Hormonal Patty [Early Access]

   Patty was the smartest organic chemist in their lab. It wasn't hard to modify the horse performance enhancing serum her team was working with in the lab to match humans. A few snips here and there with CRISPR and the Industrial-Grade Equine Growth Hormone should theoretically work in a human system. 

   The first development after her initial injection of the serum was that she was incredibly hungry, all of the time. She ate until her stomach was comically distended, ate some more- and continued until she would pass out. Every night, her large, straining gut would simmer down as her body processed and redistributed its contents down to beef up her lower half.  

   Her first week in she had put on a startling 35 lbs, and had almost lost her nerve amidst her involuntary change of schedule. She was caught in a repeating cycle of ordering food, eating, and sleeping- at least 4 or 5 times a day. As her once tawny legs thickened up beyond the size of bodybuilders, a new perverse desire began to stir and develop, alongside the changes in her body. A peculiar excitement would mount as she would start the day in one pair of pants, and wake up from her various naps to see them stretched tighter, and tighter still over her thickening legs. 

   First compelled by her ravenous hunger, her eating took on a new ferver- fueling a passionate fire, the desire to grow. Her thighs were each as thick as her torso now, and she could barely feel the entire surface of her rear, which stuck out from her hips like two strapped on pillows. In her solitude she began posing in her straining garments, at first a game, she began relishing how tight they became, pleasure compoundingly fueling food-binge-cycles until she would finally wake up large enough to destroy whatever her days' outfit was with a single flex.

   She lost track of time, her only concern now was to feed and develop her monstrous lower half. The serum was happy to help, unyieldingly converting pounds of food into pounds of muscle- and so she grew. She grew beyond her wardrobe of pants, through her collection of skirts, until she was finally (with a particularly naughty feeling glee-) ripping through her assortment of undergarments, one by one. 

   She wasn't slowed when she had finally destroyed the last of her clothes, a once baggy pair of pink felt boxers finally ripped from around her flexing bean-bag sized gluteus. She instead started to rub and caress, using her hands as a relative metric to see how thick she was growing- how far she couldn't reach around her thigh, how little her clasping hand looked groping the mass that was her calf- each time smaller in comparison to the thick heft of solid meat that was now larger than her head. She was addicted now, her mind was singularly focused on the task of eating and growing- a monism in her once complicated and anxious mind, like a bred workhorse she had a single duty, and it was a duty she exercised with every fiber of her thick, expanding being...