Chapter 4: Bathroom Bargain
The thrumming bass from the club’s main room vibrated up through the filthy bathroom tiles, into the soles of Anith’s feet, and settled like a second heartbeat in her already-full chest. She gripped the chipped edge of the sink, staring at her warped reflection in the mirror. The neon ‘EXIT’ sign outside bled a poisonous red through the grimy window, painting her face in hellish light.
Two weeks of regimented pills, of choking down fenugreek capsules that made her sweat smell like curry, of hooking herself to the electric pump every four hours like a prisoner to a machine. Her breasts were undeniably larger, heavier, a constant, warm weight that pushed against the confines of her tight tank top. They ached with a persistent fullness that was both agony and purpose. But it wasn’t enough. Josh hadn’t called. The silence was a vacuum, and the voice in her head had been replaced by the more tangible, grating sound of Eve’s advice.
“You’re doing it all wrong, Ani. Pills? A pump? That’s amateur hour.” Eve had said, reappearing in her life like a slick, knowing shadow. She leaned against the bathroom door now, a silhouette in a sequined dress, smoking a clove cigarette that clashed with the stench of piss and bleach. “You need a more… organic catalyst.”
Anith took a long swig from the plastic cup of cheap tequila in her hand. It burned, but it didn’t dull the twin sensations of aching tits and hollow womb. “Nothing’s working fast enough,” she slurred, the alcohol fuzzing the edges of her desperation but not the core of it.
“I know a guy,” Eve said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Creepy as fuck, works in some unregulated supplement lab. Swears his own jizz is packed with, like, synthetic growth peptides. A few loads, and you’ll be busting seams.” She grinned, a flash of white in the red dark. “Or, you know, just the act. Sucking cock makes your tits bigger. It’s a physiological thing. All that saliva, the hormones. Getting fatter helps, too. More substrate for the girls to grow. You should try cow hormones—injectables. I can get them.”
Every piece of advice was a poisoned hook, and Anith was a starving fish. She felt the truth of them in her leaking nipples, in the new, soft padding spreading over her hips and belly. Her body was a receptive sponge, absorbing any suggestion, any substance, that promised more.
“I don’t know…” Anith mumbled, but the protest was weak, washed away by another gulp of tequila and the vivid memory of Josh’s disgust.
“He’s here,” Eve said, her eyes flicking to the bathroom door as it swung open.
The man who walked in was tall, gaunt, with glasses and a nervous, twitchy energy. He didn’t look at the women in the room, just bee-lined for a urinal. Eve nudged Anith hard.
“Now’s your chance. Go on. Your little pump isn’t gonna make you the heifer you need to be. You want to drown him in milk? You need fertilizer.”
The words clicked into place with terrible logic. Fertilizer. Seed for the empty field. The hollow ache in her pelvis clenched. Before she could think, her feet were moving, propelled by tequila and a spiraling need that had scorched away all common sense.
Eve followed, yanking open the door of the largest stall. It was a horror of graffiti and sticky floors. “In here,” she hissed, shoving Anith forward. The man, zipping his fly, turned and saw them. Eve flashed him a smile. “My friend here’s got a special hunger. Thinks you’ve got the magic sauce.”
The man—Carl, his name tag said, though he wasn’t wearing a uniform—looked from Eve’s sly grin to Anith’s drunken, desperate face. A slow, understanding smile spread across his thin lips. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Eve pushed Anith into the stall and pulled the man in after her. “Suck his dick like a good little cow,” she whispered directly into Anith’s ear, her breath hot with smoke and malice. “His cum’s got growth hormones, I swear. He’s a walking pharmacy.” Then she stepped back and slammed the stall door shut, leaving Anith trapped in the fetid, fluorescent-lit box with a stranger.
The lock clicked. The bass was muffled, replaced by the drip of a leaking toilet and Carl’s quick, excited breathing. He was already unbuckling his belt.
“Knew a girl like you once,” he muttered, his voice nasal. “Had a lactation fetish. My special blend had her leaking in three days. You’re already swollen, huh? I can see it. Prime candidate.”
Anith’s knees hit the cold, damp tiles. The grime soaked immediately through her fishnets. She looked up at him. He pulled his cock out. It was thick, uncircumcised, already half-hard with anticipation. It smelled vaguely chemical, like ammonia and cheap soap.
“Go on,” he said, tapping her cheek with it. “Open up. Let’s see if we can’t jumpstart those dairy ducts.”
Her mind screamed a distant, fading warning. It was swallowed by the roaring need. This was a ritual. An offering. She leaned forward, opened her mouth, and took him in.
The taste was bitter, salty. She gagged, her eyes watering, but forced herself deeper. She used her tongue the way she’d seen in the videos, swirling around the head, then sliding down the shaft. She thought of Josh. She thought of white streams hitting glass. She thought of her own body expanding, becoming undeniable.
“That’s it,” Carl groaned, his hands fisting in her long brown hair. He didn’t guide her; he fucked her mouth, short, brutal thrusts that hit the back of her throat. “Take it, you hungry bitch. Swallow all that good stuff. It’s gonna make you so fucking huge.”
Tears cut clean tracks through her makeup. Drool and pre-come dripped from her chin onto her tank top, darkening the fabric over her straining breasts. The ache in them intensified, a sharp, pulling sensation that seemed connected directly to the cock pounding her throat. Her nipples were painfully hard, leaking small, clear spots onto her bra. Between her own legs, she was a sopping mess, her cunt throbbing in time with his thrusts. The humiliation was a live wire, but it was somehow channeling into the arousal, powering it. She was a thing on her knees, being used for a specific, filthy purpose. It felt like progress.
“Gonna come,” he grunted, his hips stuttering. “Gonna pump you full of it. You want it? You want my fucking growth serum?”
She couldn’t speak. She just moaned around his cock, a guttural, affirmative sound. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder, her hand reaching between her own legs to rub frantic circles over her clit through her skirt.
“Fuck! Here it comes! Drink it, you cow!”
His grip on her hair became vicious. He slammed himself to the hilt and held there. A hot, bitter flood hit the back of her tongue. She gagged, choked, but forced herself to swallow. It was thick, viscous, more chemical than any come she’d ever tasted. It coated her throat. He pulsed again and again, groaning above her, until he was spent.
He pulled out, soft and slick, wiping himself on a piece of toilet paper before tucking away. Anith stayed on her knees, coughing, strings of saliva and semen hanging from her lips. Her body was humming, a strange, invasive heat spreading from her gut.
“Do that twice a day for a week,” Carl said, his voice casual now, like a doctor giving instructions. “And up your calorie intake. You need the raw materials. The peptides need substrate.” He unlocked the stall door and left without another glance.
Anith vomited. The tequila, the bitterness, it all came up in a violent surge into the stained toilet bowl. She retched until her stomach was empty, then slumped against the cold metal wall, spent.
Eve pushed the door open and looked down at her. “See? That wasn’t so bad. You’ve got dedication. I’ll give you that.” She tossed a pack of gum onto Anith’s lap. “For the breath. You reek of ambition.”
Anith took a piece, her hands shaking too badly to open it. Eve did it for her, popping the stick into her own mouth before giving Anith another. The sharp mint did nothing to erase the taste embedded in her sinuses.
But as she stood, legs wobbly, and looked at herself in the smudged mirror above the sink, she saw something new. A faint, hectic flush across her chest. Her breasts felt hotter, tighter under the damp fabric. They pulsed, almost visibly. The hollow ache in her pelvis had deepened into a weird, craving emptiness.
It was working. She could feel it. A terrible, invasive alchemy had begun.
She smoothed her skirt, wiped her mouth. The reflection showed a girl coming apart, but in Anith’s eyes, she was finally coming together. She turned to Eve, a grim, tequila-fueled determination solidifying in her gut.
“Get me his number,” Anith said, her voice raw. “And find me those cow hormones.”