Secret Nightclub

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Submitted: June 10, 2015

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Content

Submitted: June 10, 2015

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Anya’s fingers moved, and a deep thrum began to emanate from the speakers. It was a low, raunchy resonance, laying down the foundation for what was to come. The rest of the band soon added their instruments, and the slow funk slickly filled the hall air.

Now even the louder members of the audience were taken into a new stupor. A hush fell over them as Anya’s low, husky voice began to croon the first lines of ‘Black Velvet’ as she sashayed gently towards the centre stage. A dusk of blue light, thick with the fog of dry ice, dappled her path and reflecting off the black leather outfit. The bait was dropped.

As she moved, the sultriness of her voice carried through into the movements on her bass guitar. Her fingers slid up the fretboard, and the rhythm pulsed anew, building upon itself. The audience was entranced now, fully hers for the taking.

The frequency enticed and overcame, and the crowd before her swayed only lightly from some preternatural instinct. Like the roar of a tiger, it left no room for rational thought. With her foot she gently pressed down on a pedal, and the speakers at the back of the ballroom came to life, slowly swelling the chamber with sound.

As it washed over them, at the back of minds a tingling was felt. The bassline was so heavy, so overwhelming. Sweat began to gather at foreheads, and breathing to become ragged, in time to quickening heartbeats. 

Anya’s- no, the voice, impelled and impassioned. A chord within the listeners was struck, and then they began to respond to the commands.

Men shuddered at the front of the crowd as they felt themselves, already somewhat intoxicated with arousal at this vision, grow harder still. The verses alternated. The ladies were on each second one hit with a euphoric heat deep within, and nipples pointed tense and loins became moist. A chorus of sighs of varying cadences escaped them.

Anya could observe their reaction, and nodded to Ivan, the drummer. He slowed his fills and closed the snare drum, while increasing the hits on the bass drum. There was hardly any need. By this point the band were infused with their own sound as it was, and all that was left was to carry their eager fans further.

This was pink noise.

The waves rose, and all through the room garments began to tighten. The males felt their trousers bulge at the crotch, their erections pressing hot and hard outwards, further than they ever had before. A trickle began to gather in the panties of the women there, and the room seemed to shrink a little as their bodies too began to push outwards in firm piles of pliant titflesh.

None were fully aware or conscious at this point, and gone was the chatter of anticipation that had filled the entrance of the Amsterdam nightclub. They were wired to the speakers, gushing with the sonority. Anya, though not undergoing any transformations herself, began to tremble as the tide of a pent up orgasm began to ache below the carved mahogany that had become a part of her.

In the middle a tall, dark haired man, surrounded on all sides, blinked and gulped for a moment as he felt a twinge as his cock hit the ten inch mark. A little ahead of the majority of others, an almost cognisant thought approached his mind, before his manhood met the cold steel of his zipper as he burst through his boxers. Muscles had begun to lightly ripple through his arms, and his fists clenched once before he was enveloped back into the fold.

On the right the thick, black rimmed glasses of a tipsy girl, over on a break from the prestigious university she attended, tipped askew. She had carefully studied the terms before entering, but no amount of schooling in the field of law prepared her for the elation she felt as her wool sweater dragged over her rising nipples. She had started out the night as a generous C cup, and had nurtured that bounty with a few too many pints of beer. Her long, blonde hair, curled into ringlets for the evening, fell to the sides of her chest. It pushed out, filling with every note. She wobbled on her high heels momentarily, before some sixth sense refound her new centre of gravity, adjusting her to the pair of Fs riding high on her chest. 

Buttons pinged beside her from the more jerky growth another woman experienced. The psychologist’s deep eyes, normally filled with understanding, were glazed beneath a film of lust. Her lips moved in echo to the words, growing fuller with each syllable. She sounded sibilances with a tongue that had grown just a little longer and more agile behind her now bee-stung lips. The cupid’s bow pinched a little in tandem with her deepening cleavage, and her tongue, like her eyes, rolled back, the former encountering a severely diminished gag reflex. Her hands found purchase on her breasts, which had bloomed from a flat canvas into a swirl of contour. In time with Anya, she moved along a scale, punctuating harmonics by worrying each nipple. Her body began to sag from the indescribable pleasure was indescribable, but the top heaviness of her new D cups above a slimmed waist was soon righted by a boom from below. She would later spend much time analysing why she had kept her old pencil skirt and she scribbled notes in the book she hoped to publish. The cloth was even now stretching, and there was no hope on Earth that she would be able to pull the skirt down over her increasingly massive booty. Her ass pushed out, firming and delectable, smooth with a hint of muscle beneath a gentle layer of body fat, without the slightest hint of cellulite. The white linen shirt had long exploded, and the pushup bra would surely be next. Somewhere in her mind she looked forward to that, and would have smiled if she weren’t too busy groaning as she came.

Anya’s bandmates were fuelled by the crowd, and sought to play ever more powerfully, embellishing each new crescendo. Janks, the lead guitarist, bobbed her head, luxuriant in her new body. She had finally had her last operation, and was now fully a woman where it counted. She had only wished that she too could be subjected to the changes, but for this they all of The Muses needed to be playing, and it didn’t work on them at that time. Even so, they all felt the backlash of ecstasy from the crowd sledgehammering into them. As she pushed down hard on the tremolo, she saw Ivan crash down on the cymbals, and upon releasing it back up a sound pervaded even through the dense atmosphere, joining and combining with it. Turning her head she saw the pants of several men in the front row split clean open and foot long cocks began to jut forward. The sight made her lick her lips a little, and she gave them a special treat. A series of quick hammer-ons and pull-offs saw veins bulge, and their hulking members, gained significant girth to match the new impressive length.

Only Janks could ever really maintain much composure from the players. Anya was beside herself, and occasionally stopped to play one handed as she fondled herself. When she began to play a solo with each hand, her strumming drove most beyond the brink too, and a few below found themselves entangled with others in similar passion.

A bombshell whose flaming red hair was now well past her knees straddled a man whose bulging muscles had shredded asunder his entire suit, leaving only his tie in place. As she lifted a leg and began to lower herself on to his massive meat, it seemed as if her knees were sliding up beside his torso. As she sunk on to his dick, an elephantine monstrosity of easily sixteen inches and counting, her body began to expand to take on the challenge. Her pussy wetly sucked at the penis, as around her bodies became sexier in all manner of ways, and she moaned, eyes closed, the pale freckles standing out on her slightly reddened skin. The white strobes flashed twice before she raised herself and let out a yell, spearing herself upon the shaft. That action put her from a leggy 5’10 to the height of a small giantess, easily seven feet tall by any estimation. She ground down on to him, determined to take him to the very hilt, boosting her at least another foot. Below her the Adonis pushed, every muscle straining on his shadowed form. His biceps swelled enormously, and he let out a growl as he flipped her humongous form, several inches taller than a moment before, right on to her back, his cock still inside her the whole time. His back could be seen glistening, wide as an axe handle, and vibrated with the muscles as they worked, thrusting into the growing redhead. A spray of ejaculation forced her to yield, whimpering in pleasure as he fucked her, on and on, becoming instantly hard each time he came. This concert would be a long one.

The law student still stood in the spot, shaking. Her wool sweater, still holding together by some miracle, was drenched in sweat. Her breasts pushed out, huge on her frame, and the pale brown of her areolae could be seen through the increasing gaps in the fibre. The feeling, like white hot needles pressing into her libido, had rendered her completely rigid, else she might simply collapse under it. Her somewhat narrow, almond eyes, formerly almost black, were open now, vacant but for a fire blazing beneath the now icy coloured surface. The petite girl stood there, her dyed ringlets unfurling again slowly in the heat, the heat she was in. Her mammaries were glorious, her bust now measuring in feet, and still on they pushed out. Unlike many others, nothing had changed aside from her eyes, and she was otherwise an ordinary looking oriental girl. Each breast, however, starting just below her delicate collar bone, currently fell in an exquisite teardrop shape to below her waist. Also, unlike many, her back had not gained appropriate musculature to withstand their weight, and soon she would be pulled over by them. This was what, in the depths of her eros, she waited for. She had quivered at the prospect, yet now was like a statue, still but for the flood of manila threatening to burst from beneath the sweater. She was out of control now, no longer having to be efficient and on top of things. Soon they would be on top of her.

A copper coloured Hispanic pair flexed as they went beyond body builder proportions. The man and woman were a pair of twins, and their bodies were even now moving in unison. They had each discovered a partner, the male being taken by a seductress whose hips, twice the width of the rest of her svelte form, were tightly coiled around his torso, pumping his iron rod for all it was worth. A derisive chuckle radiated from her as he groaned beneath her. Her legs gyrated back and forth, her ass heaving from past his knees and eliciting spurt after spurt of cum, but without a single sign from her of being satiated.

The sister, equally ripped at this point, had found a lithe younger man, at least ten years as well as inches her junior, and was grinding against him, hands splayed above her head. The lad, a normally quiet only child who spent his summers away from Harvard in Europe, was responding with equal vigour, running his delicate pianist’s fingers and orchestrating all over her body. Her abs rippled forth at his touch, multiplying from a four to a six and finally to an eight pack, eliciting a series of coos from her. However, the Peruvian was surprised when she wiggled her toned gluteus maximus against his groin to feel no hardness there. A primal urge drove her to try again. She spun in vexation and quickly collapsed before him, insensible in her need to get him hard, and had just pulled down his pants to see an average sized flaccid cock when, upon grabbing at it and pulling him toward her voracious maw, she was catapulted several feet backward by the monster that decimated his Y fronts. Their eyes locked, and he grinned, his white teeth dazzling in the stage lights.

The smell of her sex was potent, drawing to her partners of all shape and form, but the mentalist was too wrapped up in herself. She frantically masturbated, her head a vision of erotic imagery, a soundtrack to the music that was unlocking her innermost self. Her lips had stopped expanding some time ago, only to be replaced by the engorging of the other set. Her labia lapped at her fingers edaciously, and she grinned, pleasing herself as only she knew how. 

Frustrated lovers nearby congregated around a man in the remains of a cashmere shirt trying his utmost to jerk off as many horny cocks as possible. His own penis had seen to his own jeans, and only the belt remained girdled around his waist, the rest beneath him in Bukake pool to which he was now himself adding. 

The psychologist meanwhile loosed little screams to match Anya’s, though she did not come as fast or easily as the singer-bassist. The pencil skirt was ripped up the seam at the back, exposing the lower half of her massive rear. Her other hand groped at it, the hard grip feeling the expansion spread the fingers inexorably. Her thighs had thickened too, a curvaceous taper matching the magnificent posterior above it, while leaving a little extra on the shelf to enhance the bubble-butt look. Her thumb tore at her clit, ravaging it remorselessly, desperate for release. In the time it took her to come again Ivan had had to replace a drumstick which he had knocked out of his hand mid-orgasm. Anya had incorporated a titillating series of squeals into a vocal solo, spurring the crowd further.

In a corner a mass of ebony skin concealed an orgy. Blues notes and boob muffled the moans of a couple as their desperately fondled each other in between the hills of tit. Two each tongues stroked and licked the other’s labia, mouthed and delicately nibbled clits, and finally delved into more secret parts. Around them their breasts grew, further and further, seeking to outweigh their very bodies, with all signs of success. The floor there was slightly stained as one began, her very being surmounted by pleasure to exude pale fluid from her teats.

A broad and muscled back loomed, hair glistening. A middle-aged, bearded man grunted as his shoulders widened and his ass tightened, the muscles becoming ever denser. In front of him stood an hourglass in human form. Her hips were at least three feet in width, backed up by an ass that stuck out another couple of feet and quaking, ample thighs and calves. Her torso was ludicrously contained in a lace corset, the top of which had long since burst open to reveal the ripe melons within. Her slim waist, tiny by proportion, peeked out from between a gargantuan pair of boobs, which filled, roundly spilling put over the floor around her. The buxom wet dream was absorbed in rubbing and jiggling her tits all over the dong poking from the top of the cleavage. His dick was bigger than she was, save her tits. As if in competition, his member mushroomed out from the top, only for her to erupt further to encase the cock. At this point he, a seven foot titan, was aiding her in the titfuck him with one hand, and the other gripped the bangs of her pixie haircut until there was too much bap between them. His lady ballooned in the surprisingly diminished space and her ass colliding with another bloated form. A small chain reaction sequence later, the attention of a sizable group of spellbound listeners was piqued, initiating one of the first of several orgies.

This was why the band only performed live. Flesh boomed in every direction, dwarfing the act on stage. Yet on the music continued, ringing out to the audience, making them erupt further and further in sensual rapture. On and on the tune ran, and with the beat things just continued to get larger and life.

Anya was so engrossed in the song that she was unaware when a hand as large as her guitar shifted on to the stage and a huge finger began to rub her crotch through her jeans. Her reaction to the stimulation was to heighten the enchantment of her voice. The band members responded, and the music took on an ethereal quality. Other expanded members of the crowd had ended up closer to the stage, and some began to lavish the band members with their affectionate praise, the psychosomatic effects making sure, however, never to disrupt the integrity of the playing. Anya let loose a ripping cry, screaming “Bigger!” and began to moan as the slender finger continued to palpate her navel. Janks erupted into a guitar solo, being stroked on all sides by adoring males. ‘So many cocks, so little time,’ she thought to herself, allowing herself a brief moment to squeeze one, resulting in her being showered in an inordinate gush of semen.

It was a good thing this was a massive hall. The red head beneath the man was enormous, having been pumped up to unimaginable proportions through the setlist. And she was not the only one. A few men had grown too, but not to the proportions of the female giantess enthusiasts, who towered above the others. The largest must have exceeded thirty to forty feet, and was rapidly stretching further, her feet drifting down the length of the hall in a frenzy. The cold marble sent shocks along this giantess, and she lay there in her curtain of black hair, festooned with lovers as they played and sucked on her. Her attention was for Anya alone, to make her make her bigger. She caressed the singer’s pussy, alternating between roughness and gentleness. When, with amazing expertise, she slid down Anya’s skinny jeans, and probed further, Janks knew there was trouble. But alas, she was so confoundedly distracted. Still playing, she headbanged to the music she was making, up and down on a dick. This man had kept to a manageable size, and she dextrously took him whole, taking his cum, only to find him hard again and waiting again. She knew she had lost control, that the concert needed to end, and soon. She wondered if it were too late somewhere far back in her head.

Ivan too was long gone. His arms shot over the kit, drunk with pleasure. He was playing blind, purely through muscle memory, as his face was completely immersed in a rapidly enclosing sea of tit. Like a chorus, the audience’s moans joined with the bands. 

They had never had an audience this large, in both senses. Measures of feet were rapidly being replaced by yards, and even the hall was becoming rather cramped. The raven haired giantess was still the largest, and now even her pinkie was too big to slip in and out of Anya, but instead roamed her crotch, razing her clitoris. Cocks stretching longer than their owners, some of whom seemed to be walls of muscle, were all about. Never in history had there been such pieces of ass as were here either. Buttocks flared, the curves becoming sexier by the moment. No mortal could have stood their ground without being cripplingly turned on. Clothes at this point were virtually a joke from some distant past, and sopping rags could occasionally be seen.

A few of the stage lights had been smashed, and there were some holes in the stage itself, leaving only the flashing blue strobes. Fog billowed around the breasts around Ivan, and the entire hall was consumed by the aroma of sex. 

Janks blinked, once, twice, and looked down at the hard shaft in her mouth. She was almost fully aware of her surroundings, still a little hazy, and shut her eyes to clear her head. She did not stop moving up and down on the pole though. She opened them again, letting the cock pop from her lips and stood to look around her. It was a beautiful chaos. Her eyes flitted around, taking in the plethora of curves, hard and ample, before doing a double take. Some of the crowd were getting really big - Too big. 

The biggest concern (literally) was the woman pleasuring Anya. Anya was long beyond any sane control, and she could not even see Ivan behind the horde of busty females surrounding where his kit had been (and presumably still was, because the sound of the drums still crashed over the music), so Janks knew she would have to try and do something herself. She also knew that she could not safely stop playing, but that they would all need to stop at the same time. The only way to do that would be to cut the power she supposed. She turned to move upstage, and walked into the beefiest man she had ever seen at any of their concerts. His eyes were a hazel, and showed no recognition, but only worship, and he kneeled, extending his hand towards her nethers. She gasped at his touch, but quickly remembered Anya’s fate and, bracing herself (as well as cursing the unfairness of having to be the compos mentis one), she ran fully up his big arms, noting the complete lack of dent she made. Once atop his shoulders, she ran down his back and leapt off, before dashing across the stage.

As she dashed between beings attractive beyond her imagination, she was really grateful that she played using a cordless amp connector. She was also glad Anya was not watching when she was forced to powerslide between a pair of udders as big as she was, only to smack into the woman’s thick, sweaty culo. She’d never have lived that down, she considered, as she got up and limped towards the red curtains.

Playing was difficult, what with all the dodging, all the while trying not be pulled too far into the music but still be aware enough to keep time and follow. Worst was the mental resistance she had to put up. Even without the rest of the members of The Muses present and playing, it would have been arduous. As she parted the curtain she found a man lying down, just behind it. She stopped for a moment, considering him. His growth was perhaps less exaggerated than some. Muscles were defined beneath an olive complexion, but he was not really all that cut. Particularly striking was a tattoo adorning his shoulder in a great, swirling tribal pattern. His dark hair was short and curly, like the light patch growing on his chest and trailing to his junk. She glanced up at his face, cautious, but did not see him stir. She looked down then at the junk, and though honestly he had stopped somewhere at the size of a small horse, she shivered at the tantalising prominence. The sheer abnormality of its size in comparison to the relatively realistic body was certainly turning her on. She considered it… and then was snapped out of it as she saw a dribble of cum leak from the end. She knew couldn’t make any pitstops with any hope of going on after.

She closed the curtain and moved to head around it. She looked back before she went it, and her jaw dropped. ‘Raven’ now had Anya riding her finger, bucking like a child on a bronco. Anya’s legs couldn’t even get halfway around it now. To her horror, her eyes then noticed the light from the other end of the room, and realised that the rapidly swelling goddess of a woman had smashed through the reinforced soundproof door, and her ankles were now cracking the wall around it. Adding to the dismay was the entropic mass of pleasure that called to her, beckoned her to give in. 

High shrieks screamed with her pinched harmonics. Tits swayed larger and larger, with strawberry nipples the size of bowling balls aching for touch. Vast asses, chunky and muscular alike, thrust past the size of small vehicles. And last of all, cocks. The aching lump in her throat knew this was… These things wouldn’t have put out an eye. No, this phalanx would go straight through the ribs. Massive phalli gleamed, hard as steel and just as relentless, and the animal grunts of men and women alike thrummed all in time with the bass guitar, groaning. Muscles and soft curves shone under the lights and sparks from shorting machinery, sometimes in wonderfully excessive singularity, and others in superb conglomerations. The room was hunger, gigantic hunger being fed without a stomach. The need to feed her lust was blinding, and she staggered to climb the ladder up to the main circuitboard placed high above. When she passed a person she did it quietly now, and no one thought to force her – their music was not like that and there were plenty more partners if she did not wish their worship. 

Climbing up was a challenge. As well as being a little giddy on ladders, she was rather flighty in general right now. This was notwithstanding that somehow she had to play a seven string guitar while making the ascent. She turned around and climbed up with her back facing it, stepping up in time to the rhythm of the lick she was tapping. At first she tried closing her eyes, so as not to look at the ground, but it was even worse that way. She took a deep breath and continued up the rungs. Moans echoed in time to the music. She was amazed that Ivan still had room to play as she looked on. All about him, supremely female parts pressed in, eager for a share of his touch. Still, he was a slave to the beat now, and even if he wanted to knew he could not stop playing.

While observing she had tackled three rungs. She realised that by concentrating on particular things she could distract herself enough to do this. She let herself fall into the reverie an ounce more, while around her figures gained pounds more. Raven, she saw, had begun to move Anya, and much of the band’s kit, backstage. She worried at this, thinking the wire might snap. There was nothing she could do. She breathed out and looked on. ‘My word,’ she thought, as she observed the lady. Her midnight locks streamed like a paddock along the floor, and all about her milled her fornicators. Another lady the size of a small bus was even now licking her out, and smaller figures with enormous proportions were all over her, pleasuring each other and her. One couple was fucking inside her belly button. The woman’s breasts… She had always had a thing about big breasts, having always wanted them herself. These mammoths were just… beyond description. They were just so absolutely colossal. In proportion to her body, they would at least have been in the MM cup range, if not more, and the strobes flashed all over them as they rose like mountains of dough. By no means was this lady the biggest in proportion, but the sheer scale of the woman was mind boggling. Anya seemed to becoming more insignificant by the moment, somewhere on the smallest finger of the woman’s hand. Raven let out ragged gasps, her chest heaving bigger and bigger with each one, like the rest of her. Several men had climbed atop her and she sucked them all off at once, relishing in the task. Suddenly, she came powerfully. The rungs of the ladder shook, and Janks, twelve rungs up, almost lost her balance, only holding on by wedging the horn of her axe on an upper rung. 

Anya was getting close to another release, and had stopped singing any words, save that occasional insistent moan for her fans to enlarge. The orgasm shaking the black haired superwoman continued for a full minute, and Janks could only watch as she shook more and more violently in her ululations. She began to worry about Anya as the giantess expanded further, the length of her body taking up almost the whole hall, end to end. Further towards the front of the hall, to the right of the giantess’ arm, an Asian girl floated increasingly higher, riding a wave of her own heavy tit. Her tits were actually bigger than the raven-haired woman’s. Janks was amazed. As she climbed the remaining rungs she caught a glimpse of the tit queen’s face. The girl bit down on her lip, crying out as she pushed out further and further. She seemed completely lost, shaking her blonde head back and forth, unable to handle the changes. 

For that matter, none of them could. The largest of the giantesses, for there were several fully fledged ones now, as well as some male ones (though these tended to be smaller but more heavily muscled), was beginning to writhe, shattering more of the structure as she twisted her body. Her legs tore through the walls as if through cardboard, rending the heavy soundproofing to dust. Janks knew there wasn’t long left, and it might already be too late to an extent. Her eyes swum as she continued trying to watch the raven beauty. The figure was so big it was giving her vertigo. As she approached the top she attempted to turn her attention elsewhere, browsing the various erogenous scenes.

She noticed two giant men going full on doggy, and heard the dent each hand made as the huge man on top thrust into the other. She felt panties grow wet watching them. This startled her a little, but then, she was really turned on, and it hadn’t been that long since the op. She continued climbing, not paying attention to anything but what was transpiring below, taking in only the pure elation from the delicious cornucopia. ‘Holy…’ she thought, watching the men’s muscles as one brutalised the other’s anus. Both were moaning intensely, such that she could pick their voices out even among the others in the hall. One was tall with alabaster skin and short, golden hair, a true Aryan, iridescent and perfect with muscle. The other was pale too, but brown hair tumbled to the length of his shoulders. He was wider than his counterpart, though a little shorter. His bigger ass thrust back with a mighty force, taking in as much of the cock as possible. Both were sweating with fatigue, and still they carried on, carried away by the music.

On the other side she saw a tall man standing, hands skyward, as he was licked by a harem of horny females. They varied in size and shape, but each worked to bestow pleasure on their master above, however possible. Several clung to his cock, heavy under the weight of their endowments, and would need to hold on tightly as he pulsed, leaking precum in satisfaction. The ones that could no longer reach him satisfied one another below. A girl whose hips and thighs had not altered to accommodate her bottom was rocking back and forth above a male. His shaved head buried itself in the fold of her ass as it reached the end of its arc. She had no doubt about where his cock was buried.

A hand pulled her up and Janks found herself being kissed full on the lips. She was, for a moment, the very sound of the pinkness. His tongue moved over hers, teasing but eager to please, and confident of ability to do so. It was all too much for her poor cunt, and she felt her legs grow wet as she came. Suddenly a crash brought her back to earth, and she pulled away to see that the largest occupant, almost double the size since she had last looked, had pushed through the entire ceiling. All that was holding this place together was her rapidly swelling form as she pushed the rubble outwards. She made to move, and then pulled her hand away, shocked at finding it wrapped around and heartily jerking the man beside her off. In this time he had expanded dangerously, now over fifteen feet in height, and remained there on his knees, looking at her with vague expectation. She ran. 

The fuse box was just ahead of her, at the end of the platform. She looked left towards the crowd. Her eyes picked out masturbation, hand jobs, blow jobs, jobs she didn’t know names for, all the while growing in horniness, anticipation, and size. Concepts like finity were bunk. Above it all, however, she could still hear her own playing and that of the band. As she sprinted across the auditorium she considered that she must keep playing until she could not hear it through the speakers. They had to end in unison.

Her own juices ran down her legs, reaching her ankles and making them slippery as she loped onward. No members of the audience at this point were capable in that space of doing anything separately, and now a hundred people were all now erotically connected. Well, a hundred and two, she thought, hearing Anya’s voice from somewhere off, accompanied by the mad slapping of her bass. Oh… she was so horny. Did she have to flick the switch, truly? Couldn’t she just let it happen?

Her footsteps clattered on across the grating. She spied a dick like a fuselage. She stopped for a moment, and her playing slowed. She was only a couple of yards from the box. She tuned into the music a little more as another orgasm began to build. She imagined mounting that thing, its huge purple veins standing out hard, each alone enough to masturbate and come over. She wanted it… she wanted it all. And then she froze. She couldn’t hear Ivan anymore. She looked down, ignoring the terrible drop, and saw his congregation… They were massive now, with jugs like boats, undulating in a tempest above where he must be. Plenty could no longer stand, and fondled all within reach, including themselves. A lucky pair of girls had found each other, and fingered one another furiously. In another dark mass of T & A a spade like hand moved, tweaking two nipples as the music lulled for a moment.

Ivan wasn’t playing. She began to panic. There was no more balance! And then, almost seamlessly, the beat picked up again. She looked down, standing stock still from sheer surprise. There it was, a throbbing boom, boom.  She risked a glance over the edge again and saw what might earlier have been considered bizarre. The women around were moving back and forth, and a crashing could be heard from the kit. Janks smiled. It wasn’t ideal, but they could go out with a bang. She stepped over to the machine and, taking one last glance at the palette of Rubenesque figures, she sighed and flicked the fuse. Her fingers, aching, slowed to a halt, blinking in the dark. She turned look down on the hall. It seemed the congregation were performing their own encore. Something struck her. A dusky light shone down over the hall, but she could hear a din too, and an odd light shone through the gaps created by Raven. Raven… she was almost, no she was bigger than the hall. Her legs had passed through the walls, and her shoulders had crumbled the upper corners. Luckily there was not room for her to lean back, or her bulk would have crumbled the entire side of the building. Her breasts were like vast chandeliers, twin blimps that had descended too far to the ground. All around the others continued. This sometimes happened, and it was no surprise that they were still caught up in the harmony. The noise, whatever it was became louder, and she looked up, as it dawned upon her what the sound was. Raven shifted, and she saw a face like the figure of Juno herself, holding a tiny figure aloft before her face. Beyond her she saw a bright light, and silhouetted behind it was a whirring disc. A helicopter… She squinted, and groaned, for once not from pleasure tonight. It was from the news! As she made out the letters, her brow knitted further into a concerned furrow. 

She bit her thumb, her mind racing as she looked around. There was no way they would be able to cover this up from a world viewed news station. Everyone would know who they were, and what it was they did. Questions would be asked, and the media as usual would misrepresent. How could they turn this to their favour? Screams of joy erupted below, and she noted with a slight pride that the aftereffects were still potent as a woman, two figures hanging from her breasts by their mouths, shot up from ten to just over twenty feet tall. Her hips expanded too, and she slid her hands over them as she raised her arms to give her lovers some support. She hugged them close in the afterglow.

The aftereffects… she wondered how long the cameras had been there? Were they recording live, and more importantly, with microphones? It was pointless wondering. She saw the dark eyes twinkle, the hair cascading beautifully over her house sized breasts, and then she leaned forward, puckering and parting her lips ever so slightly towards her hand. The dim figure of Anya, lit up by the chopper lights, stood and leaned into the proffered kiss. Of course they had it live and with sound. It was not every day that a giant woman crashed through a ceiling in a busy metropolis. Well, it might be after today…

She looked down at Ivan, sprawled atop his tit mistresses, a grin plastered across his concussed face, which they giggled and mirrored. At least the band had only played covers tonight. The world was definitely not ready for The Muses’ singles yet…


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