[align=center]Cow Girl, Part 1[/align]

Note: So I'm basically re-writing this story from my DA account. The full story can be found there. But for a cleaner version, stay tuned. This story is several years old so there are a lot of random issues and errors on the original.

Summary: Following a cruel practical joke, Cona is unknowingly implanted with cow sperm, and begins to suffer some unusual side-effects. Belly expansion, breast expansion, multiple breasts, udder development, stuffing, lactation, and more?

-

Though she could probably pass for a sixteen-year-old, Cona was a senior in high school. At eighteen, she was small and thin, with long wavy hair and huge eyes. All the senior boys took a natural liking of her. Cona didn't mind, since she, in turn, seemed to like all the senior boys.

Jenny glared jealously as Cona flirted with Jenny’s boyfriend by the lockers that day. It was the third time in a row that Jenny had seen them talking so intimately. At present, Cona was giggling at something John had said. As Cona lightly grasped his bicep, Jenny found that she could take no more.

So Jenny rudely interrupted the conversation, cramming her body between Cona’s and John’s. Cona dropped her books, and John was quick to gather them up. He frowned at Jenny, who feigned geniality.

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! Is your stuff all right?”

Cona smiled and nodded, non-confrontational as always. It made her weak.

“Cona, I'm actually glad I bumped into you. I wanted to invite you to the sleepover."

<i>The</i> sleepover, a juvenile-seeming tradition, but something that all the cheerleaders partook in on a quarterly basis. Jenny was captain.

Cona was surprised by the invitation. As she had not made the cheerleading squad, she did not think she qualified for their events. But maybe this was a good sign? "Well – sure,” she said cautiously. “That sounds great."

"Great!" Jenny echoed, but with too much enthusiasm not to be suspicious. She proceeded to turn on her heel, grab John's arm and drag him off to class. She already had dozens of ideas circulating in her mind. The sleepover would be the perfect opportunity for payback.

A few nights later, Jenny forced a smile as she answered her door and beckoned the wary Cona into her family’s large house. Flanked by her busty, giggling friends, Jenny beckoned the petite Cona into the kitchen. "I made these from scratch," she mentioned, presenting Cona with a half-full tray of cookies, though between her and her friends, the extra cookies hadn't been eaten, just discarded. No one else had touched them. "You <i>have</i> to try them."

Cona politely accepted the offer, bringing a cookie to her mouth and taking a nibble. Truth be told, it tasted like the packaged stuff. "Mmm – it’s delicious!"

"Go ahead, have some more," Jenny urged, stuffing several more cookies into Cona's hands. "C'mon girls, let's head to my room."

Jenny's bedroom was huge, with a flat-screen television, a fluffy white rug, and a massive pink heart-shaped bed. Like the rest of her house, it screamed privilege. The girls lounged about and chattered as they unpacked their duffle bags and unrolling their sleeping bags. Cona finished her cookies and sunk into a beanbag. She had come prepared for some hazing, but was suddenly quite weary.

"I feel…funny," Cona mentioned airily.

But the other girls took little notice, Jenny busy showing off her tutu-draped chihuahua. In a matter of seconds, Cona fell asleep.

"Perfect," said Jenny, abruptly dropping the dog, who barked in indignation. Jenny’s eyes snapped to Cona. The sleeping pills had worked. "That cow," she hissed, as she and her friends gathered around the small girl. The dog joined them, peeking through the cheerleaders’ legs.

"What should we do?" questioned one of Jenny’s friends. Cona had flirted with many of their boyfriends– if not worse! They'd heard the rumors.

"Let's draw on her face in permanent marker."

"Or take off her clothes and roll her onto the school lawn!"

Jenny shook her head. Not good enough. She pulled a jar out from her shoulder bag, causing everyone to gasp.

Her brother was a biologist, and Jenny had found just about the grossest thing she had ever seen at his apartment. An unconventional experiment he had worked up on his own, the freak. He would be peeved that she had stolen it, but she didn't care.

Clutched in Jenny's grasp was a large jar full of mutant cow sperm. They looked like little transparent slugs, squirming lethargically, and packed tightly in the jar.

The other cheerleaders ogled Jenny’s plunder, some covering their mouths and looking sick. "I got this from my brother's house," Jenny mentioned. "We're going to put it <i>inside</i> of her." She pulled out a turkey baster, and someone finally hurled.

An hour later, Jenny hovered over the unconscious Cona, clad in rubber gloves, a dust mask, and goggles, for good measure. Cona’s skirt had been hefted up, panties pulled down, and legs spread wide. Jenny lowered the emptied jar, now looking a little sick herself. Her friends peeked out from behind her.

It had mostly been a practical joke – a conceptual thing – an excuse to call Cona a heifer for the rest of the school year.

...but none of the sperm creatures had come out of Cona. In fact, it seemed like they had instinctive gone <i>in</i>.

And so, finally losing to her own nausea, Jenny tore off her gloves, ripped off her mask, and ran off to the bathroom.

-

"That was sick," one of Jenny’s friends mentioned the next morning, her face a mix of amazement and disgust. "I hope you never get that angry at <i>me</i>."

"You should," said Jenny, still rather queasy.

They bumped into Cona and froze in guilt.

The younger girl was clutching books and looking aloof. "Jenny – I wanted to speak to you."

Jenny remained motionless. Her friend ducked her head and hurried off.

"I wanted to apologize for passing out at your party," Cona continued. "I don't know what got into me. Midterms, I guess."

Jenny flushed. "Don’t worry about. Everyone was a tired. We pretty much nodded off right after you did."

Cona smiled and hurried off the class. She tried to ignore the unusual soreness between her legs. It was probably just that time of the month again.

oh hey, I remember this. A pretty good one.

I like this story also you have a lot of good works

Thanks

[align=center]Part 2[/align]

Several days later brought Cona to her favorite clothing store. She frowned around at all the fancy lingerie before her attention returned to the woman fitting her for a bra. Cona was a little embarrassed about the whole process. She hadn't needed a bra fitting since puberty.

“Looking for anything in particular?” said the woman, eying Cona over.

“Anything roomy,” said Cona awkwardly as she was measured. Her A-cup bras had gotten really tight in just the past week, her breasts bulging out of them. It was bizarre how abruptly her breasts had grown. She must have put on some weight, though she wasn’t sure how. Cona watched the woman adjust the measuring tape. “What’s the verdict?” said Cona nervously. Admittedly, she was hoping for Bs. Since she had always been flat-chested, she wasn't entirely displeased by her new development.

The worker lowered the tape. "I'd say Cs.”

Cona blinked. Cs? And so abruptly? She looked down at the mounds on her chest, full and bloated looking, not sagging at all.

"Full Cs." The woman added. "I'll bring you some different styles to try on."

Cona didn’t lift her eyes from her chest. Somehow she managed to nod.

-

Cona was acquainting herself with, and enjoying, the concept of cleavage. She couldn't help but to stare down at her breasts, squeeze them together, then stare some more.

She wasn't fitting right in her school uniforms anymore. She had ordered new ones, a size up, but in the meantime, she tried to make do. Her growing chest left diamonds of skin visible between her buttons. Her top was getting so tight she felt sore and breathless. Cona walked into the bathroom and undid several of her top buttons, then she released a sigh of relief as her chest was decompressed, at least somewhat. But now her areola was close to showing, her cleavage bulging over the top of the blouse. It was the way all the cheerleaders seemed to dress but somehow Cona doubted that she would get away with it.

She tried to re-button her top, but now the material just wasn’t closing. She looked at the diamonds created by the lower half of her chest, and they seemed bigger than ever, the material straining.

The bell rang, and Cona just managed to close one more button of the top. It didn’t help much with her modesty issue, but she felt comfortable enough to hurry out of the bathroom.

As Cona walked towards her classroom, she could feel everyone staring at her. Some people looked skeptical of the plump mounds practically bursting from her top. Other people were watching her with wide, shocked eyes. Boys had to pause mid-conversation with their girlfriends. John was among them, and Jenny looked livid. Cona just blushed and tried not to meet Jenny’s eyes.

As the week progressed, the blouse was becoming painfully constricting. On Thursday, Cona locked herself in a bathroom stall, grunting and wriggling as she tried to find some space in her seemingly tiny uniform. Her breasts were packed tightly, painfully compressed on themselves. She reached behind her, tugging at the fabric, looking for space, but it was just too tight. She didn't think the uniform could take on anymore.

There was a POP, then a <i>PING</i>, Cona gasping as one of her buttons snapped off and was propelled into the stall door. More buttons followed and her breasts burst forward, round and wiggling on her chest. Cona panted as she stared down at the fat mounds, oblivious of how her small blouse had ever managed to contain them at all. The uniform top looked so small and measly where it hung around her shoulders. Doing her best not to panic, Cona pulled out her cell phone and called one of her friends. It was a fifteen minute wait, but soon there was a knock on her stall door. Cona reached beneath it and was relieved as her gym shirt connected with her hand. She quickly pulled it down over her torso, the fabric stretching over her breasts.

Cona was given detention later that day for being out of dress code but found her new uniform in the mail that afternoon when she got home from school.

The package tucked under her arm, Cona went straight to her bedroom and struggled out of her t-shirt to survey herself in her full-length mirror. She reflected that her breasts weren’t especially large, just large on her frame, since she was otherwise quite small. She went without bras most days, but now her breasts had a lot of weight to them. Cona was still stunned by how fast they were growing.

Tugging a C-cup bra out of her dresser, Cona latched it around her waist and pulled it up beneath the mounds, slipping her arms into the straps and causing her breasts to bulge upwards. She adjusted the bra straps, then adjusted them again, before pressing, shifting, and squishing her mounds.

But no matter what, they still bulged out.

-

Cona drove to a clothing store that evening, though she wasn’t in the mood for another fitting.

At least she knew where to start this time. Ds.

D-cups.

She felt a little weird about it, still trying to get accustomed to the new weight on her chest.

Upon arriving at the store, Cona grabbed several bras and took retreat in a dressing room. None of the C-cups seemed to fit at all anymore. The others she tried on officialized it.

She was an even D-cup.

Cona cupped the mounds, continuing to stare at her reflection. She didn’t know whether to by excited or concerned.

Over the weekend she stayed in and treated her anxieties with snacking. While watching television she ate chips, while messaging guys, chocolate chip cookies. She couldn't get through homework without food at her side. By the end of Saturday, she had ordered her own pizza, and upon finishing four slices, was becoming disturbed. What had gotten into her? Her stomach growled, and she duly munched.

And all the extra eating was really starting to show.

At first, Cona had thought the extra weight gain had reflected only on her breasts, but she was beginning to find some on her abdomen. Becoming disgusted with herself, Cona carried the latest burger she had ordered to the trash, glaring down at it as though it was the cause of her woes. But then her stomach growled again.

She stood frozen for a moment, cheeks flushed.

She really wasn't one to waste food.

Cona walked back to the couch, her burger in tow.

The homecoming dance was coming up, and Cona decidedly was not fitting into her gown. It was painfully tight upon her breasts and abdomen. Reluctantly, she brought it back to the store for alteration.

In the shop, the tailor just stared at Cona’s chest, as though debating on whether or not she had had work done.

Cona crossed her arms under her breasts, only managing to raise them higher. "Can you bring it out a little?" she said. "At the chest and—waist.”

"A little" turned out to be quite a lot, but by the end of the day, the dress was fitting, so Cona had no complaints. She stood in a fitting room and observed her reflection, the V-neck of the gown dipping into her plump cleavage, the taut spaghetti straps holding everything in place. It was perfect. She was sure that she could hold it together for a week until the dance. Cona placed her hand against her abdomen, displeased by the fullness there. But it wasn’t too noticeable. Everything would be fine.

"Three-hundred,” the tailor coughed, bringing Cona out of her reverie.

Frowning, Cona leaned down to her purse and pulled out her father's credit card.

-

Only a few days later, on the evening of the dance, Cona found herself again struggling with the gown. The dress was supposed to be cute and sexy, but instead was taut and stifling. The straps were pressing painfully into her shoulders, and her breasts could barely fit into the bust anymore. She stared at her reflection in shock and frustration, when her cellphone rang. She turned swiftly, and one of the straps snapped.

"Oh!" Cona cried, clutching the dress to her chest. She glared at the tear, and stomped her foot, making her breasts bounce uncomfortably. Trying her best to regain her composure, Cona lifted her phone. "What?" she snapped into the receiver.

"Cona?" said John on the other end.

Cona’s irritability melted into embarrassment.

"Why aren't you here?" said John.

"Aren't you there with Jenny?" Cona responded, trying to sound aloof.

"I'd rather be with you."

Cona rolled her eyes. “Don’t say tha-"

There was a knock on the door and Cona lowered her phone. Still clutching her dress, Cona walked out of her bedroom and to her front door, opening it just enough to see a suited John Beasely standing on her porch. "John, now isn’t a good time..." Cona said, but John just pushed his way in. She blushed as he locked down at her bulging cleavage and torn dress.

"I've been having some weight problems," said Cona lamely.

"I've noticed," said John.

Cona suspected that everyone had. “John, really, you should—” She was cut off, this time from John kissing her.

Cona kissed him back, not thinking about how distressed and disoriented she was, or about Jenny. At that moment, all she needed was to feel like something other than the slob she was becoming.

John had worked his way down to her cleavage, his face buried in her damaged dress. But her breasts just felt so sensitive, so full, and…strange. Cona didn’t think she could handle it, so she pushed John away, and gasped out, “You should go.”

-

Over the next few days, Cona's face was constantly flushed, she was always breathless, and she had developed an unwelcome layer of fat all over her body. She had gone from thin and petite to...slightly chubby, and couldn't stand it. Her cheeks were fuller, her shoulders softer, her hips bigger, her bottom plumper, and she was developing a small pot belly which was getting more and more painful to suck in with every day. Her attempts to exercise had left her drenched in sweat and gasping for breath within moments.

Cona peered at herself in the mirror one morning, staring despairingly at her jawline, which held the slightest suggestion of a double chin. At school, girls had taken to mocking her, but all the boys seemed to...like her new softness. John had even called her cute by the lockers. Her cheeks reddened at the memory.

Cona pulled on her uniform. All her clothes were getting tighter. It was becoming increasingly difficult to close her skirt buttons, and the clothes she hadn't already tossed were beginning to look awkwardly ill-fitting, pronouncing each of her new curves. She continued to examine her small form in the full-length mirror, turning here and there, observing her previously non-existent bum.

What would her parents think when they came back from their work in France? They'd probably be concerned. <i>She</i> was concerned.

Cona didn't know why she was having so much trouble with her weight. It was like her metabolism had gone to hell, combined with the fact that couldn't stop eating. Even during class she munched on gum, candies, and whatever else was in her purse. She'd eat grass if just to have something in her mouth. Was she anxious about something? Cona frowned down at her stomach as it reliably growled. Well, she had plenty to be anxious about.

And upon her pudgy body, her breasts had suffered the most significant gain. They were bulging out of her D-cup bras, and beginning to look disproportionate with the rest of her. Cona stared at her front and idly squeezed her breasts together. She winced. Tender.

She turned to her side and stared hopelessly at the way her belly bulged over her skirt, and how her breasts were nearly spilling out of the tank top that served her as an undershirt. It had become skin tight in only the past week.

She struggled into her blouse. As frustrating as it was, she needed to do more clothes shopping.

As the week wore on, Cona noticed other girls whispering. All the pointing and giggling was enough to drain her. She took to wearing hoodies over her uniform, but it did little help in her predicament.

Her breasts were sore, fat, and growing. She peered at them whenever she was confronted with a mirror. Round, plump, perky, and perfect in every way, aside from the fact that they were getting sort of huge. DDs, and far too large on her petite frame. Her nipples were swollen, seeming to be constantly erect, and it was more distracting than ever. Her skin was warm and flushed. Idly she cupped her breasts, groaning. They overflowed her small hands. Why was she developing so much, and so belatedly? Was it because of the overeating? Should she consider seeing a doctor? God, this was embarrassing.

Cona was sweating more too, despite the fact that it was the middle of fall. And it always felt like she couldn't catch her breath, her bosom heaving heavily before her, and making her lungs feel tight. She felt awkward in gym class, her nipples pressing through her bras and t-shirts, her breasts bouncing uncomfortably as she tried to keep up.

During school, she would manage to sweat through her bras, and the undersides of her breasts were consequently becoming sticky, sore, and itchy. She lifted the fat mounds one morning to examine the reddened skin beneath.

The skin was slightly puffy there, creased in the middle like abdominals were, but hers was really just a developing roll of fat, and in the most awkward of places. In school, when no one was watching, she would reach into her shirt to rub the sore skin, and when people <i>were</i> watching, she would just squirm uncomfortably in her seat.

The skin beneath her breasts was unusually sensitive, and she was developing small knots upon it. Wondering if she was getting a rash, Cona tried applying baby powder, but it didn't seem to help at all. And as she continued to be a glutton, the fat there continued to gather, until it puffed awkwardly out. She would groan in dismay, the rubbing, the itching, and the sweating increasing.

She had progressed to nightly eating binges, a pizza and a few burgers being sufficient for an average evening. By the end of the meal, she would usually lie on the couch, moaning regretfully, and clutching her gut. It was beginning to stick out more than ever.

Her breasts had gotten so bloated they no longer necessitated a bra, unless she wanted to attempt to conceal her fat nipples. Cona went with strapless bras most of the time, but this just made her bust uncomfortably press into her sore, awkwardly-placed, fat roll. On the occasions she did go with straps, the fat roll became almost noticeable, leaving her ambivalent between comfort and confidence. Her breasts were DDs, plump, bouncy DDs, that might very well have been classified Es had she not opted to stretch and abuse her latest bras. The mounds were continually flushed, heaving, and gleaming with sweat. Everyone at school eyed her. Girls even claimed that she was stuffing her bra. Cona wished this was true.

She was becoming so sore and uncomfortable, her breasts always wiggling, disharmonious with the rest of her. None of her favorite clothes would fit her anymore. She desperately hoped her growth spurt would end.

One day while at lunch, Cona watched John slide into the seat beside her. She tried her best to ignore him, sinking her teeth into a clutch of french-fries as daintily as she could.

That's when John slipped his arm around her waist.

"When are you going to dump Jenny?" Cona complained, making sure that his girlfriend was nowhere in sight.

"Her brother was just ostracized from the family. Jenny's a wreck right now. Just give me some time."

Cona glared down at her lunch. She felt John gazing at her physique.

"So..."

"Yeah...I know, I’ve…put on a few more pounds..." she mentioned, her face smoldering.

It was quite the understatement. She was just beginning to notice the uncomfortably new sensation of her thighs pressing together in her skirt. The pullover she was wearing was skin tight, and zipped down low enough to reveal her plump breasts and tightly-pressed cleavage. They were so perky, it hurt, so plump, they were practically in John's face when he leaned closer. "I like it." He playfully nudged her foot with his.

They kissed each other, deeply, Cona enjoying that the whole cafeteria was watching, and she couldn’t manage to care. When would Jenny understand that John was hers? Cona wrapped her arms around John’s neck as he grabbed her breast-

Cona squealed.

If anyone hadn't been paying attention, they certainly were now.

Cona was beet red. "I'm going to class."

“Cona—wait,” said John.

But Cona was already halfway to the door.

John must have thought she was such a freak. She folded her arms under the mounds, where they felt quite warm, tingly, and sore. And she didn’t know why, but they had been getting really heavy lately.

The next morning Cona struggled into one of her newer bras. The fat-roll beneath her breasts was painfully pressing into them, practically demanding space. She groaned. She had gone with wireless bras as of late, because underwires had become so excruciating, she could barely focus in class. She needed to see a dermatologist, no doubt, the skin was just too sensitive. Looking into her mirror, Cona lifted her breasts.

And stared.

The fat-roll now looked less like a fat-roll than two symmetrical mounds. And the knots...well two...one on each mound...they had reddened...and distended. Really distended...looking...odd. Like moles or...something.

Unnerved, Cona slowly slid her hand to one, carefully touching the knot.

It stiffened.

Cona shrieked, dropping her hands, her breasts painfully slapping down on her chest. She yelped and staggered back.

She managed to grab hold of her bureau, trying to breathe. "No way, no way, that’s not—I mean, it can’t—"

But it was the only thing that made sense. Cona fainted.

Neat. I've always liked the Cow Girl Story, have had it saved on my computer for ages.

[align=center]Part 3[/align]

Several hours later Cona opened her eyes and climbed up her bureau, feeling cool and clammy. Her chest felt hot and sore from the misfitting bra she had been putting on prior to fainting. She reached behind her and unclasped it, letting her plump breasts rise like dough from it. They were full, round, and tender. And as usual, something was pressing against them from beneath. Trying to convince herself it had all been a weird dream, Cona again lifted her breasts and stared into the mirror.


Still present, and looking even puffier, were things – things with – nipples, and as she looked closer, she noticed a developing plate around each nipple - areola. She had developed a pair of breasts beneath the ones she already had!


Cona had to sit down. Had to breathe. This didn't make sense. Maybe she was losing her mind. People didn't grow extra breasts!


Cona turned to her computer for aid, searching every nook and cranny of the internet she could find on the matter of breasts, but there was nothing concerning her particular – dilemma – except for some weird fetish websites. Cona continued to deeply breathe, her anxiety and soreness escalating. She reached into her shirt, idly massaging her breasts. And then she reached under them to feel the second pair. All four of her nipples hardened.


Cona felt nauseous.


She contemplated calling her doctor, but what would she say? What would he say? She was a freak. Feeling faint again, Cona climbed into her bed, trying not to look at her cleavage.


Denial would have to do.


Cona went to school the next day, as usual, and spent most of her time trying not to groan when one of her breasts rubbed against another one. When finally a moan slipped from her throat, her classmates giggled, and her teacher frowned. Cona quickly excused herself to use the bathroom. Upon rummaging through her gym locker, she found a forgotten A-cup strapless bra, before locking herself into a stall and jerking up her shirt. She did her best to hold up her fat EEs while wrapping the small bra around her second set of breasts. It did help with the discomfort, and the sheer size of her tender EE-cups seemed to mask the small lower breasts from view. Cona managed to get through the rest of the school day, squirming uncomfortably in her tight sweatshirt. Her upper breasts were bulging out of her bra, while the lower ones were uncomfortably squashed beneath them.


She hurried home after school and pulled off her top, again praying it had all been a bout of insanity, but when she lifted her EE-cups, to her despair, her new breasts seemed more breast-like than ever, with fully developed areola and a hint of plumpness that hadn't been there the previous day.


Dropping her hands Cona began to hyperventilate, her four breasts bobbing accordingly. By the next morning there was no question – she had definitely experienced more growth. She had blatant breasts whereas before she'd been continually skeptical.


Cona tried bounding the extra breasts, but this only made her cry out in pain. She instead fitted the A-cup strapless bra upon them again, just hoping that people didn't notice the prevalence of bras through her clothes.


Her upper breasts were still doing a decent job hiding them. They served as plump, round, honeydew-sized over-hang, but her lower breasts were pressing more and more into them, making the upper ones look even bigger. And beyond Cona's breasts, and more breasts, her "cute little" potbelly had subtly inched forward, becoming a not-so-cute one, sticking out horribly, and making her look like a glutton.


Someone swung their arm around her shoulders that day at school.


Cona looked up at John.


"I called it off with Jenny," he said.


Cona's flood of relief was short-lived, and quickly overwhelmed by her physical crises. "This isn't a good time."


"Cona-"


"I'm going through a lot right now." She unwrapped his arm from around her shoulders.


"What is your problem?" said John in frustration.


"I'm just having some body image issues," said Cona, her face reddening.


And John couldn't help himself. "I'd say more than body image." He smirked lecherously as he opened and closed his hand to pantomime squeezing her breasts.


Flushing in anger, Cona turned, her breasts wobbling before her. "I have to go," she said, stiffly walking away.


"Wait, Cona-" John tried to follow her, but she entered the girls bathroom and slammed the door shut in his face. "Don't be like that."


Her face drawn, Cona entered a stall, locked it, and plopped down on a toilet. She rested her elbows on her thighs as she leaned forward, deeply breathing. Her breasts – some of her breasts – felt really uncomfortable. She zipped down her pullover, her cleavage bulging against the neckline of her stretched undershirt. Cona drew that shirt up and gently raised her sweaty EEE-cups before peering down at the dainty little under-breasts.


They were very snug in the A-cup bra. In fact, they were bulging against it.


And Cona could take no more. She fell into a fit of sobs, her breasts trembling and bouncing with her erratic breathing. The bottom ones were growing. They were growing fast, just like the top ones! She couldn't take anymore of the growing!


The bell rang, but Cona remained in the bathroom, waiting for her tears to subside. By the time her anxiety attack ended, it was time to go home.


Her top breasts pressed against the steering wheel of her car but her legs weren't long enough for her to shift back her seat any farther. Cona gritted her teeth and decided that she would just have to tolerate it. She sped down the road, eager to get home. She consistently groaned as her swollen nipples rubbed the turning steering wheel, then grunted in discomfort as her top breasts bounced against the bottom ones. Cona tried to breathe and focus on the road, but unfortunately enough, she was pulled over.


Cona bit her bottom lip, absently clutching her lower breasts while resisting the urge to massage them. The A-cup bra felt so uncomfortable against them. She looked up as a uniformed officer approached.


"License and registration please."


Cona hastily passed her information to the officer.


"Hands on the steering wheel miss."


"Eugh, but I-"


"Hands on the steering wheel."


She squirmed uncomfortably as he wrote the ticket. The officer paused to eye her, then stared at her breasts before catching himself. "Miss, you seem awfully restless. Are you on any medications?"


"No." Cona released a grunt.


"Any recreational-"


"No - I..o-f course not."


He continued to stare at her fidgeting, sweat-drenched body. "I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle."


Cona panicked. "The twins – eugh – I have new baby twins at home. I was rushing to get back to them. It's their...supper time," she managed, cupping one of her breasts for emphasis.


After a moment of blank staring, the officer blinked. "Yes, of course." He lightly shook himself. "I'm sorry miss." If he was skeptical of her being a teenage mother, her massive breasts gave a decent enough argument. "Drive safely, now."


"Thank you officer."


Cona watched him go back to his car before she jammed her foot on the gas and sped off. When she finally reached her house, she trudged through the door, her head bowed. She felt exhausted. Cona struggled out of her top and unclasped both bras.


-


The next morning, Cona stood in her mirror and took a few moments to examine herself. Her lower breasts were demanding space on her chest, and were steadily heaving the others upwards. "No, no, no," Cona moaned despairingly.


At B-cups they were getting harder to conceal, even when she was wearing a tight bra, even with those massive melons perched above them. Cona slid her hands to her stomach, still staring in the mirror. A menace of its own, her belly had continued to press outwards, until it was a blatant, snug mound in her pullovers. It felt tight, the skin unusually firm. What was happening to her?


Cona dragged herself out of the house, if only because she had used up all her sick days. She opted for the bus that morning, hating how her mounds pressed together when she sat down. She walked into homeroom, avoiding everyone's eyes as she slid behind her desk.


It was becoming a...tight...fit.


Her upper breasts were propped upon the high desktop, her belly meanwhile pressing against it. She didn't know where her lower breasts were, just that they were aching like all hell.


Throughout the day she consistently excused herself from class and locked herself in a bathroom stall to scrutinize her condition. Each mound was reliably fattening to her apprehension. Her lower breasts were continuing to press the others one higher, higher, shelving them, and even beginning to suggest their existence in her tightening top.


She swallowed.


Cona began to unconsciously fold her arms over her lower breasts, ignoring the soreness and irritation. Her upper nipples had gotten rather puffy – swollen to the size of coke caps - but Cona tried her best to ignore the teasing – Jenny's complaint that "those things" were staring at her. Cona just breathed.


When she got home, she stripped off all the clothes on her upper body, and stared at herself in the mirror.


The extra breasts were visible.


Previously she had been content with the mounds hiding beneath her upper breasts, their existence bizarre and fleeting.


But now...now she could actually see them intruding her chest, fattening and fattening into existence, demanding not a second glance, but benumbed attention. "Christ." She cupped one, feeling its plump nipple stiffen.


They had to be C-cups.


The next morning when those C-cups were unbearably, impossibly, and unfairly plumper, making her upper-breasts bulge up higher than ever, Cona attempted several means of compressing them, from tight-fitting sports bras that made them ache, to wrapping them in athletic tape, which made them ache even more. Eventually she settled on bandages. Tight, tight, bandages, that made her bite hard on her bottom lip, and her eyes water. When she pulled on her clothes, her chest looked bigger and puffier than ever, but the existence of her extra breasts was indiscernible. Instead, they just exaggerated the presence of her upper breasts, where she looked like she'd stuffed two honeydews in her shirt. Her top was being stretched at its seams, and she tried her hardest to breathe as she headed to school that morning.


She spent the day with her arms awkwardly folded over her bandaged breasts, the mounds determined to push their way into existence, and the bandages seeming to get more and more constricting with every hour. Her upper breasts were nearly bursting out of her top, and by lunch time people were beginning to notice her misshapen mound. Cona barely cared. She was in so much discomfort she could barely function, or breathe for that matter. She needed to loosen the bandages or she was going to pass out.


She locked herself in a bathroom stall, despite those rumors flying around that bulimia was the cause of her continuous bathroom breaks. She'd once heard Jenny loudly dismiss the idea, saying that Cona had gotten far too fat to have such an eating disorder. Choking back a pained whimper, Cona removed her top and began to unraveled the bandages.


Her lower breasts were flushed, and plumper than ever. She could only stare at them, wondering how she'd ever managed to conceal them in the first place. She cupped them, and began to keenly massage them. She released a long groan. So warm, sore, and tender. They were so puffy and round like the top ones. She continued to kneed them, hoping to sooth the swollen skin.


There was a knock on the stall door and Cona's moan caught in her throat.


"Are you all right in there?" called Cona's math teacher.


Cona reddened. "I'm fine," she managed. "I'll be right out." She waited a few moments, sighing when she heard the teacher finally exit, before she recovered the bandages and struggled to put them back on. It was getting increasingly difficult to heft up her upper breasts to attend to the lower ones, considering how heavy they were getting on top of being sleek with sweat. Cona made several attempts to bandage her lower breasts, but continuously lost hold of the bandages, until she eventually realized the length of bandages had gotten shorter...or she had just gotten larger. Cona lowered her arms as she panted, her mounds rising and falling with her heavy breathing.


The lower breasts had to be Ds by then. Ds.


Trying her best to control her mounting anxiety, Cona assumed a last resort. She reached behind her, unclasping her bra, allowing her upper breasts to swell out and freely squash against the lower ones. They managed to just conceal them.


She would go braless for the rest of the day. Even if her lower breasts weren't fully hidden, Cona suspected that the massive upper mounds would be a sufficient distractions, now wiggling freely on her chest, nipples protruding quite evidently. Her back already beginning to feel sore, Cona pulled on her shirt and walked out of the stall, holding the side of one of her upper breasts as it wobbled precariously on her chest. She exited the bathroom and her classmates stared. She blushed when a boy dropped his books and ran off to the men's bathroom.


When Cona finally got home that evening, she dropped to the bed, feeling hot and mortified. She refused to even look at herself, but squeezed her eyes shut, determined to get some sleep.