Woman Who Fell From the Tree, The

Date Written: 
12/07/2020

The brisk fall air cooled Morgan’s cheeks. The sun, when it peeked through the canopy, was warm and inviting but the shade was not too cool. A bright red or gold leaf dropped here and there, lazily floating to the ground.

Morgan sipped her latte—pumpkin spice, of course—and snuggled into her peacoat. She inhaled the subtly sweet scent of the forest. Every few steps a twig crunched beneath her boot.

For a moment, something hollow tapped deep in her chest. Morgan enjoyed her own company greatly but she couldn’t help but wish to share the scenery, fresh air, and romantic solitude with someone. As she observed the trail, she couldn’t help but notice cozy alcoves where two lovers could sneak off to for some plein air frivolity, whispers in each other’s ears muffled from passersby by the breeze rustling the leaves.

She continued down the path, lost in her thoughts and silly romantic fantasies when a startling CRACK rent the air. Morgan immediately identified the sound as a tree bough giving way; what she didn’t expect to follow, however, was an alarming shriek.

“Oh no! Oh shit! Help!”

Morgan scanned the treeline, looking for a broken branch or some other clue as to where the hapless tree-climber was located. Some yards ahead, a lump of leaves shook unnaturally, and there she saw it: a slight woman dangling helplessly from the end of an ominously-angled branch. She was not too far from the ground but just enough to cause for concern.

“Oh! Just wait! I think I can catch you!” Morgan was not actually sure if she could, but human instinct kicked in and she ran over anyway. Her instincts proved right and the woman fell the moment Morgan skidded to a stop below her. They tumbled to the ground, elbows jammed into ribs and crunchy leaves caught in hair.

The woman brushed herself off as Morgan caught her breath and recovered her latte. Scraps of leaves and twigs flying about as she muttered to herself before standing at her full height. Morgan inspected her beverage, pleased that only a few drops had spilled.

She stood several inches over Morgan. Her lithe body and milky skin did not seem frail compared to Morgan’s plumper frame; on the contrary, Morgan could sense the sinewy strength within her from where she stood. Silvery hair hung to her waist, unusually straight and not visibly disheveled from her encounter with the tree. Her violet eyes openly scanned Morgan as she did the same.

Morgan was completely enraptured. Even as the strange woman’s body was dressed in clothes that were out of place; a baggy sweatshirt, jeans, and boots, as though they were not hers. Her facial features, while recognizably human, seemed a bit more pointed and angular in a way that sparked something in the back of Morgan’s mind.

Her lips, too, seemed most enthralling. They were plump but not large, moist but not shiny, and a perfectly soft peachy shade that Morgan could not help but imagine tasting...

“I can’t thank you enough for your help. Surely I can repay you?” She moistened her lips and stepped closer to her savior.

Morgan clutched her latte and pursed her own mouth shut. “I… there’s no need, really. Any stranger would have done the same!”

Her acquaintance advanced still. Her wide violet eyes remain fixed on Morgan. “Oh, but it would be no trouble at all. It’s customary where I come from, to touch lips in gratitude for a selfless favor.”

“I really shouldn’t.” Morgan took a step back.

The woman stood nose-to-nose to Morgan now, her breath warm, puffing on Morgan’s lips. “I insist.” Morgan opened her mouth again; this time to call for help, but the only sound that emitted was a faint squeak of surprise as the woman’s mouth closed on hers. Her lips were warm; moist but not slick; soft but perfectly textured. She gripped Morgan’s shoulders and leaned toward her; rough bark pressed into her rescuer’s back.

Warmth from her companion filled Morgan’s mouth; slid down her throat; pooled in her stomach. Morgan found herself gripping the other in return, pressing back into the kiss. Their lips smacked and gentle gasps and moans filled the air as the warm coziness in Morgan’s belly curled.

At long last, when warmth touched the very tips of each of her fingers and toes and she felt cozy from the inside out, Morgan pulled away from the woman, sated.

Except she couldn’t.

The woman had gripped her jaw and held her fast. She smiled against Morgan’s mouth, took a deep breath, then exhaled.

“Mmph?” was all Morgan could squeak out before an intense blast of air forced its way down her throat. Her body stiffened. She stood stock still while another blast came in, and another, then another still.

A curious sensation built up in Morgan’s stomach as the woman kept pushing air into her. The stiffness she felt centered on her abdomen. Morgan clutched her stomach, her latte tumbling to the ground. Where a soft, squishy paunch settled on her hips before now arose a tautness, straining against her coat.

With her face still pressed against her captor, Morgan could only whimper and grunt as she realized she would soon run out of room in her coat, hastily unbuttoning and shrugging it off as best she could manage. As the coat slipped off her shoulders and to the ground, it gently caressed her backside—but it felt different.

Understanding dawned on her as she grasped her glutes. They, too, had swollen, straining her leggings. “Oh, no!” she thought. “What’s happening to me?!” But the woman kept forcing blast after blast of air into her. Morgan groaned and squeaked and pulled against her but it was no use. Puff after puff swelled her further. What was previously a cute belly blossomed into a taught, distinct paunch; at first straining against the elastic of her pants before eking out, a broad crescent of creamy flesh.

Even Morgan’s chest swelled too; pushing against her bra, visibly-overfilled cup lines creating dips in her shirt. Creaks and pops fell through the air like the dying leaves and dry twigs around them.

It seemed like an eternity, heavy breath after heavy breath coursing into her body, it taking every single one and then accommodating more… but finally, the woman stopped.

A distinct pop! sounded as she pulled away. Her hands still on Morgan’s shoulders, she leaned back and cocked her head. A full, pregnant moment passed before Morgan realized she was waiting for her to speak.

“What did you do to me?! Turn me back! Call a doctor!” She shouted anything that immediately came to mind. Morgan struggled in the woman’s grasp but she still held fast.

The woman remained as she was, a smile curling one end of her mouth. She watched her captive for a moment, eyes slaking up and down her twice, before leaning in again.

“Oh no you don’t!” Morgan exclaimed. She twisted her head back and forth, trying to evade her captor’s advance again.

The woman still caught her mouth; this time, planting a closed-mouth peck. It was brief and sweet. The woman smiled and kissed her again; this time on her cheek. Then again on the other. And more yet, feathering her jawline. Morgan squirmed in her grasp, trying to twist away, but her efforts were ineffective.

At long last, the woman released her and took two long steps back. Before Morgan could register that she had been freed, that familiar warmth, comfortable and hazy, blossomed again.

Deep inside her rotund middle, the warmth roiled. It coursed through her whole body; from her swollen bosom to her fingertips; from her strained belly button to her toes, caressing every inch of her from the inside out as it swirled… every inch.

Morgan gasped and grasped her stomach, one hand instinctively slipping under its curve. Her hand fumbled, grasping to slip under the waistband of her leggings but her continuously and now-rapidly swelling stomach had taken too much of the finite room left in its elastic; far too tight for her to even slip a credit card in.

“Oooh,” Morgan’s earlier cries of protest had simmered to sultry with a hint of confusion humming beneath. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, in part to avoid eye contact with the strange woman staring at her with a hungry lust and equally in part to focus on the peculiar sensation growing inside her. The warmth building within and the cool air against her ballooning body sent a shiver up her spine and down below where she could no longer reach.

Within moments, Morgan could no longer even clench her thighs as more swells surged in her. They thickened from plump, to bloated, to starkly turgid, keeping up pace with every other part of her body. With a comical fwoomp, her arms shot upwards, jutting straight out from her shoulders at a slightly upward angle. The surges of growth in her midsection had begun to globularize from her hips to breasts as the pressure found more and more of her body to fill from the inside out.

Tension crackled in the air between the two women as the formerly-pudgy Morgan grew and grew and her lithe, willow captor looked on with a fierce intensity. For several moments, beyond Morgan’s coos, only the sounds of stretching skin, popping seams, and rustling leaves filled the silence, both women too focused to break it.

The silence of her assailant would have chilled Morgan in any other circumstance. As it were, the larger she grew, the less she seemed aware of anything around her. With the exponential and unbelievable growth, the taxed stretching of her skin, and the oddly comforting warmth soothing her from the inside as it made her bigger and bigger, it was difficult for Morgan to even straighten her thoughts.

So lost she was in them that she failed to notice the woman approaching her, hands outstretched. Only when her large palms and dainty fingertips pressed flat against the exposed flesh of what was formerly Morgan’s stomach, offsetting her balance, did she come back to earth.

“Wha—hey! What are you doing?” Morgan cried. Her jaw bumped against her chest, pushing up closer to her face.

The woman ignored her and continued to push, slowly teetering Morgan backwards, rolling her onto her back. Morgan shrieked and protested, uselessly flapping her hands—to her horror, she discovered now hung off puffy cones that used to be her arms, disproportionately short to her now-spherical body.

Her protests stopped short and muted into muffled whimpers when the expected sensation of being off-balance didn’t come. Instead, Morgan realized she felt light—too light.

The woman paid no mind as Morgan fidgeted and flexed what she could; namely, her wrists and jaw. She stared intently at her living balloon’s skin, walking around her entire circumference. She occasionally poked or pressed her hand into Morgan’s vast expanse, sometimes humming in approval.

Morgan’s attention had reverted and returned to Earth, mostly. She tried to watch her captor with what field of view she had, occasionally moaning at a jab or when a stronger surge pushed through deep inside her. She felt as though the growth had slowed but the effects on her had not; the gentle prods and the woman’s intense focus on her caused her cheeks to flush.

The woman concluded her inspection, it seemed, and returned to Morgan’s kicking feet. Morgan blushed again; by some miracle though her clothes had torn and stretched, they had mostly remained on, including her loafers. She gasped when her captor removed them both and slipped something around her ankles.

Morgan furrowed her brow for a moment, then understanding dawned on her.

“N-no! No-no-no!” She thrashed about or at least tried to. Where she would have had swinging limbs and kicking feet before, Morgan had been reduced to stiff and puffy fingers sticking out of a slight bump that remained of her arms on the smooth, round surface her body had become. Leaves crunched and rustled as she rocked back and forth, met with creaks and groans of her skin.

Suddenly, the woman appeared in her view again. She cupped Morgan’s cheek, her original and deceptively sweet smile playing again on her face.

“Shh,” she said, not unkindly. With one finger pressed to her lips, she brought it down to Morgan’s own mouth. Instantly, Morgan’s face tingled, that familiar overwhelming warmth and tight feeling filling her cheeks.

“Mmmphmmphh!” She cried through now-inflated cheeks, her lips plumped taut into a comical and permanent kiss with the same warmth that had filled every available inch of her body cavity.

But the woman’s smile remained and she simply patted Morgan’s face. Her free hand traced down her face, what little remained of her neck, and down her shoulder and side. Whatever was inside her—air, gas, magic—awoke and stirred at the woman’s caress.

Morgan sighed and shuddered involuntarily, already lost to the sensation. She felt enormous and yet altogether weightless.

Because she was.

She felt her face awkwardly pressing into the woman’s hand before it released and she realized she was rising—floating!

Morgan tried to scream but it was muffled by her own face as she rose. It was much too slow for her nerves; all she saw was the canopy of trees inching closer, their sharp branches suddenly in focus and far more numerous than Morgan recalled.

Still, her instincts to fight and preserve her life kicked in and she protested as she had before and her energy remained just as ineffective; resulting only in her bobbing awkwardly, hair bouncing and cascading below her as she rose further and further.

And then: it suddenly stopped as quickly as it had started and she was yanked back upright. The jolt on her ankles both startled her and calmed her nerves: her captor would not allow her to float up away into the night, or worse, into the branches.

Morgan gulped: for now.

And still, Morgan fussed, huffing and groaning. Where bumps had remained of her arms now inverted; her hands tucked into puffy divots, but the warmth and surges had appeared to dissipate, calmed and satisfied just as the woman had appeared moments before.

Whether the woman heard her protests, Morgan could not tell, as her vision was obscured by the vast diameter of her ballooned body and so she resorted into settling in herself. She embraced the heat filling and holding her aloft, occasionally grunting when she felt a tug on her ankle.

Author's Note: 

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