Connie's Weed Pt. 04

Connie's Weed, Part 4 — Revenge Blown Out Of Proportion

A four part tale, laced heavily with lesbian encounters and strange transformations.

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A word of warning, before you even start reading: A lot of what happens in this story focuses on the rather weird fetish of Breast Expansion (BE) -- from A to D, and occasionally up to and ultimately beyond the size depicted in Woody Allen's "Giant Breast" skit in "Everything you always wanted to know about sex" (the 1972 movie). If you thought that was hilarious, or unsettlingly arousing, you're more than welcome to continue reading. Of course this tale has action, tension and fighting (in short, "conventional" storytelling), too.

However, if you are put off by the sheer offbeat weird impossible flight of fancy that is BE, you probably shouldn't bother with this tale.

Thank you.

~

It's the evening of Halloween, and Connie's BFF Marge neither forgot nor forgave their object of shared detestation, Pearl, for hooking up with Marge's ex-boyfriend Danny. Bent on revenge, Marge uses her temp job at the Diner to lace the happy couple's drinks with the last of Connie's berry juice and goads Connie into something they'll come to regret. As transformations get out of control, Connie must face a decision that will change some lives forever...

Obscure musical reference:

"You stole my heart and left me blue / It looks like crime pays for you ..." — Hall & Oates, Crime Pays

Altaerna – a world, where the laws of reality may become mere guidelines at any given time, where magic and machinery are intertwined, where all those things creeping in the shadows of fantasy may step forward onto the mind's stage.

Apart from that, it's not so different from ours. This story unfolds in a time close to our own.

~

What happened so far:

Part 1: Shy and slender biology student Cornelia "Connie" Prince finds out she's different: She can see plants and fruits that other people just don't notice. Enticed by the prospect of a lucrative discovery, Marge, her raven-haired, spunky, sorta-kinda BFF, ends up with a mouthful of the strange berries by accident, and the mouthful soon turns into a pair of ample handfuls. Connie tries to get some of that for herself, only to find out that her power to see the fruits means she's immune to their body-changing properties. During her self-experimenting, she involuntarily triggers another growth spurt in Marge and is forced to admit, to herself and to Marge, that she's attracted to excessive breasts.

Part 2: Is Connie's giant(ess) nightmare a harbinger of things to come? The very next day, Marge comes up with an idea to turn Connie's gift into lots of cash, Connie gets cold feet but a nice set of hand warmers, and then a stormy night and a white lie lead Marge down a different path.

Part 3: A berry-juice-fueled g/g romp in a secluded lavatory of the university leaves Marge four-breasted and immobile, forcing Connie to admit that she still has stashed away quite some of the transformative nectar. The outgoing raven falls for the lure of easy money and uses her augmented appearance to become the buxom star of a burlesque show, hiring Connie as her body mechanic. In the end, Connie decides to use her powers to set Marge as straight as she can, but will that be enough? Halloween approaches, and Marge invites Connie to meet her at the diner, with intentions unknown...

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Chapter 11: With Great Power Comes ... Great Mischief

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"Marge, that's crazy," Connie protested quietly, trying to move her lips as little as possible. She drew up her shoulders, sitting with her arms crossed and her elbows on the narrow table of the two-seater booth in a corner of the busy diner. Her fingers fidgeted with a few strands of her straight, long, ash-blond hair. Leaning against her waist was her old backpack, and the small flask with the last remainder of the glowing liquid waited inside.

Just a sip, and then ... the power, whispered her treacherous thoughts in the back of her mind.

Connie shook her head to silence the alluring voice, brushed her hair out of the way and tugged nervously at the sleeve of her pullover. The cheap leather imitate of the bench's upholstery creaked under her jeans-clad buttocks as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Connie glanced around. She was the only guest without some kind of halloween mask or disguise.

"Marge, really now! We can't just — darn, why did I even come here? I should've never listened to you in the first place. It's wrong! Pushing it too far. Much too far." She chewed on her lower lip. The flashing green light from the neon tubes of the signpost in the parking lot outside gave Connie's narrow, pale face a sick look, and her agitated breathing carried an undertone of shivers.

Marge had her notepad open and acted as if she was busy writing Connie's bill, standing by her table. It was half past seven p.m., and her shift was almost over. From the corner of her eyes, the buxom waitress glanced hatefully at the happy couple of Pearl and Danny, vampire queen and pirate, sitting at a small table across the room. Raising her hand to brush a few unruly green strands of her revealing witch costume's wig back behind her ear, she whispered under her breath:

"Oh come on! Just let her boobs blow up her top? Right here in the diner for all to see? Now's your chance! She's primed. They've swallowed their whole cups of laced java and never noticed a thing! She even tipped me on the bill! See?" Marge wiggled her shoulders. A greenback sprouted prominently from the valley of her breasts. "That bitch, first she steals my guy, and now she even feigned a little embarrassment when she recognized me. — Hurry, they're about to leave! Come on! Her honkers are almost falling out of her neckline already with that vampire hussy costume of hers! So have them spill on the table! Give her something to whine about! Make her a laughingstock!"

Yeah, like your dairy section is not about to come crashing, too, Connie grouched as Marge leaned over the table and her two bloated hemispheres bulged forward, driven by gravity and guided by the deep, V-shaped neckline of Marge's tight costume. At least Pearl doesn't let any wide-eyed gawker tug a dollar in her cleavage.

Marge put down a paper cup in front of her friend and nodded at it, keeping her eyes on Connie.

Come on, wimp, said her face.

Connie couldn't recall why she suddenly held the empty hip flask in her hand, its screw-on cap dangling on the small metal chain. Inside the paper cup swirled the last of the berry juice. Connie stared down on it.

No, I know better — I shouldn't, I really shouldn't —what if —

Under the table, Marge kicked against her shin ever so slightly. "Huh? Pretty please? Scare her, just a little? That's the very last of the harvest, so here's our only chance to get even with her. If that isn't a worthy cause to spend it on, then what is? You want to, too, don'tcha?"

Connie bit her lip. Marge had a point there. If the plain, timid blonde was a mouse, then Pearl wasn't a cat by comparison. No, Pearl was the six hundred pounds white tigress in the Las Vegas spotlight who crushed whole armies of Connies under her diamond-studded claws without even noticing, oblivious to the horrid pulp of dreams and hopes dripping from her hands like the world was oblivious to the faint glow of the strange plants and their berries.

"Well, maybe a little. Yes," Connie admitted. Though Pearl had never been really mean or anything, she just was so much more than the bland young woman that her presence alone had made Connie hurt and ache, crushing her self-esteem. Being the butt of many of Pearl's thoughtless insults and unflattering remarks hadn't helped Connie's self-worth either.

"See?" Marge goaded her on. "What's the worst that can happen? You're the big bad witch now. Make that bloodsucker your little voodoo doll. Oh, lighten up, for goodness' sake! Just have a little fun at her expense. Remember what you were able to do to me. And? It's all back to normal! It doesn't show at all!"

Except you've turned into a mean slut ever since you got those boobs, Connie thought. She didn't say it out loud, because, slut or not, Marge was right after all. She longed to get even with Pearl. Finally. After all those months. And, ironically, on Halloween. Real witching around on Halloween. That was the icing on the cake. Connie knew she would never again get such a chance. Next year, Pearl was destined to be up high among the captains of the industry, sixty floors and a thousand miles away. Good riddance, but ...

No. Not gonna back down, not again. For once, just for once, I want to stand up to that have-it-all and gloat.

Connie exhaled and grabbed the cup.

"Bottoms up!"

She emptied it to the last drop in two big gulps. Moments later, the wavefront of glow and that delicious feeling of control streamed in hot pulses through her veins. Her breath quickened. Connie felt herself become more. Now she owned the place. Everything was within her reach. The world obeyed her, and the feeling was just so good. A mean little grin painted dimples into the corners of her mouth.

Oh yes. Yes. Let's start slowly.

She closed her eyes, placed her hands flat on the table and focused on Pearl's nipples. What might they look like? Big — no. No, not big. Starting big was no fun at all. No, they would be tiny.

Connie's smile widened. Yes, tiny felt right. Tiny, tiny nipples. And Pearl's manicured fingers would involuntary brush over them as she reached for her mantle. Faintly at first, those rough buds would start to throb, to swell. Rubbing against the bra. Oh yes, it would feel so good. So arousing. That shameless cunt, she had surely had her mind on a little nightly fun for the whole day, planning, wishing, working herself up into dripping, readying herself to drain her stud into her to the last drop.

Okay, so let her enjoy it for now. Let them have their fun and play.

Connie shuddered, feeling the tickle and the warmth spreading through her body as she tweaked the world around her. They would go out into the parking lot, Pearl and Danny, his arm around her shoulder. Slowly she'd get nervous now, because her bra would begin to get uncomfortably tight. And then tighter and tighter as the breasts bulged into the cups—

"Not me again!" Marge hissed nervously, stooping down with one hand on the table and the other pressed against her straining neckline. Connie's bubble of wicked delight burst. She jerked in her seat and tried to think of ice cubes and cold water. The pricking in her fingers dissipated, though the glow remained.

"I wasn't thinking of you!" she whispered under her breath.

"Well, I felt it in my rack, m'kay? You focus a bit better next time, right?"

"But—"

Marge glanced over her shoulder.

"Dammit! They've left already! Okay, so that explains it. Maybe you need to be closer to her or have a line of sight or whatever. Connie, grab your things and go get your car. Hurry, they'll drive someplace and start humping, I just know it! I'll catch the manager and take the rest of the shift off." She jiggled her breasts. "Won't be a problem. He's putty in my hands, he's been ogling me for days now. Ooh, yes! We can swat two flies at once! Danny, you'll regret shagging her! Tonight, she'll crush you under her cans!"

~

Marge threw her backpack onto the rear bench and jumped into the passenger seat. The aged upholstery groaned and squeaked a faint protest.

"Ready, go go go!" She shoved Connie as she leaned in to slam the door shut.

"Where to? And what's that in—"

"Binoculars and a video camera. Wouldn't want to miss that show for the life of me! Pearl, say hello to MyTube! What? Oh don't give me that look! Step on it! Let her rip!"

"Where to?! By now, they could be anywhere!"

"Spoiled brat has her own private mansion, didn't you know? Parent's summer house or something. So I don't think she'll shag on the back seat of her Porsche when she's got her very own playground nearby." Marge hesitated. "Say, does a Porsche have a back seat?"

"Uh— what?"

"Forget it. Turn right at the next crossroad, and then ten miles north on the interstate. Well? What are you waiting for? We'll still have to climb the garden wall, but it's covered in vines and I haven't seen any security there. We can sneak right up to her windows. Hey, do you think Housewrecking Hooters Girl is a good title for an uploaded video? Or should we call it Ballooning Boobs Bimb—"

Connie glanced at her friend.

"Whoa, back off! You stalked her? She could have had you locked away if she'd noticed! What are you, nuts?"

"Hey! She hooked up with my boyfriend, for fuck's sake! I'm entitled. C'mon, hit it!"

The low light from the dashboard painted evil shadows into Marge's face, and her eyes had a fiery glow to them which Connie didn't like at all. This was all getting out of hand, too far, too fast, again. But she obediently shifted gears and brought the rattling carcass of her car out on the road, where the traffic kept her occupied enough to keep her from pondering beyond I started it, now I need to keep things under control until it blows over.

~

Chapter 12: A Pearl And A Growing Oyster

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The wide tires of the sports car ground to a halt in front of the two-storey mansion with the sprawling garden.

"Well, I'm glad we're out of there," sighed Danny, relaxing into the bucket seat after Pearl's unleashed driving.

Pearl turned the key, and the gargling of the engine died down. She reached for the door handle, hesitated and laughed. "Oh yes, tell me about it! I didn't know the diner had become a hooters! I never saw breasts like those on that waitress ever before. Sweetie, you don't think I was a bit over the top, tugging her tip in between them, do you? I'm not exactly familiar with the customs of that kind of establishment."

Danny stared at her. "You did not recognize her? That was Marge! Your classmate!"

"Classmate?" Pearl shook her head. "No, I — no, wait, there was this one girl, always hung out with that blond weirdo. Naaah. She was practically a boy, from the looks of it. Haven't seen her for a while, she must've dropped out some time this year."

"That's her! Pearl, I swear, that was Marge! For a moment there, when she brought the plates and held the knives, I thought we'd be dead! She's got quite a nasty temper, and — she must've had something done to her chests, she wasn't that huge when I dated her —"

Pearl slanted her head and placed her forefinger on his lips. "Whoa, Danny. Remember what we agreed upon? We don't want to hear about each other's pasts, ever. I wasn't quite Mrs. Nice before I met you, either."

He fell silent.

"Oh, all right," she sighed, holding her temples with her left hand. "If you need to get it out of your head, then spill it." Her smile returned, and she licked her lips. "Besides, a girl's wise to know what gets her man going. Especially on their big night! So? What was her trick? I bet I can beat her at it!"

"I sure hope not! Marge and me, we went out a couple of times, but she got so clingy, and that one night when she jumped me, I — I got scared of her. She was so, so fierce and reckless in everything she did. I broke up with her hours before we met." Danny lowered his head. "Sent her a text message. I was just scared shitless. I couldn't face her. I was such a total dickhead ..."

"Texting a goodbye? You know, Danny, I now have to do this in the name of all womankind, right?"

Slap.

Pearl leaned in and kissed his burning cheek.

"Then again, if you hadn't dumped her like that, I wouldn't have found my sweet sad moping boy that evening, eh?" she whispered. "Let's not talk about the past any more. Let's not talk at all!" Twisting over in the confined car, she twined her arms around his head and closed his mouth with her soft lips.

~

"Danny — Danny, Danny, Danny!" Pearl broke their wild kissing on the doorstep and shoved him away, playfully. "At least let's get inside first! What happened to the meek cutie? You're like some wild beast tonight!" She smiled and ran her forefinger along his jawline. "Mmmh, Lady likes her very own horny stallion. Oh, are you going to get a special trrrrrreat for Halloween!" she growled, turning as she searched her handbag for the door key.

"It's you! You're my hot little devil girl," he moaned, pressed up against her back and nibbled at her ear. His hands strayed from her firm buttocks, ran over her narrow waist and ended up cupping her ample breasts. She giggled and fumbled at the lock until the door to her mansion swung open.

"Be a darling and fix us something to drink," she purred, put her head in her neck and added, her voice a mere waft now, "—first."

Wrestling free from his embrace, Pearl pointed over her shoulder at a huge door frame that led into a dark room. She unmounted from her high heels in a hurry and kicked them across the hallway before she threw her mantle after them on a not-quite-neat pile in a corner.

"Fridge's stocked. Through the living room, under the kitchen counter. Take your pick. I'll put on my special Halloween surprise now."

She waved to him and danced up the stairs.

Danny exhaled through pursed lips. His eyes followed her swaying hips. Wow. She's so hot. Oh, this is gonna be a crazy night!

~

After Pearl disappeared upstairs, Danny looked around.

I never knew she's that well off. Damn, the hallway alone is bigger than my whole student flat. Must be family money. Heavens, how she must've laughed after she saw my shack. He smiled. She didn't dump me then, though.

He walked through the double-wide slide door into the dark living room. A few lamps in the walled garden cast dim, greenish light from the outside through a row of large patio doors. The twilight revealed the contours of tall wall units full of books, and the solitary red dot-eyes of a sleeping flatscreen TV and stereo stared back at him from the shadows.

"Danny—!" purred Pearl from the top of the stairs.

"Uh, sorry, I—I'm still searching—"

"Well, stop searching and sit down on the sofa, so you can see the staircase, 'kay? Nngh. Ouch, that's tight. Okay, now — friggin' plug thing, c'mon — Now! So, are you sitting—?"

"Yes...?"

"Ready or not, here I come," she cooed.

Click. Click.

The hallway went dark but for a moment, then a single spot pulled the stairs from the blackness.

Tock. Tock. Tock...

Her feet appeared. No, make that her toe tips appeared. Danny gulped. The last time he'd seen anything like these high heel boots, it had been in some freaky high-octane sci-fi action blockbuster. Glossy black leather creaked. Only after Pearl's knees descended into sight did the boots end and the fishnet stockings and garters begin.

She paraded on down the stairs, swinging her naked hips, putting one foot before the other with slow, slinky gracefulness. No panty hid away her dark curly bush. Pearl's hands rested on her hips, accentuated by the garter belt and the corset around her already narrow waist. Her breasts, heavy and yet shapely, hung ever so slightly over the rim of the corset's cups. The soft mounds kept shaking and bobbing with every hard tock of her pointed heels. Every stair and every feline roll of Pearl's shoulders aided in the swaying movements. She held a cheap plastic wand in one hand and slapped it into the palm of the other with each step down the stairs. A tacky, pointy witch hat rested on her head, and the wide rim hid her face in the shadows. Her glossy, painted lips shone like a red grinning wound.