Assorted Captions

Devasree sat still and tried not to cry as the lawyer read through her mother’s will. She’d been very good all week, trying and mostly succeeding at not crying since her entire extended family had perished in a freak accident, leaving little nine-year-old Devasree – Deva for short – all alone in the world.
"We’ll appoint a guardian for Deva, of course," the man was explaining to the state caretaker. "The family has more than enough wealth that we don’t have to worry about that." He flipped through some more papers. "As for specific bequests… the contents of her mother’s safe deposit box are to be provided to her. I’ve taken the liberty of having that delivered to her room. Everything else passes to a trust that the firm will manage until Deva reaches the age of eighteen." He nodded smartly and collected the papers. "I’ll begin the process of selecting a overness, and keep you appraised."
Deva silently went to her room. She didn’t want a governess. She didn’t care about some stupid trust. She just wanted her mother.
The safe deposit box was sitting on her desk, the key next to it. Rubbing at her eyes, Deva sat down and opened the box.
Inside was a single gorgeous necklace, with an cluster of rubies set in gold, and a short letter.

Darling Deva,
If you are reading this, it means I have passed on before I have been able to gift you with the power that is yours by birthright – the magic of the Ruby of Haridwar. Wearing it opens you to incredible power to reshape the world to your desires.
The Ruby is how I opened our family to the power and influence we now wield, and I hope you use it wisely and justly. I know your heart is pure, and your mind clear. Make me proud, and carry our family’s legacy forward.
I will love you forever,Your Mother

Wordlessly, Deva raised the necklace over her head and placed it around her neck. Every fiber of her being wanted her mother back, and did not want to be watched over by whatever stuffy governess the lawyer was sure to select.
Immediately, Deva felt an incredible warmth flow through her, as if she’d jumped into a hot bathtub. Stumbling to the mirror, she watched as her skinny, youthful body began to lengthen, her head inching higher and higher every moment. She was engrossed as she watched her face thin down, some of her baby fat melting away from her features.
As she continued to grow taller, however, Deva found that other parts of her body were growing in altogether different ways. Her breasts, for example, were rapidly swelling larger. She was quite pleased by this — she’d only received her first bra a month previously, and the indignity of only needing a ‘training’ bra had rankled. Now, though, Deva’s breasts were outpacing everyone else in her middle school classes, and she knew she had more growing to do.
Middle school? She thought with a start. Searching her memories, Deva found that knowledge was flooding into her mind, backfilling the years she was now skipping thanks to the Ruby. Already smart, the Ruby extrapolated generously, Deva’s scholastic career one long high point, with top grades in the most challenging subjects her teachers could throw at the blossoming young woman with the unruly masses of black hair.
And blossoming she was. Now in late high school, Deva had a body that many of the teachers looked upon with envy, and that the sex-ed teacher sheepishly used as a teaching aid — fully clothed, of course — for the effects of puberty on teenage girls. Her breasts, full and heavy; her hips, wide and fertile. If she carried a little extra weight around the middle, well, she owned the look, completely and utterly. Every boy in school dreamed about her curves.
In her memories, she spurned them all. Her will was set on college, and finally reaching the age of majority, when she could finally take control of her family’s trust and really start down the path her mother had laid out for her before her death.
College, she discovered, was every bit of a scholastic romp as public school had been. Deva devoured every bit of instruction she could find, but left without a diploma once she was sure any further time on campus would be a waste. Through it all, her necklace stayed nestled between her fantastic breasts, smoothing over disputes with its power yoked directly to her will.
Now, then, here stood twenty-four-year-old Devasree, Deva to her friends, and fifteen years older than she had been just minutes before. She leaned over slightly, hardly able to believe what had just taken place. But no, there was the truth before her: the necklace, still shining dimly; her body, wide and beautiful, reminiscent of her mother’s gorgeous form; her mind, filled with the knowledge of an expensive, self-directed education. She was mature and ready.
"Look out, world," Deva said, growling at her mirror in the sexiest voice she could muster. "Here comes Deva."

Devasree sat still and tried not to cry as the lawyer read through her mother’s will. She’d been very good all week, trying and mostly succeeding at not crying since her entire extended family had perished in a freak accident, leaving little nine-year-old Devasree – Deva for short – all alone in the world.

"We’ll appoint a guardian for Deva, of course," the man was explaining to the state caretaker. "The family has more than enough wealth that we don’t have to worry about that." He flipped through some more papers. "As for specific bequests… the contents of her mother’s safe deposit box are to be provided to her. I’ve taken the liberty of having that delivered to her room. Everything else passes to a trust that the firm will manage until Deva reaches the age of eighteen." He nodded smartly and collected the papers. "I’ll begin the process of selecting a overness, and keep you appraised."

Deva silently went to her room. She didn’t want a governess. She didn’t care about some stupid trust. She just wanted her mother.

The safe deposit box was sitting on her desk, the key next to it. Rubbing at her eyes, Deva sat down and opened the box.

Inside was a single gorgeous necklace, with an cluster of rubies set in gold, and a short letter.

Darling Deva,

If you are reading this, it means I have passed on before I have been able to gift you with the power that is yours by birthright – the magic of the Ruby of Haridwar. Wearing it opens you to incredible power to reshape the world to your desires.

The Ruby is how I opened our family to the power and influence we now wield, and I hope you use it wisely and justly. I know your heart is pure, and your mind clear. Make me proud, and carry our family’s legacy forward.

I will love you forever,
Your Mother

Wordlessly, Deva raised the necklace over her head and placed it around her neck. Every fiber of her being wanted her mother back, and did not want to be watched over by whatever stuffy governess the lawyer was sure to select.

Immediately, Deva felt an incredible warmth flow through her, as if she’d jumped into a hot bathtub. Stumbling to the mirror, she watched as her skinny, youthful body began to lengthen, her head inching higher and higher every moment. She was engrossed as she watched her face thin down, some of her baby fat melting away from her features.

As she continued to grow taller, however, Deva found that other parts of her body were growing in altogether different ways. Her breasts, for example, were rapidly swelling larger. She was quite pleased by this — she’d only received her first bra a month previously, and the indignity of only needing a ‘training’ bra had rankled. Now, though, Deva’s breasts were outpacing everyone else in her middle school classes, and she knew she had more growing to do.

Middle school? She thought with a start. Searching her memories, Deva found that knowledge was flooding into her mind, backfilling the years she was now skipping thanks to the Ruby. Already smart, the Ruby extrapolated generously, Deva’s scholastic career one long high point, with top grades in the most challenging subjects her teachers could throw at the blossoming young woman with the unruly masses of black hair.

And blossoming she was. Now in late high school, Deva had a body that many of the teachers looked upon with envy, and that the sex-ed teacher sheepishly used as a teaching aid — fully clothed, of course — for the effects of puberty on teenage girls. Her breasts, full and heavy; her hips, wide and fertile. If she carried a little extra weight around the middle, well, she owned the look, completely and utterly. Every boy in school dreamed about her curves.

In her memories, she spurned them all. Her will was set on college, and finally reaching the age of majority, when she could finally take control of her family’s trust and really start down the path her mother had laid out for her before her death.

College, she discovered, was every bit of a scholastic romp as public school had been. Deva devoured every bit of instruction she could find, but left without a diploma once she was sure any further time on campus would be a waste. Through it all, her necklace stayed nestled between her fantastic breasts, smoothing over disputes with its power yoked directly to her will.

Now, then, here stood twenty-four-year-old Devasree, Deva to her friends, and fifteen years older than she had been just minutes before. She leaned over slightly, hardly able to believe what had just taken place. But no, there was the truth before her: the necklace, still shining dimly; her body, wide and beautiful, reminiscent of her mother’s gorgeous form; her mind, filled with the knowledge of an expensive, self-directed education. She was mature and ready.

"Look out, world," Deva said, growling at her mirror in the sexiest voice she could muster. "Here comes Deva."

Cynthia wasn’t really much of a masturbator. Sure, she’d done some self-exploration growing up, but it had never really done much to get her motor going, her own fingers just sort of lazily drifting. The dirty-blonde young woman didn’t think too highly of her body, either, describing herself in conversation with her girlfriends at college as “potato-like”, even when they insisted she be more positive.

It was the outgrowth of one of those frank rap sessions that lead the gaggle of women to the “toy store” near campus. Cynthia stood around awkwardly until she caught sight of a little dildo off to the side. Intrigued for reasons she couldn’t really articulate, she bought the six-incher, blushing as the cashier rung it up and wished her, completely unironically, to “have a good time!”

It stayed in the bottom drawer of her dresser until the following weekend, when Cynthia felt a little flicker of arousal creep into her body. Rather than ignore it, as she had many times before, she instead dug out the dildo and carefully began teasing herself with it.

"Shiiiiit, that feels good," she found herself moaning involuntarily. The little spark burst into a hearty blaze as she flung herself back onto her bed, hammering away at her suddenly-sopping vagina. Her pudgy form quivered as she reached her first orgasm, and her eyes widened as her voracious sexual appetite, heretofore unknown, began pushing her toward another climax, followed by another, and another…

Morning rose upon a bow-legged and aching Cynthia getting dressed for class and deciding, upon reflection, that leaving the top two buttons on her blouse unbuttoned might be a kind of a fun thing to try out. Maybe her friends were right; she needed to be more positive about her body.

I really do need to start dressing a little nicer, she thought during her English lecture. She caught sight of Bryan, a cute nerd she’d only spoken with a couple of times. I wonder how big Bryan’s dick is? Is it bigger than that dildo? She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

That evening, Cynthia ignored her phone, which had a number of texts piling up from friends wondering if she wanted to go out, and pulled out her dildo. This time, she suctioned it to a chair and decided to try out being on top, which she quickly found she enjoyed even more — the pressure of her body weight against the thick base of the dildo probably fired off two or three orgasms on its own. “Mmm, yeah, Bryan, do it like that…” she moaned, caught up in a fantasy of Bryan lying beneath her, blindfolded, his cock a tool for her pleasure.

And so the week continued in much the same fashion. Cynthia would go to class, come home, rush through her school work, and then spend the rest of the evening masturbating excessively, feverishly exploring her body with her toy. One night, she tried anal; another, she did nothing but deepthroat the dildo (after thoroughly cleaning it, of course).

On Saturday, she borrowed her roommate’s clothes to go out shopping. Her own didn’t seem to fit so well anymore, a sudden slimming that she chalked up to all the ‘aerobic exercise’ she was suddenly getting. She hadn’t lost any real weight, though, with most of the mass of the rest of her body ending up in her tits.

She didn’t even really properly appreciate how much she’d grown, thinking instead that most of the change in her bra size was because of her thinning band-measurement. The rest she figured was from her resurgent appetite. She was eating like a teenager getting her growth spurt, wolfing down plates of pasta in the dining hall and then rushing back to her dorm room to drill herself again.

Clothes shopping used to mean the indignities of the fitting room mirror, the “no, I’m sorry, we don’t make this in a larger size.” Now, though Cynthia breezed from specialty store to specialty store, blowing a chunk of her savings on tight tops and short skirts, two deep bras and a bunch of adorable panties. (Plus a couple of outfits she could wear to class and not have a teacher’s eyes pop out of their skull.) “I mean, my body really isn’t all that bad. I just need to dress up a bit more and I can walk around with pride.”

Cynthia didn’t even really worry about the money, either. Yesterday, when she’d come out of her room to get something to drink, her roommate had wrinkled her nose.

"What are you doing in there, running a porn site? You reek of sex."

Cynthia thought that wasn’t all that bad of an idea at all, and so Cyndi the Collegiate Camgirl was born. After all, if she was going to masturbate this much anyway, why not make a little money doing it?

At this point, Cynthia’s collection of dildos had expanded dramatically. Her original six-incher was always close at hand, of course, but it had been joined by vibrators and magic wands, as well as considerably bigger, thicker rubberized phalluses, the biggest of which was the size of her arm and she could only take half of.

And through it all, her figure was still improving, two enormous breasts complimenting her bodacious ass, separated by a skinny waist. After counting the take after a long night of private shows on her website, she ran a finger along her abdominals and groaned. “Tomorrow,” she resolved. “Tomorrow I’ll finally ask Bryan out.”

You guys sure like boobs, huh?
So do I.

You guys sure like boobs, huh?

So do I.