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Farm Girl, Part 12
🕑 Added 2022-04-27 03:44:57 +0000 UTCStory Directory: $5 Patrons
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Note: This is a female version of Farm Boy.
Summary: A high school senior, Megan noticed that her older sister has been dipping into the chemical on their parents' farm, and has been gaining a lot of weight. A bit disgusted, a bit curious, Megan tries the chemical hormones herself, and experiences the best high of her life. She quickly introduces the chemical to her two best friends, and the three progressively get addicted, all while experiencing incidental changes, such as butt growth, breast development, belly expansion, in addition to other, stranger, things. Contains: Female: pregnancy, breast expansion, multiple breasts, breast-belly, butt expansion, weight gain, and more. Also, issues of drug addiction.
-
Megan squirmed on the bed. She released a groan. “You should stop.”
“Why?” said Roger, his voice muffled on Megan’s tit-flesh.
“What if I get like her?” said Megan.
“Who?”
“Amy.”
Roger paused and pulled off. “Your sister? Meg, you don’t have a tit-gut, unless I missed something.”
“This is getting out of control,” Megan blurted, fumbling somewhat to get out from beneath Roger. “Amy said her milk just kept getting thicker. Is my milk…how is it? Has it changed or anything?”
Roger smirked. “Want to taste it?”
“Eugh, no,” said Megan, to Roger’s increasing amusement.
Roger grabbed hold of her, leaned down, and gave one of Megan’s nipples a long indulgent suck, causing Megan to arch and curse.
“Mm,” Roger gulped, and licked off the stray droplets. “I don’t think it’s changed,” he murmured against Megan’s areola. “It’s really creamy. Sweet. But I think it’s always been this good.”
“Creamy?” said Megan.
Giving another suck, Roger pulled off Megan’s nipple with a harsh tug and a wet pop. Megan grunted and twitched.
“It’s fine, Meg. You’ve had no issues.” Roger pinned her down to the mattress, nipping greedily at Megan’s four fat tits, kissing every inch of the plump flesh in an almost loving manner. “God, you drive me crazy. Meg…Megan?”
“Mm?” Megan noticed that her eyes were closed. She opened them partway.
“Can I fuck your tits?”
“Gross,” was Megan’s instinctive response, but then, was it anymore sleazy than the other things they got up to? Megan blinked up at the ceiling.
“Can I?” Roger asked again.
It was different. Weird and kinky. She imagined Roger thrusting into the fat, jigging flesh. It freaked her out a little.
But hell, she’d try anything once.
-
Megan was still flushed when she left her room an hour later, freshly showered and a little tender. She was wearing a tank top that didn’t properly fit her, like most things, the cotton hugging her chest, cleavage bulging against the neckline. She felt weary but good. Tingly. And really hungry, possibly from all the milk she was producing. As Megan headed for the kitchen, she threw a glance at her sleeping sister on the couch, squashed beneath the massive mound of heaving flesh that had become of her abdomen.
When Megan got to the kitchen, Paige was there, and Megan couldn’t manage to meet her eyes. Instead Megan grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, forcing herself, truly struggling, not to scuttle back to her room and hide. She made herself some cereal, all while feeling Paige’s stare on her form. She uncomfortably tugged at one of the bras she was stuffed into.
“Do you really have to wear bras?” Paige asked blithely. “Is it for our benefit? They don’t even fit you.”
Megan threw a glare at Paige who responded by rolling her eyes.
It was true that Megan was bulging heavily from all sides of the two bras, ready to burst out of them under her tank top. If anything, they served to prevent her nipples from rubbing into her shirt, which was a sensation she didn’t think she could handle at that moment. The bras were admittedly uncomfortable, and the extreme tightness probably negated from the benefits. “I have to get new ones, yeah,” said Megan stiffly, hating how hot her face felt.
Paige sat at the table and stirred her coffee while continuing to shamelessly stare at Megan’s tits in fascination. Megan was already dealing with one person obsessed with her breasts, she didn’t think she could handle another one. Just as Paige opened her mouth to undoubtedly ask another awkward question, Roger walked in, all cheeky and refreshed.
He kissed Megan’s lips full and long, causing Megan to grunt in surprise. Roger pulled away and Megan eyed him as he sat down and happily dug into Megan’s cereal. Sighing, Megan got another spoon. She joined Roger at the table and they shared the bowl.
Roger lifted the cereal box, regarding it. “Do you know what this would taste great with?”
“Shut up,” Megan snapped.
Roger gave a crooked smile and added more cereal.
This was new for them—having breakfast together. Not sneaking around, hiding from Paige anymore. It was new and nice, but uncomfortable and odd. It was more domestic than before.
There was a long groaning noise from the living room. Megan frowned. “I’ll check on her,” she said, but as she got up and walked to the door, she could feel Paige and Roger trailing her.
Amy was awake.
She was still sprawled on the couch, though propped up somewhat on the arm. She had an automated breast pump that must have come out of the worn backpack she had arrived with. She’d somehow managed to attach it to her massive belly-nipple, and the machine was humming, but at times, also sputtering. It was jamming up. Amy was red and panting on the couch, her face sweat soaked as her belly heaved and shuddered. It trembled as Amy strained, and she seemed to be…pushing? Still, the pump wasn’t working, and the milk came out in a slow ooze at most. Amy huffed and threw the pump aside. For a moment, she began to flail and fumble, leaning forward, struggling against she mass of her abdomen, seemingly attempting to actually plant her lips on her own bulging navel.
“You okay?” said Megan in uncertainty.
Amy gave a choked gasp and flopped back, not even sparing Megan a glance. “There’s just so—much,” she panted out. Her belly jerked and she groaned. “More than I can…nrrghhhh…” A vein throbbed on her temple as she pushed. Her belly quaked.
“Amy, calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself,” said Megan.
“My—my friend,” Amy responded. “I—god—I have to c-call her. She…she used to help me. Like your friend. Like—Roger.” Amy gave another long groan, her belly shuddering and her back arching off the couch. The mound was full, red, and visibly throbbing. Megan began to legitimately fear that if Amy pushed herself enough she might burst.
“Amy, stop it. It’s not working. It’s not coming out, so stop trying to force it—”
But Amy just released another long grunt, and reddened, and strained. She looked like a woman in labor.
“We need to make her sleep, or—or sedate her, she—she needs to relax—” Megan rambled. She thought of the drug. Maybe if she gave Amy a little of the hormone—
“I have some xanex,” Paige piped in.
“Get it,” said Roger.
Paige hurried off to her bedroom.
It took twenty minutes for the pills to kick in, but soon Amy was lying limp on the couch again, her body relaxed and eyes unfocused. Her belly continued to throb, but not with the perilous tremors from before.
It was ominous in its hugeness. It seemed like it protruded out even more now that all of Amy’s muscles had resigned. The belly-breast seemed like an independent, living being, the way it pulsed and seeped. Megan stared at it uneasily. “What do we do?” she said.
“I don’t know,” said Roger. “I think she needs some way to drain it. Maybe we should take her to the hospital.”
“Are you nuts?” said Megan. “They’ll turn her into some lab experiment.”
The group decided to think on it. And by think, avoid the issue entirely. Megan joined Paige at the kitchen table with a pile of textbooks, and spent a few hours on a research paper. When her tits started to ache, she went to the bathroom to pump, then went back to work on her long-neglected coursework. In the meantime, Roger ate their food, chuckled at his phone, and sometimes muttered about lacrosse practice or some internship he was applying for. Megan was immersed in a particularly grueling calculous equation when she heard Roger say, “So I hear you do web porn.”
“Yeah, so?” said Paige.
Megan slowly looked up.
“Looking for a live show?” Paige winked at him.
“Nah,” said Roger, smirking back. “Megan could probably use some tips though.”
“Christ, Roger,” said Megan, at her wits end. She was beginning to realize that Roger was completely intolerable when he wasn’t sucking or fucking her.
“You’re doing web-porn, Meggie?” said Paige, turning to Megan with wide eyes.
“She wants to keep it discreet,” supplied Roger.
“Good luck with that,” Paige snorted, eying up Megan’s tits for the umpteenth time. “God, I should have known. I’m sure those freaks go crazy over you. Four huge porn-star tits on a tiny body. Hell, even I’m getting a little hot just thinking about it.”
“Fuck you,” Megan told her with a smile. She turned to Roger and was about to tell him where he could shove his lacrosse racquet, when the sound of the front door slamming shut pulled her from her train of thought.
Megan got up and went to the living room to find that Amy was gone and so was her stuff. All that she’d left were a few splatters of thick-looking milk on the floor.
-
Megan did another free video, completely topless this time, and feeling all the more mortified. She felt stiff and unnatural as she sat there on camera. She got a huge surge of views, but as the minutes ticked by, viewers dropped off, losing interest.
obvs fake, one of them said.
The nervousness was crippling, but Megan tried to relax. She needed to open up. Acting before she could allow herself to think things through, Megan moved the camera so that in addition to her torso, her face was visible. At least, the lower half of her face.
“It’s. Not. Fake,” she said firmly, and hesitated. “My name is M…Melanie. A few months ago, I found myself with an odd affliction. My boobs kept expanding, then I—I fucking grew two more, somehow. Now it’s all just—growing, constantly growing.” She absently reached up to cradle one of her lower breasts. “Then there was milk and…god, they’re always so full…” She trailed off, breathless, abashed, and it was strangely intimate, talking to the viewers, revealing herself like this. The view count was stabilizing…no, rising. It was increasing. Megan absently rubbed her tingling breast. She was due to pump them soon. She had to…what if she... Megan squeezed her swollen nipple and a squirt of milk shot out.
The view count leapt. Adrenaline rushed her. Before she could stop herself, Megan lifted her other hand, and squeezed both nipples of her lower breasts in tandem. Right there on camera, she started to milk herself. It was humiliating. It was a mess. She tugged and squeezed, arched and gasped, and the numbers skyrocketed.
-
“I’m not sure what the appeal is,” Megan mumbled in Roger’s car a few days later, sort of hating that he was the only person she felt comfortable enough with to confide in. “I can start charging for my videos, but I can’t offer viewers anything they haven’t already seen in a free one.”
Roger was focused on the road. “I’m sure people would be willing to pay.”
“I don’t know,” said Megan. “There’s nothing new. It’s stupid.”
“Then do something different.”
“I’ve done everything. Jiggle them. Squirt them. What else?” said Megan, her face red.
“They’ll tune in,” said Roger.
“Why?”
“The same reason I do.”
“It’s different. We actually…”
“They’ll tune in to see you grow.”
Megan blinked. She opened her mouth then closed it. She felt the heat building on her cheeks.
“It’s the biggest appeal. They’ll want to see the…progress.” Roger pulled into the back of the rest stop parking lot. Megan couldn’t look at him. Her mind had gone blank.
“Want anything?” he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. The tank was still ¾ full but Roger probably wanted to take a piss and grab another of those nasty protein shakes he was always guzzling.
“I’ll come in,” said Megan, zipping up her impossibly thick jacket.
Megan still wasn’t sure why she had agreed to spend the week at Roger’s parent’s vacation cabin in the mountains, though it wasn’t as though she’d had anything better to do. It was about a five hour drive from the city, and the two were halfway there.
Megan followed Roger inside the qwicmart, where Megan grabbed chips, soda, candy, and some of the other crap she’d been craving lately. She was just pulling a pint of ice cream out of one of the freezers when she heard a noise that made her freeze.
A baby crying.
The effect was instant. Her breasts tightened and seeped, her body trembling and her breathing thinning. “Fuck.” Megan dropped her items right on the floor and hurried out of the mart, ignoring the stares of the other patrons.
She got back into Roger’s car and leaned down, hugging her torso, trying to clear her mind and breathe through it, but she just kept hearing the crying. And her tits were still seeping hard, practically squirting, milk sluicing down her torso, rapidly soaking through her shirt and even her jacket. The mounds heaved, bobbing gently up and down.
The driver’s side door opened.
“Sorry,” said Megan quickly. “I’m making a mess.”
“It’s okay,” said Roger as he sat down. He lowered a bag to the back seat, and Megan could see that he had purchased a lot of the stuff she had dropped. Roger gave her a thoughtful look. “You were really affected by that baby.”
“Shut up.”
Roger rolled his eyes. “Lean back.” He reached over, lowering Megan’s seat.
“No, I mean—someone will see,” said Megan, hardly resisting as Roger unzipped her jacket.
“It’s fine,” said Roger, sliding up Megan’s shirt, climbing over her, and going to work on her four tits.
