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"Will you change them too?" Jenny asked."If they want me to. If you want me to change you again, I can." "I think I'll wait until I get used to this body first. But thanks." She kissed him deeply once more, moaning slightly.Later that day, he made all of her clothes bigger but not her bra; Reece strengthened her back, making it possible for her to support her gigantic tits. He kissed her goodbye and closed the door behind him. Five minutes passed before he heard frantic footsteps up the stairs. Reece had been seeing how big he could get his dick and so far, he hadn't met his limit. He shrunk it down to about 12 inches when he heard thumping on the door."Reece, open this door!" his sister shouted, "what have you done to Jenny?" Reece put on some boxers, trying to fit all of his dick into the lycra. When the door was unlocked, Sian flung it open and stormed in. Reece watched her stomp around his room, closing and locking the door slowly behind him. "What did you do to Jenny? HOW did. It was over in a matter of seconds. One of the men was on his knees on the concrete apron clutching his groin, unable to utter a sound; the other lay unconscious half on top of the still-insensible giant, his right arm extended at an unnatural angle. Igwanda, untouched, simply shook his head over them."Very impressive," came a soft voice. Without haste Igwanda turned to the source of the voice, a middle-aged man with something of a paunch who was emerging from the convenience store. In his hands was a shotgun, the muzzle trained directly on Igwanda."Let me introduce myself, boy," he said, still softly. "I'm Cal Perkins, and I'm sheriff here, and I do believe that impressive beating you just handed three of our upstanding citizens has earned you a little trip to my jail." For self-defense?" asked Igwanda, unperturbed."'Self-defense?'" the sheriff echoed. "Nigger, I don't think any of those good ol' boys ever laid a glove on you." It's true, sheriff," called Meiersdottir across the.
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Her breasts were full, the thighs and hips were also more full, and her arms had a womanly plumpness and none of the girlish slimness of her sister’s arms. She still looked a little awkward, however, and somewhat embarrassed. Dalitha sat down on the chair that had almost become her own, settling into the familiar cushions, aware that the television was off and that the stereo was playing some soft ambient jazz music. She smiled awkwardly at her sister and her aunt. “Aren’t we watching Homefield Grove?” she asked, aware that this was the time the soap opera normally began. Amna smiled broadly, ignored her question. “Why don’t you take off your clothes?” she asked quietly. “What!” gasped Dalitha. “I couldn’t …” “Don’t be silly. You know you’d feel more comfortable if you did. And anyway I don’t wear any, do I?” “I’m not sure that…” Dalitha began, but nevertheless surrendered to her sister’s request. She pulled off the tee-shirt she wore with its picture of the boy band In Tune. It.

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