Chapter 6: Measuring the Gains
The drive home was a blur of golden light and lingering sensation. Dani kept the windows down, the wind doing nothing to cool the heat still radiating from her skin, or the tender, swollen weight now cradled loosely in her unbuttoned shirt. The evidence of Mark’s release had dried to a faint, sticky sheen between her breasts, a secret trophy she had no intention of washing away just yet. She could still feel the ghost of his hands, his shock, his utter surrender. It fueled her more than the sundae ever could.
She practically floated up the steps to her apartment, the key clicking in the lock with a satisfying finality. Pushing the door open, she was greeted by the familiar, comforting scent of vanilla-scented candles and, underneath, the ever-present, rich odor of dairy.
“There she is! I was starting to think you’d drowned in a vat of hot fudge.”
Chloe was sprawled on the deep, worn sofa, a glossy magazine open on her lap. She was Dani’s opposite in form—willowy where Dani was lush—but her eyes held the same glint of mischief. A long, flexible sewing tape measure was coiled on the cushion beside her like a sleeping snake. On the low coffee table sat a full, heavy glass pitcher, its contents so thick they clung to the sides in viscous ribbons. Heavy cream.
Dani tossed her purse onto a chair and let the door swing shut behind her. “Something like that.” She shrugged out of her ruined blouse, letting it fall to the floor. Her bra, its front clasp still undone from the bathroom, gaped open, threatening to release its burden with every step.
Chloe’s eyes dropped immediately, her playful smirk sharpening into something more focused. She let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Whoa. Okay. The Ample Hills effect is real. I can see it from here. They’re… fuller. Rounder. Jesus, Dani, your areolas look darker. Did you see Mark?”
“He saw me,” Dani said, a laugh bubbling up as she finally let her bra straps slide off her shoulders. The garment fell away, and her breasts settled with a profound, heavy bounce that seemed to echo in the quiet room. The relief of being free from constriction was immense. She cupped their undersides, hefting them, feeling the new, distinct density. The skin was stretched silken-tight, hot to the touch. “He more than saw me.”
Chloe was already on her feet, tape measure in hand. “Details later. Measurements first. I need data.” She gestured impatiently. “Arms up. Let’s get the official stats.”
Dani complied, raising her arms. The movement lifted her breasts, accentuating their swollen curve. She watched in the large hallway mirror she’d positioned for exactly this purpose. Her reflection was a study in abundance. The afternoon sun from the window glazed her skin in honeyed light, highlighting every new, subtle stretch mark like a web of faint, silver commendations.
Chloe approached with clinical reverence. She looped the tape measure around Dani’s ribcage, just under the swell. “Band size is holding steady… for now.” Then, with careful precision, she drew the tape over the fullest part of Dani’s bosom, pulling it snug but not tight. She leaned in to read the number, her breath warm on Dani’s collarbone.
A slow smile spread across Chloe’s face. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“What? Tell me!”
“Forty-nine inches.” Chloe’s eyes met Dani’s in the mirror, wide with impressed disbelief. “You were forty-six and a half this morning. That’s two and a half inches. From one sundae and… whatever else happened.”
A flush of pure, unadulterated pride warmed Dani’s chest. “The ‘whatever else’ probably helped. Adrenaline. Endorphins. It’s all fuel.” She lowered her arms, her breasts settling back into their heavy, pendulous drape. She walked over to the coffee table, her steps a careful, rolling gait to accommodate the new weight. She picked up the pitcher of heavy cream, the glass cool and shockingly heavy in her hand.
“Celebratory drink?” Chloe asked, sinking back onto the sofa, tucking her feet underneath her.
“Maintenance dose,” Dani corrected, but her tone was giddy. She unscrewed the lid of a large, almost-empty tub of ultra-moisturizing breast cream sitting beside the pitcher, scooped out a generous glob, and began massaking it into her overheated skin. The cream was cool and soothing, and she worked it in with firm, circular motions, from the tight slopes down to the tender undersides. The room filled with the scent of shea butter and lavender.
She poured a tall glass of the heavy cream next, the liquid pouring out with a slow, fatty thickness. No chaser. No need. She took a long, deliberate swallow, feeling the rich, cold fullness slide down her throat and settle warmly in her stomach. A direct line to the ache in her chest.
Chloe watched, mesmerized. “Did he touch them?”
“Mmhmm.”
“And?”
“And he came in the creamery bathroom while I gave him a titfuck.” Dani said it casually, taking another sip of cream, wiping a white mustache from her upper lip with the back of her hand.
Chloe burst out laughing, a loud, unfettered sound that filled the apartment. “No! Shut up. He did not. Shy Mark from the library?”
“Not so shy when he’s buried between these.” Dani jiggled her shoulders slightly, setting off a mesmerizing wave of movement. “He was… perfect. Absolutely overwhelmed. It was delicious.”
“God, I love that for you.” Chloe shook her head, still grinning. “So what’s the next phase? You’ve got him hooked. You’re growing by the hour, practically. You’re gonna hit fifty inches before the week is out at this rate.”
Dani finished her glass of cream, the empty vessel clicking softly on the table. The familiar, deep-seated throb of growth was already stirring, a response to the fat and the memory and the attention. She could feel it: a subtle, internal tightening, a further thickening of the flesh in her hands. She looked at her reflection again, at the woman who was becoming more of herself by the day.
She ran her hands over the colossal curves, now gleaming with moisturizer. “The next phase,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though it was just the two of them, “is more. Always more. I want to see how far he can go. How far I can go.” She turned from the mirror, her eyes alight with a challenge that had no endpoint. “I think it’s time for Mark to get a more… hands-on education. Don’t you?”
Chloe’s smile turned wicked. She raised an imaginary glass in toast. “To higher learning.”
Dani looked down at herself, at the landscape of her own body, vast and still expanding. The pitcher of cream was half-empty. The tape measure lay coiled on the sofa. The door to her apartment, and to whatever came next, was firmly unlocked. She was just getting started.