A DAY AT THE BRONY CONVENTION

– Alright, we're finally ready to open – just in time for the big rush!

I'm standing out by the checkout table in my snappy little company uniform, sprucing up my cozy little workspace, doing my best to distract myself from the great pulling weight on my chest and the gnawing, uneasy feeling festering in the pit of my stomach. Our friendly storefront display looks buoyant, chipper, happy and delightful, brimming over with bright, gleaming pony merch, carefully indexed & organized, all cleaned up, spick n' span & ready to go.

In my snazzy jet-black button-up workclothes & my tiny tight purple pajama shorts, I feel like a sexy airline stewardess or Japanese café hostess. My big, straight-cut mauve tail arcs gracefully from my perky rear-end like a pink-and-plum-ribboned heliotrope rainbow, perfectly balancing out my muted equine snout and dazzlingly lurid top-heavy hourglass figure. As Twilight Emporium's buxom little shopgirl mascot, it's my job to make sure business keeps running smoothly at the cash register.

I can't wait to finally start helping customers!

– Ahh, and not a moment too soon! The serum bound to your DNA ought to be entering its next fertile phase right... about... now!

It's that evil voice again.

– And my, my! An ample line of prospective buyers has already formed!

It's true. A long queue of bronies has formed, eagerly waiting for us to open shop. The line curls across the room and down the hall, out of sight.

– I wonder which of your little store's impressive goods on display must have attracted so many...?

I get the feeling she might be referring to my boobs. I clutch the big, showy outcroppings of my burdensome JJ cup chest nervously.

– Yes... I have a feeling those very same assets might very well be expected to experience a little net growth quite soon...

That long line of bronies. They're here to see my tits. And, deep in their subconscious, they want to see them grow. I can feel it in my heart – literally. It's pounding on overdrive. Pumping vital fluids into my chest.

My shirt begins to feel a little uncomfortable.

– Sooner than soon...!

I hear the owner's impatient voice calling testily from behind.

– Hey, what are you waiting for?? Start helping those customers!!

So I do.

Brony after horny brony leers at my chest as I cheerfully assist them in paying for whatever random trinket they've hastily whisked from our immaculate shelves. I'm getting the funny feeling that many of them aren't even aware of what they're purchasing. And all the while, the gap between my upper uniform buttons is steadily widening.

My boobs are growing again. Much slower this time.

Perched behind the cash register, I'm doing my best to be as polite as possible – I'm posing for a lot of photo ops – but some customers are really rude. One guy even asked me point-blank if I'd had a boob job! I told him to PM my Insta account later & I'd send him an album of nudes & PROVE they're all-natural – that shut him up!! Another guy insisted I grab a Luna doll off the top shelf for him – despite the fact that he was way taller than me! Jeeeeez, some people... anyway, remembering how things went for me the last time I tried getting shit from that shelf, I got my manager to do it for me. The guy seemed really bummed!

Ugh...

My heart keeps beating faster & faster the whole time I'm standing here, saturating my swollen breasts with fresh nutrients & blood. I'm starting to sweat a lot again. My nipples are easily visible through my shirt. They're really sore! I'm having trouble focusing – for some reason, every guy I talk to seems to have an erection throbbing in his pants – I can't stop fantasizing about sucking customers' dicks!!

Plus, lots of guys keep asking me to hold up a sign with the date & time while they take a video of me with their cellphone. This seems really odd. One guy wanted me to shake my fucking titties back & forth while I held the sign!! WTF!! ... I did it, but my shirt nearly burst open in the process. I'm not doing that again...

I'm just a busty gal I guess!

Sigh...

I'm kinda starting to get bored.

One dude leaves, another dude rolls up. It's a neverending stream of losers... fuck... I've been here 40 goddamn minutes, and my boobs are really starting to hurt now... My bra looks like it's morphing to accommodate their growth, but for some reason this time my shirt isn't – it's really starting to pinch my chest!

The line of customers isn't shrinking either. They just keep coming! A deep line of cleavage is easily visible through the gaps of my struggling shirt... as is my new heavy-duty nylon bra. My buttons are barely holding on for dear life. Once again, my bust heaves forward with an immense jiggle of breath-interrupting growth... now they're practically at my belly-button!! The huge nubs of my nipples seem to flourish with fresh nerve-endings, forming a direct line to my sopping wet pussy.

UGH!! No matter how I try, I simply can't take my eyes off the parade of erect cocks filling up the jeans before me.

They're all staring at my chest...

When this one guy with an especially huge bulge in his pants steps up to the cash register, I can't help myself. I'm practically foaming at the mouth. I'm so sure everyone can see how horny I am...

And they all want a piece.

Suddenly, without warning, my boobs positively lurch forward... this has to be my biggest growth surge yet! The drastically overworked buttons of my pert little outfit give way, ricocheting out in all directions like swift projectile bullets, knocking over merchandise, setting my big fat titties free at last from their suffocating prison, leaving the huge white cups of my straining bra the only barrier between my bloated, easily visible, bloodfat nipples and this brisk, cruel draft of cool convention air...

The hungry bronies leer.

...

Nope!

Like a terrified deer fleeing a mob of ravenous wolves, I abandon my front counter trophy-pedestal to find my absent Boss ASAP – those fuckers can wait!! Navigating my overgrown busoms around like a pair of obnoxious, jutting parade floats, every plodding footstep sends a vigorous shockwave through my painfully bloated, veiny, pulsating knockers, tugging at my shoulders and really messing with my sense of balance. My center of gravity has noticeably shifted.

When I find the Boss, he's calculating profits.

My chest radiates an intense pleasure-pain. It's still growing.

I grit my teeth.

– Sir... I think I need to... go on a break...

***

Alone in their hotel room, The Mango Sisters sit brooding over Essy's smartphone. Their photo op table had failed to attract anywhere near as many customers as anticipated.

– That stupid slut stole all our business!

– Who the fuck is this girl??

Essy flicks her thumb across the results of a Google search.

– Apparently she's all the rage in the brony community at the moment... and the cosplay community... and the porn community...

– "Thicc Celestia Cosplayer Shakes Her Ass", "HOT Princess Celestia XXX BIG Busty Workout EXCLUSIVE", "Top-Heavy Pegasister Sun Princess Jogging And Bouncing HD", "Busty Princess Celestia Jiggles Her Massive J Cup Tits"... you think Herbie actually asked for her cup size before he uploaded that last one?

– Over 90,000 views in less than 3 hours on all of them...

– That opportunistic little fuck...!

– Ugh, here's her Instagram... Holy shit!!

– What??

– This bitch has over 200,000 followers!!

– T-that's impossible! That's over half as much as us!!

Essy shakes her head.

– Those fucking idiots... I mean, she's got to be stuffing, right? Or photoshop? I mean, how could her boobs grow so much...

– ... in just one day...

Their eyes meet, wide with disbelief. Issy resumes.

– You know, she's only going to get more followers when that fucking Equestria Daily piece drops...

Essy flicks her thumb.

– Oh no...

– What?

– It already has.

She scrolls through the article.

– Fuck... just as I thought... hardly anything in here about us at all... just that fucking group shot and a couple of pics with the three of us... we're practically a footnote!! It's like "Hey, remember The Mango Sisters?? Well, forget them!! Here's a chick with even bigger titties!!"

– ... as if we're passing the fucking mantle...

– And it's all written with that squeaky-clean pseudo-professionalist bullshit. Like, "We know there's been a lot of 'buzz' lately around this bitch and we know her titties are growing and she's a pegasister, but this is an all-ages blog and our only intent is to honor the amazing cosplay talent of bronies & pegasisters the world over of all colors, shapes, & sizes, and to express our love & tolerate blah blah blah..."

– What a crock of horseshit!

– Yeah, doesn't stop them from dropping a link to her lewd Instagram... prominently... Fuck...

She flicks her thumb.

– Looks like she's doing Twilight now... and her boobs are even bigger! Again!!

***

I'm back in the bathroom... again.

My boobs have finally stopped growing. For now.

They're still burning. I'm massaging them in an attempt to ease the pain, kneading & rubbing at the swollen flesh, muttering to myself, wincing at their increased sensitivity.

– Oh God... they grew so much...! Ow... ow... owiee...!

Slowly the intense, searing, prickling sensation begins to subside.

– Ah...

No more pain...

Except my back aches a ton... and with huge "assets" like these, that pain'll probably NEVER go away.

Ugh...

I look in the mirror.

They're bigger than my head.

I look down.

I can't see my feet.

...

These things are way too big.

I look like a blow-up sex doll...

My bra has apparently given up on trying to look sexy. Its off-white, strictly-utilitarian cups struggle bravely against the tremendous weight of my bust.

I'm terrified to look at the tag.

...

I'm a LL cup.

My God.

With a figure like this, what kind of life will I be able to lead??

This body is a walking advertisement for sex...

Sigh...

I suppose I could be a stripper...

... or a pornstar...

... or a prostitute...

I frown, pressing my breasts together, feeling their weight. Each obscene lobe proves entirely impossible to prop up with just one hand – copious lumps of titflesh keep spilling out from my grip. Below, my absurdly slender, svelte waist flares up just beyond my cute little button navel into an unspeakably lavish pair of lurid, fecund hips crowned by an astonishingly plump, pornographic, positively hip-hop-tier tushie, finally tapering off into a slim & salacious set of supple, lascivious legs. I'm a living, breathing wet dream.

...

I've got to get out of this fuck machine... NOW.

...

But I don't budge.

Instead, I rest a hand on my hip, turning and checking myself out in the mirror. My posture slumps noticeably forward under the immense, pulling weight of my breasts. My compact body's petite frame is clearly having a bit of trouble supporting their increased mass.

Hm...

What else could I do with this body?

I feel an odd twinge deep within my lower tummy – my womb. I feel the ancient answer rising up from deep within my bosom.

...

I could be a Mommy.

A sudden image of myself nursing two tiny infants, one for each oversized breast, flashes in my mind's eye.

No... no... it's just too weird to think about!

And yet...

I reach into my utility-cupped bra, mindlessly stroking the grape-sized nubs of my huge nipples. I imagine what it must feel like to have a baby suckling them. I circle my wide, fist-sized areolae with my fingers, feeling the tiny bumps of my superabundant sebaceous glands. Their unbelievable sensitivity nearly knocks me to the floor – soon enough I'm leaning heavily on the sink, holding myself up with one hand, kneading my pussy hard against the countertop, panting, drooling in ecstasy, deliriously fondling my own tits from within the cups of my enormous, constricting bra.

Maybe I should just take it off...

I reach behind my back and undo the great clasps of my big white bra. Then I slowly slide it off, seeing for the first time my own bare tits in the mirror.

They're beautiful.

Thick, round mounds, volleyball-sized teardrops hanging like big ripe pendulous melons from my chest.

Although liberally pocked by long, prominent stretchmarks – and a huge, angry red streak crossing them horizontally where my bra had pinched sharply into my skin – I'm absolutely awestruck.

My stiff, hardened nipples tingle deliciously in the cool, naked air. My big breasts rise & fall succulently in time with my bated breath, trembling softly in rhythm with the pounding pulse of my heart.

I begin to play with them, trying to heft the left one with my right hand. I grab it by the base and lift, stifling a gasp as my feeble grip triggers brand-new clusters of tender, sensitive nerve endings. My tiny hand is no match for its sheer bulk; the entire top half spills heavily from my grip like an outsize beanbag filled with squishy gelatin.

Even with two hands, I can only lift just one. It's heavy.

I can't let my loyal fans miss out on all the fun. Covering (most of) my nipples with one arm and the palm of my hand, I snap a quick pic of my skooshed, bra-less boobies for Instagram. They're so big, my skinny arm can scarcely contain them.

I love them.

They make me feel incredibly sexy... and powerful. An alpha female. Able to fuck pretty much any man I feel like; accepting only the best genes into my sacred womb. Even though they're painfully impractical, and they keep getting in the way, and they render my thoughts, hopes, dreams, & personality utterly inconsequential, and they're starting to make the simple act of walking through a crowd feel more like a travelling carnival freakshow exhibit – with tits this big, I am a goddess.

I imagine them growing even bigger. Producing milk. Feeding a newborn.

Sigh...

I wonder if my titties will ever make milk...?

They're so big, I bet if they wanted to they could make a whole bunch of yummy milk!

So much yummy milk, I'd need a whole bunch of babies just to drink it all...

Experimentally, I lift a quivering lobe to my lips and begin to suck greedily on my own fat, puckered nipple. The overwhelming sensation of moist suction pretty much buckles my knees, nearly knocking me to the floor in a daze.

...

What would it feel like to have a baby?

Suppose I could give birth to triplets! – Wouldn't that be wonderful?

Or perhaps quadruplets?

After all, this body was definitely built for sex. I could stick a fist through my thigh gap without touching the sides – a veritable landing-strip for cock. My hips are wide & flexible – ready to open and receive; a clear signal of fertility. Birthing hips. Childbearing hips.

Breeding material.

Suddenly a brutal, cramping pain wrenches my stomach.

What now??

I feel a thick, gooey, unfamiliar substance begin to make its way down the inner wall of my vagina.

...

Holy shit.

I'm on the rag!!