Fatal Desire

Part 1

— Holy shit... those tits are insane — said the woman, raising her arms in front of the mirror and pushing forward her impressively large breasts. Her voice was so sultry that Frank, sitting behind her, felt his breath catch. As if it wasn’t enough that his best friend had just turned into this sexy MILF right before his eyes, now she was posing in front of the mirror like she'd been doing it her whole life.

— T-Taylor, maybe you could... cover up, yeah? — mumbled Frank, looking away, though he couldn’t help but steal glance after glance at those massive boobs that bounced with every little movement.

— Why? — she asked, turning around, her gaze suddenly commanding. Frank looked up at her. Same face as his best friend, but now older, more mature, more feminine.

— Well... — Frank looked down again, his ears burning. — Do you even realize you look like... like a MILF from a hentai site?

Taylor grimaced. She turned back to the mirror and stared at her reflection — long blond hair, glasses, and those tits. Not just big — they dominated, pulled downward, impossibly heavy. The top she ended up in was somehow stretched just enough not to burst, but the deep neckline only made her look even more inappropriately sexy.

— This can’t be real… — she muttered and suddenly ran her hands along the sides of her breasts, as if hoping it was just a hallucination she could wipe away. But the tits only yielded slightly under her fingers and swayed. — I just... I just wished... that Mom would start showing me a little respect... why the hell do I suddenly look like THIS?!

— You made the wish on that Chinese pendant, then it vanished and you instantly turned into—

— I know, why the fuck are you repeating it?! — Taylor snapped and collapsed onto the bed. Her tits bounced and dropped heavily to the sides. The top stretched dangerously tight, her nipples clearly visible through the fabric, and Frank, despite being overwhelmed by the situation, nearly groaned from helpless arousal.

— God... they’re real... — she whispered, feeling her boobs. — So heavy... so hot... there’s even sweat gathering under them!

Her palms were trembling slightly. Sweat trickled between her massive curves, the top clinging to her skin, and her nipples underneath looked like they were begging to pop out, adding to the absurdity of it all.

Part 2

— Hey, Lauren?.. — Frank spoke cautiously, still sitting on the bed. — Are you… like… okay?

— Why did you call me that? — she snapped, turning sharply, and her breasts jerked painfully behind, like they were half a second late. — My name is Tay... Lauren? — she trailed off, the word slipping out like it had passed through a filter. Her old name was stuck somewhere deep inside, but her tongue stubbornly said the new one.

Bzzzzzzzzzz!

The phone on the nightstand vibrated, and Lauren instinctively reached for it — then gasped as her boobs, squished by her arms, nearly popped out of the pink top.

— Fucking hell, how much do these things weigh?! — she grabbed the phone and looked at the screen. It read: “Boss,” with a business briefcase emoji.

— My... boss? — she whispered, hitting “Answer” like she was in a daze. — Hello?

— Lauren, where the hell are you?! — a pissed-off male voice barked through the line. — You promised to send the shoot selects before noon. The client’s literally banging on my door, and I don’t even have a cover! What, are you stuck at the gym again?

— I... um... — Lauren squeezed her knees together, clutching the phone to her ear. Next to her, Frank sat in a stunned trance, watching her boobs spill over the edge of her top, threatening to pop out with the slightest movement. — Sorry, I... my morning got out of control...

— You’re the face of the 30+ women’s line, Lauren! — the voice kept going. — We’ve got a contract with a fitness brand, and if you send me one more damn bathroom selfie with just tits in frame, I swear I’ll turn into your damn MILF and do it all myself!

‘What?!’ Lauren stared into space. ‘I’m a model? Fitness? For who — guys who care more about nipples than lifting?’

— I’ll... I’ll send it, I swear — she muttered.

— You’ve got one hour. And Lauren... for once, wear something where your nipples aren’t showing.

Click. The line went dead. She nearly dropped the phone.

Lauren lowered it and stared at the screen like it was about to scream at her again. Then slowly, with some kind of doomed grace, she looked up at Frank.

Part 3

— Some guy said he needed... photos like I'm... a model. Tits... thirty-plus... fitness... — her voice sounded like each word physically hurt to say.

— Yeah, well... uhh... — Frank scratched the back of his head, clearly searching for words. — Seriously?

Lauren stared at him in silence.

— An hour... — she muttered. — I’ve got an hour. To do what? Take pictures of... this... this?! — she pointed at her body, making her tits bounce and then drop heavily again.

Frank swallowed. He had no words. His best friend had just turned into... this.

— I need to find that fucking pendant! — Lauren exhaled, falling back onto the bed, her tits landing against her ribs with a dull slap. — This could still be a dream. This is a dream. Right?

Frank stayed quiet, then stood up hesitantly and started pacing around the room, glancing into the corners.

— Maybe it’s still here somewhere?

A distant creak from the front door echoed through the house.

— Maybe it’s still here somewhere? — Frank repeated, bending down to look under the bed. — I saw it flash and then just disappear. Maybe it didn’t vanish, maybe it fell through a crack in the floorboards or...

Click.

The sound of the front door opening.

— What the... — Lauren sat up, eyes wide. Her breasts reacted a beat late, tugging the fabric to its limit. — Who the hell is that?..

— Sounds like Dad’s back — Frank said, straightening up with a panicked glance toward the hallway.

— What?! — Lauren jumped to her feet, nearly toppling from the weight of her tits. — Wait, your dad? Uncle Charles? He can’t see me like this! I don’t want anyone to see me like this!

— Shh! — Frank waved his arms frantically. — Quiet! Maybe he won’t come in. Maybe he just went to the kitchen...

But only a second later came the sound of steady, heavy footsteps in the hallway. Lauren bolted toward the wardrobe in panic but froze, catching her reflection in the mirror: pink tight top stretched over massive tits, messy hair, burning cheeks.

— Shit… shit-shit-shit! — she rushed to the bed to at least cover up with a blanket, but her breasts slammed into her knees, and she dropped onto the mattress with a muffled groan. — What the hell am I supposed to do?! This isn’t funny at all!

Part 4

— Calm down! — Frank whispered, rushing over. — Just... just say you’re... my history teacher or something.

— History teacher?! — Lauren looked at him in panic, like he’d gone insane. — I look like I teach Kamasutra positions, not history! Did you see this top?! Did you see how these things are spilling out of it?!

— Well... — Frank pretended to look away, but his eyes still flicked down for a split second. — A little. I mean, yeah, the top... um... honestly, it kinda looks more like...

— Shut up! — Lauren hissed, pulling the blanket over herself, but her tits immediately got in the way again: one rolled to the side, the fabric stretched, and her nipples were once again clearly outlined through it. — God, how do these things even fit into clothes?! Who the hell lives like this?!

— Apparently, you do — Frank muttered, ducking behind a chair like it could somehow shield him from an angry MILF.

At that moment, the bedroom door flew open.

— Lauren? — the voice was male, adult, deep. — Are you in here?

Lauren’s eyes went wide. The voice was... disturbingly pleasant. Too much so. A chill ran down her spine, and worse — her breasts gave a noticeable twitch, like that voice had flipped some switch inside her new body.

— Sweetheart, you weren’t answering your phone. Is everything okay? — the voice was closer now.

‘He just called me... sweetheart?!’ shot through her head, and she gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth. She’d seen Charles before, but now he felt... different. Not Uncle Charles, not Frank’s dad — she couldn’t even describe it. Just different. Like a buddy or a friend. Yeah, a good friend. A very good friend.

— U-Uncle Charles, I... you’ve got this all wrong, I’ll just leave now — she started, even realizing mid-sentence how weird it sounded. But not because she was trying to explain herself to a stranger — no, the problem was, something inside her told her he wasn’t a stranger at all.

— Lauren? — Charles stepped into the room and stopped just a foot from the bed. — What the hell do you mean "Uncle Charles"? What kind of bullshit game is this?

Lauren froze in horror. Her eyes darted to Frank, who looked like he wanted to disappear completely. He clearly hadn’t expected this. The door slammed shut behind Charles with a loud thud, and the air in the room got so heavy Lauren felt like she couldn’t breathe. She looked ready to leap out the window right then and there.

Part 5

Charles, noticing her confusion, frowned slightly. He took a step forward and, extending his arms, hugged her, pulling her close.

— Lauren, everything’s okay, I’m here. Tell me, — he pulled back slightly, but Lauren’s full, firm breasts still pressed against him, her face, more shocked and frozen, staring into his, which was so close their lips were just a few centimeters apart, — Tell me what happened, darling, you know I’ll always support you.

As if snapping out of a trance, she blinked. Once. Twice. Then so rapidly it seemed her fluttering eyelashes might lift her off the ground.

— I… — she began, but the words stuck in her throat.

— Darling, you shouldn’t stay silent, — Charles said, stepping closer. — We’re family, remember?

Frank pressed his hands to his chest, as if trying to hold himself together, but his eyes kept darting from Lauren to his father and back.

— Family? — Lauren exhaled, barely audible. — How is this… family? I know you as Frank’s father, and I…

Charles smiled, but the smile was warm and slightly ironic.

— And you’re my sweet wife. My little cupcake and — Charles’s voice suddenly softened, almost tender, — the most important person in our family.

Charles turned his face to his son, still holding Lauren, smirked, and said:

— Frank, what happened here? What did you do to Mom? — he turned back to Lauren, his hand still resting on her waist, his gaze, full of warm concern and… something else, something indescribably embarrassing, now locked onto her face.

Lauren felt the ground slip from under her feet. “Mom? MOM?!” Her new, massive tits uncomfortably squeezed under the pressure of Charles’s chest, which was far too close, and she could already feel his cock pressing against her below.

Frank, pale as a sheet, coughed, trying to gather his thoughts. His best friend, Taylor, had just been called his MOM by his own father! This was a waking nightmare, surpassing all his worst fears. But it seemed this was now the truth, as horrific as it sounded, and he had to somehow help his best friend, now his stepmother.

Part 6

— Th-this… Dad, you got it all wrong! — he stammered, frantically gesticulating. — We were just… Lauren here… well, she fell! Yeah! Tripped over the rug! And I was helping her up! That’s all!

Charles raised an eyebrow, his gaze sliding from his son’s flustered face to Lauren, and he smirked again, but this time his eyes held a hint of concern.

— Fell? — he gently ran a finger along Lauren’s cheek, making her flinch with her whole body. Her breasts swayed painfully. — Darling, are you okay? Nothing hurts?

“Worried?! I’m on the verge of a freaking breakdown!” — screamed Lauren’s inner voice. She tried to pull away, but his embrace was firm, confident. Too confident for “Uncle Charles.” Too… intimate.

— I… I’m fine, Char… — she faltered, her tongue refusing to say “Charles” again. — I mean, honey… just… rough morning. — She unconsciously pressed a hand to her breasts, trying to stop their disobedient trembling.

— Rough? — Charles chuckled, his gaze deliberately, slowly dropping to her cleavage, then just as slowly rising back to her eyes. — Well, we already know that, sweetheart. The morning was indeed “rough.” — His voice took on low, velvety tones that sent shivers down Lauren’s spine, and an unexpected warmth and wetness bloomed between her legs. She gasped at the shock of this new sensation. “What?! No! Why am I reacting like this… to him!”

— Dad! — Frank tried to change the subject, blushing to the roots of his hair. — Lauren… Mom… she’s gotta get to work! Her boss called! Photoshoot! One hour! She’s only got one hour!

Charles frowned, finally loosening his grip. Lauren immediately pulled back, collapsing onto the bed with a dull thud. Her breasts jiggled desperately.

— Oh, right, that fitness contract of yours, — Charles sighed, looking at her with mild disapproval. — Those… revealing outfits again. You promised to be more careful. Is your boss hassling you about your nipples again?

Lauren felt her entire face burn. “Nipples! Those damn nipples again! Why does he just talk about them like that?!”

Part 7

– He... he said to send a photo... without... without it, – she whispered, hating every word. – And... and fast.

– Without "it"? – Charles smirked. – In your new swimsuit? Darling, everything’s showing. Especially in that pink one. – He deliberately glanced at her top.

Lauren looked down. Pink. Tight. A plunging neckline. 'God! He can see all of this! I’m sitting in front of my... husband... in this?!' The humiliation hit a new low. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

– I... I need to change! – she gasped, trying to get up, but the weight of her breasts dragged her back down. – And... and find a decent top! Or... or a shirt! Yours! The big one!

Charles shook his head, stepping closer. He leaned in, his face dangerously near hers again. His breath brushed against her skin.

– Why, sweetheart? – he whispered, his hand resting on her thigh over the blanket she had pulled up just a second earlier. Lauren froze, feeling her new body respond to his touch with a warm wave. – You’re beautiful. And the boss is right – you’re the face of the brand. You have to match that. – His fingers gently squeezed her thigh. – Maybe I can help you pick an outfit? Or... take the photo? I do know your best angles.

Frank, his forehead pressed to the cool wall, groaned:

– Dad, please... don’t...

But Charles didn’t hear him. His gaze was locked on Lauren – on her confused eyes, her half-open lips, on how her tits heaved under the blanket from her quickened breath. He smiled, and there was something dominant, possessive in that smile that made Lauren’s breath catch in a different way. She was his wife. And it looked like he fully intended to make use of that. Right now.

– Well then, sweet bun – his lips were just a breath from her ear, the whisper burning. – Shall we show this boss what his top model’s really capable of? Or... maybe we should practice first? So the shots come out... perfect.

Lauren closed her eyes. The pendant. She needed to find that damn pendant. Now.