Farm Girl, Part 5
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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.
-
Things were getting weirder.
Aside from trying to deal with the plump, round, occasionally dripping, C-cups on her chest, Megan had developed an itch directly beneath them, on her ribs. She scratched at herself impatiently at night, and discreetly during the day, the skin taking on a pinkish hue. It was just another thing to deal with. Megan suspected the weight of her often-sweaty tits was irritating her skin there.
Megan received her order of some new bras. She withdrew the first slinky pink item, rather admiring it as she strapped it on. She supposed the relief outweighed the weirdness and discomfort of trying to hide her breast growth all the time. Megan stared down at her perky mounds in the C-cup bra. To her surprise, her breast-flesh was bulging somewhat against the cups, as though the bra was slightly too small. Megan closed her eyes and tried not to think for a moment. She then got some of the hormone and got a little high.
It was easier to process this debacle when she was at least slightly inebriated. She appreciated no longer having to quaver from the sensation of her nipples rubbing against the insides of her T-shirts when she was alone in her room.
Her ribs were still so itchy. She was developing a bump on her skin under her right breast. There was another bump on the opposite side, once she really explored it. She’d tried creams and lotions she found in the medicine cabinet, and though they cooled her skin temporarily, they had yet to resolve the issue.
“Damn Megan, your boobs are beautiful,” Jane mentioned one afternoon.
“I think they’re getting bigger,” said Sam as she indulgently stared.
Megan glared at them as she fidgeted under her shirt. Her breast-flesh was bubbling heavily over her bra cups by then, the skin on her upper ribs still itchy and now slightly puffy from all the irritation. “Thanks?” she said in annoyance as she adjusted herself again.
She knew they were growing. They seemed to throb and leak every night the moment she sank in her bed, as though sensing she was alone, sensing the idleness of her wandering fingers. They were hot and achy and drove her insane. And touching them, tweaking her nipples, continued to be the most luxurious sensation in the world. Even at that moment, her nipples were bulging hard in her shirt, swollen and tender, practically begging to be touched. Megan closed her eyes and tried to breathe. If she started to leak, her friends would just get worse in their weird commentary.
“I think they’re D’s,” piped in Sam.
“Shh…shut up,” Megan groaned, but it was no use, they were seeping. Her nipples distended as she moaned quietly, wiping sweat from her brow. Her friends were left gawking.
Jane awkwardly cleared her throat. “They look good, Meg.”
“They’re ridiculous,” Megan retorted. Especially on her slim frame. And they were getting harder to hide at school and during family meals. The bandages compressed them, but painfully, and not very adequately. Sometimes, when they were engorged, she felt like they’d just burst.
Jane started, “Yeah, but—”
“What’s with this obsession with them, anyway?” Megan complained.
There was a beat of silence.
“I can appreciate a nice pair of boobs,” said Jane.
This caused Sam to laugh and Megan to smile, the tension dissolving somewhat.
Megan sighed and lightly shook her head as she gazed down at the way her chest was stretching out her T-shirt. “Do you mind if I…they’re just so hot.” Not waiting for an answer, she pulled off her shirt, releasing a quiet hiss as her hot skin was exposed to the cool air within her bedroom. Milk was dripping directly from her bra, her hard nipples perfectly outlined against the straining wet material. Megan uneasily bit her bottom lip as she surveyed herself. She knew her nipples were large, almost unusually so. And she knew that she was lactating a lot lately. It was getting bad, and she didn’t know what to do. Tearing her gaze away from her chest, she attempted to change the subject. “Sam, you’re fucking huge.”
Sam and Jane seemed to snap out of their reveries as their focus was also pulled away from Megan’s chest.
“I know,” Sam shrugged as she lightly patted her gut.
That was putting it lightly. Sam looked as though she was pregnant, like, very pregnant, even due with child. Her belly didn’t even come close to resembling weight gain, especially when the rest of her body remained slim, save for her chest, which was getting fuller lately.
“You should see a doctor,” said Jane.
“Hm. Probably,” said Sam, as she continued to lightly stroke her abdomen. She seemed strangely content in the face of so much uncertainty.
Megan lightly shook her head as she went and prepared herself another hit.
-
In another few weeks, Megan was struggling to minimize the appearance of a fat pair of DDs on her chest.
It was just insane how perky and plump they were. Nowadays her parents were doing double takes or giving her concerned looks. As much as Megan tried to conceal the mounds, their largeness was getting kind of obvious.
Her friends helped her to feel better, if just by way of their abnormalities.
Sam was starting to look like a whale. She was even beginning to waddle. It was bizarre. She looked as though she had a beach ball attached to her torso.
All her shirts strained to contain her, some of them on the cusp of tearing right open. Her pants and skirts were jammed low under her firm gut, barely hanging on.
Sam puffed and panted wherever she went, always flushed pink and sweating profusely. When she wasn’t in motion, she laid, practically squashed beneath her mound, looked utterly exhausted.
It remained a mystery why she had still yet to seek medical attention. Every time one of her friends suggested it (lightly, and awkwardly, but with a hint of urgency), Sam gave an eerie look and vaguely agreed (though she never did).
“I don’t know guys,” she said one afternoon where she was sprawled, uncomfortably, on her usual bean bag in Megan’s room. “I just feel like—like it’s fine. You know?” She fumbled, trying to get comfortable. Her belly was trembling even when she was not moving. The first few times she had seen it, Megan had been certain it was her imagination. But it wasn’t. Sam’s belly moved. Even at that moment, Megan could see Sam’s skin press out beneath her navel.
“Sam, I think there’s something very wrong with you,” said Jane, and Megan had never seen Jane look so nervous.
“There’s something wrong with all of us,” said Sam dismissively. “Your ass is completely insane. And Megan has the fattest rack I’ve ever seen.”
“Hey,” protested Megan, uncertain of whether to be flattered or insulted. Her rack was pretty fat. At present she was trying to rub at her sensitive under-boob flesh as discreetly as she could. The skin had only gotten puffier and more irritated over time, tapering in an unusual way, like two soft little mountains directly beneath each of her large breasts. She wondered if she was getting cysts or something. Just another problem to add to the pile. At least the issue was hidden by her tits. That was the one bright side, she supposed.
“Yeah…” Jane conceded, looking increasingly uneasy. Her ass was truly massive. Megan didn’t even know where she found pants. It looked like she had two volleyballs stuffed in the seat of them, ass cheeks wobbling around after her in the most sexually confusing way imaginable. “I’ve been getting these weird growths. On my head, actually.”
Megan blinked and lifted her gaze. Jane’ head looked no different than usual. But Jane was reaching into her wavy brown hair, fingering something.
“They’re like…bone spurs, or something,” Jane continued. “I may actually have to go see a doctor.”
“Seriously?” Megan got up, and touched Jane’ head without thought. It was true. There was a little spike that was hard, like a bone. Jane took her wrist, and directed her fingers to another one, on the opposite side.
It was only then that Megan noticed that Jane was getting an eyeful of cleavage in the too-small tank top Megan was wearing. Her breasts were practically stuffed in her friend’s face.
“You are shameless,” said Megan, stepping back. She self-consciously adjusted her top, nipples aching.
Jane sarcastically blew a kiss. Sam laughed at them.
The trio bantered a bit, then fell into discussion of other things, Megan happy to steer the conversation away from their ever-changing bodies.
-
Megan didn’t know how nursing women could even tolerate this. Her breasts were so achy yet she couldn’t stop touching them. And the more she touched them, the more they seeped. It was an endless cycle of torment and arousal. And it was driving her nuts.
Her rash was getting out of control. The irritation was so constant and disruptive, Megan feared she might actually have to go see a dermatologist. She examined herself in the bathroom one evening after several days of trying to ignore the problem, but in actuality, fidgeting and pawing at herself through her clothes. She lifted her plump, leaky tits in her hands and examined the puffy flesh beneath them.
Her jaw dropped.
On the skin just beneath each breast, a small mountain had formed, topped off with a pink bump she had thought to be a mole or a cyst or something. But now it looked very defined and distinct, and was almost painfully sensitive when she isolated her touch to just that spot.
She gulped as one actually seemed to…harden. It looked like—it was—it was a second pair of breasts.
“What the fuck,” Megan wheezed out, dropping her arms, and causing her fat DDs to slap painfully down against the small pair of breasts just beneath them. She thought she was losing her mind, so she quickly checked again, then lowered her breasts, and walked across the room, running her fingers down her face and through her sweaty hair.
This was impossible.
She was losing it.
She had never seen or heard of—anything—like it before.
How was this—how could—She sunk down the wall, face in her hands as she drew up her knees. She felt her heart pounding. She didn’t know how to deal with this
-
An hour later, Megan found herself at Sam’s house. She felt dazed and sick, and just wanted to be high, but she didn’t want to do it alone. She didn’t think she could handle being alone at that moment.
Sam didn’t seem to be doing too well herself, though her ails were more physical. She was groaning and bitching, continuously clutching at her side. She complained about her back and hips, and how she couldn’t get her body to relax.
The girl looked massive. Her belly button stuck out like an oven timer. She looked practically crushed beneath her mass, small and mousy as the rest of her was. When she stood, she leaned heavily on the wall, and arched, so her gut stuck out even farther.
Her hips looked wider today, oddly enough. And her belly, somehow lower. She would clutch at the underside, and tense, and curse lightly every while. “I feel like I’m going to burst,” she whined, palming her heaving mass.
Megan passed her a hit, and as Sam took it, it looked almost as though her belly swelled somewhat.
