Corset's Curse, The

Rachel clambered up the steps as fast as she could, gasping for breath every step of the way. Her ballooning breasts strained against the corset's cups, fighting in vain to escape their confinement. Just one more minute, she thought to herself. One more minute, and she'd have privacy and could get out of this crushing garment, before she suffocated -- or burst!

It had all started one night when she was heading home from the local dance club. It didn't exactly have the right atmosphere to suit a Goth like her, but it was the only game in town. As she was walking to the bus stop, she noticed what looked like an article of clothing lying on the ground in the parking lot. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a corset of some sort. Unlike most Rachel had seen, this one was rather short, going only from the armpits to the top of the hips, with no shoulder straps or bottom portion.

Rachel had considered getting herself a corset, but had never gotten around to it. Since it was unlikely anyone would claim this one, it was alright if she took it, wasn't it?

The next day, after washing it thoroughly, Rachel discovered why it's best to have someone help you into a corset. Eventually, with the help of a coathanger, she was able to zip it up. Examining herself in a mirror, she found it did wonders for her figure, cinching her waist into a defined hourglass shape, and pushing her modest breasts into dramatically swelled orbs with a deep cleft between them. And for all it did to her body, it was surprisingly comfortable. Tight, shiny leather pants and high-heeled shoes completed the look; her complexion was pale enough that makeup was unnecessary to her Goth image.

That night, Rachel got more male attention than she had had all year. Even the other women couldn't help noticing her, usually regarding her with jealousy, but a few were undeniably attracted to her. After years of being a wallflower at every social event she had been to, it gratified Rachel to finally have people notice her. She only wished she had thought of wearing a corset sooner.

She was finagling free drinks off a bartender who couldn't stop staring at her cleavage when it started. For no apparent reason, she started tipping backwards and had to grab the edge of the bar to catch herself. She tried to regain her balance, but somehow she just couldn't keep her butt steady on her stool without tilting over on one side or the other. Rachel usually didn't get so sloshed from just a few drinks, but maybe the corset constricting her breathing had something to do with it. Whatever the reason, she'd better stop now, as if she lost control of herself tonight, there would be all too many guys (and girls!) willing to take advantage of her. The buses would stop running for the night soon, so she finished her drink and started walking to the exit.

*squeak squeak squeak*

Rachel stopped short at the sound of leather rubbing on leather emanating from beneath her. Now that was strange; why were her legs suddenly rubbing together? They hadn't been when she sat down at the bar, and she couldn't have gained any significant weight in the last couple of hours. Were her high heels affecting her gait somehow? Taking a few more experimental steps, she seemed to be walking normally -- and yet, the insides of her upper thighs somehow brushed against each other with every step she took. Maybe these tight pants were squishing her legs out of shape.

But when she felt around, it appeared to her questing hands that her lower body was bigger all over! Not just her inner thighs, but their backs and outsides had more meat on them than when she had gotten dressed. Even her butt and hips had increased in circumference a couple of inches. And they seemed not just larger and rounder, but springier, more resilient under the tight stretch leather. It was when she glanced down at herself, though, that Rachel got a real shock. No longer merely cantilevered into the illusion of volume, her bust jutted out from her torso a good four inches, like the prow of a mighty ship, and was as firm to the touch as her lower body was. Somehow, it remained within the confines of its cups.

Then Rachel saw something that made her blood run cold. Her sensitive breasts were the only parts of her pale body that had freckles on them. She usually powdered her chest before she went clubbing, but she had been so excited about her new look that she had forgotten tonight. And as she gazed down in stupefaction at her enlarged bosom, she saw freckles slowly rising like tiny suns over the horizon of the corset.

Rachel suddenly snapped to attention and realized she had to act. She was growing, slowly but steadily, and she knew her tight clothes would have very little tolerance for expansion. She couldn't just take them off here, though; this nightclub was as liberal as any other, but it still had its limits. And the parking lot was usually patrolled by a security guard who would not be amused by an impromptu striptease. Suddenly Rachel remembered that the club's roof was secured by a combination lock, so that friends of the staff could head up to have sex, smoke weed, or just have a little respite from the din downstairs. It might not be entirely vacant, but it was the best option she could think of at the moment. Trying to move quickly without drawing attention to herself, she made for the stairs.

And so Rachel found herself climbing the spiral staircase, racing to a place where she could get out of her confining clothes, without causing a scene or getting arrested. It took longer than she expected. The steps were rather steep, and she had to take large strides to clear them. But her expanding ass took up more and more of the slack in her leather pants, so she had to fight against increasing resistance to lift her legs high enough. Then, on the very last step, one of her heels broke, and she lost her balance, tumbling all the way back down to the bottom. Crying tears of frustration, Rachel stripped off her shoes and discarded them before starting her climb anew. By the end, it was a Herculean effort to bend each leg enough to take a step, but finally she made it to the top, punched in the password, and stepped into the warm summer night.

Fortunately, the roof was empty tonight, sparing her the indignity of exposing herself in front of some stoners. But as she reached behind her, Rachel realized that being alone might not be so lucky after all. She could just barely get two fingertips closed around the zipper tab, but when she pulled down it just slipped between her fingers. Rachel realized she couldn't get this thing off herself, but she knew she'd never make it back down the stairs in her condition. Next, she turned her attention to her pants, but her turgid hips and rear put the shiny leather under so much pressure that the metal zipper had practically fused solid. She tried to pull down the corset's cups off her cleavage, but couldn't even get a finger inside them. She clawed at her pants, hoping to make a scratch that would rip open under the tension, but her nails slipped harmlessly over the slick surface. Starting to panic, she twisted and turned, staggering this way and that, clawing uselessly at her clothes, desperately seeking escape from a fabric-and-leather prison that was growing smaller by the second.

In her state of distress, Rachel didn't notice how close she was getting to the edge of the roof. The wall surrounding the edge was only a foot high, and backing into it made Rachel lose her balance. She screamed as she tipped backwards -- and hung there, pinwheeling her arms, feet on the roof, knees bent around the wall, and the rest of her hovering over a 30 foot drop. After a few seconds, a gust of wind at her back gently shoved her back onto the roof.

Uncertain as to how she had avoided falling to her death, Rachel experimentally got up on her tiptoes. Did she feel... lighter, somehow? She pushed down with the balls of her feet with all the force she could muster, and her heart lept up in her throat as she sailed several feet into the air, not touching back down for a full three seconds. Dread filled Rachel as she realized she had to get back inside, now or sooner!

Sprinting towards the door proved futile; she lacked the traction to accelerate so suddenly, and her feet skidded cartoonishly against the gravel as she ran in place for several precious seconds. Regaining her composure, she started mincing forward slowly, making progress this time. But the shifting winds kept toying with her, pushing her this way, that way, any way but towards the door. Meanwhile, her body continued its gradual yet inexorable expansion. The cups of the corset had finally stretched to capacity, and breast flesh mushroomed out the tops. Her tight, shiny leather pants creaked and groaned, as though protesting the job of containing her burgeoning backside.

Rachel was six feet from the door when she exploded. At least, that's what she thought had happened. But the shower of leather scraps that rained down on her made her realize that she was still intact, and only her pants had finally given out. Unfortunately, this meant that she was that much closer to liftoff, and she was now so top-heavy (bottom-light?) that she flipped completely upside-down, her hands on the ground as her bare ballooned butt and thighs greeted the night sky. No matter how she tried, Rachel couldn't right herself.

Resorting to hand walking, Rachel finally made it to the door just as she reached the critical point. Her fingertips left the ground, and she hung weightless in midair for an eternal second before her hands closed on the doorknob. Just in time, too, as a stiff breeze sailed into her a split second later; she would have been blown clean off the roof without her handhold. Rachel shivered as the wind caressed her sweaty lower body, tickling her exposed intimate areas more delicately than any lover could.

Turning the knob with no leverage proved a challenge, but by bracing a hand against the doorframe she pulled it off with some effort, and with a gentle push the door swung outwards. Rachel shifted around and grabbed a doorknob in each hand, trying to maneuver her buoyant body indoors to safety. But before she could, the corset at long last gave up the ghost, the zipper snapping open in back, and fell to the ground. The sight of her enormous breasts, their protruding nipples almost an inch long, went directly from Rachel's eyes to her muscles without passing through her brain. Her girlish instincts took over, and she reflexively crossed her arms over her chest, as if to protect it from the gaze of some hypothetical observer. Too late did she realize that the corset provided both ballast and balance.

As soon as her hands left the doorknobs, her body angled upward, pulling them out of arm's reach. Shrieking in terror, Rachel frantically tried swimming through the air. By the time she reached the door, she had risen too high to touch it with her hands. Thrusting her legs forward, she just barely caught the upper corner between her big toes -- and squeezed so hard that it squirted out between them. Screaming, crying, pleading, cursing, Rachel uselessly clawed at the air, grasping for something, ANYTHING, to hold on to, even as her only hope of salvation fell away inch by agonizing inch. And then, the soft breeze returned, carrying the helplessly inflated girl into the night sky.

As she drifted away from the world she had known, Rachel's despair was interrupted by another hard gust of wind. Her drum-tight skin had become excruciatingly sensitive, and she was soaked with sweat from fear and exertion. The cool night air again ravished her pale flesh, caressing her engorged breasts, hardening her elongated nipples, and licking every curve and contour of her inflated hips, thighs, and crotch. Despite the peril she was in, Rachel's arousal built and built until she climaxed solely from the breeze. As she came down from the afterglow, she began to sweat some more, which again evaporated in the wind with a delicious tickling sensation. Rachel tried to get control of herself, but she became trapped in a cycle of perspiration, arousal, and orgasm, oblivious to the wind flipping her over and over as it carried her wherever it would.

After what seemed like an eternity, Rachel's sexual energy was exhausted, and her marathon lovemaking session with the sky was over. Trying to get her bearings, her heart sank as she saw that she was hundreds of feet above the ground, beyond any hope of rescue. Just then, she thought she heard a sound behind her. She twisted left and right, but with no way to turn around, she couldn't see behind her. Rachel's heart lept in her throat as a hand grabbed her wrist and spun her around.

She came face-to-face with a young woman, about the same age as her, wearing tear-streaked Goth makeup and nothing else. From the size of her breasts and the girth of her thighs, Rachel guessed that they were in the same predicament. Her left arm was hooked around the waist of another, similarly afflicted girl, somewhat younger than the two of them, who was curled up in the fetal position and sobbing softly to herself. Her face showed anger, despair, but most of all, resignation.

She spoke: "Let me guess. You found a corset someone threw away, and thought you'd try it on?"

Kimberly was in a foul mood as she stepped into the parking lot. She had spent days tracking down the perfect matched camisole and miniskirt that would make her the center of attention. But when she went to the club to try out her new clothes, some Goth in a corset and tight pants had hogged ALL the boys! She had slipped out at some point, but even in her absence the guys were too distracted by her memory to have much interest in Kim. Even Kim herself found her imagination drawn to that hourglass figure and those fulsome pale breasts, before reminding herself that she was only interested in boys. Finally, she had decided to call it a night and try her outfit out tomorrow.

As she left the building, she saw something land softly on the ground in front of her. It turned out to be a corset -- the very one that Goth slut had been wearing, in fact. With a cruel grin, Kim realized what had happened: the little whore had slipped up to the roof with a guy, and in the middle of their lovemaking, her clothes had blown away. Well, she could slink back downstairs topless or naked for all Kimberly cared. The corset was hers now, and tomorrow SHE'D be the center of attention!