The Cursed Locket

Halloween  is coming! Enjoy a spooky season themed expansion story!

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Genevieve ran her slender fingers over the ornate silver locket, its cold smoothness sending a shiver down her spine. She knew she shouldn't be wandering the dark hallways of Hawthorn Manor alone, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her. And now it seemed to have led her to something special. 

She glanced around furtively before working the clasp open with her thumb, the hinges creaking softly as the locket popped ajar. Inside was an intricately painted portrait of a stunning dark-haired woman, full crimson lips curled in a mysterious smile. Genevieve gasped - was this a picture of the notorious Madame Hawthorn herself, rumored to have dabbled in dark magic before her untimely death?

As Genevieve gazed into those hypnotic painted eyes, she felt an irresistible compulsion come over her. Moving as if in a dream, she lifted the chain over her head and fastened the locket around her slender neck. The metal felt almost hot against her skin, or was that just her imagination? 

She shook her head to clear it and made her way back to the grand ballroom where the Historical Society's annual Halloween gala was in full swing. Weaving through the costumed guests, she grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a long sip to steady her nerves. She had come dressed as a gothic heroine in a long black gown, but now with the locket nestled at the hollow of her throat, she felt as if the costume had come alive.

Over the next hour, Genevieve chatted and mingled, all the while acutely aware of the locket resting against her chest. She reached up to touch it absently, only to gasp as a burst of heat shot through her body at the contact. Blinking in surprise, she looked down - was it her imagination, or did her breasts suddenly seem fuller beneath the tight bodice of her gown? 

As she watched in disbelief, her breasts began to swell as if they had minds of their own, inching upwards and outwards until they were straining against the black satin. She felt her bodice grow tight, then tighter still, as her breasts expanded relentlessly. It was as if there were two balloons inflating within her, pumping her modest B-cups full of fluid. 

Genevieve clutched the locket, willing the growth to stop, but if anything it only accelerated. She could feel the weight growing heavier with each passing second. Her breasts had to be at least D-cups now, perhaps even DD, rising up and out like two ripe melons. The gown's built-in corset dug into her ribcage, her breasts spilling up and out of the top of the bodice.

Panicked, she rushed to a dark corner behind a marble pillar, praying no one could see the magical changes happening to her body. As she leaned against the cool marble, chest heaving, she heard a ripping sound and looked down in dismay to see the seams of her gown splitting under the pressure. She had gone up at least two more cup sizes, into the realm of F or G! 

As the enchanted growth finally slowed, Genevieve whispered thanks that her breasts seemed to have stopped expanding. While still comically large, at least she wasn't in cartoon bimbo territory. She took a few deep breaths, which only emphasized the weight and fullness of her new endowments. 

Hesitantly, she stepped out from her hiding place to rejoin the party. She noticed a few raised eyebrows and double takes as gentlemen appreciated her enhanced décolletage, but most were too polite to comment. She grabbed another glass of champagne and took a gulp, only to nearly choke as she caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the ornate mirrors that lined the ballroom.

Her lips - they were huge! While she had been distracted by her runaway breast growth, it seemed Madame Hawthorn's magic had plumped her lips as well. Her normally modest mouth now looked like two overripe cherries, exaggerated and pouty. She ran her tongue over them in disbelief.

As she stared at this strange new reflection, a woman's lilting laugh echoed through her mind. "My dear, we're only just beginning. Our work has merely commenced!" 

Genevieve shuddered, clutching the locket in her fist. She had a feeling this was only the start of the transformations in store for her courtesy of Madame Hawthorn's bewitching jewelry. As a thrilled terror coursed through her, she couldn't help but wonder - what would come next?

Genevieve hurried from the ballroom, heels clacking on the marble floors as she sought somewhere private to comprehend what was happening to her body. She ducked into an empty study, leaning against the heavy wooden door and breathing hard. 

Looking down, she gingerly cupped her new breasts, so swollen and sensitive beneath the torn black satin. They had to be at least H cups now, ponderous on her petite frame. With trembling fingers she undid the remaining clasps of her gown, letting the ruined garment pool around her feet. She stood in only her underwear, stockings and heels, staring into an ornate gilt mirror.

Her new curves were shocking. She had transformed from a slim waif into a voluptuous siren, heavy breasts jutting out like cannons primed to fire. They rode high and proud, nipples prominent through the sheer lace of her bra. Her tiny waist only accentuated their size, cleavage deep and tempting.

Turning sideways, Genevieve gasped. Her breasts protruded a full six inches now, and looked incredibly firm and round, as if...as if they were fake. Could it be? She touched them gingerly, confirming that they felt nothing like natural flesh. Whatever magic the locket held had somehow implanted her petite body with massive, silicone breast implants.

At that moment, Genevieve heard Madame Hawthorn's voice again, faint but growing louder, as if coming from the locket itself. "My child, your transformation has only just begun. Embrace your power, and take your rightful place as my successor!"

Genevieve watched in aroused horror as her breasts began swelling again, this time at an even faster rate. She felt their weight, their fullness increase by the second. Her bra cut painfully into her as her bosom blew up like beach balls.

Now the size of overinflated exercise balls, they dwarfed her slender frame. Her nipples had stretched to the size of saucers, throbbing and sensitive. She cradled the massive implants in disbelief - had to be over 3000 ccs in each one! They stuck out a full foot in front of her.

Just when she thought they could grow no more, Genevieve felt another pulse of heat from the locket. She moaned, clutching the edge of the desk for support as her breasts expanded again. Larger...heavier...tighter...she panted, intoxicated by the feeling of growth. Finally, they tapered off, now the size of overstuffed bean bag chairs. She could rest her elbows on them like a shelf.

Through the haze of pleasure and pain, she heard Madame Hawthorn again. "You have accepted my gifts, child. Your body now matches the power of your spirit. Lead a new coven in my name, and honor all that womanhood represents!"

The voice faded, and Genevieve suddenly understood. She was no longer just Genevieve.

She stared into the mirror at her impossible curves and massive pouty lips, and smiled knowingly. Her old life was gone. She would never again be the timid girl who slipped on the locket tonight. No, a new destiny awaited her, one of magic and feminine power beyond measure.

Drawing herself up, she chanted words that came to her unbidden, and was rewarded with a burst of violet flame in the fireplace. The first spell of her new life. She laughed in exhilaration, breasts bobbing wildly. What adventures awaited her! But first, she needed to find an outfit that could properly contain her new gifts...