"What...the...fuck..." I squeak as I stare down at myself, my voice crackling slightly like it was undergoing puberty once more.
As I slump against the door I feel my chest tug at me, the hefty weights wobbling and shaking along with my heartbeat and breath as well as something more worrying.
The massive mounds sag rather dramatically, resting fairly far down my chest in a heavily drooping teardrop. The thick nipples stand at attention in the frigid open air, the tingling stick of the freezing metal rings through each of them only making my thick eraser-like nipples firmer and more sensitive.
My smaller pectorals, hidden beneath the voluminous fatty sacs bound to my chest, shudders and shakes against my will. It is as though the muscles are trying to escape my body, achingly tugging away from me as they cause the immense mounds to wobble with each movement.
Hidden from view by my overflowing chest I can feel the slit between my legs quiver and twitch with an equal amount of terrified urgency. The sensitive mound shifts constantly, even as I try to snap my legs shut, with thick drool escaping from its lips with each desperate attempt to break free from me as my thighs are soon smeared in my new juices.
"Fuck...Fuck stop..." I huff and wheeze beneath my breath, my voice sounding slightly softer yet still relatively deep, as I squirm on the floor.
At the sound of my voice I feel my breasts begin to shift more aggressively, the fatty tissue inside taking life as they seem to jiggle softly on their own while fighting to lift their own unwieldy weight.
Glancing up my jaw drops, my mind reeling as I notice the strange room I had found myself in.
It was still my apartment, the tiny yet cozy one-bedroom affair with the second smaller room functioning as my home office, however it was decorated far differently.
Everything appeared to either be packed or in the process of being packed. Boxes full of games and books sit by the door, and open boxes of various clothes sitting down by the hallway with various items spilling out.
Sundresses covered in dark and brooding flowers, plaid skirts, floral ruffled blouses, and fishnets hang loosely from the open container in a blend of bright and warm along with dark and gothic clothing.
Much if the furniture remains right where it always had been, though freshly cleaned with the shelves dusted and the couch cushions laundered.
In a pile by the couch, where out clothes had been discarded before the carnal acts, there now sits far fewer items. The black skirt and white rain-sodden button-up shirt appear to have been resized, the blonde in particular appearing to have been tailored professionally to let out more space in the chest. The green apron to remains in the pile, though gone is the florists' logo only to be replaced with the title of Gracie's all-to-familiar coffee shop.
Swallowing hard I wriggle myself forward, a low whimper escaping my lips as I feel my chest and pussy quiver and twitch in a frenzy at my sudden movement. I can feel the black metal rings running through the lips between my legs shift and tug as the new organ fervently tries to move on its own, my face growing flushed as heat rapidly begins to flood my body.
Clambering to my feet I feel the wind get knocked from my lungs, lurching forward and over the arm of the couch as I'm nearly toppled forward by the overwhelming weight of my rebellious chest.
I wheeze as I impact the hard and worn arm of my green sofa, my ribs aching as I bend over the armrest to catch my breath. As my chest hangs down, the voluminous milk bags resting down on the sofa cushion, I feel my skin crawl and ache as the tender flesh struggles with being so suddenly overfilled with flab.
As if responding to the aching I feel the wriggling inside my chest slow to a crawl, the mind behind the muscles and fat contained within seeming to flinch and wince as its movement only causes more pain to settle in.
A subtle drip reaches my ears, the thick globs of pussy juice drooling from my new pussy impacting the wooden floor as the slit between my legs shifts and shudders as it finds its wet self exposed more openly to the icy cold air of the room. As I bend over, revealing the tight little mound nestled between my legs, it seems to cease its efforts to escape and instead turns to trying to hide from the air or something more.
The moment of relative calm is only fleeting as I hear the door slowly creek open, my eyes going wide and my blood running cold as I hear a deep voice begin to speak.
"Jordan? Sweetheart, you're taking a while to get changed. Did you have a shower? You know your towels are..." Coos the voice of my neighbor down the hall, the man in his mid-forties being both the father of Kelly and the husband of Margaret.
As the door swings open I feel the pussy between my legs redouble its efforts to hide away, quivering in terror yet being entirely unable to escape the gaze of the man standing behind me. My chest too begins to shift, despite the aching its movements cause in my taut skin, spurned on by the voice at the door.
"Don't open the..." I cry out, wriggling as I strain to pull myself up from the couch. The weight and constant shifting of my chest, coupled with the distracting movements and warmth building in my crotch however make it hard to get myself up from the bent-over state let alone into a presentable one.
"What's wrong sweet potato?" Asks my neighbor, his deep tone being filled with concern. "I thought you were just popping in before..."
A low chuckle rumbles from the man in the doorway, the sound of his footsteps growing closer as the door swings shut behind him. The man draws closer, moving in slowly as he positions himself behind me.
"Looks like you're in a bit of a pickle sweet pea" he laughs, his reflection sliding into view in the kitchen window.
The man is a silver fox in the making, his dark brown hair only just starting to develop a few grays along his sideburns and in the gruff muzzle of five-o-clock shadow he calls a beard that runs down his firm and chiseled.
A set of black glasses set on his nose, amplifying her gray-blue eyes as he looks down at me. Standing at only around 5'11" he is a bit shorter than myself, though in my current bent-over state that wasn't really the truth.
He is dressed in a tight sweater, the dark blue wool clinging to his rather firm chest and arms. Despite his age he still remained rather fit and healthy, looking rather good and being able to pick up a sweet and curvaceous woman like Margaret without much trouble at all.
He looks away from me and my hairy overdeveloped form as he looks at the apartment as a whole, shaking his head a little as he sees the discarded wet clothes and the open box.
"You could have told me your clothes were still here" he muses, rolling his shoulders. "I could have moved it while you were at work and..." He states, pausing as he looks back to my nervously squirming self.
"I know I know, you're worried about losing your own space. But it'll be a great step for us, and Kelly is going to love having her own apartment. It's a win-win" he chirps, eagerly trying to sell me on this plan despite having no knowledge of it.
Suddenly I feel a hand begin to fiddle with my short hair, the man having little to really work with in my shaved-down locks.
"And we'll finally have the place to ourselves, no more needing to sneak away over here to have some... Husband and wife time" he croons with a knowing smirk and wink, his gaze in the reflection falling to my exposed pussy.
The world feels like it freezes for a moment, my heart skipping a beat as my gaze snaps down to my hand. In all my time focusing on my rambunctious and rebellious new body parts I hadn't noticed the subtle change in my left hand.
Wrapped around my left ring finger sits Margaret's wedding band, the simple yet well-made silver ring sitting perfectly fitted to my own larger and less flabby digit.
Gasping at the sight, the man behind me seems to take the utterance a different way. His hand trails down my neck, inching around my shoulder to play with my left breast. For a moment I feel the mound flinch, shifting away from the touch before quickly changing its mind. The warm and heavy mound shivers pleasurably in the man's large rough palm, the sensations leaving me a little short of breath as the mind behind my chest yearns for the familiar touch.
As the man gently caresses me I hear him clear his throat before stating...
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