After a full breakfast, you head to the Gym, eager to keep your figure trim and attractive. Your good mood evaporates as soon as you hit the weights room. The petite Sakura... something is on the machine you wanted to use. As you get closer to her, you make out her accented English, "5... 6... 7..."
A snarl curls at the corner of your mouth, she's just restarted counting. Her back to you, she's slim as you want to be. but cursed with a typical Japanese lack of curves. Your own fuller C-cup dwarfing her figure. She's working on her arms, with only one block moving she could be there for hours. Her navy blue outfit showing her breathing. Her hair tied into a simple pony-tail, with a looped band.
The effect is almost instant. You half expect her to whirl around, but she's unaware of her changes. A sense of naughtiness races down your spine. As you tap the nozzle once more, shooting out a cone of spray once more.
But the equipment just continues it's steady pumping. Sakura unaware of the changes, her rhythm steady. Even her counting unaffected, "14... 15... 16..." Her arse looks like it'd fit a horse, so wide, full and round.
You're more intrigued by how far you can take this. Another soft squirt, and another growth spurt.
Her hips are wider than her shoulders, you picture how she'll walk. It has to be an incredible ballet of curves, ripples and bounces. Promising yourself, this is the last, you give a final press.
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