Growing My Girlfriend 3

By Ivy Maxwell

A Breast Expansion Story.

It all starts with a tingling chest . . .

This weekend has been a downright unreal. Every time my girlfriend Alexa and I hang out, she gets bigger and better, her body becoming more attractive than I’d ever thought possible.

She transforms from a timid, college-aged Catholic gal into a confident, hyper-busty vixen with a tight hourglass figure and juicy breasts. Whenever that happens, Alexa single-mindedly thirsts for only two things: growing even hotter . . . and pleasing me.

As luck would have it, our anniversary is tonight. We’ve shared an amazing year together, and I’ve worked my tush off to save up for a promise ring to celebrate the occasion. It’s the least I can do to express my commitment to the woman I love—and I’ll admit, I have high hopes that between the excitement of the surprise gift and her newfound impulses, Alexa will finally open her mind to sleeping with me for the first time.

I’ve scouted the perfect ring to compliment my girlfriend’s maturing beauty, and I’m certain it will pave the way to getting my heart’s desire. But there’s a problem: an eccentric gentleman bought out the jewelry store and sold the ring I wanted to give Alexa! Furthermore, this mysterious man somehow knows that I’ve been growing my girlfriend, and strikes a bargain that I can’t refuse.

Now in possession of an otherworldly ring—and the promise that it will grant me what I want most—I’m going to celebrate with my girlfriend and party like there’s no tomorrow. (Never mind the feeling that I might be opening Pandora’s box. . . )

Tonight will truly be the best night of our life, the fulfillment of our shared wish—for once my girlfriend starts growing, there will be no stopping her.

This story is Book 3 of an erotic romance trilogy featuring egregious breast expansion, gradual bimbofication, and giantess transformation. This story takes place in the Growth Chronicles universe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ivy Maxwell
• Release date: Mar 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463517895

Ivy Maxwell

In her teens, Ivy Maxwell stayed up late watching Dragon Ball Z--the transformation scenes left a vivid impression on her psyche and desires that has persisted to this very day. By day she's a mild-mannered teacher raising respectable young citizens--by night, she drops all pretense and lets loose by writing romantic erotica. Ivy's stories feature breast expansion, female muscle growth, giantessism, body growth, succubi, bimbofication, hucow transformation, and a big dose of fun, adventure, and sexy hot intrigue.

Book preview

Growing My Girlfriend 3

Y ou ready for the best friggin’ night of your otherwise short and uneventful life, pardner?

In spite of the sweat pouring down my face, getting into my eyes as we jogged—my running clothes clung to me like a second skin, drawing humidity from the morning air better than a sponge under a running tap—I grinned at John, my closest friend.

The loveable smartass thought he was being clever poking fun at me about my big anniversary date with Alexa, but he had no idea.

My half-awake, ADHD-addled mind attempted to process what he’d asked—which is a nice way of saying that my brain darted about as erratically as a jackrabbit jumped up on crack while strapped to a disintegrating Soyuz rocket.

Tonight would in fact, absolutely, beyond any shadow of a doubt, be the best night of my life. (And sure, as a college senior, I’d grant that I that my life had been relatively short, that I hadn’t been around too long. Less than two dozen trips around the sun under my belt.)

But after what had gone down this weekend, I doubted anyone in the know would ever again be able to call my life uneventful with a straight face.

I mean, come on, how many guys out there have a girlfriend that grows?

Grows, you might ask? What are you going on about?

Why, her body, of course. The hornier my gal Alexa gets, the bigger she gets, like a fucking magic trick.

Thicker. Irresistible. Perfect.

We’re talking succulent breasts three times the size of an ostrich egg; womanly curves more sinuous than a crooked politician’s lies; an ass more inflated than the outstanding debt of a small third-world country. (Okay, I exaggerated that last one. Alexa’s butt is more comparable to the Hindenburg. You know . . . that goofy hydrogen blimp you read about in history books. Except unlike the Hindenburg, her ass doesn’t spontaneously combust . . . my load, on the other hand, heh heh . . . )

Hmm, right. John’s question. I got distracted.

As far as John knew, this was all going to be a run-of-the-mill one year anniversary date for me and Alexa. Good food, lots of goo-goo eyes and hand-holding, maybe a quickie to cap off the night. That alone would ordinarily have been solid cause for anticipation.

But now that I had a good idea of what my girlfriend was capable of, well . . .

Bless your heart, I huffed in reply, cocking my head toward John, you have no idea how much I’m looking forward to tonight. Tonight is going to be special, more so than you could ever imagine.

John and I banked a sharp left on our jogging trail. Our path sloped down to the edge of the bayou that meandered lazily through Houston. We cut through a screen of vapor that pooled by the edge of the water; the cool droplets took the edge off the heat, sent a pleasurable chill up my spine.

Or did that chill come from thinking about Alexa?

John and I had been running a while at a good clip. Our conversations tended to ebb and flow, punctuated by long pauses when the going got tough. John wore a thoughtful look. As we crested a hill and were greeted by the rumble of cars belching along the speedway next to us, he finally shouted, Oh yeah? There you go, being all mysterious again. Something going on between you and Alexa you haven’t told me about? Maybe that business of you winning the lottery you were blabbering on about yesterday? Or maybe you’re full of it. Heck, I’ll call your bluff. Out with it, brother. If you’ve got something to say, spill the beans already!

Damn. I always forgot that my best friend, gullible as he is, has the memory of an elephant. Of course yesterday’s conversation at the snow cone hut would still be fresh in his mind.

I’d been floating the idea of telling him about Alexa’s secret then, but ended up waffling. Would this morning be any different?

I’d always confided in John, but . . . this felt different. Like him knowing the truth about what’s been happening with