A Strange Case (MF, MMF, Penis Expansion, Breast Expansion, TG/Futa/Gender Bender)
This is my first story, so I hope it isn’t terrible. It has been inspired by some of the classics from 25 years ago from the newsgroups and the Chili Palmer archive.
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I had been spending my Saturday, like I do many Saturdays, sitting in the couch, killing time and digital bad guys with my friend Ryan when the doorbell rang.
I opened the door and there was my ex-girlfriend and Ryan’s ex-girlfriend Erica. “What are you guys killing today? Zombies, Nazis, or Nazi Zombies?” she asked playfully as she walked in.
Erica had dated both Ryan and I in the past, but, unlike many relationships, somehow we all remained friends and actually became closer because of it.
I kind of knew Erica for years. Her sister and I had been friends in high school, and Erica was two years younger than her. Erica was a flat-chested nobody as a freshman, so it came as a surprise one day when I was at her house picking up her sister and while I was waiting outside I heard her sister finish what must have been an argument: “What do you even need them for?” Apparently Erica’s sister was late because she couldn’t find a bra and discovered her sister had been taking them. Her sister continued, “They’re 36C, so you can’t even use them!”
That was enough of a comment to have me take notice, especially because Erica could and did use them. She sprouted boobs it seemed like overnight and in secret, but obviously it was just quickly and on a girl that did nothing to draw attention to herself. I know in retrospect this may sound shallow, but at the time I heard that I was a high school boy, raging with hormones, and definitely a breast man; so, a girl with an ample bustline was as good as any a reason for me to consider the girl as a potential dating prospect. Erica’s sister’s remark put Erica on my radar.
I was slow to move, but it worked in both Erica’s and my favor. By the time I had secured an introduction and we began dating, Erica she had stopped borrowing her sister’s bras because she was stretching them out too much, and instead was enjoying her own, larger size. Erica and I ended-up dating for about a year, but things fell apart when I went off to college and she stayed at home. There was no big drama, we just couldn’t sustain the relationship, which is probably why we never had the dramatic break-up, stayed friends, and never dropped out of touch.
Sometime after we both had finished college we both ended-up moving to the same city away from home. Although we dated other people, we still were friends that had occasionally had sexual tension, some awkward moments, and even the rare lapse in judgement when we both were single, lonely, and a bit too horny. The years apart and then together as friends had actually made us grow closer due us developing our own interests that ended-up being the same or similar.
I met Ryan through Erica. He was one of the first guys she dated having moved to the city. He was a bit put-off and intimidated by my friendship with Erica when she first brought it up, but upon our first meeting he and I hit-it-off. It was like we were long-lost brothers or had been best friends for years within minutes of meeting. I always told Erica that the best thing that came out of her relationship with Ryan was I got a new best friend, which she would act facetiously jealous over the fact she had been replaced.
Their relationship did not last long. Their personalities were too different, her being more on the bookish side, like me, and him being more the jock, but they were able to figure these differences out quickly enough to end their romantic relationship after only a few months and have a friendship take its place. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they occasionally had their own hook-ups from time to time when they were not seeing other people, but it never came up in conversation and it was not my business.
So this was not an uncommon occurrence for the three to hang out together on a Saturday afternoon. “Nothing so exotic on the menu today,” I replied, “just your run-of-the-mill aliens bent on world domination. And beating Ryan on kills and high score as he just tries to keep up.”
“Keep up, John?” Ryan shouted from the couch in the other room, “While you are in there ogling your girlfriend, I am dancing around your corpse.”
There was not ogling (well maybe there was), but how could I not? Erica seemed to only get better with age. Now a few years past college and her Master’s degree, she was far more mature looking that the teenager I had dated in high school, but still had that unmistakable vibrance of youth. She was 5’2 (so I had the perfect view down at her from my almost 6 feet), had shoulder length dirty blond hair, a slight tan you can’t help but get living in Southern California and even walk outside in the daytime, and she was wearing a pink floral, knee length sundress that only slightly hid her curves and very ample breasts (while she caught my attention with her breasts when we dated, they were even bigger now).
There was something different about her though this Saturday – in addition to her purse and shopping bag she came in carrying rather large and old looking leather covered, strapped case. She carried her things into the family room, where Ryan was sitting on the couch, continuing to try to run up the score while my lifeless body filled the other part of the splitscreen.
“So what is the deal with the case?” I asked her.
“I was just out doing some shopping and about to come over here, when I noticed a new antique store that had opened right next to some of my regular shopping spots,” she replied motioning to her shopping bag that likely contained whatever it was she bought at those stores. “I never had noticed the store before. They must have done the renovations very quickly, because I must have missed the grand opening and it seemed to come out of nowhere. So, you know me, I love antiques and just thought I would stop in to see if there was anything I would like. I browsed for a little and was about to leave, when, on the way out, the owner, the nicest, most unobtrusive old man, spoke up and brought this case to my attention.”
At this point in her story she sat down on the couch next to Ryan and set the case on the coffee table. Ryan seemed to be paying half attention now to what she was saying, or her presence and the case made him break some of his concentration on the video game.
Erica unbuckled that leather straps that ran around the case, clicked open its latch, and opened the lid to reveal rows and rows of, what I would call “potions,” if they did not appear to be medical in nature.
“Isn’t it just perfect for me?” she asked with excitement in her voice, reveling in her find. “It was almost like the owner knew exactly what would interest me. Ever since I graduated and started working at the pharmaceutical company I have been looking for something like this. It combines my love of antiques with my love of science.”
“Great,” said Ryan in an over-the-top exaggerated deadpan, “but what is it?”
I sat down on the other end of the couch with Erica in between Ryan and I to try to get a better look at it.
“The antique store owner said it was an antique medical case from the mid-to-late 1800s; however, the antique store owner said this one was unique because it wasn’t just the kit of a doctor or pharmacist, but was the mobile workshop of the doctor-slash-scientist that made the compounds,” she said with enthusiasm.
I looked over the vials upon vials sitting in the case. “There must be dozens of them in here. And many of them have a slight glow or phosphorescence even after all these years. Is it safe to be in my family room on my coffee table?”
“Do you think I would bring hazardous materials to a Saturday hangout with two of my best friends and in one of their homes? You know me, I was extremely cautious and skeptical. I had my radiation badge from work in my purse and the shop owner had an old Geiger counter for sale – neither reacted at all to these things. The old man saw how concerned and cautious I was and took a step even further to prove it to me: he took out one of the vials and injected it into himself,” Erica replied.
Ryan set down his controller and was promptly killed by some angry digital alien. “Injected it?” Ryan asked incredulously, “I know die-hard juicers that wouldn’t mess with stuff that looked like that, let alone a rusty needle that is probably the size of a drinking straw.”
Erica laughed, “Of course not!” She pulled out the old injection device and syringe from the case that looked like its only place should be as a movie prop or at a steampunk convention. “This is what they used to use, but the owner crafted a sleeve to mate the vials with a modern syringe. See?” She held up a couple brand-new looking, twenty-first century, medical syringes and a handful of packages sterile needles. “You guys do remember what I do for a living, right? Besides, the old man explained that the notes of the scientist seem to indicate that the serums were originally developed to be taken orally, but he found intramuscular injection avoided their unpleasant taste.”
I was sitting in just the right spot to see everything Erica was talking about, and to get a good look at her cleavage at the same time. Why was I looking there? Sure, we had messed around a little in the past when we both were single, as we are now, but Ryan is here and getting caught by him looking or having too many of these thoughts would be awkward.
“So, what happened to the old man and how long did you watch him?” I asked.
“Nothing. I watched him about half an hour and we just chatted about his store, the contents of the case, and its history. Apparently, it comes from England and from a time when tonics, elixirs, and serums were very popular.”
This is my first story, so I hope it isn’t terrible. It has been inspired by some of the classics from 25 years ago from the newsgroups and the Chili Palmer archive.
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I had been spending my Saturday, like I do many Saturdays, sitting in the couch, killing time and digital bad guys with my friend Ryan when the doorbell rang.
I opened the door and there was my ex-girlfriend and Ryan’s ex-girlfriend Erica. “What are you guys killing today? Zombies, Nazis, or Nazi Zombies?” she asked playfully as she walked in.
Erica had dated both Ryan and I in the past, but, unlike many relationships, somehow we all remained friends and actually became closer because of it.
I kind of knew Erica for years. Her sister and I had been friends in high school, and Erica was two years younger than her. Erica was a flat-chested nobody as a freshman, so it came as a surprise one day when I was at her house picking up her sister and while I was waiting outside I heard her sister finish what must have been an argument: “What do you even need them for?” Apparently Erica’s sister was late because she couldn’t find a bra and discovered her sister had been taking them. Her sister continued, “They’re 36C, so you can’t even use them!”
That was enough of a comment to have me take notice, especially because Erica could and did use them. She sprouted boobs it seemed like overnight and in secret, but obviously it was just quickly and on a girl that did nothing to draw attention to herself. I know in retrospect this may sound shallow, but at the time I heard that I was a high school boy, raging with hormones, and definitely a breast man; so, a girl with an ample bustline was as good as any a reason for me to consider the girl as a potential dating prospect. Erica’s sister’s remark put Erica on my radar.
I was slow to move, but it worked in both Erica’s and my favor. By the time I had secured an introduction and we began dating, Erica she had stopped borrowing her sister’s bras because she was stretching them out too much, and instead was enjoying her own, larger size. Erica and I ended-up dating for about a year, but things fell apart when I went off to college and she stayed at home. There was no big drama, we just couldn’t sustain the relationship, which is probably why we never had the dramatic break-up, stayed friends, and never dropped out of touch.
Sometime after we both had finished college we both ended-up moving to the same city away from home. Although we dated other people, we still were friends that had occasionally had sexual tension, some awkward moments, and even the rare lapse in judgement when we both were single, lonely, and a bit too horny. The years apart and then together as friends had actually made us grow closer due us developing our own interests that ended-up being the same or similar.
I met Ryan through Erica. He was one of the first guys she dated having moved to the city. He was a bit put-off and intimidated by my friendship with Erica when she first brought it up, but upon our first meeting he and I hit-it-off. It was like we were long-lost brothers or had been best friends for years within minutes of meeting. I always told Erica that the best thing that came out of her relationship with Ryan was I got a new best friend, which she would act facetiously jealous over the fact she had been replaced.
Their relationship did not last long. Their personalities were too different, her being more on the bookish side, like me, and him being more the jock, but they were able to figure these differences out quickly enough to end their romantic relationship after only a few months and have a friendship take its place. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they occasionally had their own hook-ups from time to time when they were not seeing other people, but it never came up in conversation and it was not my business.
So this was not an uncommon occurrence for the three to hang out together on a Saturday afternoon. “Nothing so exotic on the menu today,” I replied, “just your run-of-the-mill aliens bent on world domination. And beating Ryan on kills and high score as he just tries to keep up.”
“Keep up, John?” Ryan shouted from the couch in the other room, “While you are in there ogling your girlfriend, I am dancing around your corpse.”
There was not ogling (well maybe there was), but how could I not? Erica seemed to only get better with age. Now a few years past college and her Master’s degree, she was far more mature looking that the teenager I had dated in high school, but still had that unmistakable vibrance of youth. She was 5’2 (so I had the perfect view down at her from my almost 6 feet), had shoulder length dirty blond hair, a slight tan you can’t help but get living in Southern California and even walk outside in the daytime, and she was wearing a pink floral, knee length sundress that only slightly hid her curves and very ample breasts (while she caught my attention with her breasts when we dated, they were even bigger now).
There was something different about her though this Saturday – in addition to her purse and shopping bag she came in carrying rather large and old looking leather covered, strapped case. She carried her things into the family room, where Ryan was sitting on the couch, continuing to try to run up the score while my lifeless body filled the other part of the splitscreen.
“So what is the deal with the case?” I asked her.
“I was just out doing some shopping and about to come over here, when I noticed a new antique store that had opened right next to some of my regular shopping spots,” she replied motioning to her shopping bag that likely contained whatever it was she bought at those stores. “I never had noticed the store before. They must have done the renovations very quickly, because I must have missed the grand opening and it seemed to come out of nowhere. So, you know me, I love antiques and just thought I would stop in to see if there was anything I would like. I browsed for a little and was about to leave, when, on the way out, the owner, the nicest, most unobtrusive old man, spoke up and brought this case to my attention.”
At this point in her story she sat down on the couch next to Ryan and set the case on the coffee table. Ryan seemed to be paying half attention now to what she was saying, or her presence and the case made him break some of his concentration on the video game.
Erica unbuckled that leather straps that ran around the case, clicked open its latch, and opened the lid to reveal rows and rows of, what I would call “potions,” if they did not appear to be medical in nature.
“Isn’t it just perfect for me?” she asked with excitement in her voice, reveling in her find. “It was almost like the owner knew exactly what would interest me. Ever since I graduated and started working at the pharmaceutical company I have been looking for something like this. It combines my love of antiques with my love of science.”
“Great,” said Ryan in an over-the-top exaggerated deadpan, “but what is it?”
I sat down on the other end of the couch with Erica in between Ryan and I to try to get a better look at it.
“The antique store owner said it was an antique medical case from the mid-to-late 1800s; however, the antique store owner said this one was unique because it wasn’t just the kit of a doctor or pharmacist, but was the mobile workshop of the doctor-slash-scientist that made the compounds,” she said with enthusiasm.
I looked over the vials upon vials sitting in the case. “There must be dozens of them in here. And many of them have a slight glow or phosphorescence even after all these years. Is it safe to be in my family room on my coffee table?”
“Do you think I would bring hazardous materials to a Saturday hangout with two of my best friends and in one of their homes? You know me, I was extremely cautious and skeptical. I had my radiation badge from work in my purse and the shop owner had an old Geiger counter for sale – neither reacted at all to these things. The old man saw how concerned and cautious I was and took a step even further to prove it to me: he took out one of the vials and injected it into himself,” Erica replied.
Ryan set down his controller and was promptly killed by some angry digital alien. “Injected it?” Ryan asked incredulously, “I know die-hard juicers that wouldn’t mess with stuff that looked like that, let alone a rusty needle that is probably the size of a drinking straw.”
Erica laughed, “Of course not!” She pulled out the old injection device and syringe from the case that looked like its only place should be as a movie prop or at a steampunk convention. “This is what they used to use, but the owner crafted a sleeve to mate the vials with a modern syringe. See?” She held up a couple brand-new looking, twenty-first century, medical syringes and a handful of packages sterile needles. “You guys do remember what I do for a living, right? Besides, the old man explained that the notes of the scientist seem to indicate that the serums were originally developed to be taken orally, but he found intramuscular injection avoided their unpleasant taste.”
I was sitting in just the right spot to see everything Erica was talking about, and to get a good look at her cleavage at the same time. Why was I looking there? Sure, we had messed around a little in the past when we both were single, as we are now, but Ryan is here and getting caught by him looking or having too many of these thoughts would be awkward.
“So, what happened to the old man and how long did you watch him?” I asked.
“Nothing. I watched him about half an hour and we just chatted about his store, the contents of the case, and its history. Apparently, it comes from England and from a time when tonics, elixirs, and serums were very popular.”