One Click

Ass

My cursor hovered over the “Watch” icon. My eyes shifted left, and then right. No one was home, actually, but I wasn’t taking any chances. The fewer people who knew about my fat granny fetish, the better.

I actually prefer to call them “GILFs”, but most people call them “disgusting”, so I try to stay low key about it. Still, I had found an entire art account full of them. There were hundreds of drawings of plump, grey-haired ladies with breasts the size of basketballs and bathtub hips. I’d spent hours not just fantasizing about them, but fantasizing about actually becoming one of them.

My jeans were getting tight just thinking about that body: big, luscious hips, big, weighty breasts, big butts and big thighs inside big yoga pants…okay, maybe I’m a little too preoccupied with size, but it wasn’t just that. To be so soft and gentle and kind…I wanted to wear an apron and bake cookies. It would be worth being old just to feel so loved.

“Fuck it.” I clicked on the “Watch” icon. “I don’t care who sees this. I just want more GILFs.” I quickly erased my web history just to be safe. It was almost time for work, and I was about to get out of my chair when I noticed my long pink fingernails.

The nails were only on my right hand, my mouse-clicking hand. They were getting longer and longer, the flamingo-pink nail enamel spreading from the tips to my cuticles. I didn’t understand what it was happening, and I still didn’t understand when I saw my hand getting fatter, but by the time the fat spread up to my elbow, I was through trying to figure out what and instead kayseri escort trying not to freak out.

My hands swelled so much that my knuckles quickly turned into dimples. My wrist got thicker, and then my forearm grew, and then the sleeve of my black t-shirt stretched wider as my upper arm inflated like an inner tube. I squeezed my arm to keep the fat from going further, like putting a kink in a hose. That slowed the fat down, but my arm just grew plumped up faster and tore my sleeve. I squeezed as hard as I could and my arm grew as thick as a tree trunk. It was so heavy that I couldn’t lift it, and no matter how hard I squeezed, fat was still trickling into my body, flowing down my shoulder and into my chest.

I felt my nipple brushing against the inside of my shirt. When I finally built up the courage to look down, I saw one breast slowly inflating like a water balloon. A love-handle was slowly forming above my stomach, and my shoulder was getting softer, but it was my breast that was growing the most. My nipple was so stiff that when it rubbed against the inside of my shirt it made me cringe with pleasure.

“Stop it,” I moaned, my voice growing higher. I needed to call for help, but my right arm was so big that my fingers were sinking into my forearm and I looked like I had a stack of truck tires wrapped around it. My left arm was trying to prevent the same thing from happening to the rest of my body. My breast just got bigger, making me more aroused, but it wasn’t the only thing growing.

I could feel my cheeks puffing up, filling with kayseridekifirmalar.com so much fat that I could see them out of the corner of my eye. My plump, moist lips clamped together in silence, but my embarrassment was nothing compared to the excitement I got from my still-swelling breast.

It was now the size of an orange, tightly squeezed within the confines of a white, stretchy bra that had materialized out of nowhere. My other breast was swelling too, and while it was nowhere near as big, the sight of it just made me all the more aroused. I had had breasts now: breasts that were getting bigger and bigger with every ounce of fat that seeped into my chest. They were getting heavier and softer, stretching out my shirt and pushing my nipples into the air. I could see them outlined beneath the thinning cloth, straining to be set free.

By now, my arm was so full of fat that it was as big as the rest of me. I was about to fall out of my chair. Fat was draining into my body anyway, and even if I could clamp down with my weak left hand and stopped it altogether, I couldn’t walk around with a giant arm for the rest of my life. I loosened my grip just a little. My breasts grew to the size of volleyballs.

The little potbelly that had formed beneath my tits immediately swelled. So much fat was pouring out of my arm that it flowed straight through my stomach, into my hips, and down my thighs. I was inflating so much that my clothes grew skin tight, and I thought they would burst off me until I realized that they were changing too. My thick jeans stretched thinner and thinner until they were nothing but a pair of yoga pants, their blueness fading until they turned a girly shade of pink. My shirt hugged my curves, and my new bra hugged my breasts, which were as big as volleyballs, then basketballs, then beach balls.

“Holy shit!” My hand flew to my mouth, trying to stifle the soft, sweet voice that trailed from my plumped-up lips. I looked down at my breasts. They were sitting there, bulging over the neck of my blouse. My hands crept down, cradling each bosom in my chunky, manicured fingers.

“I’m…huge…” Grey hairs hung over my eyes. My hips were squished between the arms of my computer chair, which sunk lower under my doubled weight. My new reading glasses with their dainty frames rested on my swollen cheeks. I pulled open the waistband of my pink yoga pants to find a tan pair of panties, and beneath it my swollen, smooth crotch.

“Gosh!”

“Grandma!” a voice shouted from downstairs. I heard the front door slamming and small footsteps running up the stairs. “Cookie time!”

“Oh no, don’t come in—”

They burst through the door, two little girls, their eyes sparkling, their pigtails streaming behind their heads, and their sandals flapping against the soles their dirty feet. They threw their arms around me, and even though it was impossible to get all the way around my bulk it didn’t stop them hugging me as hard as they could.

“You said we could bake cookies today. Can we, can we, please, please?”

“Uh…sure.”

“Yay!” They tumbled out of the room and jumped downstairs, giggling all the way.

I had no idea what was going on but I turned off my computer and straightened my clothes. My joints were a little stiff, and I waddled a little, I ran after them, feeling happier than ever.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir yanıt yazın

E-posta adresiniz yayınlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir

istanbul travesti istanbul travesti istanbul travesti ankara travesti Moda Melanj kuşadası escort bayan ankara escort escort escort escort travestileri travestileri beylikdüzü escort Escort artvin escort aydın escort balıkesir escort bartın escort batman escort bayburt escort bilecik escort bingöl escort bitlis escort bolu escort escort Antalya escort Escort bayan Escort bayan bahisu.com girisbahis.com antalya rus escort çankaya escort keçiören escort çankaya escort etiler escort beylikdüzü escort ankara escort bayan istanbul escort Escort ankara Ankara escort bayan Ankara rus escort Eryaman escort bayan Etlik escort bayan Ankara escort bayan Escort sincan Escort çankaya bornova escort balçova escort mersin escort kaçak bahis Hacklink Hacklink panel Hacklink panel gaziantep escort gaziantep escort