Avoiding the Flu with Pancakes and Twitter (Patreon)

By Mirandasdream for Andrew! 

Author's Notes: So with the craziness going on right now I asked one of my twitter friends how I could cheer them up in these hard times and they gave me the initial idea for this. I hope you enjoy it as much as they did.

This takes place in the same universe as "Breast Time Of Your Life" but like any of the other stories in that universe, you don't need to read any of the other stories.

Story: 

Angela blew out angrily through her lips, making a cute raspberry sound. While not having big lips like some gals in her dorm, she managed the feet without use of her tongue, earning herself a giggle. She glanced at her phone and did her best to resist clicking it open. Ever since the Uni had gone into lockdown, she'd spent an inordinate amount of time watching the spread of CoWvid-2020 and hoping and praying she didn't get it. 

Her phone had just become a source of panic to her, but she struggled to just sit and watch Netflix like the other gals in the dorm, each stuck in their own rooms with mini-kitchenettes. She just… had to look. 

Flipping her phone face up and unlocking it with a smile, she resisted clicking any of the news sites and alerts that popped up, instead focusing on Tweeter. That was bound to be happier... right? 

Thread after thread, tweet after tweet. Nothing but fear mongering and self-adulation. 

Then a post caught her eye.  

“Want to avoid the flu? Try this home remedy and you can be sure you won’t get it!” 

What followed was a cocktail of things she knew she had in her tiny mini fridge and meager pantry. Skipping the rest of the comments, she screenshots the recipe and quickly had it whipped out. 

Honestly it looked somewhere between pee and that Emergen-C that she’d been drinking every morning. The Emergen-C, not her own pee... Or anyone else’s. 

She took a taste and... it was kind of... Carroty. But not carrot juice. Like liquified Carrot Cake. Which was odd, there was no carrots in it... or in her dorm room. Not after ‘the incident’. 

She smacked her lips once, shrugged, and downed the whole thing. 

“Would be better with... vodka.” Angela managed to get out before falling into her bed and falling asleep. 

She woke up... well honestly, she wasn’t sure how much longer, but her phone was dead. Plugging it in to charge she reached out absently and snagged a bag of chips. She wasn’t sure why she was so hungry, and she’d been trying to control her weight lately, but those DoritNos just called to her. 

Scarfing the entire bag while queueing up some YouTube, she scratched itched at the side of one of her small, but perky, boobs. She wondered about how full they were filling as she reached for a box of Nutty Butty’s, it wasn’t close to ‘her time’ currently so it seemed an unlikely source. 

Finishing them, and some peanut butter ice-cream, then a rocky road. After that was a parade of Oreo sandwich cookies, some double chocolate chips ahoy, and as she was polishing off some chocolate dipped ice-cream cones, drumsticks or something, that her shirt finally popped a thread and drew her attention.  

“Holy Tits, CatWoman!” With both hands she grasped the sudden volleyballs that had replaced her once cute little boobies. Tugging on the neckline, her jaw dropped into her cleavage as she started in shock at what had to be just a little under head sized tits. 

“The fuck caused this?” She asked herself as she reached for her fourth can of Dr. Pepper Cream Soda for the day. Downing half of it in two gulps she heard her shirt give up utterly and her tits droop into her lap. Looking down, she half expected the fantastic spheres she’d first seen had somehow morphed into something saggy and more natural looking. Instead, her eyes stared at a pair of beach balls, her skin looking a bit shiny and just as tight as their plastic, air filled brethren. 

“It’s... it’s the sugar!” She guessed, another gulp of soda following, and then a moan as her she felt her skin stretch, her heavy breasts slowly filling her lap. 

Having to lean, rather than get up and retrieve her phone, she quickly found the post again that had given her the so called ‘magic elixir’ guaranteed to keep her safe from the virus. Clicking on the tweet, she mentally kicked herself as she read through the comments, each with outrageous claims of it growing tits the more the poster, or the poster’s girlfriend/wife/etc. ate of anything including sugar, especially high fructose corn syrup. 

With everyone having stocked up on only the most artificial of foodstuffs, it had been pretty universal in its effects. 

Which gave her a sudden idea... 

It took some work, but she’d managed to cook not one, but two fat stacks of pancakes, and slather them in margarine and Mrs. Butterworth’s ‘Syrup’. She put them on the closest surface, one stack atop each tit and held her camera out to take a quick selfie and post to the thread, having to retake it to crop her nipples and wide areola out of the snap, I’m not that kind of twitter account. 

But maybe now that she had these.... 

Instead she posted the pic in reply, retweeting it to her own profile a second later, with the text. “Hey, anyone know who’s still delivering? I’m not done growing yet. 😉” 

~Fin