A Cure for MANkind, Part Deux
By Apollo
(http://apollostories.deviantart.com)
“Mr. President, we have some developments on the mission. So far, we estimate that roughly 4.5 million adults have been treated with ELT-21 and TLT-39. About 85% of these treated people have seen changes. In the women, an increased docility, along with the aforementioned physical changes such as breast growth, and an increased libido. Men who have been exposed have seen an increase in their aggressive tendencies, as well. Things seem to be going rather well.”. “Very well”, replied a relieved President. “Continue with the airbound treatments, varying exposures and potency. After all, we can’t afford to have every woman exposed looking and acting the same way. It’ll raise more suspicion. Also, please start to take steps to bring Project Mudd online.”.
Ramona and Beatrice awoke with the rising of the sun. The two best friends had bought this cabin, and the surrounding 5 acres, in the hopes of starting their own “green women’s revolution”. They wanted encourage strong women to “get back to nature”. They’d rehabbed the property and cleared the land by themselves. They’d even installed many “green” additions to the property, including solar panels, and a new rainwater storage unit. “With the new rainwater storage unit, we’ll be able to drink, bathe, and wash dishes and clothes all from rainwater, Beatrice.”, Ramona spoke, excited. “And, being in the Pacific Northwest, cleaner air mean cleaner rainwater, so there’s was little concern about polluted water. And with last night’s downpour, now we have the perfect chance to try it out!”. Ever the worry-wart, Beatrice tried to bring a level of calm to Ramona’s enthusiasm. “But, this is the first time we’ve tried it. Are you sure we installed the pressure relay property? What if the heating coil we installed didn’t come on? We’d be stuck with cold showers. What about—“. “Oh, hush, Beatrice! Nothing’s going to go wrong. I followed the directions from the website perfectly. Even if something does go wrong, Evan is coming up here today to help make double-check everything to make sure it all works.” Evan was a friend, who Beatrice and Ramona met online. He was passionate about the environment, and helped point the girls in the right direction when they first wanted to build their sanctuary. “That’s true, Ramona. I just want everything to be perfect.”, Beatrice quipped. “We spent a lot of money on all this, and I just don’t want it all to go up in smoke.” Ramona walked over and gave Beatrice a consoling hug. “Well, Beatrice. I’m going to have a positive outlook on all of it. Let’s go have a look-see and see if the water system works. I’ll test the water in the bathroom, you go check the laundry room. We’ll have a count-down to commemorate this momentous occasion.”. The girls dashed in opposite directions to their pre-arranged locations. “3-2-1!!!”, the girls yelled from their assigned locations. Beatrice looked as the washing machine rocked back and forth for a moment, then her fears were calmed by rushing water! “Ramona, things are looking fine here!”, Beatrice yelled, in a relieved tone. “Yeah Beatrice, the hot water is working fine! We did it!” The girls ran back to meet in the living room to congratulate one another. “Well, we still have a few hours before Evan gets here, Ramona. I think he’s supposed to be bringing us some new frost-resistant fruit seeds that he found out about. They’ll go nicely in the vegetable garden we were he and I were talking about starting. I really should get started getting everything ready.”. “Really? Beatrice, I thought you said you didn’t have a crush on Evan? But, you seem to be making plans for the two of you.”. Beatrice turned away dismissively. “No, Ramona. I don’t seem him like that. I don’t see anyone like that. You know I’ve never been the romantic type. I mean, really. In the 15 years you’ve known me, how many boyfriends have I ever had, really? I’m a denim and dungarees type of girl. I’d just rather stay to myself.” “Well, suit yourself.”, Ramona spoke. Ramona was always the prettier of the two of them, with more boyfriends than she could handle. She was the definition of a ‘maneater’. 5′9″, 119lbs, and she knew exactly what to do with it, to get what she wanted from a man. “Maybe if I flirt a bit with him—of course never giving him any—we can get some free help and advice up here. But, then again, a lady has needs. It would be nice to have a man ‘on-call’ for those once in a while times I need to get off.”, quipped Ramona. “I think I’ll get in a nice jog this morning before he gets here. I’ll grab one of the fresh rainwater jugs from last night’s storm. There’s nothing like fresh water from Mother Nature. It’s invigorating!”. Once again, Beatrice and Ramona went their separate ways to prepare their day. Ramona put on some workout sweats, pulled her dark brown hair in a ponytail, grabbed the coldest rainwater jug, and headed out for her run. Beatrice ran herself a warm bath as she organized the supplies for Evan’s visit.
About an 90 minutes into Ramona’s jog, about halfway back to home, Ramona’s pace slowed down. Ramona had been running distance for years, but now she felt a little different, almost like she was out of breath. Ramona leaned against a nearby rock, to gather herself. “Whew. I must be coming down with something. I have been this exhausted after 4 miles since I was in High School.”. Ramona wiped her brow, as it dampened with sweat. She took another gulp from her gallon jug. She’d already drunk 3/4ths of it. “I’m so thirsty too, but this water tastes so good. Really good.”, Ramona uttered as she licked her lips. “All this water I’ve been drinking is just sitting in my stomach, and maybe that’s why I’m struggling to finish.”, she licked her lips again as she spoke aloud to herself. “Maybe I can get some nice, strong man to give me a lift back home….hmmm.”. She looked around, gently biting her bottom lip, which looked a little more plump than before. “I’m in the middle of nowhere!”, she stamped her foot frustrated. “No other hikers, no loggers, no bigfoot, no nothing!”, she stamped her foot again. “Wait a minute. I sound like a damn 7 year old!”, Ramona lamented to herself. “Suck it up, Ramona! The sooner you get home, the sooner you can get out of the sweaty, sticky clothes, and relax a bit.”. With a renewed focus, Ramona trudged the rest of the way home. Albeit, her pace was slower, she pushed herself along the uneven trail to get back home, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensations she was feeling.
Beatrice sat on her bed after her nice relaxing bath. “I don’t know why I was so worried. Maybe things really will turn out fine.” She slipped on her A-Cup bra and bloomers. “Ramona was right, I do worry a little too much.”. She pulled out am old college T-Shirt from her dresser drawer to put on. There were a few holes in it, and the neckline was a little distressed from yard work and the repeated washings, but it was a comfortable fit. Standing in front of her dresser mirror, Beatrice took a moment to pose in front of the mirror, giving her reflection a few playful facial expressions. ‘Pouty’ was followed by ‘innocent’, then ‘coy’. Beatrice froze for a brief moment as a slight chill ran through her, her eyelids fluttering for a moment. She regained her composure and looked at her reflection again. Lost was a sense of innocence in her eyes as she stared at her visage. She bit on the lower corner of her mouth as she her thoughts strayed to Evan, and her expression told of a hidden lust that seemed to come from nowhere. “Maybe I should see if I have a shot with Evan. He’s so cute. Out here in the middle of nowhere, no one would hear us scream. And, oh yes, we’d be screaming…” Her hand slipped down over her panties, and stroked her crotch. A sly, almost demonic, smile was reflected back at Beatrice, and that one image snapped her back from her out-of-character daydream. “What the hell am I saying?? What the hell is on my mind??! What the hell am I doing?!?!”, retorted Beatrice while looking at her reflection, seeming to demand an answer from it. With a stroke of embarrassment, she quickly dug into her dresser for a bandana to tie around her head, covering her short bob haircut. She reached and grabbed a pair of jeans, and slid them on. Just as she zipped up her fly, another stronger chill hit her, forcing a whimper from her lips. She reached out to lean on the dresser with her left hand as her right absent-mindedly slipped down to her crotch, and inside her panties. Pulling her hand out, she noticed red hairs between her fingers. Bewildered, she reached back down into her crotch, pulling out more hairs, her pubic hairs. They were falling out. Incredulous, she reached down again, but was met with her sex, moist, and hyper-sensitive. For a moment, she stood still, taking in the new and rapidly increasing sensations that she was feeling. She felt her knees nearly buckle as her touch brought forth more chills, and they rocked her whole body. She stumbled backwards onto the bed, her left leg hanging off. She quivered as touched herself for the first time, all the while each sensation that racked her body seemed different from the last. She felt a slight dampness in her crotch, which rapidly increased to a deluge of juices. She felt her clitoris swell between her fingers as her entire vagina swelled. Lost in the sensations, she pulls on the collar of her shirt, popping a bit of the stitching. Beatrice feels a pressure building within in herself, but not just in her sex. It’s a pressure that seems to be all over her. She removes her sticky digits from her crotch, as her touch just isn’t doing enough to quell these feelings. She flings her arms over her head as her revelry is broken by the sound of the front door opening, and stumbling footsteps. “That must be Ramona!”, Beatrice thinks to herself. She tries to yell for her, but her breath is too short to muster words. “Buh-Buh-B-BEATRICE!”, Beatrice hears Ramona shout. “Maybe I can get downstairs to her, and get her help!”, Beatrice thinks to herself. She brings her arms to her sides, propping herself up a bit. She looks down at her body, mentally confused as to all that’s going on, trying to regain a measure of lucidity, to understand what’s happening to her. Her breath is short, as her chest rises and falls rapidly. Beatrice fights her body, and tries to slow her breathing, but to no avail. Then, she squints to focus more on her shirt, specifically on her chest. Her hardened nipples feel different. Her bra feels in a different position that it was only a few minutes ago. The support isn’t where it was previously, and it feels tighter than it was before. Memorized, Beatrice looks on, powerless to understand, let alone stop, what is going on.
“Buh-Buh-B-BEATRICE!”, Ramona yells as best she could from downstairs. Barely able to move, Ramona was sweating like she’d run a 20K marathon at full-speed. Her shoes seem too big for her, and trips in them, stumbling into the living room. They fall off her now-smaller feet as she falls to her knees, sweat dripping off her frame. “Buh-BEATRICE!”, exclaimed Ramona though distressed breaths. “Be-Be! BE-BEEEEEEEEE!!!”, was soon all Ramona could muster out of her mouth. Ramona runs a hand through her hair as she tries to catch her breath, but her breath just won’t be caught. Her joints ache as she sits on the floor, kneeling. She leans forward and leans on her hand to try to stand, when her back is rocked with an intense spasm. Now, on all fours, her back contorts, arching up and down. The muscles in her back visibly twitch for a moment, then seemingly disappear under her flesh as it expands, her shoulders broadening. Ramona bites down on her plumped lips as muffled angst is soon all that she can utter. She bobs her head in frustration, making her hair fall out of the ponytail and into her face. Wiping the hair away, she looks at it through sweat-stung eyes. “Is my hair color lighter?? And, since when has it been long enough for me to pull it this far?!?”, laments Ramona, when she’s racked by a new pressure, and audible “POP”s along her lower back and behind. She drops her head into her hands as she whimpers. Her spine is realigning, and the muscles supporting it are strengthening. Her hips begin so spread a bit, stretching the spandex shorts she’s wearing. Her calves and thighs join in the growth, to support her beefier hips. Ramona brings a hand down to explore blindly as her stomach continues to make otherworldly sounds and sensations. She reaches and feels her stomach swell, and compress back, in a state of flux. She feels an increasing discomfort from her shorts, as they rapidly become more and more uncomfortable. With her forehead resting on her forearm, she looks under her body as her hand continues to explore her stomach, and her vision is met by her new, thicker, thighs and a darkening wet spot in her crotch. She spreads her knees to investigate more. Bleary-eyed, she focuses on the wet spot, as she can’t seem to stop biting on her even plumper bottom lip. The spandex seems to have hit their limit as her thighs billow out around the hem of the pant. An unexpected surge from within Ramona forces a carnal grunt from her bee-stung lips. An audible rip echoes her grunt, as her thighs begin to impose their will on the hem of her shorts. The seat of her shorts is in a battle of its own, as her hips continue to swell. Ordinarily 34 inches, she’s grown a full-on ass, stretching beyond 40 inches. But, there’s little fat, no sagging, and very little dimpling, just sheer mass. Ramona forces herself back up on all fours, and rolls her shoulders back, her now strawberry blonde hair hanging past her shoulders. She throws her head back as she musters a newfound strength to sit back on her knees. The added pressure proves to be the final straw for her shorts as the seat rips, revealing her robust, yet firm backside. Ramona sits there breathing loudly, her hands resting between her thighs. A pungent scent wafts through the air, and she powerless to not breathe it in. She looks down at her thick thighs as her hands are resting between them. She looks at the spreading wet spot emanating from her crotch, invigorated by the scent that it’s giving off. She gingerly runs her hands along her inner thighs, along her thicker torso, down her stomach, and finally into her wet box. She reflexively grinds on her fingers through the spandex and bounces up and down slightly on her calves, forcing more of her burgeoning ass and thighs through the tears in her shorts. She can only manage to nibble on a small portion of her bottom lip, as it has swelled even more, forcing a sliver of drool out of the corner of her mouth. Her attention is snatched from her increasing sexual frenzy by a pressure in her upper torso. She feels her back, her shoulders strengthen as her nipples harden and stretch. Even through her sports bra, her now thumb-sized nipples begin to assert themselves. She arches her chest out and is greeted by a surge of growth. Her former 34B-Cup breasts seem to be ready to join in the fun. A few small veins can be seen in her chest, fueling her growth, as she reaches 38D. A raspy grunt, nearly a growl, escapes her throat as the underarm stitching begins to give way on Ramona’s sports bra. Her longer fingernails have burrowed a hole in her spandex shorts, giving her access into her flooded vagina. Her breathing shallows as she plunges her fingers in and out, bringing her to the brink of orgasm. She mumbles incoherently, as her will is ebbed away. She’s experiencing a sensory overload that is just too much for her mind to comprehend, let alone process. With a shudder, she orgasms as her breasts surge again, bringing her cup size to a 42DD, her bra taxed to its limits, stitching all along it frayed and distressed. The bra constricts her breath, so she rips a shoulder strap just to maintain consciousness. After finally taking a deep breath, she falls over on her side, balling up into a fetal position, one hand in trapped in her crotch, while she sucks the thumb of the other, just trying to come down from her sexual high.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Beatrice is waging her own war of physicality, with an equally losing result. As she leans up from her prone position, she notices her chest. It looks firmer, fuller. She pulls away the neckline of her T-Shirt just in time to watch a surge of growth as her breast begin to billow beyond the confines of her A-Cup bra. Wide-eyed she looks on, as her chest inflates like an air mattress. Between breaths she watches her nipples slide their way out as her breasts are now 36-Cs and are touching. She feels a tension in her back as her delts and traps strengthen, presumably to be able to shoulder a ‘heavier load’. She forces her way back to her feet and stumbles back to her dresser, to look into her mirror. An itching sensation imbibes Beatrice to yank the bandana down around her next. Looking in her mirror, she’s greeted by flowing raven-colored locks, a good 6 inches longer and more lively than her hair was before. Her attention was distracted by another strong chill with forced her head down. She watched, bewildered, as her depth perception told her that she was suddenly further away from the dresser. She had grown! Looking back at her reflection, judging by her new height on the mirror, she must’ve grown nearly half a foot. She was right, as she was staring at the reflection of a now 5′10″ Beatrice. Her knees weakened slightly as a pressure built in her jeans. Looking down, she watches the wrinkles smooth on her jeans, stretched out by new thicker limbs. Her eyesight was then again possessed by the vision of her chest growing. The pace has picked up. She alternated her vision between her chest and her chest’s reflection, as they surged. Beatrice winced as her chest became far too much for her bra as it bit into her flesh. Even with her longer limbs, she couldn’t reach the bra clasp under her tightening T-Shirt. Beatrice seemed assaulted from everywhere. She slammed her fist into the dresser as she orgasmed, her juices flooding her too tight jeans. The orgasm brought forth more growth, as the denim stitching gave way along her hips, crotch, and seat. The seat of her white bloomers were becoming more and exposed, like the phases of a full moon. Beatrice licked her lips as she reveled in the sensation, and looked at her reflection as she brushed away a heavy curl that obscured her vision. She rolled her head back as more orgasms flooded her. She even began to visibly squirt, as juices dripped from her cameltoe. A loud rip could be heard as her clasps finally gave way, giving her room to breathe. She began to knead her breasts looking into the mirror, almost seeming to seduce herself. Her now-40Ds further exerted themselves, tenting her shirt, pulling at her neckline. Beatrice pulled down on the shirt, to give her that typical “Y” shape from the crests of her chest, but she wanted more. “More tits…”, Beatrice grumbled. She looked at her hips, and encouraged their growth, hissing, “More asssssss…”. Her body obliged as Beatrice lost herself in the tidal waves of orgasm and transformation. She squatted a bit, to further force open the gaps in her jeans. As her ass reached 40 inches, a visible tear had formed from her waistline to her kneecap. Caressing her body, she felt the gentle ridges of abdominal definition. With her new size, the very top of her vagina could be seen peeking out from her underwear. By this point, Beatrice couldn’t see any of it, as her now 44DDs were obscuring her line of sight. Looking into the mirror Beatrice arches her back, and poses with her hands behind her head. With a carnal level of anticipation, she looks as her tits surge even more. Her tits asserted themselves more as the weathered T-Shirt was quickly losing its battle of her bulge. Small tears began to form under her arms, and her breasts billowed into the neckline of the shirt. The neckline began to tear further as she reached the zenith of a huge orgasm. She screamed like a banshee as a final wave overtook her. Her surging 48E tits ripped a 4 inch tear in the middle of her T-Shirt. as one of her back pockets fell away as her 44-inch ass made its presence known. Beatrice stood there silently, admiring her new reflection. Looking into her eyes’ reflection, the innocence that Beatrice favored was gone. The look in her eyes only yielded one of lust. Her attention was soon drawn away by the sound of someone climbing the stairs. “BeBeeee…”, Ramona quipped. “Somthwing’s differwent”.
Beatrice ripped away the tattered remains of her jeans, leaving only her cum-drenched bloomers to protect her unappreciated modesty. Her ass had grown enough to turn the seat of the bloomers into a makeshift thong. She opened the door and walked to meet Ramona. Ramona made her way up ther stairs bouncing like a yo-yo with every step she took. Ramona had easily gained 40lbs. She looked like a thick wet dream. Her tits settled in at 44DD/DDD, her ass was a whopping 45 inches of beef. Her thighs touched, but that didn’t matter, she’d come so much, they were glazed and she loved the way it felt. Ramona gingerly walked to meet Beatrice at landing at the top of the stairs over the Grand Living Room. Ramona covered her super-swelled lips in shock at the “New Beatrice”. “BeBe, you look soooo hawt! What happened?”, spoke Ramona, who inherited a lisp from her swelled lips. “Well, ‘Mona. I’m not really sure, but it feels sooo damn good, that I don’t even care!”, replied BeBe. “Now, ‘Mona, now that all this weirdness is over, what ever shall we do?”. Their attention was diverted by a knock and open of the door. “Ummm, hello? It’s Evan. I’m here with the seeds and everything.”, he stood agape at what he saw at the top of the stairs, dropping his bags on the floor. “Well, hello, Evan”, cooed BeBe. We’ve been waiting all day for your seed…
Meanwhile, back on the East Coast, in Alexandria, a scientist was reading an interesting e-mail that she was mistakenly sent. “Oh my god!”, Julia exclaimed, as she adjusted her eyeglasses. “It’s all a government conspiracy!”