To Boldly Grow

I got home from work at six-thirty. Traffic on the beltway had been particularly egregious this evening, but at least it was Friday. I had a pounding headache from dealing with Maryland drivers and I wanted nothing more than to catch up on shows while snuggling on the couch with Jenna, my partner of almost ten years and wife for a few of them. Except, it seemed she had not gotten home yet as the apartment was dark when I came through the door and slipped out of my shoes. Though I was not alone, our three cats greeted me with adorable but, plaintive cries for treats.

Complying with their demands, I set my bag down on the counter and poured out a few for each. Looking around, there was no note on the fridge. It seemed the Agency had kept my better half late at the office. In her line of work, late nights with no heads up were a normal occurrence. With no idea when she would be home, I had an unexpected extra amount of time to do some fun work.

Two slices of pizza from last night went into the microwave for a bit and I bounced to the bedroom to change. In short order, I stripped off my plaid shirt, a medium men's, because clothes cut for women never fit my both shoulders and my boobs. It was followed by my bra, a plain black 36C, just so you know. As I took off my pants, size 12 khakis, I went to drop them in the hamper and realized that we had probably not done laundry in four days. Next to the plastic basket was my suitcase, both were full of garments that needed to be washed. Traveling for work was a thing that also happened without warning in our relationship, usually on my end.

I thought about rummaging for a shirt to wear, but skipped on it as a beeping said my pizza was done. I dropped my stuff in the washing machine as I went past, resolving to put more things in later. A can of Coke out of the fridge joined my lazy dinner and I retired to my high backed chair in our shared office.

The whir of my computer booting up felt louder than normal in the stillness. I spaced out and munched as I waited for updates to apply. When I got in to the desktop, I opened Chrome to my home tabs. Three were Gmail, one was Pandora, one was reddit, and the other was tumblr. Music filled the stillness, putting me in the writing mood. I flipped through my work inbox first, just to make sure nothing had blown up. My professional one had spam from a couple competing agencies. My private one, the one for my writing persona Misty, had all kinds of notifications for my other life.

As I glanced through them, I reflected on how it had been fun it had become to write as her. She had a history similar to me, but her present was different enough that my employers or prospective clients would not happen upon the stories I enjoyed writing. Stories where women grew cocks, or horns and tails, or tits the size of their torso and none of those things diminished who they were. Where men could be manly with vaginas, women could be feminine with penises, and those in between were allowed to make their own decisions without judgment. Where characters could be sexy but not just objects, or be free to love who they wanted, or have exactly the body they desired.

True, as a woman, fetish writing was a, lets say interesting, hobby, but I made it my goal to be the change I wanted to see in the genre. I aimed to create stories that were more than just banging two action figures together after making them into sexual ideals. I resolved to craft context in my stories, to build relationships, to have transformations underscore character arcs. From how things were going now, it seemed like other people were fans. I knew Jenna was. When she had time, my partner always loved seeing what I had most recently typed up. She said it was like being able to see right into my mind.

Which is why, when I finally got to my ask box, I was surprised by the newest request. It was a radical departure from the majority of what I got in my box.

[Our heroine is abducted by aliens and then gang banged by the bridge crew. Each time an alien comes on or inside her, her body grows bigger and thicker, developing into more and more of an extreme hourglass. She becomes addicted to alien semen in pursuit of further and further growth and travels the universe as the crew's sex slave. If you can make this happen, I'll make it worth your while.]

While I had gotten requests before that were obvious trolls, this premise had promise. The first issue to fix was the obvious degradation of the protagonist. How could I preserve the spirit of the request while staying true to Misty? Not sure, I reclined in my chair and chewed on the second slice while I moved on to the meat of the request.

The actual transformation itself was not an issue, I had done extreme hourglass transformations before. They were not my favorite, but the fetish had its charms when it was not being done hand in hand with bimbofication. In fact, we could probably push the changes further, using the exposure to alien DNA to cause some weird transformations, but I was not sure kind just yet.

Which is when it occurred to me.

What if the aliens were shape shifters? I could combine some concepts of Quarians and Asari and spin in a little vampire to pull the racial design together. Foremost, their morphology would respond to those in close proximity, as they absorb genetic information though touch. Because of that, they wear containment suits to prevent uncontrolled changes and to keep unwanted additions from being made to their personal genetics. Further, exposure to their blood or other fluids passes on these traits and, in doing so, somehow fully incorporates the genetic information of the new member.

But how does one turn a gang bang into something else?

Well, what if that the aliens had a slight Hive Mind, one that allowed them to share genetic information across the vastness of space. This would tie up their reproductive methods nicely and create an opportunity for their motivations. Exposure to new genetics would be very attractive and a driving force for an intergalactic civilization. In that regard, it would make sense to send young, sexually active members of their society to explore the universe Star Trek style. It would fall to them to find and evaluate new alien races for addition to the gene pool.

Considering all these things, could our heroine end up in control of the situation? An equal partner and not just a victim of an alien cum shower? Perhaps I was just passing the buck on degradation, but those were the best seeds for building a consensual exchange that eventually lead to the frenzy of sex the request was looking for.

Sure that I could both deliver and be true to my persona, I started a reply. My fingers tingled as I typed that I was starting on this as a jumping off point, but with a couple changes. As I hit enter, there was a zap which left me sucking my pinky. Nothing seemed shorted out, but my focus was broken enough to remember that I had laundry to do.

So then, what would the aliens look like? How would they change after being exposed to our protagonist? I pondered that as I got up to get started on wash. Being androgynous and becoming steadily more fantastic as they took on more and more human material would probably work, with a climax that verged on hyper.

Each one could take a different imprint from the mind of our heroine, permitting her to shape them as she saw fit to make the exchange easier. This would create a handful of different characters who would be easily attributed based on their changes. Which meant coming up with designs. Five aliens seemed like a reasonable number to both keep track of and pull out of my head. I would probably have a two-two-one split on genders, with the one choosing to be both when they could not decide which one was more effective at coupling.

I dumped my suitcase into the machine and leaned over to balance the mass of laundry in the drum. Rocking back to my heels, it felt like my panties were tighter than I remembered. Was I really already that on thinking about the story? Perhaps these were an old pair? I had grabbed them from the back of the underwear drawer after all. I readjusted the soft cotton with a shrug, started the machine, and grabbed another Coke before I sat back down and opened up a new notepad file.

I started on the ship's captain, as I figured, in true Star Trek style, they would be first contact and that their transformation would be the most stunning. As a character who desired above all to be in charge and equating ability to gather genetic with a sign of dominance, they would quickly swell into hyper territory to just have the most exposed skin possible.

As I began to type, I felt the tingling once more. With each completed word of the alien's initial description post-contact, I could swear I felt a pressure grow between my legs. I paused, a bemused grin spreading. No, there was no way, but my left hand snaked into my shorts all the same. My progress was slower now, typing as I was, but the effects were unmistakable. Cupped in my hand, my vulva had grown to match what I had typed and was pulsing ever larger. A personal fantasy was inexplicably coming true.

Putting my other hand back on the keyboard, I went back to the top and focused on unpacking the way the alien's emerging human female anatomy manifested. On a hunch, I further developed their clit, which was met with a peculiar swelling sensation on my own body.

I really was causing changes to myself!

I poured myself into getting the ideas for the captain's initial transformation complete. By then, I had a semi-rigid rod a few inches long that curved as it pressed against the fabric of my shorts. Turning my attention to the rest of the crew, I absently began pushing my legs together, my breathing growing ragged as the soft flesh of my mons rolled into my hardening shaft over and over.

Even as I was working on the aliens, and my burgeoning girl cock, I wondered who was writing what was happening to me. How was my transformation being procured? Obviously something about that ask, which promised to make it worth my while if I took the request, was to blame and I was writing about a group of characters slowly growing phalluses. If I was a betting woman, I would say those things were not coincidences.

I had to test it. I erased the last line and it felt like the swelling went down a little. Killing off the whole thing brought on a peculiar sensation of my clit shrinking back to a size that was still considerably larger than it had been before. Which meant that, even if I backed out of the request now, there were changes that would persist.

Further, who knew what would happen the next time I sat down to write? Whatever it was that I had been carried in the shock could just make me into something from my next request. Might as well be in charge, right? Besides, like I said, this was my fantasy. There was no way in hell I was not going to take advantage of this opportunity.

I decided then to let the story as it happened instead of planning it heavily. It would be more fun for me to grow as I worked the story towards climax. I sketched in the heroine's background. Her love of astronomy, a day job as a meteorologist at NASA, and a date to see shooting stars that put her in the middle of no where when fate came calling.

I killed the second Coke as the washer buzzed. Not sure if whatever was going on would end if I got up, I decided to go for broke. If I deleted the paragraph later and still was changed, then at least I would get something out of this.

[When Ashley awoke, she was on her back in a room lit with sterile light. Rolling over to get up she felt something heavy roll between her legs.] The pressure returned, as if anticipating my description. [Throwing the sheet back she was met with the sight of an uncut penis, thick as her wrist and a long as her forearm, despite being flaccid sprouting fro-.]

I didn't even finish typing before there was a rush between my legs and my clit began to grow to match the specifications. I shoved my chair back and shorts down to make room. I pressed my fingers into the cushion of my swollen mons and down between my lips as the feeling of growth accelerated. My girl cock quickly over took the cleft above where it emerged, the swelling shaft causing a small drift of fat in my mons as it spread upwards.

From within my pussy there was a wriggling sensation as flesh grew past my fingers, creating a raphe to carry the blood my soon to be massive member would need to become erect. Already it was filling with normal blood flow and I could not help but roll it under my index fingers, making the soft resting pumps become stronger and more frequent until it was a torrent that forced my growth to accelerate.

The feeling of my hood slithering along my still expanding girl cock was like what I imagine a blow job would feel like. It tightened around my shaft as shadows of veins tranced themselves up from beneath.

My hands, still working my pussy, were being spread apart by the thickening of what was becoming an insanely huge dick. Even as I teased the base with my fingers, I rotated my thumbs like I was giving a deep shoulder massage. I pressed them into my now very prominent mons, sliding against skin until the wave of flesh broke on my shaft and I followed the smooth surface until my digits locked and I had to reverse the stroke.

I was positively throbbing now, the pink of my clit peeking from my foreskin as more and more blood flowed into my girl cock. I was tempted to grab hold of it, dig into the spongy flesh I had spent so much time describing, but coming now would be a waste. I wanted to show this to Jenna.

She had indulged my fantasies many times in our time together, even doing me back with a double-ended dildo that she had bought me as a gag gift. She said she enjoyed being filled by my toy cock every once in a while. Now, supposing she was okay with it, I could fill her with girl cock instead.

I jumped up, not thinking, and nearly came right there despite my desire to do otherwise. The weight of my cute fuck stick made me shudder as it at first remained in place relative to my torso. The bounce from the transfer of inertia a moment later swung it upwards to hit my stomach, making me go weak in the knees. The swinging continued, even as I stood still. The pounding blood I had so eagerly stirred was making that vast weight twitch to devastating effect.

The sensation loop was so intense, I was starting to get lightheaded. Further, with each twitch, my girl cock swelled slightly, causing the tight foreskin to slide back and forth like I was jerking ever so slowly. I stumbled back into my seat, but that only intensified the looping sensations. All at once, my body tensed up in a shuddering, white knuckled orgasm. In the back of my mind, I was thankful for not having given the captain balls yet.

After several minutes I finally had control of my limbs again. Gasping, I revised the story and my impossible boner shrank to a more realistic size. It was still throbbing, but the five inches of cloaked clit were not anywhere near as heavy. I found myself rubbing it absently as I tried to find the strength to stand.

Eventually, I was thirsty enough to get up and take my other cans to the kitchen to grab a third. I switched wash while I was up. The dryer door bumped my girl cock and I actually had to convince myself not to keep rubbing against the smooth metal as I got hard again. I spoke out against the trope that women who became inersexed devolving into sex fiends and yet, here I was, considering the act of humping my dyer.

Back at my desk, I had some experimenting to do. First I pulled up another story, one that I really should have gotten done already. Typing into that one resulted in no change to my person. So that was one less thing to worry about. I saved and closed the magical request and again nothing about me changed. I reopened the file and typed that the heroine's cock was equine instead. My own cock flared and thickened to match. So there was not a prohibition on closing and reopening the file. It literally was a blank check to remake myself.

Completely off writing the story now, I set about crafting the heroine's body to see what the limits were. I gave her balls. A matching pair grew in on me. I idly fondled them with one hand while typing that her tits grew to more than handfuls. With genuine surprise I watched my own fatten up to match. I was breathing heavily once more, in awe of the power I suddenly found myself in control of.

My fingers danced over the keyboard as I let my mind wander. Changing her sclera to black changed my eyes to match that demon aesthetic I enjoyed. Discovering horns growing from her brow kicked off a grinding feeling as a pair grew in on my forehead. I described her hair, erasing several times. My own growing to drape over my back, then fell away as I cycled through hair styles I enjoyed before finally settling on a fauxhawk.

All of this, while remarkable, was superficial. It was time to really push the changes to our linked bodies. I wrote her being told she had been altered to have powerful, but concentrated muscles, with strength equivalent to five men. This lit my body on fire as the mass of several body builders were crammed impossibly into my frame without adding even an inch of bulk.

When I recovered from that rush of sensation, I was soaked with sweat and exhausted, but still did not feel like I knew the edges of this story's power over my reality. I got up and looked around for something to lift even as I laughed at my stereotypical response.

There was a heavy, six-sided table in the front room. Typically Jenna and I had to work together to pull the oak behemoth out when we hosted gaming nights. Now, my normal looking hand and my normal looking arm had the thing above my head.

Putting the table back in its place, I returned to my computer and decided to indulge my curiosity further. The aliens made her boobs fill her arms. As my own tits spread inexorably, I found myself reveling in the feelings of all that flesh overrunning my body. The steady crawl of a rounded edge over the planes of my body, the blooming heat on my chest. the weight as more and more mass that came from no where poured in to fill me.

The cock from before was the next thing to return. I crafted it exhaustively, focusing on every little detail to as my impossible fuck stick swelled to life once more. The slow spread of hardened clit-dick as it grew up through my deep cleavage was mind blowing and I was once again left gasping until the growth ceased.

But I wasn't done.

I thickened her member, slowly swelling the underside of each of our shafts, giving our girl cocks the recurved shape of a greatbow. She could only watch and moan as the swelling continued as more and more of the alien biology became part of her. The curve widened, her burgeoning member looking more like a club than penis until, with a feeling like trying to spread fingers in dough, a second cock split off from her first.

The sensation was like trying to spread constrained fingers as my body complied with my words and a second clit-dick split off from the bottom of my first. In the span of forty minutes I had gone from reasonable to beyond impossible and this was just indulging sensations I had written but wanted to experience. I had not even begun to reach levels of exploration that would satisfy my curiosity.

Absently stroking myself off with my tits, I thought about changes to her that would let me type faster. I made the aliens make her smarter. I revised the paragraph as I found a better way to express the change. Then I did it again. Over and over I folded her intellect in on itself like a katana, sharpening both our brains.

Neurokinetcis surged and eventually I settled on a design where the more aroused she became, the more intelligent she became. My fingers sped up dramatically as my nervous system overclocked. In page after page of increasingly depraved adventures in space, my heroine became taller, thicker, and more alien by the paragraph. I probably would have continued that growth fueled frenzy had the dryer not buzzed loud enough to break my trance.