Chapter 4: The Cream Revelation
The floral stench hit him first. Cloying. Sweet enough to sting the back of his throat. It wasn’t the stale beer smell of the bar bathroom clinging to his hoodie; this was sharper, more invasive. It wormed into his sinuses as he stumbled through his apartment door, the cheap lock clicking shut behind him with finality. His chest felt heavy, tight, the skin stretched and tingling beneath the layers. The pink sports bra from that morning was buried under clothes in his hamper, crusted with the evidence of his shame, but the phantom pressure of its straps and the deep, satisfied ache it had left beneath the surface remained. Increase my bust… The relentless mental chorus was quieter now, a muffled throb beneath the pounding in his head from cheap beer and confusion.
He needed sleep. Oblivion. He shrugged off the hoodie, the cool air a relief against his flushed skin. His t-shirt, still damp with sweat and the ghost of drying cum from the bar bathroom, hung loosely, but the shape beneath was undeniable. He avoided the mirror, shuffling towards his childhood bed – the narrow single mattress crammed into the corner, the patchwork quilt his grandmother made frayed at the edges. Posters of bands he barely remembered liking stared down with faded intensity. He collapsed onto the worn mattress, the springs groaning in familiar protest. The floral smell intensified, thick and nostalgic, pulling him under like a riptide.
Sunlight streamed through the window of a smaller room. His room. But… younger. The posters were brighter. Cartoon dinosaurs instead of grimacing guitarists. The patchwork quilt was newer, less threadbare. Seven years old. Josh sat cross-legged on the faded blue carpet, clutching a worn action figure. Opposite him, Evelynii, small and thin, her dark hair in messy pigtails, sat with her back against his toy chest. She wasn't his best friend yet in this memory, just the girl next door who sometimes came over. But the memory felt solid, real, replacing the vague recollection of building Lego spaceships.
Evelynii held a small, bright pink tube. 'Bust Max!' proclaimed the label in bubbly, childish font. She squeezed a thick, pearly-white cream onto her palm, the sickeningly sweet floral scent exploding into the small room. Josh wrinkled his nose. "That smells gross, Evie."
She giggled, a high, tinkling sound. "Does not! It's magic! Mom uses it." With intense concentration, she began rubbing the cream onto her flat, childish chest. Her small fingers worked in slow circles, spreading the viscous goo over her pale skin. Josh watched, fascinated despite the smell. It looked… weird. "Why?"
"To get boobies, silly!" she chirped, still giggling. "Big, beautiful boobies like the ladies on TV! Watch!" She rubbed harder. Beneath the thin fabric of her pink sleeveless top, something… shifted. It wasn't sudden. It was a subtle swelling, a rounding beneath the cotton where only flatness had been moments before. Like kneading dough that rose impossibly fast.
Josh dropped his action figure. His tiny hands trembled. Hypnotized horror washed over him, mixed with a strange, fluttering curiosity deep in his belly. It felt… familiar. The swelling continued. The fabric of her top stretched, straining across newly formed curves that pushed outwards, upwards. He could see the outline now, soft, nascent mounds burgeoning under the pink cotton. She wasn't flat anymore. Not at all. She looked… like the older girls he saw sometimes.
"See?" Evelynii beamed, cupping her small hands under the newly formed swell. They easily filled her palms. She squeezed gently. Josh’s breath hitched. A jolt shot through his own body, a phantom echo low in his gut, a tightening in his tiny groin he didn't understand. He wanted to touch. To feel if it was real. His hand twitched forward, reaching out towards the forbidden transformation shimmering under the stretched pink fabric. The floral scent filled his lungs, thick and heavy…
Josh gasped, jolted awake in his darkened adult room. His heart hammered against his ribs. Sweat coated his skin. The phantom floral scent lingered, mixing with the stale reality of his apartment. But the sensation… it wasn't phantom. His hand wasn't trembling towards Evelynii's chest. It was already there.
He was lying on his back. His right hand had slid under his t-shirt while asleep, cupping his own left breast. His fingers were working in slow, rhythmic circles around the stiff, pebbled nipple, exactly like Evelynii had rubbed the cream. The flesh was hot, heavy, incredibly sensitive. Pleasure radiated from each stroke, a deep, insistent thrumming that echoed the ache within and pulsed straight down to his groin. His cock was rigid, straining painfully against his jeans, precum soaking the front.
"Fuck…" he breathed, the word thick with sleep and shock. He should stop. This was insane. But his fingers didn't stop. They moved with a will of their own, kneading the soft weight, circling the hypersensitive peak. The memory overlaid reality: Evelynii’s giggle, the sight of her chest swelling, that terrifying, exhilarating pull. His thumb brushed roughly over his own nipple. "Ah! Shit!" A jolt of pure electric pleasure made his hips buck off the mattress. The need intensified, overwhelming shame and reason.
He ripped his t-shirt off, tossing it aside. The cool air hit his bare skin, making his nipples tighten impossibly further. He looked down. In the dim light filtering through the window, his chest gleamed faintly. The breasts were larger than before he slept. Fuller. Rounder. The areolas were wider, darker, the nipples longer and thicker, standing rigidly erect. B-cups? Maybe C? The sports bra wouldn't fit now. The realization sent another sick wave of arousal through him. Increase my bust… The song wasn't a chorus now; it was a command echoed by his own traitorous nerves.
He shoved his jeans and boxers down his hips, freeing his raging erection. It slapped hard against his stomach, slick and throbbing. He needed more friction. More sensation. His left hand kept working his breast, squeezing the heavy flesh, pinching the hardened nipple, sending shockwaves through his system. His right hand wrapped around his cock. Heat. Slickness. He started stroking, rough and fast, the base of his palm grinding against the root.
"Fuck… yeah… just like that…" he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. The images were jumbled now: Evelynii’s swelling chest merging with the feel of his own hand on his breast, the pink sports bra, Ben’s crude laughter morphing into the remembered scent of Bust Max cream. He imagined the thick cream on his own skin, rubbed in by small hands – his hands? Evelynii’s? – working it deep, feeling the flesh swell and grow heavier, tighter. He imagined the cup of the pink bra straining, overflowing. His hand squeezed his breast harder, fingers digging deep into the yielding flesh. "Grow… fuck… get bigger… fill my hand…"
He pumped his cock furiously. The dual stimulation was overwhelming. Each rough pinch of his nipple sent a lightning bolt to his balls. Each stroke along his slick shaft made his hips jerk. His breath came in ragged gasps. He opened his eyes, looking down at his own hand mauling his breast, the flesh reddening under his grip, the nipple dark and distended. It was obscene. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. "Look at these fuckin' tits… my tits…" he babbled. "Gonna make 'em huge… gonna cum all over 'em again…"
He shifted his grip on his cock, aiming it upwards. His left hand abandoned his breast just long enough to grab the fleshy mound roughly, pulling it up, presenting it. His right hand slammed down his shaft. The orgasm detonated. "FUCK! YES!" A guttural roar tore from his throat as he came. Thick, viscous ropes of cum arced through the air, splattering hot and wet across the upper swell of his left breast, some landing on his collarbone, his neck. Pulse after violent pulse followed, painting his skin white. He kept stroking, fucking his fist, milking it, watching the cum pool on his flushed skin, drip onto the quilt beneath him. The pleasure was brutal, consuming, centered as much in the deep, aching satisfaction radiating from his used breast as in his spasming cock.
He collapsed back, trembling violently, gasping for air. The smell of sex and that phantom floral scent hung heavy. Cum cooled on his chest and stomach. He slowly lifted his head, looking down. The breast he’d manhandled glistened white. It looked… larger than the right one. Swollen. Hotter. The skin felt tighter, stretched. He tentatively touched it, smearing the cum. The ache beneath was profound. Aching with growth. He looked at the right breast. Still rounded, heavy, but… smaller. Less used.
Panic warred with the post-orgasmic haze and the deep-seated thrum of need. The changes weren't just rewriting his past. They were demanding participation. Shaping him. Defining him through each shameful, necessary touch. The memory of Evelynii giggling as her chest swelled felt less like a dream and more like a premonition. He lay there, sticky and transformed, the taste of Bust Max cream thick on his tongue, wondering what impossible thing he would wake to next. Or worse, what impossible thing he would do to himself while he slept. The floral scent lingered, a promise and a threat.
The floral scent clung like cheap perfume, thick enough to choke on. Josh scrambled upright on the narrow bed, the patchwork quilt damp with sweat and drying cum beneath him. His chest thrummed, a deep, internal ache radiating from the left breast he’d abused, the skin still tacky, feeling stretched, heavier than its twin. He needed to clean up, to scrub away the evidence and the phantom scent of Bust Max, but movement felt dangerous, like shifting might trigger another uncontrolled swell.
A sharp rap on the apartment door shattered the silence. "Josh? You alive in there? Open up, it's freezing!" Evelyn's voice, familiar yet laced with an unfamiliar, breathy lilt, cut through his panic. His heart slammed against his ribs. EVELYNII VISITS TONIGHT. The command pulsed in his skull, inseparable now from the floral ghost haunting him.
He lurched off the bed, fumbling for the hoodie discarded on the floor. His jeans were still bunched around his thighs; he yanked them up, wincing at the sticky dampness inside the denim. His t-shirt was a lost cause, tossed aside earlier. The hoodie zipper snagged halfway over his bare chest; the swell beneath was undeniable, pressing against the fabric. He grabbed a faded flannel shirt hanging off the chair, buttoning it hastily, the thin cotton offering little disguise. "Coming!" he croaked, his voice rough.
He opened the door. Evelyn stood there, bathed in the weak hallway light. Josh blinked. Memory shifted like sand. The flat-chested girl from the rewritten childhood scene was gone. This Evelynii… filled the doorway. Her usual loose band tee was stretched tight across an impossible swell, the neckline dipping low to reveal a deep, shadowed cleavage that hadn't existed a week ago. DD-cups? Larger? They strained the thin cotton, heavy, ripe, the nipples visibly hard points even through the fabric. Her face seemed softer, lips fuller, glossed a shiny pink. "Took you long enough," she pouted, the words slightly slurred. "Been buzzing forever."
"Hey, Evie," Josh managed, stepping back to let her in. His eyes were glued to her chest. That floral scent wasn't phantom anymore; it rolled off her in waves, mingling sickeningly with cheap tequila. "You look… different."
She giggled, that same high, tinkling sound from the memory, but deeper, throatier. "Do I?" She spun clumsily, almost losing her balance, her massive breasts jiggling wildly under the thin tee. "Got some new… vitamins." She winked, tapping a small pink tube peeking from her jeans pocket. Bust Max. The sight sent a jolt straight to Josh’s groin. His own chest ached in response, a sympathetic throb. "Feels amazing, Josh. Like… buzzing. Warm." She stumbled past him into the cluttered room, collapsing onto his narrow bed with a sigh that made her chest heave. "Your place is a dump, like always."
Josh closed the door, leaning against it. His flannel shirt felt suddenly suffocating. He remembered the sticky mess beneath it, the feeling of his own hand kneading flesh that now felt even fuller, tighter than before she arrived. His cock stirred, thick and insistent. "What kind of vitamins?" he asked, voice tight. He needed to know. Needed to hear her say it.
Evelynii grinned, lopsided and vacant. She pulled the pink tube out, waving it. "Magic boob juice! Saw it online. Promised 'significant, rapid enhancement'. Figures it actually fucking works!" She squeezed a dollop of the pearly cream onto her palm. The floral reek intensified, cloying and sweet. "Want some? Got plenty." She began rubbing it into her exposed cleavage with slow, circular motions, her eyes glazing over. "Mmm… feels so good. Tingles."
Josh watched, hypnotized. Her fingers worked the cream deep into the soft, heavy flesh, making it wobble. He remembered his own fingers doing the same in his sleep. Remembered the swelling. Felt the echo of that phantom touch on his own skin. The ache in his chest deepened, becoming a sharp, demanding need. He took a step closer. His flannel shirt gaped open; he hadn't buttoned it all the way. Evelynii’s gaze dropped, her rubbing slowing. "Whoa," she breathed, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Josh… what the hell?"
He looked down. The left side of his chest, uncovered, visibly pushed against the thin t-shirt fabric he wore underneath the flannel. It was bigger than the right, the outline clear, the nipple a pronounced peak against the cotton. He saw the faint smear of dried cum near the collar. Panic warred with a sudden, reckless hunger. "I… I don't know," he stammered, but the lie tasted sour.
Evelynii sat up straighter, her movements less clumsy now, focused. "No fucking way," she murmured, awe replacing the drunken haze. "You too? Did you… use it?" She gestured with the tube, her eyes wide, fixed on his chest. "Feel it?" The floral scent was everywhere, a tangible presence between them, thick with promise.
Josh couldn't look away from her hand, still slick with cream, resting on her own massive breast. His cock was rock hard, trapped and leaking. The need to touch, to feel that transformation, overwhelmed the shame. He took another step. His voice was barely a rasp. "Yeah. Feel it. All the time." He raised a trembling hand, hovering near the open neck of his flannel. "Hurts sometimes. Needs… needs touching."
"Show me," Evelynii breathed. Not a question. A demand. Her own hand resumed rubbing her chest, slower now, more deliberate, her eyes locked on his. The invitation was raw, primal. The memory of her childhood chest swelling under her fingers merged with the reality of her heavy, cream-slicked breasts and the ache in his own body.
Josh’s control snapped. He tore the flannel shirt open, buttons pinging off the walls. He yanked the damp, cum-stained t-shirt over his head, flinging it aside. His bare chest heaved. The asymmetry was stark: the left breast swollen, heavier, the areola wider, darker, the nipple longer and thicker, still flushed from his earlier abuse. The right, while large and rounded, was clearly smaller. Evelynii gasped, a sharp intake of breath. "Fuck, Josh…"
He moved to the edge of the bed, his movements jerky with need. He didn't wait for permission. His hand, large and trembling, covered Evelynii’s on her left breast. Her skin was hot, slick with the cream, the flesh beneath incredibly soft yet dense, yielding under his grip. He felt the deep thrumming vibration she'd described. It resonated through his palm, up his arm, mirroring the ache in his own chest. He squeezed. Hard.
Evelynii moaned, deep and guttural, her head falling back. "Oh fuck yeah! Like that!" Her other hand shot out, grabbing his swollen left breast. Her fingers were slick with Bust Max as she kneaded the sensitive, over-full flesh. "Shit, it’s huge!" she gasped, pinching his nipple roughly.
Electric agony-pleasure seared through Josh. "AH! GOD!" He bucked forward, his free hand fumbling for the button of his jeans. He squeezed Evelynii’s breast harder, feeling the incredible weight, the heat, the way it filled his hand. His thumb found her nipple, hard as a pebble, and ground against it through the cream. She cried out, arching her back, shoving her chest against his hand.
"Tear it!" she demanded, clawing at her own band tee. "Get it off! Wanna feel your hands!" Josh obeyed, yanking the thin fabric up over her head, revealing her massive, naked breasts. They swung heavily, creamy white skin gleaming, nipples large, dark pink, and achingly erect. The floral scent exploded, mixed with the musk of arousal. He groaned, grabbing both mounds roughly, feeling their immense, impossible weight and softness, pulling them together, burying his face between them for a second, inhaling the intoxicating, chemical sweetness.
Evelynii’s hands were on him, pulling at his jeans. He shoved them down himself, kicking them off. His cock sprang free, thick and purple-tipped, leaking profusely. She wrapped one slick hand around it, the Bust Max cream mixing with his precum. "Fuck, it's big," she breathed, pumping him roughly. Her other hand grabbed his swollen left breast again, squeezing, pulling at the nipple. "Play with mine! Make 'em grow! Make yours grow! Rub the cream!"
Josh was lost. He scooped a thick glob of Bust Max from the tube she'd dropped onto the quilt. He smeared it onto her right breast, working it into the soft flesh with both hands, kneading deeply, feeling the heat, the vibration intensifying. He squeezed, pulled, focused on the nipple, rubbing the slick cream over it in rough circles. Evelynii gasped, her hand tightening on his cock, her own hips bucking against nothing. "Yes! Rub it! Harder! Feel it… feel it working!"
He could feel it too. In his own chest, under Evelynii’s relentless grip, the ache sharpened into a piercing throb of expansion. The stretched skin on his left breast burned. He glanced down. It seemed even fuller, the areola spreading, deepening in color under her ministrations. He grabbed her other breast, covering it in cream, working it fiercely, his fingers digging deep. She moaned, a continuous stream of filth pouring from her glossy lips.
"Fuck, Josh! Your tits… they're getting bigger! I can feel it! So fucking hot!" Her hand was a blur on his cock now, slick and tight. "Wanna see you cum! Cum all over my magic tits! Paint 'em!"
The command, the sensation of her hands – one on his cock, one mauling his swollen breast – the overwhelming floral-chemical stench, the sight of her massive, cream-slicked breasts bouncing under his rough touch… it was too much. The pressure built, volcanic, centered in his groin and radiating from his tortured chest.
"Evie…" he choked out. "I'm gonna…"
"DO IT!" she screamed, squeezing his nipple viciously, pinching it hard between her thumb and forefinger, grinding her knuckle against the hypersensitive tip.
Josh roared. His back arched violently off the bed. His cock pulsed, thick ropes of hot cum erupting, splattering across Evelynii’s glistening cleavage. The first jet hit her collarbone, the next painted a thick stripe across her right nipple, another splashed onto the heavy swell of her left breast. He kept coming, hips jerking, spraying her tits, her stomach, thick globs landing on her chin.
Evelynii moaned, her eyes rolling back, her own body shuddering as she felt the hot wetness coat her skin. Her hand kept pumping him through the last spasms, milking out sticky drops. She released his cock, bringing her cream-and-cum slicked hand up to her mouth, sucking his release off her fingers with a lewd groan. "Mmm… tastes like magic."
Josh collapsed, trembling uncontrollably, gasping. His chest felt like it was on fire, the stretched skin throbbing, the left breast heavy and hot, pulsing with its own heartbeat. Evelynii looked down at her cum-splattered chest, her expression dazed, blissful. She scooped up some of the mess, mixing it with the remaining Bust Max cream still on her skin, and began rubbing it back into her own breasts with slow, sensual strokes. "So good," she murmured. "Gonna be so fucking huge."
Josh watched, numb, exhausted, the floral scent now layered with sex and his own release. He glanced down at his own chest. The left breast was unmistakably larger, the areola a wide, dark circle, the nipple long and thick. The right seemed diminished in comparison. He touched it tentatively. It felt… neglected. A strange, hollow need bloomed there. He looked at the discarded Bust Max tube on the quilt. Evelynii caught his look, her eyes glinting in the dim light. She scooped a thick dollop of the cream mixed with his cum from her cleavage and held it out to him on her fingertip. It glistened obscenely. "Here," she whispered, her voice thick with promise. "For the little one. Make it match."