Farm Girl, Part 7 (Patreon)

Story Directory: $5 Patrons
Story Directory: $10 Patrons
Story Directory: $20 Patrons

Story Schedule

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.

Previous Chapter 

-

Megan tried to bandage her lower breasts down, but they were just so tender. And they were getting unquestionably large. It hardly helped. So she kept her arms folded against them most of the time, inconveniently enough, heaving up the upper pair, but it was worth it if it helped to hide the lower pair just a little better.

Most of the time, Megan was flushed and fidgeting. She felt stimulated and uncomfortable beneath the bandages and her layers of clothes. She was constantly sweaty, and dazed, hardly paying attention to anything aside from the conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure caused by the compression. The bandages always felt as though they were tighter by the end of the school day. It was almost unbearable to be squeezed and compacted in such a way.

She suddenly had huge breasts. Two pairs. She had transformed from a skinny tomboy to a girl with huge, bobbing tits, and the rest of the school didn’t really know how to react to it, other than to point, giggle, or gawk at her continuously. Some teachers and students thought it was a foul joke. Others just seemed utterly confused and concerned. Megan was sure that the varying reactions to her appearance would have bothered her were she not continuously riding at least a low grade high. As such, she could barely pay attention or care. Not until things got physical.

Megan was roughly shoved in the hallway one day after school. She was so absent to the world around her that she failed to register that someone had not deliberately pushed her, but had unintentionally bumped into her.

“You prick,” Megan told the offender as she followed him into the men’s bathroom while in the process of hammering him with her small fists, this broad, tall…guy. He shoved her into the wall.

“‘the hell is wrong with you?” He sneered at her.

Megan vaguely recognized him to be one of the hockey players in her year. He was fairly new to the school, and Megan didn’t think they had any classes together.

His name was, maybe, Roger, and it was odd for Megan to see him in this context. Roger usually spent his time bullying other people. Fat kids, and kids with bad skin, or ugly faces. Poor kids and kids with disabilities, or lisps, or the ones who ceaselessly talked about how cool their parents were. The weirdos, goths, and freaks with no friends. Roger bullied the stand-outs, not the ones who stood indifferently on the sidelines. Not kids like Megan.

Oh, Megan registered, belatedly. She had become one of those kids. Infuriated, she attempted to hit him in the crotch, but at the last minute, he caught her hand.

Rogers free hand roughly grabbed her upper right breast. “You started it,” he told her as she gasped. “What the fuck do you have stuffed under here? This can’t all actually be your…” Roger trailed off.

Megan was shuddering, her knees close to buckling beneath her. Her breasts were outrageously sensitive to her own touch, but she hadn’t anticipated that the touch of another person, even rough and sloppy, would completely send her body into overdrive. Her panties were rapidly moistening, heat pooling in her stomach as her tits ached and tightened, nipples distending significantly, almost painfully. She could feel the areolas puffing out, could feel her milk surging the bloated tissue. She had no hope of containing the dam. “Oh god,” Megan breathed as milk poured into her shirt.

“’The fuck?” said Roger, pulling back against the flow of warm wetness. But he furrowed his eyebrows and returned to his rough investigation, as he groped at Megan’s chest, feeling the masses, the bloated tenderness and the round heft of them. Impatiently, Roger began to jerk up Megan’s shirt. “No way,” he said. “No way these are real.”

“Stop!” Megan tried to pull away, but her legs were jello, and she just ended up tripping on her own feet and slumping down the wall. Roger followed her, crouching down, staring at what he had uncovered. Megan’s shirt had been drawn up under her chin, and her upper breasts were on display, bulging heavily from the E-cup bra straining to contain them.

“Holy shit,” Roger breathed, then he reddened slightly, quickly withdrawing his hands. His eyes trailed over the bulging bandages tucked beneath Megan’s upper mounds. “Cosmetic surgery?” He looked at Megan as though she was completely insane.

“No, I…” Megan wasn’t sure why she would disagree. It was probably a better explanation than what had actually happened—that she had mysteriously sprouted them while snorting cow feed over months.

She imagined a scenario where she was so desperate for attention that she would invest thousands of dollars of savings into getting ludicrously huge breasts.

Roger’s continued to stare at the bandages. Without thought, he brushed over them with his thumb. What he thought was just swollen flesh and a surgery wound was another set of breasts. Even through the layers, the contact was insanely arousing. The lower mounds were so new, and sensitive, practically starved for attention. Just as Roger’s hand finally pulled away, just as he was backing down, it happened. Megan’s lowered breasts tightened, and pushed, and surged, as though to follow Roger’s hand. Megan cried out as the bandages pulled and squeezed her, face reddening and ribs compressing. “Fuuhhhh…ngghhhhh…” She groaned, twitching, until there was a tearing noise, and the bandages rapidly came apart.

She gasped for breath, face red, body shuddering. It was just too much, too stimulating, the sensation of her lower breasts pushing and throbbing while squished beneath the upper pair. By instinct, Megan reached down and quickly lifted the upper pair to alleviate the debilitating pressure. Twin spurts of milk splattered forward, causing Roger’s jaw to drop. But Roger’s attention was quickly captured by the masses beneath them, his eyes becoming impossibly wide. A choking noise escaped his throat.

Megan couldn’t see her lower breasts, but she knew they were bigger, and growing. She could fucking feel it, and it was all she could do not to reach down and squeeze them. She could feel them throbbing and fattening, beginning to press together in a new forming line of cleavage. The pressure was impossible to tolerate, and she was sweating buckets just trying to stand it. “I t-think…oh god…th-they’re gonna…”

They were engorged. They were fucking engorged. Her milk was coming in, and she needed release.

Megan shivered. She tried to slide her hands down, but it was so awkward and uncomfortable, but her lower nipples were stinging, flesh aching and tingling. She shifted slightly, guys shivering as she moaned and tried to hold herself upright. Roger was still busily gawking at Megan’s lower pair of breasts.

“What…the fuck…have you done to yourself?” Roger said slowly. “I mean, fucking, how? You’re—‘the fuck.” He seemed to be at a loss for words outside of obscenities.

Megan opened her mouth, intending to excuse herself, but all that came out was a whimper. Her groin was sopping. Every move she made left her hips twitching as electricity shot through her lower belly. She needed to get away but wasn’t even sure how.

She yelped when she suddenly felt warm hands on her lower breasts.

Roger’s hands.

He began to rub and squeeze the flesh, as if to see if it was real. Megan heard herself release an undignified squeak. It was the most mortifying situation she had ever been in. If her friends could see her now, she would never live it down.

“Please,” she gasped out, wanting more. Megan shuddered as Roger’s fingers zeroed in on her nipples. “T-they need to…” Megan gulped. “T-think they’re gonna…”

They squirted. She could feel it—then see it. Thin, sweet little streams of pale milk, not the dark, thick fluid that the upper pair produced. But milk all the same. It was her first time lactating from them. Megan sighed in sweet relief, leaning more heavily on the wall. She thought it would only be a small amount, but if anything the output seemed to be increasing, her flesh tingly and warm. Roger’s fingers continued to roll and squeeze the nubs. She felt herself arching against the touch.

“They’re really full,” Megan said dumbly, she wasn’t sure why, it just sort of came out of her mouth.

Roger gave her another speculative, and confused sort of look. “You’re a fucking mutant, Sturge.”

“Nnghhhh…yeah…” Megan agreed.

And then Roger did the unthinkable. He leaned down to Megan’s lower left tit and took a long suck.

“Oh fuck, oh f-f-fuck.”

Megan came.

-

Megan was a flustered, disheveled mess by the time she made it home, arms folded against her torso yet doing little to hide her bulging breasts.

They were swollen and sore, throbbing and growing, pushing mutinously against her arms.

They bobbed uncomfortably as Megan finally made it to her room. She sunk down the wall, slumping on the carpeted floor, and immediately pulled up her shirt, gasping for breath as the four sweaty mounds were exposed to the cool air.

She didn’t actually want to touch them. They were so sensitive, she was on the brink of tears. But Megan found herself gently, gingerly cradling the side of one, avoiding her nipples, just laying her hand against the hot flesh. Something had changed. She felt it blatantly. Her upper breasts were now sitting atop the lower pair, no longer hiding them with their mass. Heart racing, Megan climbed up with a groan. She hesitated, then walked to her full-length mirror.

Beneath the fat pair of E-cups on her chest, proudly sat a pair of plump, round Ds. They had gone up two cup-sizes just that afternoon, and were rapidly catching up to the upper pair in girth. Her lower-breasts were unquestionably large now, and could no longer be hidden.

It was uncomfortable, all four sitting there, stacked and jiggling. Megan went to her dresser and dug around. She pulled out one of the new bras she had purchased online, and grimaced as she latched it around her, easing her upper breasts into the wide cups. They still bulged against them, but it would have to do.

Megan looked again, this time unearthing a strapless bra. It was a smaller sizer, and was slightly stretched from when she had outgrown it when using it to support the upper pair. This time, Megan put the bra on her lower pair of breasts, hissing in discomfort as she adjusted to the confining material. But it was an improvement, and it offered the support she needed at that moment. Breathing thinly, Megan threw another glance to the mirror, at the odd arrangement her four breasts in their two bras made on her chest. She then got on her bed and carefully lowered herself across the mattress. Her chest heaved and milk poured from all four breasts, sometimes stopping, but continuing again.

Megan reached up and plucked her lower right breast out of the cup. She lightly squeezed her nipple, her face heating, and a thin stream of milk squirting into the air. It was already thickening, getting whiter, and making a mess. But the pressure was intensely painful and arousing, and the milk was coming so fast, she knew she would rapidly go up several more cup sizes if she didn’t—well—milk herself.

So Megan plucked out her lower left breast, and repeated the process, squeezing and milking every few minutes or so, releasing the building warmth of the bulk. She was exhausted, but stayed up between dozing, repeating the process again and again. It was hours before she could tell that the milk in her lower breasts was no longer developing faster than it was naturally oozing from her nipples. With that vague assurance, Megan finally allowed herself to fall asleep. She didn’t get up when she heard her friends ringing the doorbell, or later, when her parents came home from work. She was drained.

Next Chapter