Y'shtola Being Normal

Here's me jumping on that recent train of hyper-boob Y'shtola with a quick bit of silliness. Though, given my love of expansion, I couldn't keep it ALL 'static' and unaware, so I threw in a bit of size change in the end. Also added some of the art inspiration with links.

Enjoy!

Source: Glubtastic

***

Penny frowned. At the dry old tome she was flicking through, at the drudgery of researching in the library, and at the world in general—save, perhaps, her companion Y’shtola working next to her. Her muscles ached from sitting still. She needed to move, to explore, to fight—yet there was a distinct lull in the path of her adventure, and so research was required. Penny yawned, slouching in her chair. Until…

“What was that?” She sat up straight and alert.

“What was what?” Y’shtola asked, without looking up from her book.

“There was a strange sound. A… tearing?”

“You’re imagining things.”

“My tail’s twitching. I’m not imagining anything.”

“Haven't I heard that before…”

“Hey! I’m right, like, at least half the time!” Penny jumped to her feet. “I’m going to make a sweep. Check things out.”

“You do that. Be a dear and fetch a new pot of tea, will you?.”

“If I don’t run into any skulking Ascians, sure.”

Penny made a vigorous round of the library—narrowly avoiding a collision with the librarian, balanced on a high ladder—but found no monsters to alleviate her boredom. Defeated, she returned to Y’shtola; but as she stepped in, there was that strange, tearing noise again… and now its source became obvious: Y’shtola herself.

“What happened to you?” Penny blurted out, gawking at her friend. And for good reason. Y’shtola had not, to Penny’s  knowledge, sported massive, wobbly tits the size of beach balls when she had left the room. And yet here she was, taking up half the table with her breasts, her poor dress barely hanging on (and not even succeeding in covering the rosy areolas the size of dinner plates). 

“What happened to me? My tea went cold,” Y’shtola said, without so much as a hint that something was amiss. “I’m not spying a fresh pot in your hands. Did the Ascians abscond with that, too?”

“But your… your…” Penny went cross-eyed, gesturing at the everything spilling out of the neck of Y’shtola’s attire. Strangely, it did not appear ripped, or even stretched—the sorry state of her dress was entirely down to being forced to keep such an ungovernable amount of woman descent, rather than due to the destruction of a sudden growth spurt.

“My, my, my… breasts? Yes, Penny, I still have them.” Y’shtola shook her head. “I know, they’re hypnotic. I’ve been informed of that many times in my life. Though I rather had expected that you had gotten used to it by now. Ah well. I suppose it can’t be helped.”

Penny was not so easily thrown off, though. “You’ve what? No-no-no, this is… a new development. I have to… We’ve gotta solve this.”

“Solve what? The mystery of my growing bust?” Y’shtola laughed gently. She stood up, gracefully, and sauntered towards her friend, close enough that they almost touched. “They’re quite real. As you of all people should know. But if you need a feel to assure yourself, I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“I… I may need that,” Penny conceded. Her hands were hovering, inches away from Y’shtola’s vast breasts, but the alarm bells in the back of her mind wouldn’t let her go. “But we have to figure out what caused this, first.”

“Puberty. You may have heard of it.”

“Puberty didn’t do this. It’s magic, pure and simple.” Penny frowned, gesturing at her friend’s bottomless cleavage.

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

“But what if it happens again?”

“A second puberty? I find it unlikely. But then again, who knows?” Y’shtola flashed a wry smile. In that moment, the faint, ethereal sound of tearing casualty returned—and her bust bulged over the rim of her top.

“After all,” she said, “I’m a growing girl.”

***

“You’re distracted again,” Y’shtola said.

“I’m not,” Penny insisted.

“Your eyes haven't left my chest since we left the library. You walked into a street sign.”

“I ducked in time.”

“Twice.”

Penny glowered. “Well, maybe. But you’re just gonna keep insisting that your gigantic tits are entirely normal, aren’t you?”

Y’shtola swung around and promptly pinned Penny against the brick wall with the force of said enormous breasts. They were big enough to hang past her hips now (despite their supernaturally perfect shape), maybe even big enough to touch her knees, had they not been kept lifted up by the tight, and increasingly doomed, efforts of her dress. The poor woman couldn’t even reach halfway around them, her own enormous, sensitive nipples far out of reach, and she was close to being dwarfed bodily by her rack—especially since the rest of her body retained its usual slender grace; excepting, perhaps, a slight widening of her hips and an increased plushness of her shapely backside.

“Correct. I will keep insisting, because it’s true,” Y’shtola said. “Do you see anyone else here making a fuss about my bust? No. And if you keep at it, I’ll have to make my point more forcefully.”

Penny fought fruitlessly against the marshmallowy press of the titty prison. “Haven’t you already? Gods, how do you carry them around with such ease, they’re crushingly heavy!”

Y’shtola lowered her voice. “Hush. I will not have my breasts be made a show of in public. One comment may have been cute. Two, testing the limits. But to persist…”

“‘Shtola, I’m literally suffocating in boob! If that’s not worth a bit of shock, I don’t know what is!”

Then Penny heard the noise that made her stiffen up. The slow, unearthly tear…

“Oh no,” she said, breaking into cold sweats. “Not now. Not here! Y’shtola, forget what I said, it’s gonna—”

“Too late,” Y’shtola said, not showing so much as a twitch of her ear to indicate that she might’ve heard the same noise that so drove Penny into a panic. “I’m giving you a time-out. If you’re buried in my breasts, you can’t embarrass any of us further.”

“You don’t understand—”

But it was too late. Already, normality was being rewoven; the threads of fate snapping just as easily as those of Y’shtola’s dress. Her breasts bulged, pushing forward, swelling out to all sides as Penny squirmed against the rising tide. Inch by inch, foot by foot, they grow to touch the ground, pinning Penny against the wall from head to toe in their warm, soft, and astoundingly massive embrace. Y’shtola herself was swiftly outsized by her bust, a mere figurehead on her 10-foot wide—and rising—titties, which swiftly took up most of the side street they were on and blocked traffic. And still they grew, until it seemed that her stiff, pink nipples alone might poke through the straining brickwork.

Y’shtola huffed, casting a look around. “Now see what you made me do,” she said, her cheeks flushing brightly. But she wasn’t embarrassed for her naked breasts—her dress had given up, finally, to be reshaped into a decorative top that left her chest bare, to be held up by a bra of golden, magical strands; too few in number to cover much at all, especially when so vexed by her companion. Normal she was, but causing the near collapse of a townhouse still merited a look or two.

“I’m not the one making a scene!” Penny said, her words coming out rather muffled from the crush of Y’shtola’s breasts.

“Clearly,” Y’shtola said, starting to walk again, her breasts sweeping perilously from side to side. “Just you wait until we get back, and I’ll make one for you."

###

Source: CrossCrescent