My alarm woke me up with a groan. I thought I’d turned it off.
My feet have been hanging off the end of the bed ever since I hit 6’4” and since I couldn’t fit a larger bed in here I’d been forced to sleep either curled up in a fetal ball, straining my back as the night went on or with my feet freezing all night. Now that I was at least half awake and aware of how uncomfortable I was, I knew I wasn’t going to get back to sleep.
Since I didn’t have class on Fridays, I’d designated it “assessment day,” when I’d see how much I had grown during the week and adjust accordingly.
After rolling out of bed and stretching out the kinks in my back I stood myself up straight against the bathroom door jamb and marked off the top of my head on a makeshift height chart I’d taped up:
7’6½”.
A wide grin crossed my face. I was getting so big! My legs were four feet long by themselves. If this keeps up I was going to hit the ceiling before too long.
Ducking into the bathroom I gingerly stepped onto my cheap digital scale:
275 lbs.
“Holy crap!” I said aloud. I never dreamed I would be so heavy. What was it that made me weigh so much?
Turning sideways in the mirror answered part of my question. My breasts tented out my nightshirt by about a foot, leaving a vast gap at the bottom exposing my firm stomach.
I posed and tugged at the bottom of my shirt to see how much cleavage I could show through the neck hole before dispensing with the top altogether.
I cupped my breasts with my hands as best I could. Each was a heavy mound of flesh bigger than a volleyball and capped off with a nipple a bit smaller than a shotglass. This gave me an idea.
Getting a study handset, I hefted my breast up toward my face as I craned my neck downward. It took a little straining, but I was able to get my left nipple into my mouth.
I can’t even describe the feeling. The sensation was electric, on both my nipple and my tongue. I must have spent ten minutes nibbling, sucking and fondling before I nearly brought myself to orgasm just from my breasts. Eventually I decided to stop and file that technique away for later.
Moving past my tits I swayed around for several minutes watching every curve undulate back and forth. It was like I was looking at someone else’s body, especially since I was far too tall to see my head in the mirror anymore.
With one hand I pulled back my massive mane of wavy black hair to better reveal my ass. Each cheek was almost a perfect hemisphere of firm muscle.
While my breasts and hips had swelled outward over the past months, my waist had stayed about the same. My thighs and calves had also filled out with ample amounts of taut, fit flesh, making me look both athletic and voluptuous despite my gigantic stature.
After about a half hour of reveling in every facet of my expanding body, I had to begrudgingly get back to the hassles of living with a huge body; starting with the shower.
After getting the water to a comfortable temperature I covered the floor around the shower with several layers of old towels. While I could technically still cram myself into the tiny shower stall, I no longer had room to maneuver myself. With the door shut I was stuck in one position, usually with the shower nozzle planted between my breasts. I wasn’t nearly as pleasurable as it sounds.
With my head so high above the top of the shower door I felt like a giraffe with its head sticking out of a railroad car. This turned showering into a messy dance of washing one part of my body while the rest hung out the door dripping water onto the sopping towels. This kept my showering as brief as possible.
I went through and tried on every article of clothing I had, separating out the few items that still fit and throwing the rest into a garbage sack. I kept a couple shirts that really should’ve gone in the sack. Despite being almost painfully tight, I just loved the way they stretched over my tits.
After slipping on one of my few remaining outfits and pulling my hair back into a ponytail that rivaled any full-grown horse I headed out to replenish my meager wardrobe.
…
After hitting my usual round of thrift stores I was walking home with a new garbage sack full of clothes. Pickings were starting to get slim. Most of what I bought was made for an obese man; fine around the shoulders and legs, but horrendously baggy at the waist. And even the longest pants I found barely made it past my knees.
I’m going to look like circus tent in this stuff, I sighed to myself. What’s the point of having such an amazing body if I have to cover it up with such horrible clothing?
Lost in my own gloomy thoughts I barely noticed something brush past by thigh.
“Hey there, Stretch.”
I looked down and saw a short man looking me up and down like I was livestock.
He was a sleazy little runt; about 5’3” with a pencil thin mustache and oily hair slicked back over his bald spot. His loud Hawaiian shirt and over the top Brooklyn accent didn’t add to his charm.
“You’re quite the leggy one, aren’t you? How’d you like to make a lot of money?
Unlike most people he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by my size. I tried ignoring him and walking away, but he didn’t take the hint and kept jabbering on; bragging about people he representing and what outlandish salaries they made. He hassled me for a good five minutes before I flat out told him to buzz off. He handed me his business card.
“Gimme a call if you change your mind about being a star.”
…
That night I thought long and hard while turning the card over in my hands. The fact was I couldn’t keep living this way. I needed a bigger bed, a bigger shower and clothes that actually fit me; none of which I could afford.
As much as I disliked that scumbag, the money was too good to pass up. I gave him a call and embarked on a new career in…
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