A Very Special Thanksgiving (Random Writing for TheGentleBro)

TAGS: Wardrobe Malfunction, Growth, Spillage

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“Come on, you fit last year! Stop struggling!”

Kyoob had been fighting against her own body for the past ten or so minutes, cursing herself for not having tried out the costume before the day she was supposed to be wearing it. With all of the preparations needed for the Thanksgiving dinner she invited her friends over for, it had slipped from her mind until just after she put the actual turkey in the oven, and now the mimic was suffering the consequences of having completely forgotten about her New Year’s resolution on going to the gym and-or just doing some push-ups every day… though, oddly enough, it wasn’t her belly getting in the way of that damned thing zipping back up, but two other, significantly larger things.

Wearing the turkey costume had been a tradition for at least the past five years, ever since Kyoob moved into her new place and decided she needed something special to celebrate; after a whole night of drinking far too much and being surrounded by other lightweights who really shouldn’t be drinking either, she ended up mail-ordering a full-size turkey costume that looked both horrendous, silly and actually kind of funny on her. It was tacky and so embarrassing that she’d never wear it literally anywhere that wasn’t the privacy of her own home, but it served as a reminder of that first Thanksgiving at her new home, surrounded by friends and a haze of alcohol-induced idiocy. Ever since then, Kyoob had made it a point to wear it every single year, even if it began to chafe almost immediately after she put it on; it was worth it purely for the awkward looks slowly turning into barely-contained laughter and then inevitably the stuffing jokes that always came about.

That year, however, the mimic found herself struggling with the costume in a way she hadn’t before. Now, Kyoob wasn’t necessarily the smallest of individuals, but despite her rather bountiful bust and shapely form, she’d never had any problems with fitting into that suit in the past; getting the zipper over her breasts was always a chore, and it did occasionally slip down just enough for her to show some cleavage while spilling out, but it fit, even if it had to be made to fit. However, now that she was trying to put it on in a mad dash to get ready before her friends arrived, that’s when Kyoob realized that something terribly wrong was going on, because no matter how hard she tried, she could not pull the zipper up above her bustline; in fact, she couldn’t even get it up to her underboob, which posed a very serious and worrying question: had she gotten bigger?

It was true that her bras had started to feel a bit more constricting lately, but Kyoob had chalked that up to having to actually wear them again after such a prolonged time working from home; her body had gotten so accustomed to going about her house without anything holding it back that surely it was normal for her chest to feel tighter when she had to go back to her physical workplace again. The same could be said for her jeans, which were a lot more form-fitting all of a sudden; again, the mimic assumed it was the result of being stuck at home for such a long period of time, coupled with a frank lack of care for her caloric intake. Surely it would all just go away on its own once she got back to her regular routine, and indeed, though the tightness never really disappeared, Kyoob learned to ignore it as she waited for it to vanish. But it didn’t; if anything, it only ever got worse.

So now that she was staring at herself in the mirror, looking at how the zipper barely even got to the bottom of the curvature of her breasts, the mimic had to ask herself a very serious question: had she actually grown? It felt ridiculous to even think such a thing; her puberty had come and gone and left her quite well-endowed, so there was no need for it to happen again, plus, never in her life had she heard anything about anyone spontaneously growing larger without some incredibly irresponsible use of magic or other such illicit methods. And yet, the more she looked at the turkey costume, the more she had to admit that it was a lot smaller than it used to be… yeah, that was it. The costume was smaller, probably as a result of her putting it through the wash improperly or something like that, it wasn’t her that had gotten larger! She breathed a sigh of relief after this realization, reassuring herself that this had to be the truth; after all, the alternative was just nonsense!

… but what then? She couldn’t just forgo the use of the costume, it was tradition! Her friends were expecting her to answer the door while wearing that thing and looking both incredibly silly and so happy that she could light up a whole room, she couldn’t just disappoint them like that! No, the suit had to be put on, even if it meant straining it to the point where she had to buy a new one. The mimic inhaled, holding her breath and pulling her belly in, one hand crossed over her breasts in an attempt to smush them, the other pulling the zipper up towards them; she could feel the air being squeezed out of her lungs, the metal teeth digging into her skin so deeply that, no matter how hard she tried, she had to let go of the zipper before getting anywhere close to where it needed to go. This repeated for about three or four more times before the mimic gave up entirely, dropping both arms by her side and admitting defeat.

All things considered though, the whole “absolute cleavage” look sort of suited her; somehow, the costume had shrunk so much that, as long as she didn’t move too much, the mimic could probably get away with using it like an extremely low-cut dress… though frankly, it’d most certainly make things slightly awkward at the dinner table, plus there was always the chance that the whole thing might slip and end up revealing a bit more than it should. There was only really one solution for that problem, and Kyoob didn’t want to consider it; it was dangerous, it was unnecessary, and most of all, it was just bothersome and prone to failure, so who knew what might happen if it didn’t go perfectly well? But… it had to happen; it was either that or go without the costume, and the latter option just wasn’t one as far as she cared.

Sighing, the mimic opened one of her drawers and produced a heavily bookmarked tome whose cover had been worn away with the passage of time and far too many pencil scribbles. With a look of utmost annoyance, Kyoob picked out the one page she was looking for and opened the damned thing right where she wanted to, revealing a very simple, if applicable, dimensional spell. It was complicated magic, but the sort of complicated that only really required getting used to it once; after all, it was the basis for pretty much every commercialized compressor out there, and if millions of people could get away with wearing trinkets that hid their true size for their whole lives, then surely the mimic could afford to keep her tits in check for the duration of a single night. All she had to do was read the instructions, perform the incantation, and then everything underneath the zipper would be magically shrunk down just enough that it could actually be drawn up and the costume could be used, with only a relatively minor chance of the whole thing going awry and backfiring horribly.

“Well, here goes nothing…” Kyoob mumbled before clearing her throat, then very slowly read the words required to get the spell to work. They were complex, multisyllabic incantations that twisted the tongue and the very brain, and more often than not led to one’s perception of time and the world around them to distort as much as they were trying to do to themselves, not to mention the fact that they had a tendency to leave the whole room smelling like copper, a smell that refused to go away for days at a time… but it worked. Or, at least, it didn’t do something awful that was immediately visible; as soon as Kyoob touched the zipper, it glowed brightly for a few moments before settling down, which either meant that the spell was now active, or she’d have to try again.

Time to experiment.

Very carefully, Kyoob grabbed hold of the zipper and began to pull it upwards; if everything had gone according to plan, then the dimensional distortions should allow it to shove everything underneath it into a spatial pocket, effectively serving as a temporary compressor device… and, much to her delight, the mimic found absolutely no resistance in her way! In sharp contrast to her previous attempts at closing up the costume, this last-ditch one went swimmingly, with her even able to close the teeth up over her cleavage without having to push her breasts inwards or anything of the sort; sure, they still bulged out from within, and quite dangerously so given the distortions at play, but at least it actually fit for once, giving her full coverage from the neck all the way down to her hips and then curving around her figure towards the end of her legs. It looked horrendous and if any picture was taken then Kyoob might have to hunt it down and delete it, but it served its intended purpose.

Content with herself, she closed the book and put it back where it belonged, then turned around and went out the door, happy that things were going back to the way they were supposed to. She felt a bit tight all over, but once again dismissed it as a necessary side-effect of the spatial magic she had just cast; after all, she wasn’t a terribly adequate practitioner, plus it was supposed to be a stopgap to begin with, so she couldn’t expect the height of comfort. All that was needed were a few hours of her time and then she could get to work buying a new costume for next year; in the meantime, there was a whole dinner to cook, and an actual turkey to check up on, lest it end up carbonized like that one time.

The sun had gone down and their friends should be there any minute, probably with cameras at the ready so the group could engage in the time-honored tradition of trying to capture Kyoob at her most embarassing as she attempted to remain dignified while wearing a costume designed to look dumb; in fact, judging by the time, they were probably already going up the stairs, given that the elevator was out of order. Indeed, all the mimic had to do was stop chopping up lettuce for a bit in order to hear what was unmistakably the sound of people complaining about having to climb up to the very last floor while already out of breath; this was good, it meant less teasing until they were all suitably sloshed. With the widest smile stamped on her face, Kyoob put down the knife, washed her hands quickly, then swivelled around to open the door, only to hear something ripping.

Instantly, the temperature in the room plummeted as panic immediately set in, the mimic’s mind racing at the possibility that her containment spell had been weaker than she intended. Trying her best not to strain the costume further, she held herself in place mid-step, using her hands to try and identify where the suit had torn open; she’d find the offending location halfway down her thigh, where a significant portion of her soft flesh was now bulging out from a destroyed steam, feeling remarkably more sensitive than normal. With her eyes wide open and her legs already shaking from fear, Kyoob attempted to calm herself by breathing in slowly and heavily, only to almost immediately regret it when she heard the sound of low, metallic groaning and fabric stretching to its limit each time she filled her lungs; whatever had happened, simply filling them up with air was enough to push her chest out so much that her clothes were ready to rip… but she had to breathe, so what now?!

Her mind in complete disorder, all the mimic could think to do was rush to her bedroom in order to find something else to put on, but then if she did so, the costume was likely to just be torn to shreds, and the time it took for her to come to this realization was long enough that her friends were already knocking at the door and calling out for her name, only making her sweat harder; if the spell failed and she was forcefully disrobed, they would hear it, and then she would never hear the end of it for months to come, not exactly something she was willing to endure.

“Come on, not now!” she begged with her costume, as if that would do anything, “You fit last year, stop complaining!”

The more she spoke to her own body, the more it disobeyed, and soon enough more holes were starting to get torn into the fabric, her body ready to explode from within as the containment spell failed catastrophically despite her best attempts at keeping it going; no amount of power diverted to it seemed to be working, and in fact, it only appeared to be actively making it worse, as now there was probably more thighflesh bulging out from the many, many rips in the pants of the costume than there was inside of it. This was soon mirrored above the waist, with her bust ripping through several seams and large pockets of her strawberry-coloured breasts spilling out from the holes, turning what used to be a solid suit into a spider’s web of interconnected strips of cloth that just barely held themselves together. Any motion whatsoever was enough to tear through more of the suit, and there wasn’t a lot of it left… plus, the whole process was loud enough that her friends could hear it, and were already commenting on it loudly enough that Kyoob couldn’t ignore it.

“Come on, Kyoob, at least open the door so we can see!” she heard the cat say, “We even brought the cameras and everything!”

Panic. Panic, panic and more panic, so much panic that the mimic no longer cared whether or not anyone could hear what was happening or if they could tell what was going on; she turned her body towards the door and bolted out of it, fully intending to run and not stop until she was safely locked inside of her bedroom. As a result, Kyoob barely got five steps into the hallway before the entire costume disintegrated and she was left completely nude, doing so loudly enough that her friends on the other side of the door burst out laughing; it wasn’t malicious, far from it, but it was still a reminder that this was entirely her fault for not trying out the damned suit beforehand.

Slamming the door behind her, the mimic took a few seconds to breathe in properly now that she could, what with the only remnants of the turkey costume being thin strips of brown-ish denim hanging from her shoulders or somehow holding onto her legs. She felt heavy, far more so than usual, and her movements were sluggish and almost unresponsive; the mimic couldn’t begin to fathom why, though after stepping in front of the mirror, the reason for it became evident almost immediately: as it turned out, it hadn’t been the costume that shrank.

Kyoob was staring at a body that was definitely hers, but couldn’t be. Not only was her chest mostly obscured by a pair of breasts that were noticeably bigger than her own had ever been, but her waist, despite apparently remaining the same as it always had been, looked positively diminutive compared to the shapely rear protruding from behind it, to say nothing of her flared hips and frankly excessive amount of thigh, a perfect heart shape forming in front of her that made the mimic bite her lip subconsciously. She attempted to lift one of her mounds, finding it to be surprisingly heavier than expected, perhaps explained by the low churning she could definitely hear coming from it… and the appearance of something resembling a droplet of pinkish cream on the tip of her nipples. Surely this couldn’t be happening; surely this was all just a dream and she’d wake up, realize it was still early in the day, and then go about things perfectly normally as if nothing happened.

But she didn’t wake up. In fact, the longer time went on, the more real her body became, the more it sunk into her head that this was, indeed, happening, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Somehow, she’d grown, and quite substantially at that… enough that she had her doubts that anything in her wardrobe would fit her anymore.

“Kyoob?”

The voices were coming from outside her house, accompanied by the occasional knocking. That’s right, her friends were still there, waiting for her to open the door.

“Kyoob, are you alright? We were just joking, we’re sorry!”

Suddenly, things didn’t seem so alluring. Suddenly, the realization that she had nothing to wear that would keep her remotely decent, or even an explanation for why that was a thing in the first place, had dawned on her, and this immediately killed the arousal as dead as it could get. What was she supposed to do now?!

“Kyoob, if you don’t wanna hear the costume, it’s fine,” she heard the blue boy say, “just put a shirt on, it’s alright!”

Oh, if only they knew. And if only she had a shirt that actually hid her brand new bust. Or a pair of pants that got over her hips. Or anything, really.

Why did she have to wait until that day to try out the costume?!

“Goddamnit…” she sighed, before clearing her throat and turning towards the door to the hallway. She was about to do something very stupid, and thus raised her voice so that her guests could hear, “Coming!”