Jugs On A Plane

By Ivy Maxwell

My crush had a secret. Now that I know it, she’s transforming—becoming thick and stacked and bursting out!

Jim Acosta is a wealthy fashion designer with a keen appreciation for big, curvy breasts—a fact he must hide in order to fit in with a world of skinny, petite supermodels.

Flying home from a work trip in Europe, Jim befriends a model named Samantha at the airport. Sam is bubbly and beautiful, yet small of chest. She’s not Jim’s exactly type, yet he feels attracted to her like no woman he’s ever known.

Sam also suffers from fits of narcolepsy—uncontrollable episodes of spontaneous sleep. Little does Jim know that Sam hides an unlikely secret: a magic that awakens when she dreams.

At 40,000 feet on a clear, calm evening, a certain plane inexplicably shakes and rattles, baffling crew and passengers alike. The source of the turbulence? The sleeping beauty’s magic has tapped into Jim’s desire.

Sam’s body thickens, her breasts swell and grow, and she rouses from slumber with a fiery lust. They can’t keep their hands off each other. As they begin to satisfy their desires, the magic takes on a life of its own, empowering Sam with cream and chutzpah and the need to grow ever bigger.

The mile-high club will never be the same.

This is an erotic romance novella featuring egregious breast expansion, hucow, and bimbo transformation. This story takes place in the Growth Chronicles universe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ivy Maxwell
• Release date: Jun 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463754580

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

Jugs On A Plane

The moment I laid eyes on her, I couldn’t look away.

Travelers toting heavy backpacks and suitcases parted around me as I stood slack-jawed in the middle of the airport walkway.

A mustachioed guy who didn’t see me bumped square into my side and staggered. I nearly lost my grip on my travel duffel. A chain of elegant foreign obscenities—perhaps French?—washed over me.

"Sorry. Er, pardon," I muttered in passing.

I didn’t care. I wasn’t aware of him, or of how I was interfering with foot traffic.

I saw only the girl.

Lounging by the huge windows overlooking the runway, facing me with her long legs crossed, grinning at something on her phone.

She was everything I needed right at that moment: a babe with a wicked-trim body. From a distance, my gaze roved over her from head to toe, taking in every square inch of her beauty and curves.

Ripped jeans—riddled with holes flaunting enough flesh to straddle the line of public decency—flaunted her sculpted long legs and thick butt.

A sporty white top, embossed with rainbow patterns, wrapped around her narrow torso and cinched off in a neat little bow. It ended well above her waist, showing off the woman’s tight stomach. The neckline of the shirt plunged in a V-shape, revealing the mounds of her modest yet succulent breasts.

This was a woman who knew what she had going for her, who had dressed to be noticed.

Who was this sex kitten?

What rock had she been hiding under all my life?

The girl stood and ran a hand through hair that was blonde like wheat under a shining sun. I took a few steps forward.

Her skin was tan and without blemish. Her heritage appeared mixed in a lovely way, though I couldn’t put a finger on where she might be from.

All the woman’s different aspects lent her an exotic allure.

The hottie leveled her phone—even from this distance, I saw the Instagram color palette of oranges and violets and mahoganies—and struck a pose, snapping some selfies. Her smile was one of innocent joy; it lit up my soul like fireworks in the night.

The girl didn’t notice me standing in the concourse. I dodged out of the path of an angry grandmother who was shouting at her grandkids, and narrowly avoided a caning.

I dared not take my eyes off the girl.

I was mesmerized.

I watched as she played with her hair, straightening it then parting it stylishly. In my mind I imagined running my fingers through those lovely locks, felt their tantalizing caress against my skin. I licked my lips involuntarily.

THA-THUMP went my heart as adrenaline coursed through me. I felt a carnal impulse swell in me that I’d ignored far too long.

A rush in my loins, and I went hard as a rock.

Then I realized a middle-aged mom lounging between me and the girl was staring at me. She smiled and followed my gaze, and upon seeing what I was transfixed by, her smile turned became a dirty, judgmental look.

I smiled sheepishly and turned away, an act I found almost painful. I was drawn to the girl like metal filings near a magnet.

The floor beneath my feet trembled, accompanied by a muffled, distant roar. A 747 accelerated down the tarmac in the distance and left the ground airborne.

Unable to stand it any longer, I flashed another appreciative look at the hottie’s perky breasts, then looked at the gate number nearby.

Gate 62. I frowned and took out my boarding pass. To my delight, the number on my ticket matched.

The girl would be on my flight.

This was the best news I’d had in a long time.

My stomach rumbled, interrupting my thoughts. I’d been so busy wrapping up my work prior to catching my flight home, I hadn’t slowed down to eat in nearly 24 hours.

I’d been in a bad mood when my chaperone dropped me off at the airport. I’d been ruminating over work problems and . . . other things. Very much in my head.

The girl had blown away those negative thoughts like they were wispy dandelion seeds on a windy day.

I wanted to meet her. But my hunger persisted doggedly. To make a good first impression, I’d need to make sure I wasn’t distracted by personal needs.

I made my way across the corridor to a fast food joint. Maggiano's. The Italian pizzeria had seating that would allow me to keep an eye on the girl.

I glanced at her. She was sticking out her tongue at the camera and making a peace sign while winking one eye.

Stupidly cute. Very distracting.

How could I approach this unexpected vixen? Was her personality as attractive as her looks? If we hit it off well, would she sit with me on the plane?

I needed a plan.

Such musings swirled through my head while I stood in line, paid for some food, then sat down in a beat-up cafe chair. I absentmindedly looked down at the slice of pizza on my plate, then burst out laughing.

God, that woman had me worked up like a teen whose balls had just dropped. I was so enamored, I’d ordered pizza, even though I had the worst lactose intolerance known to man. One cheesy bite and the ensuing flatulence would have killed any chance of befriending this lady. Holy smokes.

I donated the gooey pizza slice to a family seated near me, then got back in line. This time I devoted a modicum of attention to what I was doing.

Salad with oil and vinegar, hold the cheese, I told the server.

Back at my table, I shook