Assorted Captions

Anonymous asked: Please right more BE like your most recent post - that was gold! <3

Thank you for the feedback.

a story of your amazing growing breasts, 1500 words on the nose. 

You were not small, by any stretch of the imagination. 5’6”, pleasant hips, a waist kept toned with crunches when you remembered to do them, and a nice pair of breasts. You told yourself they were perky, shapely, and filled out your shirts just so. Plenty of boys wanted you; you had their crude messages filling up your inbox on any number of social networking sites, the occasional erect penis popping up in Snapchat. And that was enough, for a while. But the more you browsed the internet, the more you realized that there was a truer self hidden beneath the surface.

You loved breasts.

To be a little more specific about it: you loved growing breasts. Breasts swelling out of their reinforced bras. Overrunning any feeble attempts at containment. Bloating larger and heavier until the woman attached to them was little more than an afterthought to her enormous, heaving, mountainous bosom.

You made friends with the big-titted girls in your town, listened sympathetically as they occasionally complained about what a burden having big breasts was on them. You even attended the sleepover of one Millicent Bloom Anderson, who was dreadfully dull and smelled faintly of mothballs, because she happened to wear — and you knew this for a fact — a 34G bra, and you were dying to see what she looked like with no shirt on.

All of which serves to explain, if not fully excuse, your behavior when, after coming home from work one day, you began to wonder why your bra was pinching in weird new places when you laid down.

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Globalized Fetishes

A new side project. I’m collecting posts from the popular /d/ threads about the theme “describe a sexual change you’d inflict upon the entire world”. Answers range from “all women have dicks” to multi-paragraph fantasias about universe-spanning post-singularity cloned lesbian empires.

Ask Your Doctor If Non-Drowsy Once-A-Day Busimax® Is Right For You


Busimax® is for the treatment of undeveloped or delayed secondary sexual characteristics in women between the ages of 16 and 28. Consult with a doctor before, during, and after use. Improper use may cause dependency. Selection of appropriate dosage strength is based on patient age, weight, and desired results.

Important Safety Information

Busimax® is designed to be taken orally once per day. DO NOT CONSUME MORE THAN ONE PILL PER DAY. In case of accidental overdose, contact your doctor. Busimax® should be used with caution if you have low blood pressure. Do not consume Busimax® in any way other than orally, as serious side effects may occur.

Tell your doctor if you are pregnant or may become pregnant, as this may cause an unpredictable reaction with your unborn child. If you are breastfeeding, or plan on beginning to breastfeed, consult your pediatrician. There are no studies on the effects of Busimax® on young children.

Most common side effects include increased libido, weight gain, change in inhibitions, increase in heart rate, tenderness of the breasts, thighs, and buttocks, and unusual arousal. Rare side effects include lactation, increase in height, excessive hair growth, changes in skin, hair, and eye pigmentation, and spontaneous orgasm.

Tell your doctor if you plan on being sexually active while on Busimax®. The active ingredient in Busimax® can cause effects in others, including those listed above, as well as erectile growth and increased muscular vascularity.

If you take other medications while on Busimax®, the effect of Busimax® may be erratic or unpredictable. Consult with your doctor before taking any other medications while on a Busimax® regimen.

Talk with your doctor and see if Busimax® is right for you.

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Hana popped in her headphones as she started getting ready to fix dinner. She figured it was as good a time as any to get started listening to the tapes her therapist had given her to help deal with her “maternal issues”, as it was delicately put in conversation.

When Hana and her husband Jack had gotten married, they’d both sort of laughed at the idea of children. Now, though, a few years into their union, Jack was getting antsy, starting to try and convince her that it was a good idea. It had gotten so bad that they’d starting seeing a counselor, who in turn had recommended this tape for Hana to listen to.

It wasn’t that she was entirely against children, she thought. It was just now didn’t seem like a particularly good time. Nevertheless, she’d agreed to at least give a listen.

The beginning was a soft medley of electronic hums, very pleasant, and before she knew it Hana had completely forgotten she was listening to anything at all.

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"Suburban Thaumaturgy"

"Hey, check this place out," Jenny said, pointing to the new store in the mall. "It’s open finally!"

Mary and Hannah both took in the view. “Suburban Thaumaturgy? Is that a play on Urban Outfitters?”

"Looks like they’ve got a bunch of cute things; let’s check it out." The three high schoolers wandered in the front door and split up, each headed to a different corner of the store.

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A commission from ask-fickleaura. The transformation of an old man into a young woman.

Marty loved his walks in the park. Even now, in his 90s, he still went out there every Saturday and hobbled around with his cane, taking in the sights. Sure, his back cracked and popped continually while he was out there, and he’d have to lie down until the evening as soon as he got home, but it was worth it.

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Anonymous asked: How about a story where the more turned on she gets, the bigger her breasts get and the bigger they get, the more turned on she becomes

"Commissions" was the operative word in that post as it related to stories.


The beginnings of the hive were stored safely in its collective memory. A long-running project on a distant, secluded moon, designed to make soldiers more efficient by letting them act as a single unit. It had failed miserably until they attempted the process on two female volunteers.

Now, emissaries from the hive had spread to every corner of the United Federation, spreading the Unification message. Sure, they traveled under many guises — some as representatives of intergalactic fashion companies, some as religious missionaries, some as simple souls ready to give the needy a hot meal and a place to stay the night. All sported the slightly-oblong skull that was shared by all members of the hive. Every head was distended vertically about three inches, rising to a smooth point. Normally, it was hard to detect through a member’s hair, but those sent to the more liberal and forward-thinking planets generally went completely shaved — all the better to advertise.

They proclaimed that the modification promoted clearer thinking, a heightened sense of well-being, and other intangible mental benefits. And, to be sure, this was all true. But it also linked every single member into the ever-expanding gestalt of the hive, an intergalactic entity that could process and share information across vast distances instantly, the supposed laws of physics be damned.

And on that distant moon, a cross-section of the hive’s members paid unceasing homage to one person — The Queen.

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