Misty F Fiction

045 – Booty Jeans

This text is updated to some extent from the Tumblr version. If you have feedback about this story, send me an ask. This story is rated NSFW for Extreme Sexually-Focused Transformation, Implied Sex and Intimate Nudity


Shamika looked aghast at the shirt and jeans Latoya had brought her. Even with all the spandex woven in, the pants with stars on the butt pockets still had to be two sizes too short for her long and slender super-model legs and that was ignoring how the low-rise waist was easily forty-eight inches--nearly twice her hip measurement! The tank top emblazoned with a seven-pointed star was also oversized by a wide margin. The tag read 3XL. She wore an XS.

"You serious?" she asked, after letting the top fall down around her. The neckline was nearly past her sternum and the bottom hem brushed against her thighs. "I thought you said this was gon' be a sexy look. Something to help me not look like Groot was there to party."

"Yeah, girl. Jus' wait..." Latoya assured her. "We gon' match, too!" she added, holding up another pair of pants with a similar cut before leaving to change.

"Well, okay then." She began to pull on the pants as well.

As her heel passed through the stretch denim, she heard a gurgle. The loose pant leg began to cling to her like a second skin as she felt a sensation which she could not explain. She tumbled back onto her bed as she lifted her other leg and her landing was slightly more plush than she remembered. Moving her grasp up from the hem of her jeans, her fingertips discovered unexpected thickness in her thighs.

"Uh... just what kind of party is this?"

"Jus' go wit' it, girl! Stop worrying about everything all the time!" Latoya said from the bathroom. "Trus' me!"

Shamika slipped the spaghetti strap of the top back up over her shoulder and heard another gurgle. A pressure built in her chest and her barely-there breasts began to throb. Before her eyes, they grew larger, they grew rounder, and they grew heavier. As they did, she felt herself shrinking as well. The shirt already pooled around her but it was hard to deny that more rumples were appearing every few seconds.

Hauling herself to her feet again, Shamika tugged at the jeans and instead of them sliding up her legs it felt like her legs scrunched down into them instead. Her thighs and calves both ballooned outward in kind until they were pushing the pants to their limit. By the time she was straining to get the jeans past her hips, which were much wider than before, she had lost twelve plus inches off her once seven-foot frame, and Shamika had a good idea where they had ended up.

Her still swelling breasts bounced in the shirt with each tug, letting her know how much heavier they were becoming as they continued to burgeon past being head-sized pillows. She was worried about being pulled off her feet by them when, unnoticed, her backside began to spread as if to counterbalance her. The first time she tried to pull the jeans over her butt, they caught on a little bit of extra booty. The next time was met with even more jiggling. Even with the pants unbuttoned and the zipper all the way down, she was having a hard time getting the hem to climb the bottom-side of what had become a shelf-like, super jiggly booty. Finally, the stretch denim had been pushed far enough to slip up and over at least two-thirds of her butt, leaving the rest joyfully wiggling as she moved.

In the time it had taken Shamika to wrestle her pants on, her boobs had grown gigantic enough to completely fill the shirt she was wearing to the point that it looked like she was wearing some skimpy lingerie and not an otherwise normal camisole as they bulged against the collar and arm holes. They hung heavy on her chest, looking otherwise natural despite their massive size and fullness. Streaks of a lighter skin tone peered out from behind her clothes, underscoring just how quickly she had grown.

Something about seeing those stretch marks made the whole transformation real to her. She had not merely taken on the exaggerated curves of a much thicker woman, but all the trappings that went along with that as well.

Just below her bust, her washboard stomach was now doughy and soft, and it hung over the waistband of her pants just a bit while also stretching out the rest of her shirt. More stretch marks were visible on either side of her tummy and they wrapped around down her hips and vanished into her pants.

She brushed her fingers over them, then gripped her pudgy tummy and was overcome with mixed feelings. Something about that touch was intensely enjoyable, recalling her envy of bigger girls, but it was hard to reconcile that with a lifetime of being thin as a rail. It always seemed like she put on weight by getting taller instead of wider and now that was all mixed up. She might have been five-two at best.

Latoya stepped into the room a moment later looking less petite but much more curvaceous. Her hair was now a rainbow of colorful bouncy curls. A newly formed tramp stamp was visible in the gap between her equally strained top and pants. No doubt both were other elements of the transformation. Curious, Shamika used her phone to check what hers looked like. Her hair was permed up into a wave of blues while a pair of fairy wings with some filigreed lines peeked out from above her massive booty. She also could not help but notice how much thicker her bottom lip had become.

"Damn, girl," Latoya exclaimed, "you lookin' fine as fuck right now."

"I guess so?" she muttered, still not sure about all this. "I feel like you came out better looking."

"Girl, didn' you always say that guys were scurred to grind up on you because you was, like, ten feet tall--"

"--I wasn't ten--" she began to rebut. Latoya ignored her.

"Now you's a super stacked, bootylicious homegirl that the dudes are gon' be all over! If I was a dude, I'd be all over that fas'er than you could say 'what.'"

Shamika was not sure how to take that. "Right... um, how long's this last?"

"Las' time, I changed back 'bout an hour after I took the outfit off--but I'd only been rockin' the thicc look for a hour, too."

"So is there a limit?" Or anything else I should be aware of?

"Well, the clerk said not to sleep in 'em or let them get torn but, tha's hardly gon' be an issue--right? We jus' going out for drinks."


‘Jus' drinks' turned into something far more after the second shot and Shamika bumped into Dante, the stud who lived in the apartment down the hall from her. Shrunken as she was, the pro linebacker from Jamacia looked positively massive, like Luke Cage had stepped into reality, and that was driving her crazy. She was completely unprepared to encounter someone so much... bigger than she was.

Emboldened by drink and knowing that she was disguised, she leaned into flirting with him. It did not take long for him to be into this thick chick trying to get his dick, so they bounced after a few minutes of making out in the booth.

Back at her place they were in the elevator and making out again when his big, strong hand came down on her comparatively dainty shoulder and brushed one of her top's straps aside. As he did, the over-taxed fabric gave up the ghost and the front corner of her shirt popped its seams. The stretchy fabric curled up, rolling until it was half-way down her tit. She felt a lurch as he cupped her heavy boob with a hand that could probably palm a basketball. Despite all this, the top felt more constraining somehow instead of less and it was starting to cut into her flesh. She reached up and slid the other strap down, only for the same thing to happen.

This time, the lurch was enough to send them both stumbling back.

"Bumpy ride tonight, huh?" he said, his eyes down.

"Oh, honey, this is jus' the start," she cooed, aping Latoya's manner of speaking. "There gon' be all sorts of bumps in a minute!"

Meanwhile, the shirt curled down as it was pulled tighter and tighter. Her tits piled on the inches but did not seem to notice until finally stepped off the elevator, and the bob of her doubly enhanced tiddies was even stronger than it had been. "I mus' be really drunk..." she mumbled.

"Uh... yeah, drunk." Something about his tone pulled at her but, she did not realize anything was amiss until she got to her apartment and could not reach her door around her colossal rack with her lessened reach. The shirt was merely a strip at this point as her boobs continued to burgeon outwards.

"Oh, shit I tore the--" Snap!

Freed from their constraints, her heavy, tear-shaped tits crashed down onto her tummy. They had to be past her waist! This was absurd! She needed to contact Latoya. Hell, she needed to get into her apartment!

"You, uh, want help with those?" he asked his face glowing like embers.

"Oh, no, I totally want you to get on your knees and suck on them right here in the hallway--of course I want help!"

"I get it, I get it... jus'--here." He moved behind her and she could feel his cock on her back. Not that she blamed him, she had just grown into some tit-fetish fantasy right in front of him. His hands were hot on her flesh as he lifted her cans so she could reach the door. To her surprise, there was something about him standing around her, especially how his biceps squeezed her shoulders that made her feel at ease.

"You're really into this, huh?" she asked, her voice wavering. She was sure that she was a freak of a different shape now. He was gong to help her inside and then leave as fast as he could.

"Girl, I'd fuckin' give my left nut to plow you until dawn," he said, gripping her boobs a little tighter as he helped her pivot through the door way. Shamika was surprised again when he pushed the door closed with his foot instead of taking his leave.

"You sure?"

He cracked a smile and slid his pants down the tantalizing v-shape of his pelvis.He pulled the waistband of his pants away from his crotch and something the size of a water bottle sprang into view. It was so big in fact, that it Shamika took a moment to realize that was his dick.

"How's that for sure?" he said, gesturing as his throbbing erection.

She could not help but laugh at how ludicrous the moment had become. This was absolutely not how she expected her evening to go and maybe it was just her thirst winning out over a more rational response but, she was so here for this. Freaky ass transformation or not, she wanted to get fucked, dammit! That was why she had gone out and now, she was only feet from her bed with a guy whose huge dick was throbbing just for her. As Latoya said, she needed to go with the flow. Her roomie would be home eventually and then they could fix her beanbag tits for now...

"No doubt about that, stud," she said taking a seat on the couch and hugging her tits as best she could. "Why don't you bring that plane in for a landing?"


The next morning, Shamika awoke face down on her couch hugging a pillow. She tried to sit back and was suddenly reminded of her new endowments as they slid up her naked thighs. They fucking filled her lap! "What the actual--?"

"Wha's wrong, Sha?" asked a half-familiar masculine voice before the sound of footfalls preceded the arrival of mister tall, dark, and hunky. He had a pan in one hand, a spatula in the other, and she could smell eggs cooking. Clad only in her apron, her super-athletic lover looked like he should have been on the cover of some muscle fetish magazine. His dark-brown complexion was warm and welcoming in the half-light filtering through her curtains. For a moment, she thought she had spent the night fucking a god.

"They're even bigger!" she screamed slapping her palms down on the seemingly endless curve of her tits. As she did, a spike of pleasure penetrated her anger and fear, stopping her tirade dead when all that came out of her open mouth next was a moan fit for porn.

"Oh, fuck me..."

"I don't know if I can go again, my dick hurts after what you put me through last night."

"That's not--heh."

"Breakfast?"

"Help first?"

"Of course."

Once she was on her feet, Shamika realized the extent of the alterations to her body.  Since she had eventually taken off the pants, parts of her had gone back to her baseline or close to it. She was back above six feet tall, that was certain and from how she managed to carry what had to be an extra forty pounds, her physique was back on the athletic side. Even so, her thighs and calves were far bigger around than they had been and her tummy was soft enough that she could still sink her fingers into it. Her massive, pants defying booty was only half gone and her hips were definitely still at least four inches wider than her shoulders. The density of her growth stripes had lessened, but her excessive curves were still marked by paler streaks.

As far as fiascos went, it could have been worse. She could have lost another foot of height to fuel the growth of these fuck pillows.

Unable to reach the table while seated, she had to place the plate on top of her cleavage and nestle the cup down into it, but that was actually kind of a neat trick. Dante seemed to find it endearing.

"Um," she offered after they had been sitting for a moment. "Did La-my roommate come home last night?"

"I think so? Someone who seemed really upset with me came by an hour ago before storming off muttering that ‘they' would have to fix this."

Good. ‘toya was already trying to get this reversed. Now she just had to wait. Which was easier said than done. With each hour that passed, her boobs enlarged just a little bit more and by time Latoya returned they were resting on the floor as she reclined on the couch.

Her friend was accompanied by a petite yet wispy, willowy woman who was pale to the point of being silvery. Her blond curls were pulled back in a ponytail that looked more like a pile of gold coins than hair. She wore a simple smock over long shorts and a fitted shirt. A complicated tattoo ran down one leg and she was carrying a bag covered in pins and clips.

"Hi there, dearie," she said, her accent vaguely French. "I'm gonna get this all sorted out--so just relax, okay?"

"Who--?"

"Sophie van Tunte," Latoya supplied, "she's the one who made the clothes."

The strange woman worked quickly, her pencil a blur as she held up her tape measure to various portions of Shamika's body. Finally, with a triumphant laugh like a silver bell, she clapped her hands together.

"Okay, I can fix this easy," she said with a winsome smile. She put one hand on each of half of Shamika's torso-defining bust line. "Just say when," she said before starting to push.

She could feel something being drawn out of her, like her spongey breasts were being gently wrung out. Slowly, inch by inch, her monstrous tits shrank back towards sizes with letters. As they returned to the realm of head-sized she surprised herself when she asked Miss. Sophie to stop.

"You sure, dearie? From what I gathered this is so much bigger than--"

"Yeah, I'm good with these," she said as the prior night's events flashed through her mind. Beyond how much Dante had worshiped her as a tit-goddess, this was a chance to redefine herself. She would probably still be considered a freak by many but now she was a freak of her own making. "I kind of like ‘em now."

"So shall it be then. Sorry again for all the distress," and she vanished in a cloud of sparkling dust.

"Did that really just happen?"

"Either that or we are all hella stoned right now."

 

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