Stealing from the Masses
The last thing I expected when I returned to my college town for a visit was a text from Michelle Charles. Our little dalliances had been little more than my attempts at training her to use her powers, usually devolving into messy but enthusiastic lovemaking. I guess nowadays, you’d call it a situationship.
It had been over five years since I’d seen her, but her photos and videos showed up in my algorithms from time to time, so I knew she was still every bit as gorgeous as she’d been when we were students.
We agreed to meet for lunch at a buffet within walking distance from campus, so I got there early and waited in my car. I watched each arriving customer for that familiar auburn hair, reliving old memories of that old van I used to have and the many times I played with Michelle’s growing boobs in the back of it.
I couldn’t remember if Michelle’s hair was long or short now, but with the popularity of extensions and filters, a social media photo wouldn’t have been a reliable data point, anyway. Then, I saw a woman climb out of a small SUV who couldn’t have been anyone but her.
Full, luscious waves of auburn fell halfway down her back. She wore jeans that hugged an ass even more impressive than the one I remembered. Her top was a deep green in some shiny material, oddly layered and loose, yet unable to hide a pair of basketball-sized breasts. The line of her body made a perfect hourglass, but where most women given that epithet had at least a little more sand in the bottom than the top, Michelle was almost twice as much top. Maybe a martini glass would have been a more apt descriptor.
“Hey!”
She pulled me into a hug, and my body instantly remembered her incredible shape. “Hey…”
“You look great,” she said.
“Me? You look incredible.”
Michelle preened, brushing her hair behind her shoulders, then back in front of them to frame her chest. “Thanks. I swung by the salon this morning to pick up a little volume and length.”
“Wait, really? You took someone’s hairdo?”
Her smile shifted into a smug grin. “You’d be surprised how good I’ve gotten at it. There were seven women in there, and they lost so little they’d never notice.”
When I’d last worked with Michelle to control her power, she could only steal breast mass from other women. Apparently, she’d tuned that power to more subtly absorb other attributes as well. It explained how she’d gotten even more gorgeous over the years. She’d been sexy in college before she came into her powers, an idyllic girl-next-door who turned heads in every class. The woman standing before me had a face card that would have any femme-attracted person in a five-mile radius creaming their jeans. Add to that a waist so narrow you could wrap your hands around it, an ass like two perfectly round cantaloupes, and those tits… well…
“You’re, um, smaller than I thought you’d be.”
Michelle glared at me. “What, a 28P isn’t big enough for you?”
My throat closed around the apple that suddenly appeared there, until I saw the crinkles around her eyes. “I’ve learned how to… shall we say, ‘spread the love?’”
I blinked, my mind racing too rapidly to form a coherent response.
“Don’t worry, I’m just as careful with that. Just a half inch here and there to give some poor ladies a little boost.”
Pride swelled in my chest at the thought of her learning such better self-control than back in the day. At the same time, it seemed tragic that I wasn’t there to experience Michelle stealing so much boob she had to give some away to get down to her current phenomenal size.
As we walked to the restaurant entrance, Michelle said, “That’s actually part of why I texted you. I figured out a new technique I think you’ll… appreciate.”
“Ah, oh?”
Her haughty mask slipped for a moment. “At least, I hope you will. I’ve never met anybody who appreciates what I can do the way you did.”
“Wait, really?”
Michelle paused before the glass door to the buffet. “Yes. You went away, and obviously, that’s fine; you have your own life to live. But if there are any other BE enthusiasts in this town, I haven’t found them.”
She’d done some research since I’d last seen her.
“Seriously? Have you checked the internet? You could make a killing on OnlyFans.”
Michelle scoffed. “Being judged in person is bad enough. Dealing with it from anonymous incels is gonna be a hard pass.”
“That’s your choice, of course. But what about this technique you want to show me?”
“Alright. I found a way to grow my girls without making other women smaller. Well, or thinner.”
“Thinner?”
“Yeah, I learned how to convert one kind of fat to a better kind of fat a few years ago—“
“Really?”
She squared her shoulders, flashing me a toothy grin. “Pretty great, right? It’s a win-win. Anyway, this technique involves, sort of, pre-fat?”
“Huh?”
“It’ll be easier for me to just show you.”
She pulled open the glass door, leaving me to follow wordlessly. Michelle told the young woman at the counter that there were two of us and requested a booth way in the back corner of the restaurant. We waited for our drinks, then filled plates at the buffet. Michelle picked at her food for a while, then finally said, “Okay, watch this.”
I recognized the tell-tale crinkle of her brow as Michelle activated her power. Her chest twitched and pulsed, but remained the same (impressive) size. She must have seen the confusion in my face, because she said, “It’ll take a while to work. I haven’t tried it at this scale.”
“What did you do?”
“You’ll see…”
We ate in silence, but Michelle seemed to be eating deliberately slowly. She was barely halfway through her plate when I finished mine, so I waited. Her breasts looked slightly fuller, but they’d started so large that I couldn’t be sure. They continued to swell, slower than I’d ever seen, and she kept chewing and swallowing as if she were in some kind of reverse eating contest.
Finally, Michelle scraped her plate clean. Instead of getting up for seconds, she waited. So I waited. Her breasts had grown an inch, maybe two, in the half hour we’d spent sitting in the restaurant. For anyone else, that would have been incredible, an earth-shattering, psyche-breaking vision of erotic impossibility. But five years ago, I’d watched—and felt—Michelle Charles steal enough boob mass to grow from B-cups to K-cups in less than an hour.
I tore my eyes away from Michelle’s slowly-tightening top to scan the restaurant. People strolled through the room, perused the buffet tables, returned to their seats, and they ate. None of that was unusual; it was exactly what you’d expect to see at a buffet, but something about the scene was… off.
I couldn’t take the suspense. “What’s going on?” I asked.
Instead of answering, Michelle walked up to fill a second plate, and I followed. The buffet tables were busier this time, but we filled our plates and sat back down. Just as before, Michelle’s eating pace was agonizingly slow. But whatever she was doing to expand her chest seemed to be accelerating. Her breasts swelled with each bite, passing the growth of her first plate within her first half-dozen small mouthfuls.
I glanced around the room again, looking for busty women—or even chubby ones, remembering what Michelle had said outside—growing smaller. Instead, I saw women and men of all ages stuffing their faces. There was a slight urgency to their eating that hadn’t been there before.
“Michelle,” I hissed. “What are you doing?”
She moved her plate to the side so she could lean toward me, the move making her breasts rest on the tabletop, spreading several inches wider and making my mouth a desert. She whispered, “Instead of stealing what other women already have, I figured out how to intercept those nutrients coming in.”
I blinked several times.
“The best part is, it works on anyone!”
She was growing faster. Almost as fast as I’d seen her grow when she stole from other students while riding me in my old van. I looked across the restaurant again. New customers had come in, but none of them were leaving. A steady throng surrounded the buffet tables, people filling plates to overflowing. At every occupied table, people shoveled food into their mouths like they hadn’t eaten in days.
In the few moments I’d spent watching the crowd, Michelle’s breasts had grown, inching closer to my side of the table. I understood now why her shirt looked so strange. It was expanding and unfolding to keep her chest covered as she grew.
Somehow, Michelle was using her power to steal nutrients from every other customer in the buffet while they ate. Nobody was getting full, so they gorged themselves with abandon. I finally understood why Michelle had been eating so slowly; she was stalling for time, making sure we could stay in the restaurant as long as possible while her power worked.
She shouldn’t have bothered. The restaurant staff were so busy seating customers and refilling steam trays, I wasn’t sure they would have noticed us, sitting in the corner, picking at our food.
Michelle’s breasts bloated and filled, swelling closer to my side of the table as she absorbed every morsel that passed through every mouth in the entire room. She gnawed on her lower lip, and I recognized a sight I hadn’t seen in five years—the sight of Michelle Charles lost in the ecstasy of her power.
“I think that’s enough,” I whispered.
More lucid than I expected, Michelle said, “Just a little longer.”
More customers came in. There were almost no empty tables. The buffet area was starting to look like a Black Friday sale.
“Michelle…”
“Okay, fine.”
Her eyes closed, her face clenched, but her boobs didn’t stop growing.
“Michelle!”
“I’m trying!”
Her breasts grew into my drink, and I snatched it up a moment before it spilled. She was swelling into my personal space.
“What do you mean, you’re trying?”
“I can’t cut the threads!”
“Threads?”
“They connect me to everyone in here. But there’s so much… whatever, flowing into me that I can’t break them.”
Michelle’s tits inched closer to my face. My hands itched to grab them. “We need to get out of here.”
“Fuck, yes. I’ve missed you…”
“That’s not what I— Whatever, let’s go!”
I helped Michelle out of the booth, but with so much mass hanging from her chest, she pitched forward. By reflex, I reached out to catch her, my arms filling with two massive breasts instead. Michelle moaned, and I could feel her boobs filling to a soundtrack of clinking silverware and ravenous chewing.
We staggered awkwardly toward the exit, me walking backward with two full armloads of Michelle Charles’ impossible, enormous, massive, huge and getting huger sweater puppies. We had to sidestep and navigate the crowd rushing to or from the buffet tables. Michelle grew faster, my arms trembling as their weight increased. Her breasts stretched several feet in front of her ribcage. Michelle and I gripped each other’s wrists to support them. Still, they swelled against me, pressed against my chest, rising toward my chin.
“Excuse me, pardon me… Sorry… Could we just…”
The other customers were oblivious to our plight. We had to force our way through the crowd of gorging people to reach the door. All the while, Michelle’s tits grew larger, and larger, and larger.
By the time we finally made it to the exit, her breasts were like yoga balls. She was wider than the doorway. I kicked it open with one foot and tried to drag her through it.
We made it halfway out before Michelle’s growing breasts got stuck. I pulled, she pushed, but the nutrients flowing from the ravenous crowd pinned her completely. Michelle’s weird parachute blouse stretched around her, reaching its limit. Her gargantuan breasts bulged around the doorframe, like two enormous muffins spilling out of a pan.
“I… I’m stuck!”
I called over her shoulder, “Can we get some help here?”
All I heard in response was a rising din of frantic eating.