Crystal stood on the top step, staring in stunned silence at the wall of warm, wobbling flesh that blocked her path. Her hand was still pressed against it, fingers lightly indenting the surface. It jiggled just slightly under her touch, warm and impossibly soft, yet firm and unyielding due to its sheer mass. Her heart raced.
Another giggle came, muffled but unmistakably cheerful.
"Still poking it," the deep, sing-song voice said again.
Crystal swallowed hard. That voice…she knew that voice.
Suddenly, the bulk shifted, pulling back with a seismic wobble that made the whole staircase creak and groan in protest. The massive weight shifted just enough to reveal a bit of space, and through that narrow opening, Crystal caught a glimpse of blonde hair, braided and coiled, brushing against the ceiling.
Then she saw the face.
“Inga?” Crystal gasped.
There, crouched impossibly low in what remained of her living room, was Inga Larson, her impossibly curvy, friendly neighbor from down the street. The local bakery girl with the thick accent, sunny smile, and an upper body that always made Crystal’s eyes wander no matter how much she tried not to.
But now?
Now Inga was enormous.
She wasn’t standing, there wasn’t room, but Crystal estimated that Inga must’ve been at least 12 or 13 feet tall, even folded up in a near-fetal position. Her bare shoulders and arms were thick and strong, but still plush, resting against dented furniture and cracked drywall. And her chest—
Crystal’s eyes went wide.
Her already watermelon-sized breasts had swelled into something ridiculous, bigger than twin yoga balls, clearly much heavier and cradled awkwardly in her lap. They looked heavy enough to knock over furniture by themselves, and each deep breath Inga took made them rise and fall hypnotically, softly quivering under a stretched, pink bakery apron that now barely covered any of her.
“Oh, hi Crystal!” Inga said cheerfully, beaming up at her from below. “I hope you don’t mind, I stopped over and I was just looking for a drink and then I saw something shiny in your fridge, and well…it tasted kind of sweet and earthy, and then everything got really, really tight!”
“You…you drank the Jumbo Gro?” Crystal blurted.
Inga blinked. “Is that what it’s called? I only had a little sip! Maybe two. Okay, three? But I was still thirsty and it was right there and, oh, look!” She giggled again as one of her enormous breasts bounced slightly and smacked into the ceiling with a soft thud, leaving a faint indentation in the plaster. “I don’t think my boobs have ever been this big, huh? They're so squishy now!”
Crystal stared in fascinated horror as Inga cupped one of her massive breasts in her hands, each of Inga’s hands was now easily bigger than a dinner plate, and jiggled it playfully, causing a slow ripple to cascade through it like waves on a pond. The ceiling creaked again.
“I can’t even stand up in here!” Inga added with a bashful grin. “I bonked my head twice already and my hips knocked over your mom’s bookshelf. Sorry about that!”
Crystal took a cautious step down. “You’re not…still growing, are you?”
Inga tilted her head. “Hmm…I don’t think so? Everything feels super full and tingly, but it’s kinda settled now. Though—” she paused and looked toward the fridge with innocent curiosity “—there was more in the bottle…”
Crystal nearly screamed. “No! No more drinking!”
Inga giggled, making everything around her jiggle. “Okay, okay! But if I did drink more, do you think I’d finally be tall enough to reach the top shelf at the bakery without the stepstool?” She winked.
“You’re already too tall for this house!” Crystal snapped, though her voice cracked with the absurdity of the situation.
And yet, deep down…a part of her wondered:
If one sip did this to someone who was already tall and curvy…
What would it do to her?
Her eyes flicked down to the measuring cup still clenched in her hand, the liquid inside trembling slightly from the lingering vibrations of Inga’s movement.
“Crystal?” Inga asked, biting her lip as she adjusted her chest, which squished up under her chin as she shifted again. “Do you, um…have any spare clothes? I think I might’ve outgrown mine.”
Crystal’s mouth went dry. “Yeah… I think we might have a tarp in the garage or something.”
She didn’t move.
Not yet.
Instead, she stared at the cup…and then back at the impossibly huge woman in her living room, who was smiling so sweetly, like she hadn’t just destroyed half the house with her bust alone.
“Maybe I’ll take my drink after all,” Crystal muttered.
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