The Thicckener

"Just explain how it works," said Irene. "I want to understand it if you're going to use it on me."

"It's like a gene therapy," explained Paul, her husband. "You know that women are biologically more prone to carrying weight in their hips, ass and breasts, right?"

"Not me," frowned Irene. She ran her hands over her skinny hips.

"Yeah, I know not you honey, that's why I'm trying to help you. But your body is a machine and it doesn't work differently to other women's bodies. It just needs a tune up. The instruction to have wide hips and a big ass is still coded in your genes, we just need to match that to your hormones. The beam from this emitter stimulates estrogen production and activates the portions of your genecode governing weight distribution. We'll be able to dial up the thickness of your body by intensifying the beam."

"Did you really make this, Paul?"

"Not just me, baby. We built it in the lab." But that wasn't quite true. Paul was an electrician, a master engineer in fact, but not a biologist or geneticist. He'd taken this prototype after seeing a demonstration, and it would be going back tomorrow before the lab opened. No-one would know he'd swiped it. He just wanted his wife to have the curves she had craved for so long.

Irene sat naked on the bed. She'd eaten a big meal right beforehand - if she was going to get bigger, it was a matter of fuel and material. Paul carefully set the machine up, powering it from a dedicated circuit. He didn't want to blow his system if something went wrong.

Paul's cock twitched as he remembered the demonstration, the skinny volunteer who, clad in underwear designed to stretch, moaned as her hips pushed the material apart, packing on inches in seconds. Her legs moved further apart as her pelvis changed shape, and the gap between them was filled with thigh meat. Her ass then started to swell, each cheek becoming a great orb of flesh, the material of her panties pulled into her crack, so tight against her pussy that she had to pull them away. In five seconds of exposure to the device, the volunteer had become a thicc Goddess.

"I'm going to give you two seconds of medium exposure, honey." Paul turned the dial, and watched as a full spectrum of light enveloped Irene from waist to knees. He clicked it off after the time elapsed.

Nothing was happening.

"It felt warm, pleasant... But I'm still the same," said Irene sadly. Paul fiddled with the device.

"I'm not sure what the issue is. Everything is working, or seems to be." He opened up a plate on the side of the device and shone his pen light on the circuitry within. And the device exploded.

The emitter was still directed at Irene, but now it bathed her whole being in an intense burst of unfiltered radiation. Sparks and discharge blasted Paul in the head, and he had to pat his hair to put out a little fire. "Jesus Christ!" he cried, as the plastic housing on the machine crumpled in the heat. Paul hit the power cut off switch and the device died. It was wrecked. "Are you okay, honey?" Paul looked up at Irene, who was gripping her ass.

"It's growing... I'm growing!" Paul couldn't focus, his head was swimming. But Irene was letting out a long, low groan as her body shifted and changed. Her pelvis pushed against her skin, stretching it, but with each pulse of growth came a wave of flesh that flowed over it. Her ass, thighs and hips were widening, her ass becoming absolutely huge. Between her legs, her outer labia were thickening too, and the extreme fatness of her cheeks compressed her pussy pleasurably. Irene truly felt as if her body were coming alive.

Paul shook his head and stared agog at Irene's new ass. It was magnificent, nothing less than worthy of a goddess. He crawled towards her. "Irene, it's incredible..."

Irene tensed her ass, feeling it jump. "I need... more," she moaned. She reached back and cupped her ass in both hands. She squeezed for a moment, digging her fingers into the new flesh. Irene's hands began to glow just as the device had, and in an instant her ass was swelling more, pushing out, spreading. "Oh fuuuuckkkk!" Irene orgasmed spontaneously, soaking the sheet beneath her.

There was no doubt in Paul's mind - she was now possessed of the greatest ass in the world. He was drawn to it, hypnotised by it. "Ass," he murmured, "so much ass. These hips..." He pressed his face between her cheeks, motorboating them, feeling them shake either side of his head. He extended his tongue, licking her crack, seeking out the ring of her asshole, circling it, pushing in.

"Awwww baby!" Irene squeaked, her orgasm drawn out by Paul's attention. He had never licked her ass before. "I love it! I love my big fat ass! Thank you! Huuuuuunnnnngh!" The couple's hands joined in a thorough mauling of Irene's ass.

That night in bed, each of them was lost in thought. Paul should have been worried about work, the ruined emitter, but he could only think about his wife's huge bottom. His hand crept down to his dick, somehow hard again. They'd fucked for hours, and then he'd jerked off another two times. But he couldn't get the vision of that giant behind out of his mind. Something in his head whispered to him insistently: "Bigger. Bigger. Bigger." He jacked his cock mindlessly, thinking about asses bulging out of clothes.

Irene was thinking too. Something had happened during the growth... She had gotten bigger, but then she had somehow made herself bigger again. Her hands had felt so hot, and then her flesh had started to stretch and build under her skin. She could do it again, she realised. She only needed to concentrate and her hands began to heat up.

Turning to her husband, she saw he was masturbating again. "Please baby, show me your ass..." he moaned.

"No... I'm going to show you something else," Irene grinned, climbing onto Paul's hard prick and pulling apart her dressing gown. She rubbed her tits, pulling at the nipples as she rode her husband. And then, in the dark of their bedroom, her hands began to glow with a strange but familiar light - the radiating spectrum of the broken emitter. She had its power! And now she drew incredible flesh from inside her, her breasts swelling with weight and size, nipples spreading over their surface.

Paul came inside his wife, but stayed hard and kept fucking her. The sensation of her husband's cum blast deep inside, plus the growth, plus the sense of power she now possessed set Irene off too. By the time Paul had cum again, and Irene's growth had stopped, she had developed tits that dwarfed her head - assets that complemented her huge ass and hips.

She collapsed in sleep next to him. He held her giant new tits and pressed against her plush ass until he finally passed out too.

The next morning, Irene left her husband sleeping, dressed and headed out to work. Her clothes were unable to hide the extreme curves she had developed, and all eyes were drawn to her cleavage and swaying rump.

But something had changed inside Irene too. She was aware of the attention her augmented body was receiving, but she was more aware of the bodies of the people around her - women especially. She could almost feel the size and weight of their bodies as she passed near, detect their confidence or their dissatisfaction. During her lunch break, she sat at a window table watching people pass. A woman stopped by a lamppost nearby, stretching her skinny legs in a break from her run. She was pretty, thought Irene, even dressed for exercise in yoga pants and hoodie.

Irene reached out emotionally, and before she even realised it she was swimming in her self-doubt, irrational concern for her looks, anxiety about being compared to her curvaceous friends... Irene was struck with a need to help her. 

As the woman held the lamppost for balance and stretched her hamstrings, her calves began to thicken, becoming shapely. Then her thighs, stretching out the yoga pants. Then her arse, swelling and spreading into luxurious new dimensions. The woman gingerly felt at her transformed legs, and Irene noted the gasp of pleasure as her breasts expanded, pushing out the fabric of her hoodie until it rode up, exposing the trim stomach she had retained. 

Irene blinked and looked at her hands, which radiated a dull but familiar glow for a few moments. Aghast, Irene understood that she had changed the woman, bent her body to her own ideal. And yet Irene's pussy quivered - she was aroused at the power she had exerted over a stranger, at the incredible shape that she had bestowed on her, the reflection of her own amazing form.

Irene went into the small café bathroom and locked the stall door before plunging her hand feverishly into her panties, finding her pussy already wet. The residual power in her hands dissipated into her cunt, fattening her clit and labia, tightening the tunnel of her vagina. The power was intoxicating. What she had done to the woman was wrong, but it felt so right. Irene worked her fat, wet pussy to a rapid orgasm, her cum oozing down her thick thighs. She bit into the leather strap of her handbag to stop herself from crying out in pleasure.

Walking out of the café, Irene already know she was going to do it again.

From then on, Irene was unstoppable. There seemed to be no limit to the amount she could use her power, and any woman within about ten metres of her could be changed. By the end of her first day thicckening women, she'd stopped worrying about their feelings. She just wanted to change them.

In a department store, Irene waited in a queue for the changing rooms. Three women were ahead of her - a skinny twenty-something carrying a striped woollen dress; a glamorous woman in her thirties with a white bodice, and an eighteen year old school girl with a white blouse. The previous occupants left, and those three entered. Irene decided that they would emerge very differently.

Even through the closed booth door, Irene could feel the thin woman assessing herself. The dress clung to her narrow body, the swell of her small, bra-less breasts and her slinky hips emphasised by the material. The woman was happy. Irene wanted to give her more. She concentrated, willing the woman to grow, pushing her butt out backwards, increasing the girth of her hips. The woman gasped as her thigh gap closed, her strong and shapely legs squeezing together. Her ass was a shelf now, firm and high, and she reached back to grab it - the new weight surprising to her. Then her breasts began to swell, going from barely-there to full, round melons in seconds. She didn't want this! She loved her little titties, her girlfriend loved them too! She didn't want big cow tits with thick nipples that rubbed against the woollen dress, sending pulses of pleasure directly to her clit...

Irene felt her conflict, felt the disgust and pleasure emanating simultaneously from the changing room. It fed her. She squeezed her legs together. The next one would be the glamorous woman... Irene knew what she could do for her.

That woman was trying on fitted white underwear, meant to look good for her husband. She'd worked hard to maintain a slim, elegant figure her whole life, and she was proud of her C-cup breasts and toned waist. As she approached 40, those cakes and chocolates seemed ever more tempting, but she'd always managed to resist. She admired herself, the cling of the material to her tight ass. She held up her phone to take a picture, just in time to capture her body bulging out.

Weight poured onto her, her tits bearing the most of it. Her formerly firm boobs now swung and bounced in her clothes, her small nipples spreading, poking through the fabric. She now sported a pair of huge hangers. Her belly pushed out a little, just a sweet soft paunch to match her breasts and newly chubby thighs. "All that work, all that denial," she murmured to herself glumly, before realising that there was no reason not to buy that brownie now.

Just one more to change, thought Irene, contemplating the girl in booth three. She was young, short and curvy, already carrying a pair of D-cups around. Not enough, thought Irene. I'm going to make her the darling of her school, thought Irene. She pushed her mind past the girl's normal teenaged anxieties, through the specific worries about boys and her friends, and into the core of the girl's nearly completed puberty. Irene turned it up.

The blouse that the girl was trying on suddenly felt tight. Much too tight. The buttons were pulling, and the girl felt the jiggly meat of her breasts spreading, tumbling out of her inadequate bra, squeezing together, straining the material. Pop! A button gave way, leaving her boobs a little more room to grow. They took it, surging outward - Pop! Pop! Two more burst, revealing the distended red vest she wore underneath now packed with titflesh. Even constrained by both the shirt and the vest, her breasts now hung wider than her shoulders, stood out a clear foot in front of her. Mega-tits, the girl thought, I've got mega-tits. 

She popped her head out of the booth smiling at the assistant. "I'm going to need a bigger size," she called. "Probably five sizes up?"

Irene couldn't take it anymore. When she got a chance, she shot into the changing rooms and once again had to flick herself off to the thought and sense memories of the women she'd changed.

About a week later, the papers were picking up reports of women in around the city changing rapidly, growing big breasts and asses. A couple of transformations were even caught on CCTV. Though no-one knew who was responsible, the press gave Irene the nickname 'The Thicckener' and the police vowed to catch her. Half the women were delighted, and half were furious, traumatised even. Irene knew it was wrong but didn't want to stop - she was made to change them, to fatten their bodies, to unleash super mammaries, to inject junk into every trunk.

She got more mischievous as she became more adept with her powers. She told Paul everything, and he took every story as fuel for his fantasy. Not only did he now have the perfect wife, hugely curvaceous and with a sex drive through the roof, his wife was making more women like her. Every day his city had more and more women of freakish proportions, there was film of them on TV and pictures in the paper, all because of his wife.

Irene rode Paul's face and jacked him off, his nose inside her pussy as he licked her clit. "I want to do it again, right now," she confessed. "I'll cum so hard on your fucking face if I can do it now!" She reached out with her feelings, getting nothing. It was late at night, and her neighbours - who maybe she could change at this range - were sleeping. They weren't feeling anything, so she couldn't really interact with them.

Unless... Unless she could use her powers differently. Maybe she could push out a feeling, then receive it back - like emotional echo-location. Irene held out her hands, palms facing left and right, pointing to the walls of her house. A thought of sexual fulfillment, of desire, of fertility... Jane, her neighbour on the left, was a thirty year old newlywed and trying for a baby. Polly in the house on the right was a college student, living with her dad. Both would be amazing with huge tits.

The women caught Irene's vibrations. Jane, lying beside her husband, was freshly fucked, her pussy full of cum. She was sleeping soundly when her dreams turned to swelling, growing, her expectation of changing in pregnancy, the echoes of her orgasm still in her body rippling over fecund flesh... Irene felt her, and seized her chance.

Jane lay on her back, her ample breasts free under the silk sheets of her marital bed. They rolled gently in circles with Jane's breathing, nipples tracing small circles. The circles increased in size as they shook more, small pink areola stretching, pulling the nipples wider too. The flesh jiggled more and more, and Jane awoke, at first thinking something was sitting on her chest. "Oh fuck!" she cried, as two huge tits now wobbled and shook free of the sheets.

Polly too was susceptible. She was alone in bed, but was thinking about Gabriel, her first long term boyfriend. They'd been seeing each other most nights, and things were getting hotter between them. She loved the feel of his strong hands on her body, grabbing her tits... Irene felt that. 

"Honey, don't stop," she told Paul. "You've got me right at the edge and I'm giving the women next door huge tits and I can't wait to just gush all over you."

Polly awoke to the sensation of her skin stretching, bouncing. In a couple of moments she realised what was happening - she'd been following the story since the thicckenings began. She'd even fantasised about this very thing, her tits growing beyond the confines of her clothes. She pulled at the purple vest she wore to bed, loose when she put it on but now straining, the straps digging into her shoulders. Polly pulled the front down violently and two true monster knockers popped free, rolling up and down on her body. By the time they stopped, each was larger than her head.

Polly was frightened and awed by the sight of her big new tits, but it didn't stop her hand from slipping into the waistband of her pyjama bottoms and between the lips of hot pussy.

"Nearly there," grunted Irene, riding her man's face with abandon. "Need to do it... again..." She could feel Jane waking her husband, squashing her new tits into his face, feeling him latch on to a nipple. She could feel Polly, groping herself with one hand and stretching her pussy with a dildo with the other. Irene took these sensations and felt them amplify her power.

Over the street, Irene felt Cammie and Idina, a young lesbian couple, making out. They must have been 60 or 70 metres from where Irene and Paul were. Oh god, these girls could use an upgrade, thought Irene.

Both girls were svelte and athletic. Cammie had breast implants, modest ones, and Idina loved them. Cammie loved Idina's long legs and high, pointed tits. Neither was thicc in any way. Irene decided to change that.

Cammie's tongue was working Idina's pussy, dancing over her clit while her hands cupped her girlfriend's tight ass. A heat radiated through both women, and Cammie began to feel the flesh in her hands jiggle and spread. She lifted her head. "Jesus, Iddy, your ass is growing. It's getting huge."

"Nnnnnh yeah I can feel it! It's good! It's good right?" Idina looked to Cammie for a kind word, but found her eyes rolled back as she too experienced an orgasmic expansion of her butt, hips and thighs.

"It's happening to me too! It's that thing from the news, the thicckening! We caught it! It feels so fucking great!" Cammie got onto all fours and Idina moved next to her. Their asses were wide now, fleshy and soft.

Their ass cheeks touched, and they each shivered with delight. They moved their bodies round, facing away from each other, and began grinding their big new asses together. The sensation of their huge, bouncy new butts sliding and squeezing soon had them going crazy, fingering one another's pussies and assholes in a tryst that lasted until dawn.

Back across the street, Irene gushed over Paul's face, just like she had promised. Paul lay back, soaked and gibbering softly to himself. "Big ass, big tits, thick thighs... Thiccer is better... Need that big ass..." She held him as they drifted off to sleep.

The next morning there was a knock at the door. A police officer asked if Irene knew that four other women nearby had been thicckened during the night. Irene played dumb. "And has this also happened to you?" the officer asked, eyeing Irene's extreme figure.

"Yes, about a week ago," replied Irene. "I didn't report it because... well... I like it." The officer nodded slowly, her peaked cap obscuring the look in her eyes.

"And your husband - we understand he hasn't been in work for the last few days. Is he here?"

This wasn't what Irene thought was going to happen. Paul was the reason behind Irene's powers of transformation, the device he'd brought home would surely be missed. Both of them were potentially identifiable as the source of the thicckening. Still, Irene did her best to retain her cool.

"Paul's sick in bed, the flu. Even I'm not going near him right now!"

The police officer looked Irene in the eye. She was pretty, thought Irene. It was oh so tempting to give her a tweak, just stretch her ass out a little, maybe overload her bra... No! She needed restraint.

"Thanks for your time, ma'am," said the police officer. "Please get in touch if you have anything you'd like to talk about."

Closing the door, Irene headed upstairs to see Paul. He was in bed, masturbating again. "Tits," he moaned. "Big wide hips and round asses...." Since the device exploded, he'd been different, thought Irene. Of course, Irene had changed shape more, but Paul had gone one-track. Sex, wanking, worshipping his wife's body and that was it. She sat next to him and laid her hand on his head. He grunted at the contract, and reached up to grab her tits.

"Big tits..." he whined, "more tits. I... I want huge tits. I want a big ass! Change me too, please!" Irene was taken aback. She hadn't changed a man, and didn't even know if she could. She looked into his feelings as she did with women, getting nothing.

No, not nothing. An echo of an echo, something radiating from him at a very different frequency. She laid her forehead against his and concentrated.

There it was. Emanating from Paul, a message of desperation and pain. When the device had exploded, the beam had overpowered Irene. But the explosion had blasted Paul in the face... his brain was damaged or changed somehow. Perhaps some latent hormones or intrinsic biology had been affected? He'd become fixated on Irene's extreme figure because his brain needed to be connected to one. His brain was a curvaceous, stacked woman's brain. Maybe, Irene thought - maybe that will make it possible. If Paul were to disappear, hidden permanently in the body of a woman, it might shift suspicion away from Irene. She could tell the police that Paul had gone.

"I'm going to try, honey," she whispered to him. "If it's what you really want."

"I want to be a big assed, thick thighed woman. Make me into one! Make me into a titty monster!" His cries seemed desperate now. Irene focused, mentally said goodbye to her husband's dick, and began to try to change him. Paul jerked around, his muscles spasming, his coffee coloured skin suddenly drenched in sweat. He rolled onto his front, gripping his genitals in what was clearly considerable pain. Irene could see her husband's body change shape.

First he seemed to concertina down, his torso and legs shortening but bulging out at the same time. Meat began packing onto his ass, his legs becoming tapered from thigh to ankle. His waist, always pretty trim, filled out a little, a complimentary curve inwards above the radical swell of his hips. With crunches that sounded to Irene quite horrific, Paul's hands and feet compressed into equivalents only half the size they were.

He rolled back over, holding up his reducing hands in shock. "It's... it's working!" Paul's voice cracked, jumping in pitch, and Irene could actually see his adam's apple, once prominent, shrink and smooth. "Oh god! I can feel myself becoming a woman!"

His body bucked and jerked under Irene's glowing hands - every other change had been smooth and fast in comparison, she thought. But of course, she was altering many of the fundamentals of his entire biology, she wasn't just slapping a big pair of tits on him. Although... she was going to do that too.

She spread her fingers, and willed the flesh to bulge from Paul's chest. Peaks jiggling like jelly surged up, his skin stretching so much that he felt it might just rip, his nipples stretching in a moment of true torture before they settled thick and fat on two huge fat tits. Shaking, Paul looked down his body, shorter and thiccer, past the big jugs and his soft tummy, to the spent limp cock between his wide, womanly hips.

"Irene! It's opening, opening up inside me! I can feel it! Fuuuuck! My pussy is growing out from my insides!" Paul was gasping, crying, screwing his face up in some bizarre orgasmic junction of agony and delight. Each flex of his facial muscles, each grimace brought a change with it - his eyes growing, cheeks rising, lips plumping. On top of his head, hair spilled from his formerly shaved scalp, blonde with the glow of his wife's unnatural powers. "It's almost here! My cu-uu--uuuunnnnt!" 

Paul's hands shot back to his genitals and, fingers first, began shoving them violently into his body, forcing his balls into the widening cavity developing behind them. "Argh! Haaaahn!" Each cry followed the pop of a testicle inside him, his fingertips following them inside as the stretched skin around the new hole moistened and wrinkled into labia. Paul pushed deeper and deeper, opening the new pussy up with three fingers of his dainty new hand. He then began working the remnants of his dick, the tiny nub flexibly retracting, closing over, becoming his clitoris. Wetness sprayed over his thighs, the evidence of his first female orgasm.

Irene stood back cautiously, her hands cooling down, and allowed the new woman to stand. She was small, not quite five feet, but the thicckness of her body radiated womanhood. She walked over to the mirror on tiny feet, and after admiring herself for a moment slipped into a pair of Irene's heels.

She hoisted up her huge breasts, hugging them to herself. "I'm a queen..." whispered the hottie that had been Paul. Irene admired the woman she had made from her broken husband.

"You're irresistible," Irene said, slipping off her clothes and pressing her body against the fledgling woman. "I want you as my queen, my Cleopatra." They kissed, beautiful fat lips dragging together, wet tongues searching each others mouths.

"Cleo... I like that name." And just as Paul had led Irene to bed when they married, Cleo led Irene to the same bed. They made love like only thicc women can, using hefty tits and bouncy asses to please each other, relishing in the fleshy heaven they shared.

A week later, when the police came to arrest Paul on a charge of theft, and on suspicion on being The Thicckener, they found an empty house.

On the other side of the world, in a place with less medical oversight and less questions asked, Cleo and Irene were establishing a consulting clinic on body shaping.

So if you see a woman with a particularly heavy ass...

...or perhaps a pair of melons that stretch a woollen sweater to breaking point...

...or get messaged by an old friend who seems to have put on weight in all the right places...

...well maybe you know a client of The Thicckener.