Coming Out Big

Date Written: 

aBritt shimmied her jeans down to the floor and kicked them aside. She sifted through a pile of clean but yet-unfolded laundry for her favorite pair of playtime pants. “I’m sure this would be easier if I turned on the lights.” She stuck out her head and turned to her guest who was, she discovered, not standing behind her. “Oh I’m sorry you’re empty space.”

“What’cha say, hun?” sounded a voice from the front room.

“Nothing. You’re being a butt.”

“I didn’t realize I was doing anything. I’m in here.”

“Which is why you’re a butt.”

“Should I come in there?”

“No. It’s a mess. Just lemme’ find my stuff and I’ll be right out.”

She continued her shuffling. Not quite focused on the task at hand.

Her hand brushed along the edge of something pink and cotton. She unearthed it. “Why you appear out of nothing? How you do this pants? Go home you are drunk.” She stopped for a second to think ahead and removed her panties, too. Not wanting to practice her talent for falling over, she sat on the edge of her bed and slipped a foot into the yoga pants before pulling them up to her calf. She slipped in her other foot, stood, and brought them up her legs. She checked out her skin in the dim diffuse lighting from the hallway -- not a single bump or blemish from the last shave. She widened her stance, permitting the fabric to pass her thick thighs, and shuffled her hips as it rounded her sizable butt.

From the hangers in her closet she unhooked a small white tube-top. As she put it on, she made a note that her chubby arms were, together, wider than the bottom of the unstretched shirt. The fabric pooled on top of her bosoms.

She’d been a runner in high school, and in ballet, before developing breasts. She was a D-cup by the time she was a sophomore, which did spectacular things for her popularity. Her two main sources of exercise gone however, she got fat. Quickly. Significantly. Spectacularly. This did not help her popularity, but did give her bustline an unneeded boost to the H-cup range before she set off for college. Her development plateaued, largely, until she turned twenty-one and gained legal access to the high-octane party fuel known in the collegiate crowd as ‘alcohol’. Intermittent efforts to stem the influx of weight were shortly lived and largely unpleasant.

He was standing in the door.

“Look at this. Look. There is so much boob here.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

She pulled the fabric around her chest and over her belly. A small indent appeared where her belly button was. She took a pink button-down and fastened as many as she could.

“Why are you getting dressed up?” he inquired, “we’re going to be taking it off soon.”

“It’s called, ‘presentation’, butthole,” she offered with a playful leer. “Now go. Out. Messy messy messy.” She patted both of his shoulders back repeatedly until his back was against the wall, then leaned in for a kiss. He bowed his head and their mouths met in the center for a drawn out and overly dramatic smooch. They stopped to look at one another, and she leaned in for another. Her belly bulged around his waist.

“C’mon. I’ve got something for you.”

She pushed him onto the couch and strode over to her purse, taking from it a white plastic bottle.

“Do you know what this is?”


“Yes, but what kind?”

“I don’t know. What?”

“This is a plot device.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“These,” she said, “will make me...” She crept towards him and leaned in, revealing a deep set of cleavage restrained by the tube top.

“Will make you?”

She bent her knees and straddled him. Her girth completely surrounding him, breasts flowing against the straining fabric and wrapping around his face. He slid his fingers along the sides of her belly and laid his palms flat along the small of her back. He squeezed and her fat bulged around his arms. Given the length of his arms, she realized, I must be almost six feet around when I’m sitting. She refocused.

“These pills will make me... big.”

He stopped and looked up. “Big?”

She nodded. “Really big.” She noted his pupils dilating and face getting flush.

“Don’t mess yourself up for me,” he said, stowing away the look of passion and replacing it with one of cautionary innocence. She smiled again, glowing. There was a delightful charm to his (at times) childlike caution around her. Were she in a shittier mood, it might even be irritating.

“Relax, boy. Temporarily.” And he followed, the hardness flowing away from his expression and into his jeans. She rocked back and forth against him.

He reached up a hand and took the bottle, examining it.

“50lbs a piece. 22kg. Three-and-a-half stone.” she beamed.

“500 count?” he gawked, focus still on the bottle.

“Well I’m not using them all tonight.”


“Here. Gimme.” She uncapped the bottle and gave it a tilt. It offered back a quiet ‘shush’ of shifting contents and a single pill, which she dry swallowed.

She leaned back and gave her lengthy black hair a toss to the side. He stared, transfixed on her face. She bit her lip and his gaze dropped. Slowly, her chest tested the buttons on the front of her pastel blue shirt. White patches of her undershirt appeared between the fastenings. “It’s like you’re inhaling but not exhaling.”

After a breathless eternity, her growth tapered off.

“There is no way that’s 50lbs,” he said. She stood and compensated for her new weight.

“That totally is.” Her legs were fuller. Her belly was tighter. Her breasts were visibly larger. She put her hands against the wall behind him and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “You want me bigger?” she cooed, brushing her lips against his earlobe and her round cheeks against his own.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Yeah. Kinda’. Yeah.”

She picked up the bottle and retrieved another pill. He undid his belt and frantically kicked at his pants, pulled them back up, removed his shoes, and then tried again to remove his pants. “I’m not good at planning.”

“Here,” she handed him the pill. “You do it.”

“Wait. Me? Take it?”

“Oh! Oh no! Here just.” She pulled his hand to her face and formed an ‘o’ with her lips. She pulled his wrist until his index finger slid past her teeth. She bit softly and let out a quiet moan. She swallowed and arched her back to force his arm between her breasts. He moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her lips into his own. Yes. Oh god. Kiss me while I blow up. She shuddered as the pill started its work. There was a brief hesitation as her girth widened once again. Whatever fullness she felt from her increasing mass was supplanted by an idempotent sensation of absence from between her legs. She squeezed with as much force as her hormone soaked muscles could muster. She climbed off of him again and bent over to kiss his neck, feeling around for the waistband of his underpants as she did so. Her ballooning form was starting to impede her movement and her visibility. Her ass fattened more visibly now, forcing her yoga pants to ride up. She took hold of one side of his underpants and attempted to grab the other with her opposing hand. Her breasts, with their newfound fullness, made this a more difficult task than she’d known before. He noticed her struggle and, with deliberate will, prevented himself from helping. The challenge, the rush of trying to complete a task under the pressure of time and burgeoning growth, stimulated her in a way she hadn’t felt since her first time. They looked into each other’s eyes in a moment of harmonious silence and smiled. “Your underpants are dumb.” “Yeah. They... I dunno. Something witty. Boners.” “Boners.”

She crept back on top of him and began to gyrate her hips. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Her fattening snatch made two perfectly cleft guides for his erect member. Every slow, deliberate thrust ran his head against her clit, sending flashes of light into her peripheral vision. It wasn’t enough. The fullness of her body and the aching emptiness between her legs were a luxurious confusion which only added to the moment. Not enough. She spread her legs to try and let as much of him in as fathomable. Every inch of her skin tingled with tightness and energy. Every nerve in her body was flooded in sensation from her tightening clothes, flooding her mind with noisy haze. Suddenly, his teeth closed softly around her engorged areola. Her back stiffened, her thighs convulsed, her thickening arms spasmed and grabbed at anything they could hold. “Oh god. God. Oh god oh god oh god.” His fingers, with some difficulty, worked their way into the waistband of her yoga pants. “Wait.” she said, “I want them to rip open.” She took the pill bottle again.

“Those say not to use more than two a day.”


“I read the label. Stop at two.”

“No,” she took a few deep breaths, trying to steady herself and calm her shaking. “It’ll be okay.”


She took a mouthful of pills and swallowed. His jaw dropped.

“I want to be so big.” She wasn’t sure anymore if she was doing this for his sake or her own.

Her belly, as if commanded, rounded out and perked up before bellowing forward. Her sides filled and her arms fattened inside her shirt. Buttons ruptured from the hem of her blouse. Her butt fattened inside her pants and drew themselves deeper still. The seams the blouse gave way at the sleeves. Her breasts pulled the tube top tight. She was wider than the couch was deep now, and realized it slightly too late. She flailed and tipped backwards, landing on the ground with impressively minimal force, and rolling slowly onto her back. Her thighs and legs now swelled inside the remarkably intact fabric of her yoga pants.

“You okay?”

“Ohh. Oh man. I’m so good right now,” she exhaled.

Her body continued to grow, shredding the last of her blouse to pieces. Her tube top split at the sides, but remained tightly fixed around her breasts. Every inch of skin not covered by clothing now buzzed angrily at the lack of attention. Her yoga pants began to tear, separations forming on the inside of her legs at the crotch and on either side of her legs. Her growth, once again, subsided.

He stood. “This is the most aroused I’ve ever been.”

“Me, too.”

He walked around to her head. She stared up at him. Against the infixed lighting, or perhaps because of the angle, his penis looked engorged enough to pop her. He knelt.

“I can’t move.”

“I’m not surprised. Your knees are wider than my chest now. Your arms -- they’re wider than my thighs. And your belly? It’s taller than me.”

He held something next to her. She tried to turn and see, but it remained obscured by her cheeks. She looked at him, puzzled.

He shook the bottle.

“What are you doing?”

“Finishing the job.”

She felt the blood flow to her face and the heat growing inside her pants. “Yes. Please. Make me bigger.”

He uncapped the bottle and upended it into her mouth.

She swallowed.

Her breathing grew shallow as her body started to grow again. The tears in her yoga pants extended their full length and, finally, they disintegrated. Her tube top snapped and fell off of her. She was free to expand in every direction, and did so without provocation. Her hips spread as far as her body would allow, filling with fat as they went. Her breasts drew turgid, her puffy areolas ballooning into hemispheres, capped off by tiny bugs of her nipples. She felt his hands running along the inseam of her legs. His face pressed into the bottom of her belly in the valley of her legs. He pulled, gently opening her. In slightly, drawing out, in farther, pulling out, each insertion travelling deeper into her. “Ouuhhh.” She howled now, a throaty visceral moan somewhere between outright carnal screaming and passionate ecstasy. She continued through the pleasurable, painful, impossible, immense depth of sensation, to grow.

Her belly touched the ceiling. Her hips, thighs, and buttocks started to merge with her nearly spherical torso. Her arms flared and her flesh swelled around her wrists, gradually erupting around her hands and consuming them. Her hands swelled into balls with her fingers jutting out at odd angles.

She couldn’t stretch much larger. Her skin had reached its limits. She grew tighter instead as the limitless fat occupied every available space.

His rhythm changed. She felt his member engorge. “Oh yes. Yes, please.” Her fingers bloated into sausages. “Come inside of me.” Deep red stretch marks spread across her belly. “Fill me up.” Her entire body shuddered and pulsed. “Oh god yes.” Her mound tightened as he filled her up with a thick warmth. Her skin’s resilience finally gave way and she rapidly doubled and redoubled in size before erupting in a viscous mess.

He fell back, equally terrified and dumbfounded. She emerged from the bathroom with a soft post-coital glow. The horror washed from his face, replaced by confusion and relief. He traded glances with her and the room’s scarlet new paint job.

“Didn’t you just die?”

She bounded over to him and wrapped him with a hug. “That was awesome.”

“Just now. Like, explosion.”

“Respawn timer for the win.”

Average: 4.3 (22 votes)
blue blue berry
blue blue berry's picture
good but weird you didnt

good but weird you didnt explain how she was still alive

The last line is the explanation.

She respawned!  :)  It's a tongue in cheek reference to the style of games where your character respawns after getting killed, like Quake or Unreal.  Comes from a story I wrote a while back.  (`A Minor Complication`)  Someone on DA was really sad one of the characters exploded before she could go with her friend to get chicken wings.  The exchange went a bit like this:

vanDUO May 21, 2010 -- "So much for hot wings. :C"

captainstupids May 21, 2010 -- "This is the internet! Just because someone explodes in a violent and messy way doesn't mean they're gone or even dead. Probably even made it to dinner on time."

vanDUO May 21, 2010 -- "Respawn in 3... 2... 1...!"