The Dream Eater 1 (Sample) (Patreon)

She always dreamt of growing bustier. Something from the other side listened.

There’s a mysterious new arcade cabinet in town. Lydia, the self-professed queen of the Retro Arcade, naturally has to beat it. But there’s more to this game than just a high score; with every point, Lydia grows bustier and bustier, changing into a wet dream while overloading on pleasure. But while her curves swell, she is left blissfully unaware to her own transformation, her sense of normality manipulated by an unseen puppeteer, warping reality towards its own debauched purposes…

Can Lydia beat the game before she succumbs to the erotic thrill of her changing body?
Will she realize that she is becoming a seed of corruption for an otherworldly entity? Or will she plunge fully into the Dream Eater’s breast-obsessed fantasy world, drowning in the curves that she had always wished for?

This 4,200 word story contains: Breast Expansion (huge/hyper), Solo/Lesbian, Transformation, Female Growth, & Reality Warping.

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The Dream Eater 1: A Breast Expansion Story

A shiver ran down Lydia’s spine.

The sound had not come from the game, but somewhere inside her own head. Though it felt as if the source had been lower, welling up from inside her chest as her heart stumbled over its own beat. She reeled for a moment, eyes growing unfocused, before she steadied herself against the console of the arcade cabinet, continuing its merry jingle, which grew no less aggravating in her moment of weakness.

But the stupid game was not going to beat her that easily. She grit her teeth, wondering why she felt so weird. The game was a fucking cake-walk! The loss of Time Crisis must have shocked her more than she realized, Lydia reasoned to herself, and directed her attention towards the high score once more. She’d go chill and calm down later; after she had put these stupid bubbles in their place.

The next couple of pops went by without fanfare. Her breath steadied once more, and her mind focused on knocking the colored bubbles together in sequence. One, two, three—and boom, she got to the biggest size of bubble she had seen yet.

It hit her instantly, like a punch in the gut. Only, it was the furthest thing possible from pain; a kiss on her clit, intense, arousing, and wholly unexpected. She found herself reeling once more, but now there was no trace of stress or frustration; this was all pleasure, a toe-curling pulse of heat between her legs that sent shivers down her spine. She was blushing, she realized, and her nipples were achingly hard.

The realization that she was in public, having an orgasm out of nowhere, hit her like a brick. She adjusted her top, looking around guiltily with a fervent prayer that nobody was looking in her direction, when she finally looked down—and froze in place for a minute, mind blanking, as she saw something that she had never seen in her life:

Her baggy top bulging with a set of big boobs. Her boobs.

What the hell…?

She gave her chest an experimental poke. Sure enough, she felt it. They were real, round, and heavy. Her thoughts, though confused, instantly leaped to other adjectives: busty, curvaceous, sensual. It made her head spin; though that was entirely understandable considering that she had just upgraded from zero to a D-cup in a single blow.

And yet that wasn’t all the whole reason for her befuddlement. Lydia had the distinct sensation that this was Normal. Extremely Normal. That’s what it was like to go the arcade, right? Play some games, your boobs grow huge. Who hadn’t had that experience? It was so Normal, in fact, that Lydia couldn’t even articular why it freaked her out. It wasn’t like she didn’t want bigger boobs; why should it disturb her to get them? The harder she thought about it, the more the answer evaded her. It was like trying to capture a dream. She was awake, now, sitting up in her bed, watching the details of it disappear in the morning light. Lydia was stacked. So what?

She turned back to the game, resuming her bubble-popping climb towards the high score. With every pop, her breasts grew, rising like dough—sexy, shapely dough—under her top, blessing her with the figure that she never had. So much, in fact, that her shirt began to struggle to contain her, straining visibly around her huge, perky tits. Lacking a bra, her thick, luscious nipples tented the front of her top, freely advertising her arousal to anyone who happened to look in her direction.

Lydia paid it no mind. She wiped the sweat from her brow, cursing the heat inside the arcade. Did the AC break, or something? Sheesh, it wasn’t as if they were going out of business. Lydia’s patronage alone probably paid their bills, and—

Shit! A moment’s carelessness and her bubbles bounced free, spilling out of the game area. Her run was over. She cursed, ever sensitive to the sting of defeat—especially from such an easy game—but this time, she was astounded to discover an even stronger reaction to losing her game:

She came. Hard.

Lydia staggered back, losing all control of herself. Her hips bucked, her clit throbbed, and she became at one with the universe as her whole body turned into an erogenous zone for a brief, breathless moment. She was warm, wet, drawn inexorably to touch herself, to find an outlet for this hypnotic bliss that welled up deep inside herself. She squirted like she never had, making a soggy mess of her underwear, as she collapsed, panting, moaning, melting away into erotic ecstasy…

Then she snapped back to reality, ejected from the gates of her lusty heaven with an abruptness, bordering on rude, that left her flailing to grab onto something before she fell on her ass. The only thing in reach was the Bubble Game cabinet, which saw Lydia narrowly catching herself, only to sink to her knees to huddle up beside the cursed machine.

“H-holy shit,” she muttered, breathing as though every lungful might be her last. “What in the fucking fuck…”

The climactic high dissipated by degrees, leaving her a sweaty, trembling mess. Nowhere was this as pronounced as between her legs, where her heroic show of squirting had left wet spots bleeding through her jeans. Thank God she wore black.

She clambered to her feet with great care, noting—and immediately forgetting—that her pants felt a lot tighter than usual. Especially around her ass. Maybe they had shrunk in the wash, she thought to herself; but something as pedestrian as the fit of her clothes was not at all a priority at that instant. She had to beat the Bubble Game. Clothes, in fact, were so low on her radar that she didn’t even question the fact that her shirt had ridden up to expose her midriff, visibly stretched by her huge knockers, or paused to consider how she looked to anyone else in the arcade.

The Bubble Game was still stuck on the Game Over screen. It also displayed the current rankings for the game, which consisted of just a single high score held by one ‘Aita’ at 969 points. Nice. But Lydia could do better.

She put in a fresh token. Pop, pop, pop. Her technique was better on the second try, and she worked her way swiftly through the bubbles—as did her tits through her top, tearing it by degrees. It made for a marvelous sight—though she was too busy to notice—her tee drawing tight as a bowstring around her fat udders as the seams tore, one after the other. The pops from the speakers, in fact, synchronized suspiciously well to the snapping of thread and fabric, encouraging their destruction as a lifetime of puberty flowed into Lydia’s chest at once.

The tightness became too much to ignore, finally; she clawed at the neck of her shirt with one hand—still gaming with the other—grunting with pangs of discomfort. She did not suffer it for long, as she set up a fresh cascade of popping bubbles and was rewarded with such a surge of breast growth that her top could no longer fight her; it gave up the ghost, tearing completely, and let her huge, perfect breasts swing free.

She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling hotter than ever. Her skin was flushed, glistening with beads of sweat, which shone like miniature kaleidoscopes in the neon lights of the arcade hall. But even as her great, heaving titties called for attention, to be touched and teased, she could not spare them the time.

She had a game to win.

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