Oswulf’s spell book mentions pentagrams or drawing symbols in blood or anything like that.”

“Any potions composed of bat’s eyes and newt’s toes?” asked Karen with a grin.

Michael merely pursed his lips.  “Anyway the diamond itself doesn’t mean anything – it’s just to show me where I’ve smeared the floor with sugared water.”

“Sugared water?” inquired Karen, looking puzzled.

Michael shrugged.  “The magic requires it, apparently.  Oh by the way, take off your shoes and socks – your bare skin needs to be touching the floor.”

Karen complied.  When she put her bare feet back into the diamond, she found the floor slightly sticky.

“That’s good,” said Michael.  “Now I just need to touch the edge of the diamond, cast the spell, and Bob’s your uncle.”

“Okay.”  Karen shivered.  “Go for it before I change my mind.”

“Are you thinking of changing your mind?” asked Michael.  “Seriously – I don’t want to do this and then have you complain afterwards.  This is pretty much a one-way ticket.  Once you’re on board and the train’s moving, you can’t go back.”

“Didn’t you say you could ‘nullify’ it or something?”

“Yeah, but that would be like pulling the emergency cord.  The train would stop, but you’d be somewhere you didn’t plan on being.  I’d then have to figure out a way of limiting the effects as much as I could, which I can’t guarantee I can do with any degree of effectiveness.”

Karen pondered this for a moment.  “How long will I have?” she asked.  “How fast will the magic work?”

“It’s fairly slow.  And it’ll keep going until I tell it to stop.  Basically once I’ve cast the spells your breasts will start growing.  Once they reach the size you want them to be, which should take a week or so, come back and I’ll cast that nullification spell.  Then your breasts will stop growing, and any ill effects you’ve suffered in the meantime should stop happening.  I can’t be too sure of that, mainly because I still get bright sparks flashing across my vision if I turn my head too quickly, which is one of the side-effects that I suffered while I was trying to cure my sight.  But it’s no big deal, and I’m prepared to live with it if it means I can see without glasses.”

Karen nodded.  “Okay, I’m ready.  Cast the spells.”

Michael smiled, then he got down on his knees and placed the index finger of his left hand on the edge of the diamond, making sure that he could feel the stickiness with his finger-tip.  Then he closed his eyes.  “It’s a bit tricky, this,” he said.  “I’ve got to think one thing and say another.  It’s bizarre.  But I eventually got the hang of it when I was playing about with my eyesight, so I should be all right.”

Taking a deep breath, he pronounced, “Offuld grimhinga a banfail cyning ol tamsrod.”  He paused, then, and opened his eyes.  “That was number 843,” he said with a grin.  “Quite pleased with that – kept my mind very clear that time.”  He closed his eyes again, and uttered a slightly longer sequence of strange-sounding words, after which he cleared his throat nervously.  “That was tough,” he said.  “That was 192, the ‘character of the female bosom’ one – I think I got it down pretty well though.”  He closed his eyes a third time, and pronounced another long series of unfamiliar words.  Afterwards he sighed with relief and opened his eyes, wiping a hand across his brow.  “Also tough,” he said.  “But certainly better than the first time I tried to fix my eyesight.  Anyway, it’s all done – you can step out of the diamond and put your shoes and socks back on.”

“So what do I do now?” asked Karen.  “Just wait?”

“Yup – wait and see what happens.  When your breasts reach a size you’re happy with, come and see me and I’ll stop the spell.  Just remember that it is difficult, if not impossible, to actually reverse the effects, so don’t leave it too long.  Once I stop the spell, that’s the size your breasts will remain at.”

Karen nodded.  “I understand,” she said.  “Well, thanks a lot, Michael.  I’d better get home now.  I’ll see you around.”

Michael smiled at her.  “See you,” he said.  He flipped a switch by the kitchen door and the big garage door rose up to allow her to leave.

Karen smiled back, then turned and left, returning next door to her own house.

 

The following morning, when she awoke, it was a few minutes before she remembered what had happened the night before.  When she did, she peered down the front of her nightie in great excitement.  She more than half-expected to see no difference at all, so was thrilled to see that there was a definite change – she had breasts!  She quickly got out of bed and checked herself out in the mirror.  They were not very big, as yet, but they were definitely bigger than they had been yesterday.  She pulled a bra out of her underwear drawer and put it on.  The difference was remarkable.  Yesterday the AA cup had been embarrassingly loose on her – today it fit beautifully snugly.  Sighing happily, she donned the rest of her clothes and went downstairs to have a light breakfast before leaving for work.

Her colleagues, much to her chagrin, did not notice any difference.  Even when she dropped subtle hints, putting her shoulders back and thrusting her chest out, nobody commented on her newly enhanced chest.  Later in the day, however, towards the middle of the afternoon, she realised that her bra was feeling rather tighter than it had first thing in the morning.  She sneaked a peak down the front of her blouse when nobody was looking, but it was hard to see whether there was much of a difference.

When she got home, she ran upstairs and stripped to her waist in front of the mirror.  She shivered in excitement as the mirror confirmed what she had suspected – she had grown even more during the day.  Her breast flesh was bulging over the top of her bra, which now appeared to be rather inadequate for the job.  She realised suddenly that she would not be able to wear any of her bras to work the next day, and she hurriedly left the house again in order to shop for new bras at the newly-opened shopping mall nearby, which was open until nine o’clock.

 

The next morning she jumped out of bed and looked at herself again in the mirror.  Her jaw dropped in surprise and delight – her breasts were bigger, bouncier and more beautiful than before, and she was thoroughly pleased with the way they were progressing.  She had bought several bras the day before, so that she would be covered hopefully for the next couple of days until the weekend.  The A-cup was a little small, so she tried the B-cup.  This was slightly roomy, but she would no doubt grow into it in the course of the day.

At work, still nobody made any comments – until late in the afternoon, by which time she was filling out the B-cup very nicely.  One of her colleagues, Rachel Elwood, leaned across and said in a low voice, “Um, I don’t mean to be nosey, but you seem a little more … um … a little bigger up-top if you know what I mean.”

Karen glowed.  “I know!” she whispered back.  “My next-door neighbour’s got this, um, treatment … he’s increasing my chest size.  It’s wonderful – I always hated not having a chest, and now I’ve got one!”

“Wow – what sort of treatment is it?” asked Rachel.

“Oh, well I can’t reveal his secrets,” said Karen guardedly.  “Let’s just say it’s something that the medical establishment would kill for if they knew about it!”

“Really?”  Rachel’s eyes widened.  “Is it that secret?  What else can he do?”

“I don’t know, to be honest,” replied Karen.  “I know he has quite a huge repertoire – in fact I think he could probably help with almost any kind of medical problem…”

“Any kind…” mused Rachel thoughtfully.

Karen cocked her head on one side.  “You have something in mind?”

Rachel blushed.  “Well, I have a phobia that I wish someone would cure…”

“Really?  What are you afraid of?”

“Dogs,” said Rachel.  “I’m absolutely petrified of them, which is really awful because we have three at home.  My boyfriend keeps them away from me for the most part, but he can’t do so all the time and I just freeze in fear whenever I’m around them.  And the dogs don’t like me, either – they always bark at me.”

“Sounds like a lousy boyfriend, if you ask me,” retorted Karen.  “Fancy keeping dogs when your girlfriend is afraid of them?”

“He had them already when I met him, and I didn’t have the heart to ask him to get rid of them.  So, do you think your friend can cure me of my fear of dogs?”

Karen nodded.  “Well I’m not sure whether that’s in his … field, of speciality…  But I’ll ask him.”

Rachel beamed.  “Thanks!” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” replied Karen with a smile.

 

That evening she went next-door to see Michael, and put the question to him.

“Good grief, you didn’t tell her about the book did you?” he demanded.

“Relax!  No I didn’t.  I just said that you had some revolutionary treatments that weren’t available to doctors.  So what do you think?  Does the book cover such things?”

“In a round-about way, yes,” said Michael, nodding.  “There are over fifteen hundred spells in there, most dealing with the physical body but many focusing on mental health, too.”  He sighed.  “I suppose I’ll be getting a visit from her now, will I?”

“Yes.  Sorry,” Karen said.  “But wouldn’t you like to have more subjects to practise on?”

Michael shrugged.  “I suppose so,” he said.  “I just worry about getting into trouble if something goes wrong.”

“We could always get her to sign some kind of agreement,” Karen suggested.

“Yeah, and just how would that stand up in court?” inquired Michael sardonically.

Karen thought about this.  “Good point,” she said.  “But then, would a jury even believe you had anything to do with her problems, whatever they might be…?  If she tells them it was magic, they’ll laugh her out of court!”

Michael brightened.  “True enough,” he agreed.  “Okay, bring her on then.”

 

The following morning, Karen got up and checked herself out in the mirror.  Her breasts were bigger and better than ever, she noted with a happy smile.  Another thing she noticed was that her nipples were fully erect, despite the fact that she was neither cold nor sexually aroused.  Perhaps this was one of the side-effects.  At any rate, she liked the way it looked and it seemed harmless enough.

The B-cup bra was a little too small for her now, so she tried the C-cup.  This fit fairly well, and had room for the day’s growth, so she kept it on.  Today was Friday, so she decided that tomorrow she would go out and shop more scientifically for bras, based on her known rate of breast growth.

When she got to work she told Rachel that Michael was willing and able to cure her problem.  Rachel was thrilled.  They went out to lunch at half past twelve with Janet, another woman who worked in their department.  Janet had noticed Karen’s newly-enlarged chest, and now finally she commented on it.

“It’s an experimental new treatment,” said Karen in a conspiratorial whisper.  “I live next door to a medical genius, it seems.  Anyway he’s enlarging my breasts for me, without the need for surgery, and he’s going to tackle a little problem of Rachel’s, too…”

“I have a phobia of dogs,” said Rachel.

Janet chuckled.  “I wouldn’t call a fear of dogs a phobia, Rachel,” she said.  “There are perfectly good reasons to be afraid of some dogs.  But I’m intrigued, Karen – is this guy some kind of loose cannon in the pharmaceutical industry, or what?”

“No, nothing like that,” said Karen.  “Let’s just say his methods are … rather unorthodox.  But they sure as hell work.”

“I can see that,” remarked Janet.  “Tell me, can he cure, um, sexual problems?”

“I’m sure he can.  What kind of problem?”

Janet shrugged.  “Well, my boyfriend and I split up just last month, mainly because our sex life was so pathetic.  It wasn’t entirely his fault, though – I’ve always had trouble having orgasms.  I find it hard to get aroused, and even more difficult to reach a climax, even when I, you know, play with myself.  I’d very much like to be more sexually sensitive in the genital region.”

“Whew!”  Karen was a little taken aback by Janet’s candour.  “Well, I’m sure he can take care of that for you.  Why don’t you both follow me home this evening and we can pay him a visit?”

“Okay,” said Janet, smiling.  “I will.”

 

Michael was surprised, and not terribly amused, to have not one but two new patients to deal with, but he soon relaxed in their friendly company.  He swore them both to secrecy, then showed them the book and explained what he was going to do.  Janet was almost completely put off the idea when she discovered his secret was magic, but the evidence of Karen’s breasts convinced her to give Michael a chance.  Rachel, for her part, was highly impressed by Michael’s obvious knowledge and ability.

“Okay, I should be able to make you less afraid of dogs and make you appeal more to them, so that they don’t act so hostile towards you,” he said to her.  “It’s all to do with aromas, and fortunately there’s a whole section in the book devoted to body odours.”

One after the other, Michael cast his spells on Janet and Rachel, and he seemed very pleased with how they both went.  Karen could not help feeling that he had not seemed nearly so pleased after he had cast her spells, but since her breasts were growing beautifully, she was not about to complain.

Before the women left Michael’s house, he took Karen aside by one arm and said, “I must confess you are growing a little faster than I had anticipated.  Don’t you think you’re ready to have the nullification spell cast on you now?”

Karen looked down at her breasts in surprise.  “Oh no,” she said.  “These are just average-sized.  I want them a little bigger yet.”  She grinned at him.

Michael shrugged.  “Your choice,” he said.  “Just watch out for those side-effects.”

“I will,” Karen promised.

 

The following morning Karen slept in until ten, at which time she got up and, as usual, went straight to the mirror to have a look at her breasts.  They were a little bigger than the night before, and her nipples were still erect and quite prominent.  On an impulse, she picked up a can of shaving foam and squirted some liberally over her breasts.  Then she put the can down and began to massage her breasts, rubbing the foam around while enjoying the sensation of the foam’s slippery texture.  She watched herself in the mirror as she squeezed and kneaded her foam-covered breasts, and it occurred to her that, for the first time in her life, she felt that she looked sexy.

She was now practically a D-cup, she discovered.  Her breasts looked fantastic, but she was not quite ready to quit just yet.  She still was not as buxom as Sarah, the marketing director, and she did not want to stop growing until she had at least equalled Sarah’s proportions.

By midday she was shopping for bras in a specialist store that she had found in the Yellow Pages, and she spent some time doing calculations to make sure that she was mapping her predicted progress properly.  The last thing she wanted was to find out in a few days that she had a bra of the right size but the wrong shape.  There was a lot more to bra-shopping, she was well aware, than knowing one’s cup size.  The shop assistants gave her one or two odd looks as she bought a range of bras that were currently too big for her, but they said nothing.

After she had bought some bras, she shopped for clothes that she would be able to wear over the top of them.  Some of her tighter shirts would soon be unwearable, and some of her t-shirts would look ridiculously over-stretched.  So she bought some baggy t-shirts and some tops in larger sizes than she had previously been accustomed to purchasing for herself, hoping that they would work well when her bust grew even bigger.

When she got home, Michael was just leaving his house.  He stared at her chest and whistled.  “You sure you don’t want me to stop the spell?” he inquired.  “The longer you leave it, the more the side-effects will kick in.”

“Well I’ve not had any side-effects so far,” she replied.  “And I’d like them to be a little bigger than this.  Maybe I’ll come and see you tomorrow evening – I’ll see what they look like then.”

“Suit yourself,” said Michael.  “I’m going to be out until late tonight, and I may perhaps not return until tomorrow morning, depending on how drunk I get and whether I crash at a friend’s place.  But I should be around from about lunch time tomorrow, definitely.  Cheerio!”  He got into his car and drove off as Karen unlocked her front door and entered her house.

 

She spent much of the afternoon naked, parading up and down in front of the mirror.  She was fascinated by her breasts – they were not only large, but they were perfectly shaped, too – no stretch marks or sagging.  They were firm and round and pretty damn perfect as far as she was concerned.  But they would be even more perfect when they were a little bigger.

Her nipples, she discovered, were now more sensitive than they had been in the past.  Stroking them brought her intense arousal, and after playing with them for a while she went to bed to masturbate.  After an intense orgasm, she sighed happily, thoroughly content with the way her chest was shaping up.

 

On Sunday morning, her breasts were of course even bigger.  She could not help noticing that her nipples had also grown – they were still erect, and were a little longer than they had been the day before.  She tweaked them gently, and shivered – their sensitivity seemed to be increasing, and she felt her groin tingle as she played with them.

She tried on a few sexy outfits, including some low-cut tops that she had bought the day before.  It was wonderful to have a cleavage, and she wanted to show it off as much as possible.  She also tried on a few short skirts that she sometimes wore in the hope of deflecting attention away from her chest.  Now, however, although she no longer needed to wear miniskirts for that reason, she found that the effect of wearing a mini with a low-cut top was quite striking.  Indeed, she reflected to herself that she would probably set any red-blooded man drooling at the sight of her.

Late in the evening she thought about going next-door to see Michael, and she stood in front of the mirror thinking long and hard about whether she was ready to stop her breasts growing.  They were quite large, certainly – a DD, and the equal of Sarah’s – but she could not help feeling that she could probably get away with letting them grow just a little bit bigger…

As she considered this, her hands went to her breasts and she began to stroke her nipples.  It felt divine, and she closed her eyes as she brushed her fingers over the tips.  Then she opened them again in shock.  Looking down, she saw that her nipples were leaking!  A white fluid, presumably milk, was oozing out and covering the ends of her fingers.  Somewhat perturbed, she stopped playing with her nipples.

But this little surprise was not enough to change her mind.  She decided to go and see Michael the next morning, before she left for work.  They wouldn’t be too much bigger than they were at the moment, and it would be fun to have bigger breasts than Sarah.

 

The next morning, as she stared into the mirror, she realised that she was looking at a woman that could easily be mistaken for a Page Three topless model.  She looked, not to put too fine a point on it, like a bimbo.  But she liked it.  The only thing that worried her was her nipples, which were even longer than they had been yesterday – abnormally long, one might say.  She measured them with a ruler – they were nearly three quarters of an inch in length, and she could not help feeling that they rather detracted from the perfection of her chest.  She hoped Michael would be able to do something about it.

After a rather rushed breakfast, she left her house to go next door.  But she stopped in her tracks as she realised that Michael’s car was gone.  She cursed under her breath – he must have left early.  Well, there was nothing she could do about it now – she would just have to wait until this evening.  As she went back inside, she smiled to herself – the thought that she was powerless to prevent her breasts from growing even larger was rather exciting.

She wore a low-cut black top to work, as well as a smart miniskirt that came down to mid-thigh and a matching jacket.  As she entered her office, all eyes became riveted to her chest, and she smiled to herself.

“Um, Karen, might I have a word?” asked Gina, her supervisor.

“Certainly,” said Karen, and she followed Gina into the older woman’s office.

“Have a seat,” invited Gina, closing the door behind her.  “Now I don’t mean to be rude or nosey or anything, but I am a little concerned.  Tell me – is it implants?”

Karen shook her head.  “No Gina – they’re real.  I’ve grown.”

Gina’s brow furrowed.  “I don’t understand,” she said.  “Breasts don’t just grow like that overnight – are you on drugs?”

“No no – nothing like that,” said Karen.  “I’m undergoing an … alternative … form of treatment.  They won’t grow much bigger than this, though – I’m going to stop them growing tonight.”
Gina looked puzzled.  “What kind of treatment can do that?” she inquired.  “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Karen sighed.  “If I tell you, you must promise not to tell another living soul,” she said.

Gina thought about this, then nodded.  “Okay, fair enough,” she agreed.

“It’s magic.  My next-door neighbour cast a spell on me to make my breasts grow.  I must admit I was sceptical of course, but it really worked!  As you can see.”

“Karen…”  Gina paused.  “Karen, there’s no such thing as magic,” she said.  “Whatever your neighbour did, it’s some trick…”

Karen shook her head.  “What sort of trick could make my breasts grow?” she asked.  “You’re welcome to examine them if you like – they’re completely genuine.  Seriously – he’s made my breasts grow, and if you don’t believe it’s magic, then by all means come up with another explanation.  But you won’t, because there isn’t one.  Honestly.”

“You’re right – I can’t think of another explanation,” admitted Gina.  “But I still don’t believe in magic.  However, I’ll accept your explanation for the time being.  Now, you said they’re still growing?”

“That’s right,” said Karen, “but I’ll get that stopped tonight.”

“I think last night might have been more appropriate.  Or the night before.  Do you honestly like the way you look now?”

“Absolutely!” Karen enthused.  “You know what I looked like before – this is just such a boost for my confidence.”

“Well, whatever makes you happy,” Gina said.  “And I really do mean that – I hope you’re happy.”

“I am,” said Karen.

Gina smiled.  “Well good luck to you then.  Anyway, I’ll let you go.  I have to go over and see Edward in purchasing now – do you have any post you need taking over?”

Karen shook her head as she got to her feet.  “No – but sometime I’ll have to go over there myself and see what Edward makes of my new look.”

Gina chuckled.  “He’ll probably fall over his tongue,” she said with a grin.  “You know what he’s like.”

“Yeah.”  Karen smiled, then left Gina’s office.  As she sat down, Rachel leaned over towards her.

“Wow Karen,” she whispered.  “That’s quite a bust!  What did Gina say about it?”

“Oh, she was okay with it.  Just looking out for me, I suppose.  How’s it going with the phobia?”

“Wonderfully!” said Rachel.  “My fear of Roy’s dogs was definitely less on Saturday, and yesterday I was playing with them like we were the best of friends!”

“That’s great news,” said Karen, smiling.  “What about Janet?”

“I haven’t spoken to her yet,” said Rachel.  “Janet?”

Janet, on the other side of the office, got up and came over.  “Hi Karen,” she said.  “My, didn’t you grow big!”

Karen blushed.  “Thanks,” she said.  “But what about you?  How did your spell turn out?”

Janet grinned.  “It seems to be working pretty well,” she said.  “I won’t go into details, but…”

“Oh, please do go into details,” begged Karen, winking at Rachel.

“Well – I played with a … a toy, last night, and came in less than two minutes,” said Janet.  “It was fantastic, so I did it again shortly after.  And this morning I had what can only be described as a multiple orgasm – my first ever.”

Karen clapped her hands.  “Congratulations!” she said.  “Oh, I’m so pleased.”

Janet grinned wickedly.  “Me too.”

 

That evening, Karen returned home to find Michael’s car still not in his driveway.  She went inside and took off her bra, which had become uncomfortably tight, then made some supper and ate it in front of the television.  At about nine o’clock she suddenly remembered to go and see Michael, so she got up and hurried outside.  But Michael’s car was still not there.  Puzzled, and a little alarmed, she returned to her living room and took off her top to examine her breasts.  They were, she had to admit, a little disproportionate for her petite physique.  What would they be like tomorrow?  And where was Michael?

Then it occurred to her that maybe he had crashed his car and returned home by taxi.  Pulling on her top again, she ran out of her front door and around to Michael’s.  She rang the bell and waited.  After half a minute she rang again, and knocked as well.  But still there was no reply.

She walked around the house and peered into each of the windows on the ground floor.  All the lights were off, and she could dimly make out some items of furniture.  Well, at least he had not moved house, then.

Back in her own house, she prepared for bed and stood for a while in front of the bathroom mirror.  Although she was still quite happy with the way she looked, she could not help worrying about the consequences of growing any larger.  ‘Crumbs,’ she thought to herself.  ‘A few more days and I’ll look like Lolo Ferrari!’

But would that be so bad?  Lolo Ferrari had become rich and famous on account of her huge chest.  Maybe they had not brought her happiness, but was that really the fault of her breasts?  It did not seem likely.

Karen shook herself.  She was not going to end up with breasts like Lolo’s.  Tomorrow morning, or at the latest tomorrow evening, Michael would be back at home, and he would cancel the spell.

She climbed into bed and began to stroke her breasts.  As she tugged on her long nipples, she became quite aroused and started fantasising about Paul, her boss.  He would really notice her now that she had large breasts.  Perhaps it would be for the wrong reasons, but at least he would notice her.  And perhaps he would take her out…

One hand reached down to her pussy and began to stroke her clitoris.  Soon she climaxed, and was startled to find that her nipples were spurting milk all over the inside of her duvet.  A little disgusted, she got up and fetched a few tissues to clean up the mess.  As she climbed back into bed her nipples were still dripping, and she placed a tissue over each one to soak up the milk.

 

The next morning she could not even fit into her E-cup bra.  This was a little worrying, for she only had one larger bra – an F, which fit her quite well but would no doubt feel fairly tight by the end of the day.  A quick glance out of the front window confirmed her fear that Michael had still not returned.

At work, she began calling hospitals.  Her third try, to her relief, yielded a result.

“Yes, we do have a Michael Dawkins here.  Are you a relative?”

“No, I’m his next-door neighbour,” said Karen.  “But it’s really urgent that I see him.  When can I visit him?”

“You can see him, but I’m afraid he won’t be able to respond – I’m sorry to tell you that he’s in a coma.  The accident was quite severe.”

Karen’s heart sank into her shoes.  A coma?  “I’ll be there this afternoon,” she said, and hung up.

“What’s the matter, Karen?” asked Rachel in concern.

“Michael had an accident,” reported Karen in a daze.  “He’s in a coma.”

“What?   He can’t be – he has to cancel our spells!”

“What’s up?” inquired Janet, coming over to join them.

“Michael’s in a coma,” said Rachel.  “Can you believe it?”

“Jeez!”  Janet went pale.  “This is not good!”

“Tell me about it,” groaned Rachel.  “Roy’s dogs are getting rather too friendly, if you get my meaning – and last night I caught myself fantasising about … you know … with one of them.”

“Rachel!”  Karen was shocked.

“I know!  But I can’t help it – it’s the damn spell!”

“Well I have no complaints so far,” said Janet.  “Except that I tend to get really horny a lot more often.  Sometimes it makes it hard for me to concentrate on what I’m doing, and I have to masturbate in order to relieve myself.  But I wouldn’t say that’s particularly bad – I’m quite enjoying not being frigid.”

“It’s all right for you,” said Karen.  “You should try my predicament.  If Michael doesn’t cancel my spell, I’m just going to keep growing and growing!  Just imagine what I’ll look like in a week’s time.  Or a month’s!”

Rachel and Janet smiled sympathetically at her, and Janet patted her shoulder.  “I’m sure he’ll snap out of it soon,” she said.  “Why don’t you go and see his doctor and find out what his prognosis is?”

“I shall,” said Karen.

 

Straight after work, Karen drove to the hospital and asked to see Michael.  Her heart sank as she entered his room and looked down at him – he was quite a mess.  He was on a ventilator and had wires connected to various monitors around his bed.  His head was partially bandaged and bore extensive cuts and bruises on the skin that was visible.  She felt her hope ebb away as she regarded him.  According to his chart, his doctor was called Dr Andrews.  Karen went in search of the man.  On being told that he was currently with a patient, she was directed to a waiting area, where she spent the next half-hour flipping through old magazines.

Eventually a nurse came to fetch her.  “Dr Andrews will see you now.”

Karen hurried through to the doctor’s office.  “Hello,” she said to the middle-aged man sitting behind the desk.  “I understand Michael Dawkins is one of your patients?”

“He is, yes,” said Dr Andrews, addressing her chest.  “Are you a relative?”

“No, but I’m his next-door neighbour and a close friend.  Can you tell me how long he’s likely to remain in this condition?”

“It’s practically impossible to say,” replied the doctor.  “Our main concern right now is the swelling of his brain – we have it under control but we’re having to keep his blood pressure artificially high in order to maintain the oxygen flow to his brain.  Once the swelling goes down, he will hopefully be in a position to snap out of the coma.  But that is something we cannot induce ourselves – our understanding of comas is still rather inadequate, unfortunately.”

“Well how long before the swelling goes down?” pressed Karen.

Doctor Andrews shrugged.  “A few days, maybe a week before it’s back to normal.  Thereafter … well, perhaps you could help.  Bring him some of his favourite music and play it to him – it’s been known to revive coma victims in the past.  It’s certainly worth a try.”

Karen nodded.  “I’ll see what I can do.  Should I wait a few days?”

“Yes.  Call the hospital each day and ask if Michael’s condition is still critical.  Once it isn’t, you’ll know it’s time to start trying to wake him up.”

“Okay.  Thank you, Doctor.”  Karen got up and left the office, her spirits low.  At least she still had some hope, though – maybe she could pull him out of his coma with some of his awful heavy metal music in just a few days.  By then her breasts would be as big as footballs, but there was no use crying over spilled milk – she would simply have to live with the consequences of her decision not to let Michael stop the spell when he had wanted to.  Her breasts had been beautiful at that point – what had she been thinking?

She returned home and, after a light supper, decided to have an early night.  Before she went to bed, however, she sat down on the toilet to empty her bladder.  Afterwards, she stood up and wiped, but as she turned to drop the paper in the bowl, she started in alarm at the colour of the water she had passed.  It was a pale, cloudy yellowish-white – almost cream-coloured.  She shuddered – was this another side-effect of the spell?

Flushing the toilet, she brushed her teeth and retired to bed, where she eventually fell into a troubled sleep.

 

The next morning, she realised in alarm that she no longer had any bras big enough to fit her.  Her breasts were almost obscenely large now – a G-cup, she reckoned – and her nipples looked very odd – they were an inch in length and seemed to be getting wider, too.  They looked like little fingers emerging from her areolae.  They were now more sensitive than ever – merely touching them sent little waves of pleasure down to her groin.

Going to work without a bra was out of the question, on account of her elongate nipples, so she fashioned a makeshift bra out of an old bed sheet that she cut up and wrapped around her chest.  It worked tolerably well, and was completely hidden by the navy blue low-cut top she chose to wear on top.  Again, she wore a short skirt to finish off the outfit.

When she got to work, she met with Rachel and Janet.  “It’s not good, I’m afraid,” she said, and she briefed them on the Michael situation.

Rachel sagged in her seat.  “This is awful!” she moaned.  “You would not believe what happened last night…”

“What?” inquired Janet.

“Never mind,” said Rachel.  “It’s too awful and disgusting.”

“You had sex with one of your boyfriend’s dogs?” asked Karen.

“No!”  Rachel tried to look shocked, but then she blushed.  “Well, they did kind of lick me – you know.  Then one of them tried to mount me and I stopped him.  But it was hard – I wanted him so badly!”  She sighed.

“That is really sick, you know that?” said Janet.

Rachel looked almost ready to burst into tears.  “I know!” she wailed.  “But I don’t know what to do – it’s getting worse!”

“It’s not her fault, Janet,” said Karen.  “Anyway, what about you?”

Janet rolled her eyes.  “Well, I find I’m having to masturbate roughly every hour.  It’s making me quite sore, actually – but otherwise I just get so horny I can’t think straight.  My panties seem to rub against my clit every time I move – I think I’m going to have to dispense with them tomorrow.”

“Right, so we’re all very much in need of Michael’s speedy recovery,” said Karen.  “In the meantime, we’re just going to have to deal with our problems.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Rachel, rather glumly.

 

On Thursday, Karen let out her home-made bra to allow for her new growth.  At work, she was pretty much alone in the office – Janet was visiting a customer and Rachel was at a conference in another building.  Karen was kept busy answering phones, and fortunately those on the other end of the line were unable to see her huge chest, about which she was beginning to get a little self-conscious.

On Friday she was not so fortunate.  She had no idea what cup size she was now, but her breasts seemed enormous.  Her bust measurement seemed to be increasing at a rate of about two inches a day, and she was sure the rate was increasing.  At a guess she reckoned she was now a 32J.  She donned a black top, hoping the colour would make her chest look smaller, but her breasts still strained against the material to a degree that looked rather obscene.

Her nipples were an inch and a half long now.  She had to bend them to one side in order to put her ‘bra’ on.  Fortunately they were not too obvious through the two layers of material.  However, as she walked they rubbed against her clothing and caused her to become aroused.  This was not so bad in itself, but she could feel her vagina lubricating itself and by the time she left the house her panties were quite wet.

When she got to the office, she remembered that she had a meeting today – selected individuals from each department were holding a communications forum, and she had put her name forward to represent her own office.  She was beginning to regret that decision, but there was no getting out of it now.

At eleven o’clock she walked into the conference room in the main administration building.  Many of the attendees were already there, and collectively they gaped as she entered.  Nobody said anything, however, and having registered their astonishment they all proceeded to pretend they had not noticed a thing.

After half an hour the meeting was going rather well.  Karen discovered her newly-found confidence had survived after all, and she was beginning to enjoy causing other forum members to become flustered as they tried not to stare at her chest.  This boosted her confidence further, and soon she was practically chairing the discussion.  This, she felt, was why she had wanted large breasts.

But then things began to go wrong.  Her nipples began to dribble milk, and she could feel her makeshift bra becoming damp.  She knew it was only a matter of time before wet patches began to appear on her black top.  Hastily she made an excuse, grabbed her bag and left the room, scurrying for the toilet.  Once she was locked inside a stall, she pulled off her top and removed her ‘bra’.  Her nipples were still oozing milk, and they did not look as if they were about to stop anytime soon.

Sighing with frustration, she grasped her left nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and began to ‘milk’ it like a cow’s teat.  Immediately a wave of pleasure swept through her body, and she shivered.  Almost without thinking, she took hold of her other nipple at the same time and began to milk them both.  The delightful sensations this brought her made her moan out loud.  She began to pull on them more quickly, and her pleasure heightened.  After a couple of minutes of this, her body was wracked with a powerful orgasm that made her feel weak at the knees.  Milk spurted from her nipples and spattered the walls of the stall.  She continued to milk herself while the white fluid spurted rhythmically from her breasts, until finally the flow slowed and eventually stopped.

She quickly pulled out several sheets of toilet paper and mopped up the spilled milk.  Then she put her top back on, without the wet bra which she scrunched up and put in her bag.  Her nipples were now in evidence as two rather unusual-looking bulges in her black top, but the top was tight enough for them to be bent over and not too obvious.

Picking up her bag, she unlocked the door and stepped out of the stall.  Immediately she became aware of another problem – her panties were soaked.  Apparently she had discharged an unusual amount of vaginal fluid when she climaxed.  Returning to the stall, she lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties.  She sighed as she saw that her panties were literally dripping wet.

She took off the soaked panties, wrung them out as well as she could, and put them in her bag.  Then she wiped her pussy dry and, without any underwear at all, she left the toilet and returned to the meeting.

“Sorry about that,” she said with a brief smile.  Nobody asked her what was wrong.

 

Back in her own office, she asked Rachel how things were going.  The poor girl looked thoroughly ashamed of herself.

“I finally succumbed,” she admitted.  “I did it with all three of them.  And Roy caught me at it – dirty bugger, he watched me for five minutes before I realised he was there.  Seems he enjoyed the view.”  She sighed.  “You know, you may think I’m disgusting and you’re probably right.  But you know what?  It’s my own private life, and I don’t see that I’m responsible for my actions here.”

“Take it easy,” said Karen.  “I’m not judging you.  I’m just sorry I got you into this mess in the first place.”

Rachel shrugged.  “It’s not your fault.  Anyway, at least I’m not scared of dogs any more.”

Later on, Karen had the opportunity to talk to Janet, between the woman’s many trips to the bathroom.

“It’s getting out of control,” admitted Janet.  “I had to give up wearing panties – every time they rubbed against my pussy I practically had an orgasm.  Trousers are out, and shorts – I can only wear skirts and dresses, but even that’s awkward, since I keep getting wet and dribbling down my thigh.  I think I’d better take next week off while you try to get Michael woken up.”

“Wait,” said Karen quickly.  “I was going to take next week off – think what my breasts will be like by next Friday!”

“Actually,” said Rachel, “I was hoping to take next week off so I could spend more time with the dogs.”

Janet and Karen stared at her.

“All right so it’s not a great reason,” said Rachel defensively, “but I do find it hard to concentrate here these days.”

“Shall we toss a coin?” Janet asked Karen.

“Look, I think I have the better case here,” objected Karen.

“We’ll let the coin decide, shall we?”

Karen sighed.  “Oh very well.  I call tails.”

Janet pulled a fifty-pence piece out of her purse and flipped it.  Catching it on the back of her hand, she revealed its upturned face – it was heads.

“Oh shit,” muttered Karen.

 

On Saturday she went shopping for new clothes, and also music to play to Michael in his coma.  From vague recollections of bands he had mentioned, she bought Metallica’s ‘Master of Puppets’ album and Megadeth’s ‘Rust in Peace’.  As she walked through the record store, she suddenly realised she was walking differently from usual – she was having to lean backwards slightly in order to counterbalance her heavy chest.

“That’s thirty pounds and forty-eight pence,” said the young man behind the counter, trying not to be too obvious about staring at her breasts.

Karen took out her purse and handed him a card.  He took it and began processing the transaction.  It was then that she started to feel a familiar dampness around her nipples.  She fidgeted nervously, hoping the man would finish soon, but by the time he passed her card back to her, a growing wet patch was clearly visible over each nipple.  She leaned her breasts on the counter and placed her arm nonchalantly in front of them, concealing the wet spots.  As soon as he had given her the CDs in a bag with her receipt, she scurried out of the shop.  She noticed she was attracting a great many stares and pointing fingers, but tried to ignore them as she made her way back to her car.

Back at her house, she called the hospital and asked about Michael.  To her delight she was told that his brain had returned to its normal size and his blood pressure was within acceptable limits.  She drove straight to the hospital and sat with him for a couple of hours, playing him heavy metal music on her own Sony Discman.  By the time she was asked to leave, he had shown no signs of life, but the nurse advised her to keep trying and not to lose hope.

That night in bed,, half asleep, she masturbated again while playing with her nipples, which were now almost two inches long.  When she reached her orgasm, her nipples spurted milk again as expected, but she was rather alarmed to discover it was thicker and creamier than it had been before.  There was also a lot more of it – it flowed over her breasts and collected in a pool on her belly.  Idly, she scooped up handfuls of the liquid and rubbed it into her breasts.  Meanwhile, vaginal fluid was pouring out between her legs and soaking the bed sheet.  She couldn’t be bothered to clean it up and so fell asleep in the middle of the pool of juices.

 

The following day, she stayed at home for most of the day, but went out late in the afternoon to go and see Michael.  She continued to play him music, but without success.

On Monday she measured herself thoroughly.  Her bust size was now fifty-three inches – she was not sure what that made her.  A NN perhaps.  Her two-and-a-half inch nipples were oozing creamy milk almost continuously now, though mercifully in small quantities.  She placed several thicknesses of wadded-up tissues over her nipples before tying a new home-made bra around her chest (the old one was no longer large enough).  Then she put on one of Saturday’s purchases – a nice black top designed for ‘large women’, which looked a little silly on her but better once she tucked it into the waistband of her trousers.  Of course, this emphasised how incredibly disproportionate her breasts were, but there was little she could do about that.

At work she tried to keep a low profile.  Janet was off, so there was plenty of work for her to do in the office, and when post had to be delivered, Rachel took it.  She had had an interesting weekend, it turned out.

“Roy took me round to a friend of his,” she said, “who breeds guard dogs.  On Saturday morning they just stuck me in the kennels with about eight Alsatians and three Dobermans, and left me there.”

Karen’s eyes were wide.  “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.  “How could he?  You poor thing!”

“Oh, I didn’t mind – I was in my element.  By nightfall I had lost track of how many times I’d been screwed by the dogs, but I can tell you I was completely knackered.”  She sighed.  “On Sunday I begged Roy to take me back there, but he wouldn’t.  Instead he had me doing his own dogs over and over again, and he took pictures and video of it all.

Karen gasped.  “He didn’t!  What’s he going to do with it – put it on the internet?”

Rachel looked shocked.  “Crumbs!” she said.  “No!  I hope not!”

“Oh – just for his own enjoyment in private, then?”

“Well, yes!” Rachel asserted, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

“Excuse me,” said Karen.  “I have to go to the bathroom.”  She could feel that her tissues were all soaked through now and needed replacing.

When she got to the bathroom and took off her top and home-made bra, she was perturbed to discover that her milk was the consistency of double cream and was slightly yellowish in colour.  She dumped the soaked tissues in the toilet and from the dispenser pulled out some fresh ones, which she wadded up and placed against her nipples before replacing her bra.  Pulling her top back on, she flushed the toilet and returned to her desk.

Three times she had to repeat this performance, and on the final occasion she had to remove her panties as well.  To her disgust, her vagina had been oozing a viscous, cream-coloured fluid not unlike the stuff that was coming out of her breasts, and her panties were soaked with it.

Just before five o’clock, more of this stuff was beginning to ooze from her cunt, so she fetched her panties from her bag and put them on while still at her desk.  Rachel noticed her doing this, but pretended not to.  A few minutes later, both of them switched off their machines and got up to leave.

“You going to see Michael tonight?” asked Rachel.

Karen nodded.  “Keep your fingers crossed for me, okay?”

“I will,” Rachel promised.

“How about you?” inquired Karen.  “You going to be screwing your boyfriend’s dogs again?”

“Oh gosh I hope so,” said Rachel.  “I’ve been dying for it all day – I just can’t wait to get back and get mounted.”

Karen shuddered.  “Well, as long as you’re happy,” she said.  She bade her colleague goodbye, and left the office.

 

The following morning, Karen’s nipples were almost three inches long and an inch in width.  She could wrap her fist around each one and ‘wank’ it, which felt wonderful.  While still lying naked in bed, she masturbated each nipple in this manner until she came.  As her orgasm hit, a torrent of yellow, custard-like liquid poured out of each nipple and cascaded down the sides of her huge breasts.  Her vagina similarly ejected copious quantities of a slightly paler, slightly runnier fluid, which she rubbed all over her pussy, her thighs and her abdomen.  The stuff coming out of her breasts kept pouring out until she was lying in a pool of yellow goo.  Eventually, once the post-orgasmic glow had worn off, she got up and showered.

Work was difficult.  Rachel called in sick, and Karen found herself very busy covering for her and for Janet as well as doing her own job.  It did not help that her nipples kept oozing ‘custard’, or that a steady trickle of cream kept building up in her panties.

Somehow she made it through the day, and in the evening she went to see Michael again.  Once more she played music to him, but he failed to respond.  Rather dejectedly, she returned home.

That evening as she sat on the toilet to pee, she was surprised to find that it both felt and sounded different.  Looking down into the bowl, she was surprised to see that her urine had, like her milk and her vaginal fluid, thickened to a creamy texture.  She sighed – it was alarming perhaps but not entirely unexpected.

 

The next day was Wednesday, and it brought a new problem.  As soon as she awoke she could feel that she was lying in a pool of something wet, and it turned out to be her vaginal fluid.  A steady flow of yellowish goo was running from her cunt, and it did not abate even after she masturbated to orgasm.  After another shower, she got dressed in front of the mirror and sighed when she viewed the result.  She looked like a freak, she thought to herself.  Her top looked like it had a couple of highly-inflated balloons underneath it.  A quick measurement told her that her bust now measured sixty-one inches.

She looked up the phone number of Paul, her boss, and called him at home.

“Hello?”

“Hi Paul, it’s Karen.  Listen, I don’t think I can come in today – I’m having some major problems…”

“But we need you today, Karen – Janet’s on holiday and Rachel called last night to tell me she was still sick.  I can’t afford to have someone else off right now.”

“I’m sorry about that, Paul, but…”

“Are you bed-ridden?”

“No, but…”

“Then I’ll expect you at the office at nine.  Cheerio.”

There was a click as Paul put his phone down.  Karen swore and slammed her own handset down.  She put on her makeshift bra with several pieces of tissue paper inside to soak up her nipple discharges, and she put more paper inside her panties to soak up the fluids oozing from her vagina.  Then she put on the rest of her clothes and went downstairs to have breakfast.

Work was rather traumatic.  She had lots to do and did plenty of running around, which seemed to increase the flow of fluids from both her nipples and her vagina.  Within half an hour she was beginning to drip on the carpet.  She retreated to the bathroom and changed all her tissues for fresh ones, then went back out into the fray.

Within another hour, she was compelled to return to the bathroom.  This time she used up nearly all the toilet paper that was there.  By midday, there was nothing left, and she had to go back to her desk with no tissues in her underwear, knowing full well that she was going to be filling them with her discharges.

Every fifteen minutes thereafter, she had to hurry back to the toilet to empty out and wipe both her ‘bra’ and her panties.  It was exhausting and as the afternoon wore on she grew less and less conscientious about keeping clean as her outer clothes gradually grew messier and messier.  Eventually the sensation of her slimy nipples sliding against the inside of her top began to arouse her, and she started to feel a growing sense of discomfort in her nipples which soon turned into outright pain.  Her nipples were getting hard and trying to erect themselves, but her top was holding them in place.

Since she was alone in the office, she quickly pulled up her top in order to relieve the discomfort.  Her nipples sprang to attention, still dribbling thick yellow fluid and protruding almost three and a half inches from her breasts.  She waited a couple of minutes, but they showed no signs of softening.  Sighing with annoyance, she returned to the toilet for the umpteenth time and wanked her nipples until they gushed fluid into the toilet.  Her vagina was also gushing, but she could not sit on the toilet and still aim her nipples into the bowl, so she simply allowed her panties to fill up and overflow, the thick gunge running down her legs and collecting in a pool on the floor.  Once the various flows had slowed down considerably (they never quite stopped) she cleaned up as well as she could and returned to her desk.

At half-past three Gina, who had just returned from a three-day event in Scotland, walked in.  She took one look at Karen and gasped.  “My goodness!” she exclaimed.  “Karen, what on Earth happened to you?”

Karen sighed.  “My magician friend is in a coma,” she explained.  “I keep growing and growing and now I’m leaking all sorts of fluids.”

“I can see that!”  Gina had noticed the damp, yellow patches on the front of Karen’s top.  “I want you to go home right now and see your GP tomorrow.  You can’t allow yourself to just keep growing forever, you know!”

“I know.  But I’ve been trying to wake up Michael and he’s just not responding.”

“He could never respond, did you think about that?” Gina inquired.  “Go on – get yourself home.  Where’s Rachel?”

“She called in sick.  And Janet’s on holiday,” said Karen.  “I tried to call in sick this morning, but Paul wouldn’t let me stay home.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Gina grimly.  “I’ll get either Rachel or Janet in to cover you – don’t worry.  Just go on home.”

“Thanks,” said Karen gratefully, and she picked up her things and left.

She made a bit of a mess of the car seat on the way home, but when she got into her house she stepped into her shower with a sense of great relief.  Later, she called her GP’s surgery and booked an appointment for the following morning.

That night she changed her bed sheet and washed the dirty one.  She knew the clean one would be filthy by morning, but there was not a lot she could do to prevent that.  She climbed into bed and fell into a troubled sleep.

 

By morning she was lying in a pool of yellow, congealing fluids.  Her naked body was covered in caked goo, and some of the still-liquid stuff was rather lumpy.  She sighed and got up to take a shower.

After breakfast she got in the car and headed to the doctor’s surgery.  Fifteen minutes in the waiting room was enough to ensure that her carefully placed tissues were all soaked, but fortunately no wet patches had yet appeared on her top by the time she was called in.

“Good morning, Miss Montague,” said Dr Wishart, her GP.  “Um…”  He stared at her for a moment in puzzlement, then consulted his notes.  “Have you had some surgery that I was unaware of?” he asked.

Karen decided not to mention the magic spell.  She had a feeling it might not go down very well.  “My breasts just started growing by themselves,” she said.  “I don’t know why.  They keep leaking, too.  And I’m having some funny discharges from down below, too.”

“Really?  That doesn’t sound good.”  He frowned.  “Perhaps you could take off your top and I’ll have a look at what’s going on.”

Karen pulled off her top to reveal her enormous breasts, held in place by her modified bed sheet.  Dr Wishart’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.  “My goodness,” he said.  “And what size were you before they started growing like this?”

“A 32AA was large on me,” said Karen.

“32AA?  Good grief!”  He peered more closely.  “Are those your nipples?”

Karen sighed.  “Yes.”

“And what is that stuff?” he inquired.  Then he straightened up.  “This is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.  “I want you to go to a consultant at the hospital – Dr Barrington.  He’ll be able to help you more than I can.”  He began to make out a form.  “Sometime next week you should receive a letter from the hospital giving you an appointment date and time.”

“Woah, hold on,” said Karen.  “I’m growing bigger and bigger each day.  It’s only taken me two weeks to get this big – can you imagine what I’ll look like by the time my appointment date arrives?”

“Ah, I see your point.”  The doctor’s brow furrowed.  “I’ll tell you what – go to the hospital this afternoon and ask for him.  I’ll pull some strings – I’m sure he’ll see you once I’ve explained to him just how unique your case is.”

“Thank you doctor,” said Karen gratefully.  She put her top back on, then left the surgery and returned home.

That afternoon she went to the hospital – not the same one that Michael was in, unfortunately.  But to her dismay, Dr Barrington was not there.  He had taken a two-week holiday and was not expected back until the following Monday.  However, it seemed she was expected – the receptionist told her that an emergency appointment had been made for her at ten o’clock on Monday morning.

Karen slumped off dejectedly with her appointment card.  She supposed it would have to do, but she dreaded to think what she would look like on Monday.  Maybe she would be able to wake Michael up this weekend.

Her nipples were hurting badly by the time she got home, so she stripped off and climbed into the bath in order to masturbate.  As she climaxed, she could not help noticing that the stuff coming out of her breasts was both darker and thicker than before – it was a deep orange-yellow and had a lumpy consistency rather like porridge.  Her body seemed to be generating more and more fluid with each orgasm she had – by the time she collapsed in a post-orgasmic glow, she was sitting in an inch of gunge.

Once she had cleaned up, she got dressed and left the house in order to go and see Michael.  He was still comatose when she arrived, and no amount of music seemed to make any difference.  She began to despair.  She was about to leave when suddenly her body betrayed her.  Without warning she started to pee, and she found that she could not control her sphincter in order to stop herself.  She hurried to the nearest toilet while her panties filled up with creamy fluid.

After a semi-thorough clean-up, she returned home.  A message was awaiting her on her answering machine, and she pressed the PLAY button.

“Hello, Karen?  It’s Gina.  Listen, we’ve got an audit tomorrow and I’ll be required to tour the site with the auditors.  I can’t get hold of Janet, and Rachel (who incidentally was in today) point blank refused to come in again tomorrow, even when I hinted that her job might be at stake if she did not show up.  So I’m desperate – I’m hoping you’ll be able to come in, even if it’s just for a few hours until the auditors have left.  Um, give me a call when you get in, please.  Bye.”

Karen whined unhappily to herself, but picked up the phone.  She dialled Gina’s number.

“Good afternoon, Gina Howard here, can I help you?”

“Hi Gina,” said Karen.  “It’s Karen.”

“Oh thank God!  You got my message?”

“Yes, I got it.  Don’t worry about tomorrow – I’ll be in.”

“Oh thank you so much!  You’re a lifesaver, you really are.”

“Yeah, well I don’t know how I’m going to cope, but I can’t leave you in the lurch.”

“Well I really appreciate it.  Did you get to see the doctor?”

“Yeah, but nothing’s going to happen until next Monday.”

“Oh my … that’s awful.  Will you be okay until then?”

“I guess I don’t have a choice.  Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay – bye then.”

 

On Friday her breasts were so huge that she found it difficult to get behind the wheel of her car.  She had to move the seat back a couple of inches in order that she could sit comfortably, but this meant she had to slouch in her seat just so that she could reach the pedals properly.

Her nipples were now four and a half inches long and almost an inch and a half wide.  The stuff coming out of them was a dark, muddy orange colour, almost brown, and was so lumpy it resembled poo, though it did not smell like faecal matter.  Her vaginal discharges were a similar consistency, though a little paler in colour.  Her panties were lined with several thicknesses of tissue paper, and her breasts were wrapped in the same stuff, all bound up with a new piece of bed sheet.  Fortunately her discharged fluids did not soak her clothes nearly as fast as they had done in previous days, but they were certainly plentiful in quantity.  Karen knew she would have to go to the bathroom every fifteen to twenty minutes in order to empty out her underwear.  She had brought with her two full boxes of tissues, and hoped it would be enough.

On the way to work her nipples became aroused and tried to erect themselves, which caused her a great deal of discomfort.  It was with immense relief that she finally reached her office and could disappear into the bathroom in order to masturbate her nipples.  Stripping naked and kneeling in front of the toilet, she wanked them until, with a climax that made her moan out loud, she spurted thick brown sludge from her nipples which plopped into the toilet bowl like twin streams of soft poo.  Meanwhile more brown gunge was pouring out of her cunt, and it built up quite a pile between her legs which she then had to scoop up in her hands and deposit in the toilet.

Once she had cleaned up, she got dressed again and went back out into the office, even as she felt more sludge oozing out of her vagina and nipples.  As she sat down and the muck squished against her pussy, she sighed to herself – this was going to be a tough day.

By lunchtime, she had got into a pattern of interspersing her work with regular trips to the bathroom.  At twelve-thirty, however, this pattern was suddenly thrown into disarray.  Her boss, Paul, came bursting in with a worried look on his face.

“Where’s Gina?” he asked.  Then, “My God!  Karen!  What on Earth…?”

“Just … don’t ask,” said Karen.

“But … you look…”

“Paul, I’m working on it, okay?  I know my appearance is far from satisfactory, but there’s really nothing I can do about it right now.”

“But…”

“Can we just drop it?  What did you want Gina for?  She popped out about ten minutes ago – she said she’d be back in an hour.”

“That’s no good – I need someone to take the Marriott files to Craig Bishop, and explain them to him.  It’s urgent – he has a plane to catch in an hour or so and he needs the information before he goes.”

“Can’t you go and see him?” inquired Karen.

“Unfortunately not – I’m entertaining the Dutch people at the moment and they represent big business.  I can’t afford to run off and leave them.  Please Karen, I need you to take the files to Craig.”

“But look at me!” wailed Karen, getting rather distraught.  “I can’t go up to the main office like this!”

“I’m sorry – there’s no alternative.  Anyway I have to go.  Thanks Karen.  Bye!”

“But I…” began Karen, but it was too late.  Paul was gone.  “Jeez!” she exclaimed.

Fortunately she had only just been to the toilet, so she was reasonably fresh.  She fetched the Marriott files from the filing cabinet, put her phone on ‘send’, and hurried out of the office.  As she trotted over to the main office, her breasts bounced rhythmically and she felt her nipples squishing into the sludge that was building up inside her ‘bra’.  She whimpered unhappily as they tried to erect themselves, but forced herself to think of something non-erotic in the hope that they would go flaccid again.

Knocking on the door of Craig’s office, she entered when he answered.

“Ah hello Karen,” he began, then, “What the…?”

“Just … don’t even say anything!” warned Karen.  “I have the Marriott files here – now do you want me to explain them to you or are you going to continue gawping at my chest?”

“Um, sorry – explain away,” said Craig.

She began to do so, but the increasing pain in her nipples made it rather difficult to concentrate.  She eventually had to resort to pulling her top away from her body at the front, and her ‘bra’ with it.  She tried to do this as subtly as possible, but when her nipples sprang to attention and remained sticking straight forwards, pushing out the material of her top in two very prominent points, she could hardly have looked less unobtrusive.

Craig pretended not to notice, though his eyes kept straying to Karen’s chest.  Eventually, he stopped her.  “Listen,” he said.  “I have to go to the car park now, or I’ll be late.  Will you walk with me and explain as we go?”

“Um, I suppose so,” said Karen rather glumly.  She did not relish the thought of leaving the privacy of Craig’s office with her chest in such an eye-catching state, but she figured she did not have much choice.  She could hardly ask Craig if she could masturbate in here before they left.

She followed him out, holding the files in front of her breasts (practically at arm’s length, in other words), hoping she did not look too freakish.  Judging by the looks she was getting, she was not succeeding.  As they made their way down the corridor, they ran into a group of the company’s high-flying executives that Karen often heard about and hardly ever saw.  Her heart sank as one of them waylaid Craig and began talking to him.  She shifted her stance and the files rubbed slightly against her nipples.

Then her heart practically dropped into her boots as an unexpected orgasm shook her body.  Within her top she could feel thick gloop surging out of her nipples, but what really frightened her was the deluge of poo-like gunge that began gushing out of her vagina.  Her panties quickly filled to capacity and started to overflow.  As the first lump splatted on to the carpet, she found herself frozen like a rabbit in the headlights, living a waking nightmare that, she felt, could not possibly get any worse.

But she was wrong.  Her body had not finished betraying her.  Without warning, a huge contraction within her intestines forced the entire contents of her colon out through her anus and into her panties.  She screamed as the column of poo thundered out from between her buttocks and caused her panties to rapidly descend her thighs.  Her hand shot between her legs, catching the front of her panties, and she frantically tried to pull them back up again.  In doing so she inadvertently dragged the hem of her skirt upwards, too, so that for a brief instant the executives, who were all by now staring at her in astonishment, were treated to a glimpse of her messy pussy.

It was all too much for Karen.  Still clutching at her overloaded panties, she ran down the corridor and out of the building, flinging poo and other brown lumpy substances every which way as she went.  She did not stop until she reached the car park at which point, having thrown all decorum to the wind, she stopped to empty out her panties before getting into her car.

When she got home, she got into the shower and began to wash the various mushy excretions off her body.  She was still shaking, but by now she was thinking clearly enough to realise that she had produced far more poo back in the main admin building than she could possibly have held in her bowels.  The rapid generation of such substances was obviously another side-effect of the spells that Michael had cast on her.

Getting out of the shower, she walked through to her bedroom and lay down on her bed.  Worn out from her ordeal, she closed her eyes and within a few minutes was fast asleep.  When she next awoke it was early evening.  She sat up and stared down at the piles of brown sludge that had built up on her breasts and belly, and between her legs.  She wiped herself off, then got dressed with grim determination.  She was going back to the hospital, and this time she just had to wake Michael up.  She would stay there, she decided, until he was conscious again.

She masturbated her nipples just before she left, making quite a mess of the bathroom, but she did not want to waste time in cleaning it up, so she simply threw on her clothes, left the house, and drove to the hospital.  There she had, for the first time in ages, a pleasant surprise.  Michael was out of his coma.

“He’s sleeping now,” the nurse told her, “but he’s been awake and talking.”
“I really need to speak to him,” said Karen.  “It’s terribly urgent.”

The nurse nodded.  “I guess you can go in.  Try not to be too long though.”

Karen entered Michael’s room and sat down by his bed, not heeding the gunge that squished into her pussy as she did so.  Her panties by now were full again, but she did not care.

“Michael, wake up – it’s me: Karen.”

Michael stirred and opened his eyes.  He blinked a couple of times, then focused on her.  “Karen!” he whispered.  “Oh my God – I’m so sorry!  Go and fetch my house keys – they should be in the pocket of my jeans.  The alarm is in the cupboard under the stairs – you’ll need to switch it off within twenty seconds of opening the front door.  The combination is 70679 – can you remember that?”

Karen was writing it on her hand.  “Got it,” she said.  She found Michael’s jeans and retrieved his keys.

“Get the book – it’s in the living room I think.  Bring it back here, with a bottle of sugar solution – two tablespoons of sugar dissolved in a pint of water will be fine.  Oh, and a felt tip pen or a crayon.  Something that will write on linoleum.”

“Okay,” said Karen, nodding.  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

But as she left Michael’s room, she ran into one of the nurses.

“Everything okay?” asked the nurse.

“Yes, I just have to go home and fetch something for Michael.  I’ll be back in about three quarters of an hour.”

The nurse looked at her watch.  “Sorry,” she said, “visiting time finishes in ten minutes.  You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Karen whined.  Then she sighed.  “Whatever,” she said.  “I’ll be back tomorrow then.”  She marched out of the hospital, got into her car, and returned home, managing to avoid having another orgasm on the way but nevertheless making quite a mess of her seat.  Using Michael’s keys she gained entrance to his house and switched off the bleeping alarm using the code he had given her.  She found his book of spells without difficulty, then she reset the alarm and left.

Back in her own house, she cleaned herself up and took an early night.

 

Her alarm clock woke her up.  She found she was covered in what looked like shit, though it did not smell like it.  Her nipples and her vagina were still oozing, though at a slightly faster rate than yesterday.  Her nipples, now fully five inches long, were standing erect, so she masturbated them until she climaxed and her nipples poured out torrents of brown sludge over her belly and pussy.  Similar stuff was extruding rapidly from her cunt, but strangely she did not find this phenomenon repugnant.  Picking up handfuls of the disgusting gunge, she massaged it into her breasts and continued to play with her clitoris.  It was not long before her body was shaking in another powerful orgasm, and this time she yelped as her bowels suddenly ejected eighteen or twenty inches of faecal matter on to her bed.  But since she was alone in her own home, she paid it no mind.

Exhausted, she lay back in the mass of her own filth, slowing massaging her pussy as she climbed down from her sexual high.  Eventually she pulled herself together and got up to have a shower, but not before her nipples had already started to erect themselves again…

After her shower she measured her breasts once more.  Her bust size was seventy-four inches – on such a petite body her breasts looked decidedly unnatural.  She trotted downstairs to put the kettle on, and poured two tablespoons of sugar into a pan.  Once the water had boiled, she poured a pint into the pan and stirred until the sugar was completely dissolved.  Leaving it to cool, she climbed the stairs again to get dressed.

 

Twenty minutes later, she was on her way back to the hospital.  Her nipples were erect again and were causing her some distress, but at least her manifold discharges were not likely to overflow – she had stuffed a great many tissues inside her ‘bra’, and more inside her panties.

But her nipples seemed more sensitive than ever, and after only ten minutes she was shuddering under the influence of a powerful orgasm.  Instantly her panties filled up and began to overflow, and her bra too quickly overloaded so that she could feel the sludge sliding down the inside of her top, over her belly and down over the outside of her skirt.

She forced herself to concentrate on the road, to ignore both the orgasm and the semi-liquid muck that was building up between her legs and covering her front.  This was, however, a mistake.  The road was a little uneven, and each bounce caused her nipples to rub against the slimy inside of her top.  They rapidly erected themselves again, or tried to, which hurt a great deal.  Tears came to her eyes, and then on an impulse she pulled her top up to her neck, exposing her makeshift bra.  But the bra, too, was holding her nipples flat against her breasts, and she tugged it downwards until her breasts were bouncing free.  Her nipples sprang forward, fully erect, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

She turned left at the next traffic lights, which took her up the slip-road on to the motorway.  It was only a ten minute drive to the hospital from here – the motorway provided a nice quick short-cut.

But as she turned the wheel her protruding nipple brushed against the steering wheel, and her body shook in another knee-trembling orgasm.  Brown gunge gushed out of both nipples, deluging the dashboard and even splattering up on to the windscreen.  At that moment her bowels suddenly contracted again, and the force with which she now defecated caused her bottom to rise off her seat for a moment.  A torrent of poo thundered out of her anus, splurging out of the sides of her panties and escaping down the channel formed by her thighs.  Her vagina, too, was gushing a thick, diarrhoea-like substance, and together with her poo it began to form a sludgy pile on the floor in front of her seat.

It was all too much – she could not drive under these conditions.  She flipped on her hazard lights and pulled over on to the hard shoulder.  Once she had stopped, she gave herself up completely to her ongoing orgasm, rubbing her clitoris furiously with one had and masturbating her left nipple with the other.  She knew deep down that she was in trouble, but she felt so horny and so stimulated that nothing else seemed to matter.  She moaned and cried out loudly, with no thought about the consequences of being found in this condition.  The sludge spurting out of her nipple shot wild, splattering against the windscreen and obscuring her view of the way forward.  Meanwhile, her bladder had decided to get in on the act and was producing huge quantities of a yellow creamy substance that squirted out of her urethra at high velocity.

A column of soft poo was still thundering out of her anus.  She lifted her bottom off the seat and pulled her panties down, though they were practically in tatters by this point.  Though incredibly over-stimulated, it did occur to her that she ought to be terribly alarmed that the flow of poo had not abated.  Her seat was covered, and brown muck was pouring over the front of it like a waterfall.  The floor was inches deep in the stuff, and still her orgasm continued.

Leaving her clitoris alone for a moment, Karen began wanking both of her nipples, shooting brown sludge over the dashboard until none of the displays was visible.  Her orgasm grew if anything more intense – she was screaming in ecstasy and in a frenzy she tore off her home-made bra and pulled her top up over her head.  Then she fumbled to unzip her skirt, but when the zipper got stuck she simply yanked at it.  The skirt ripped apart without hesitation.  She pulled the garment out from underneath her and dumped it on the passenger seat with her ‘bra’ and top.

A wave of nausea suddenly hit her like a hammer, and she felt her stomach cartwheel.  Its contents surged up her throat and a deluge of vomit poured out over her breasts, flowing down over her nipples and dripping down on to her thighs.  Surprisingly this did little to diminish her arousal, and she pulled the lever to recline her seat.  Lying back, she proceeded to smear her vomit all over her huge breasts before returning to tugging on her nipples.

Her orgasm had lasted for almost ten minutes now and showed no signs of stopping.  In fact, as she continued to masturbate in delirious fury, her continuing climax steadily intensified, as if she were building up to something.  But to what?

Then it hit – a tidal wave of pleasure that surged through her body and made her scream at the top of her lungs.  Sludge and poo streamed from her nipples, her vagina, her urethra and her anus, and the stuff firing out of her nipples now plastered the ceiling and proceeded to rain down upon her.  Her face became covered, and her hair, and through the entire car the level of shit and sludge was now so high that it was creeping across even the back seats.  Karen herself was sitting in two inches’ depth, and her knees were only just poking above the surface.

The super-orgasm continued, and Karen’s eyes rolled around in their sockets as her brain struggled to deal with this unprecedented barrage of pleasure signals coming from every erogenous zone Karen possessed.  Several times she almost fainted, but she could not bear to let go of consciousness just yet.

Desperate to have something inside her, she slid her bottom off the edge of the seat and sought the round, bulbous head of the gear lever, which was by now completely covered with sludge.  She grasped it in one hand and guided it into her cunt, sitting on it hard to drive it deep.  She began to fuck herself upon it, thrusting hard while still wanking one nipple.  And still her anus poured out poo at a phenomenal rate, and her vagina gushed a softer substance, and her nipples vibrated as brown sludge streamed out of them like water out of a garden hose.

Her super-orgasm subsided, and the rates of flow from each orifice slackened off slightly, until she was merely having a standard, though unimaginably lengthy, orgasm.  She climbed off the gear lever and lay back down in the driver’s seat, continuing to masturbate her nipples even though they were getting a little sore.  The level of sludge in the car was now up to the top of the dashboard and coming up to the same level as her chin.  But still Karen could not bring herself to stop masturbating or to start worrying about what on Earth she was going to do about her predicament.  Nothing mattered except her continuing ecstasy.

Until she heard a knock on the window.  With a jolt she was brought sharply back to reality.  Her body trembled in the last throes of her orgasm and then relaxed, exhausted beyond measure.  Her poo stopped flowing and the deluge from her nipples and vagina slowed to a trickle.  She felt weak, drained – she could not move.  When a second knock sounded on the sludge-covered window, she reached for the handle to wind down the window but had not the strength to turn it.

And then the door opened, pulled from outside.  Immediately the sludge began to pour out of the car, and Karen, with a shriek, was dragged with it.  Naked, she slipped off the driver’s seat and fell outside, landing in a messy heap at the feet of a very startled policeman.

“Good God!  You’re…  I mean, are you all right, miss?” he inquired.  “What’s happened here?”

“My body is totally fucked up,” Karen slurred.

“What?  I can’t hear you above the traffic noise – you’ll have to speak up.”

“I said my body is totally fucked up!” repeated Karen in as loud a voice as she could muster.

“I can see…  I don’t understand – what is all this stuff?  And why is your car full of it?”

Karen shook her head and sighed.  There was no way she was going to be able to explain this to his satisfaction.  “Listen,” she said, “do you have a blanket or something?  Can I explain in your car?”

“Um, sure.”  The policeman fetched a blanket from the boot of his car while Karen rather shakily got to her feet.  She was acutely aware that she was standing naked at the side of a busy motorway, but she was beyond caring.

The policeman draped the blanket around her shoulders and helped her into his car.  Then he got in himself.  “Okay, would you mind telling me what’s going on?” he asked.

“I’ll try, but I doubt you’ll believe me.  Could you drive me to St Edmond’s hospital please?  Only one person can help me and that’s where he is.  Please – it’s really important.”

“Help you with what?”

Karen sighed.  “Well, for a start you may have noticed I have the largest breasts you’ve ever seen.”

“I had noticed,” admitted the policeman.

“Well, only three weeks ago I was completely flat-chested.  I’ve been growing steadily since then and the only man who can stop me growing has been in a coma for two weeks.  He’s now out of it, but I have to get to him so he can help me.  I’d go into more detail but you wouldn’t believe it.”

The policeman shook his head.  “Having seen what I’ve seen,” he said, “I’m pretty much prepared to believe anything.  However, I’ll take you to the hospital if that’s what you want.”  He started the car.

“Oh heck!” exclaimed Karen.  “The book!”

“Book?”

“And the bottle – I have to get them.  My friend needs them or he can’t help me!”

“I’ll get them – are they in your car?”

“Yes – on the back seat.  Oh crumbs – I do hope the book isn’t ruined.”  This was a nasty thought and made her begin to panic.  What if the book was now unreadable?

The policeman got out of the car and went over to Karen’s.  Screwing up his face in distaste, he reached into the back and plunged his hand into the pile of sludge to search for the items Karen needed.  He found the book soon enough, but the bottle had fallen on to the floor in front of the back seat and it took him a few minutes to find it, by which time the sleeve of his uniform was soaked up to the elbow.

“Here you go,” he said to Karen on his return, handing her the book and the bottle.

Karen wiped as much sludge from the book as she could, and opened it.  She heaved a sigh of relief – it was slight perfectly intact.  Only the edges of the pages were soggy.

“Right, let’s go,” said Karen.

The policeman nodded, and they set off.

 

By the time they reached the hospital, Karen’s nipples had erected themselves again and she was in the process of spewing more sludge into the back of the police car as her orgasm hit.  The policeman, anxious about his vehicle, got her out as quickly as possible and rushed her into the hospital.  Once inside, he tried to hand her over to a doctor but she insisted he accompany her to Michael’s room.

Michael was astonished to see her condition, but he understood the urgency of the situation and began preparing for the spell.  Karen had forgotten to bring a felt-tip pen, but fortunately the policeman had a fountain pen that would work just as well.  He got Karen to draw a diamond on the linoleum floor of the room, and then he instructed her to pour a small amount of the sugar solution into the middle of the diamond.  When she had used her fingers to wipe the liquid over the entire area within the diamond, she removed her shoes and stood barefoot in the centre.

Michael extended one leg out of his bed and lowered it until his toe was touching the edge of the diamond.  Then he looked at the policeman and said, “Would you mind waiting outside please?”

The policeman did not object, and quietly left the room.  Michael then read out the nullification spell.  It took less than a minute, at the end of which he closed the book.

“And that’s it,” he said.

Karen sank into a chair.  “Oh, thank goodness!” she said.  “So, my breasts have stopped growing now?”

Michael nodded.

“What about the side-effects?” Karen asked.  “You wouldn’t believe the problems I’ve been having…”  She told him all of the horrible things that had been happening to her body.

Michael looked doubtful.  “Well,” he said, “some of them might stop, but I can’t be sure.  Are your nipples leaking at the moment?”

Karen opened her blanket and peered inside.  “Hey, they’ve stopped!” she exclaimed.

Michael smiled.  “Good,” he said.  “I’m glad.  But some of your other problems may linger.  It’s too early to tell.”

“Can you make my breasts smaller?” asked Karen hopefully.  “And my nipples – they look ridiculous.”

Michael thumbed through the book.  “Hmm,” he said.  “I told you it was a one-way trip … but maybe we can try something…  Ooh, yes, here!”

“What?”

“I’ve found a spell ‘to compact an object into a smaller volume’.  We might be able to use it in conjunction with spells 843 and 192.”

“Compact…?  Wouldn’t that have the effect of making my breasts more dense?” inquired Karen.

Michael nodded.  “Well, possibly – but remember spell 843 actually changes the size of an object, so possibly not.”

Karen sighed.  “Well it’s worth a try.  What are the side effects of this one?”

Michael looked carefully at the text.  Then he said, “possible effects could include mutation of the object concerned, cancer if applied to a body part, or spontaneous combustion.”

Karen’s jaw dropped.  “Spontaneous combustion??”

Michael nodded and smiled apologetically.  “Says here,” he said.

Karen shook her head unhappily.  “I guess I’ll just have to get used to my breasts the way they are,” she said.  “At least they won’t grow any more, and at least they’re not leaking.”

“Maybe you could get them, you know, surgically reduced,” suggested Michael.

But Karen shuddered.  “Oh no, I couldn’t,” she said.  “It’s okay – I’ll cope somehow.”  She sighed again, then got up and left the room.

The policeman was still waiting outside.  “Everything okay?” he asked her.

“Not really, but things are better than they were,” she replied.  “Anyway, could you possibly drive me home?”

“Sure,” said the policeman with a kind smile.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully.  “Oh … and we’ll have to stop by my car on the way – I’ve just realised my house keys are in my purse, which is on the floor of the car.”

The policeman nodded, and led her outside.

 

Back at her car, Karen retrieved not only her keys but also the clothes she had discarded.  She wrung out her top by the side of the road and put it on, then tied her ‘bra’ around her hips to act as a skirt, since hers was ruined.  She was just walking back to the police car when she saw that her saviour was talking into his radio.  He looked anxious and upset.  He put the radio down as she reached his car.

“They want me to get my arse over to a crime scene,” he said.  “Right away.  I can’t take you with me, I’m afraid, but I’ll send help or return myself in an hour or so.  Get into your car and lock the doors.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“That’s okay,” said Karen.  “Now that I’m not leaking any more, I’ll just clean out the car as well as I can and drive myself home.  I’ll be all right.”

The policeman frowned.  “Are you sure?”

Karen nodded.  “Thanks for all your help,” she said.

He smiled, then waved and drove off.  Karen returned to her car and began to scoop armfuls of sludge out of the car and on to the road.  Before long she had uncovered the pedals, and decided this would be enough.  She got into the car and closed the door, then turned the key in the ignition.

The car roared into life, and she smiled with relief.  Looking over her shoulder, she accelerated up to fifty and then pulled off the hard shoulder on to the motorway proper.  At the next junction she pulled off the motorway, swung all the way around the roundabout and rejoined the motorway heading in the opposite direction.

Ten minutes later she was pulling into her driveway.  She was relieved to be home again, and couldn’t wait to get inside – her nipples were erect again and aching like mad.  She got out of her car, then turned around to lock the door.  Her slippery hands fumbled the keys, however, and she dropped them.  As she bent to pick them up, her nipples rubbed against the inside of her top, and her loins immediately erupted into yet another mind-blowing orgasm.

Twin torrents of thick brown sludge burst out of her nipples and cascaded down the inside of her top.  A further fountain erupted from her vagina, forming a rapidly growing pile of gunge on the floor between her legs.  Cursing, she stumbled towards the front door of her house, only to find that she had left her purse in the car.  At that moment her anus opened and a long pole of poo came hurtling out of her rectum.  Crying out in frustration, she waddled back towards the car and began rooting around in the pile of sludge for her car keys.  But the pile was growing ever larger, and her questing fingers were unable to locate the keys.

Her enthusiasm for the search, however, was waning.  Slumping to the ground and lying back into the pile of sludge, she pulled off her top and began to masturbate her nipples.  She closed her eyes, spread her legs and savoured the intense sensations her body was experiencing, while the piles of poo and sludge built up around her breasts and pussy.  The question of which side-effects still remained had now been answered, in spectacular fashion.

And Karen found that she did not mind a bit.

THE END
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