The Magic Of Theatre

Francesca stood in the wings, her heart pounding. In seconds she would be onstage. She couldn’t believe it – the lights, the heat, the attention. She craved it all, and now she would have it. Francesca was very tall, and very slim, and her comedy routine was all about her insecurities, her hopes, her dreams, her love life. It was a tight 15 minute set, but she’d workshopped it, tested every minute of it to perfection in front of friends and family, and now here she was, in the biggest theatre in town. Press, both local news and online were in. That cute guy Dave that she liked and quite wanted to start fucking.

She fingered the bracelet on her wrist, briefly admiring its golden glow. She’d found it in an antique shop, amidst a pile of jewelry all belonging to a famous actress, apparently. The lady in the shop had said it would “respond to applause”, which made Francesca smile. That was pretty much her in a nutshell. She flattened down her blue strappy dress, briefly wishing she could fill it out a bit more, before the MC announced her name, and she stepped forward into the bright lights.

The applause was deafening, and she soaked it up. She stood in front of the microphone, and began to speak, but the applause was still going. She looked down, humbly. As she did so, she caught sight of the top of her chest. It was…bigger – and, she realised with a start – growing! Her wrist holding the microphone held the bracelet, which was glowing a bright golden colour. What on earth was going on?!

“Golden boy” she dryly quipped to the audience, nodding to the bracelet. It wasn’t funny, but the audience clapped and laughed. She looked down with raised eyebrows as her breasts appeared to grow a little bigger. They were pressing forwards rather tightly against her bra now, in clearly defined, albeit small spheres, her nipples poking out pertly. She grabbed the mic and felt the tightness in her chest continuing, as the applause rained down on her. She couldn’t help but enjoy it, as her chest swelled outwards. She could feel the dress being pulled up to accommodate her slightly larger boobs, which were much rounder and more full than a few seconds ago. They appeared to be bulging and swelling forwards, growing bigger by the second, pulling her dress outwards, and creating a small rift at the top where the beginnings of an impressive cleavage was making its debut. She looked down to see two tight, swelling orbs bulging forth from her chest, and experienced a mixture of fear and excitement, the likes of which she had never felt before.

She gradually slowed the clapping with a gentle lowering of her hands over the audience. They waited for her to speak. As the applause died away, so her ballooning breasts slowly ceased their growth. Her dress had ridden up a good inch, exposing the bottom of her knees, and the top half of her dress, fairly tight to begin with, was fairly stuffed with her new, larger breasts. Her now bigger bosom poked out a good four inches and was wonderfully rounded and perky. Cleavage was abundantly clear at the top of the dress, and her breasts bulged upwards a little, as space was a premium up there. All in all, Francesca rather liked her new figure, as confusing as the sudden growth was. She decided to experiment.

“Give me a cheer if you’re glad its the weekend!” It was the most mundane of requests, but difficult to resist, and the crowd whooped, hollered and cheered. And clapped. As soon as they began, Francesca could feel a warmth and tightening in her chest as it swelled forwards. Her bra, which she had completely forgotten about, pinged off at the back, as her breasts were now way too big for it. They swelled onwards, regardless. She could have sworn she heard the applause grow in tandem with her breasts. She suddenly realised that, large as the stage was, once her breasts reached a certain size, their growth would be pretty obvious. She had clearly reached that size, as they bulged out 6 inches in front of her chest. Her dress now felt very tight around the chest, and her swollen melons stuck out very strongly in front of her, with inches of cleavage apparent as they spilled over the top of her dress.

She felt as if she was blowing up, as the applause seemed to fill her chest up. It swelled and expanded, pushing forwards further and further as the applause increased. “Do they think this is part of the act?!” thought Francesca. She didn’t have time to think much further, as her tits swelled bigger and wider. They were so large, swollen around round now, that her dress could barely contain it. She could hear and feel the stitching begin to give, but her breasts – and the applause – showed no sign of slowing. Her dress had ridden up to above her knees now – it was being pulled up by the continual growth of her chest as it swelled forwards. She reached forward to grab the mic, and realised her breasts were now pressing into the mic stand. As she leaned forwards, it rested (very) snugly between her growing tits, which had little room between them to fit anything in, as they were being pressed together so firmly by the lack of room. Francesca wanted to just poke them. They looked so firm. She suddenly realised she was becoming really, really horny.

She calmed the applause down again, trying to regain some control over the situation. Her breasts were now comfortably in the “huge” category”, like two pert melons on her slender frame. Her dress was really struggling to contain their growing bulk. She had some reviewers to attempt to please, so she decided to get on with her set. This didn’t go as planned.

She hushed the room, and her swelling breasts finally wobbled to a halt at what she would describe as “massive”, jutting out a good ten inches in front of her chest, bursting up through the fabric of her dress to rise like two swollen mounds of dough. On her chest were two huge, wobbling masses, only just constrained by her struggling dress. She took a deep breath, and felt some of the stitching go as her new breasts swelled outwards. “Mental note. Do not breathe in”.

She began her 15 minute set.

It went well. Really well. A little too well. As she began her opening story about growing up a foot taller than everyone else, one guy (Francesca assumed in sympathy) started clapping. Her top was already in trouble, and this applause wasn’t helping. With every thump of the hands, she felt a vibration through her chest, as her huge tits wobbled, and swelled bigger. Her figure was beginning to look like two watermelons sellotaped to two metre rulers, as her tits slowly grew outwards. They protruded about 12 inches in front of her now, and her cleavage was titanic. Her dress definitely wouldn’t last much longer. She didn’t know what to do. She needed to finish her set, and she wanted to keep growing (it felt incredible, and her nippled were becoming very sensitive), but if she didn’t watch it, her dress just wouldn’t hold. Her bra had long gone, so that would essentially mean she had stripped to a full audience of comedy fans. Not what she had in mind.

“Ok, some of you may have noticed…” she didn’t even need to point to her chest, because at that point, the two shoulder straps on her dress gave way, and her gigantic breasts poured out. Just in time, Francesca grabbed the two straps, and tied them together behind her neck. They just about held her colossal boobs in, but the fabric was giving everywhere, and her dress had ridden up to the bottom of her thighs now. There just weren’t many places it could go. Her tits were monstrous now, bulging out fourteen inches in front of her. She could feel the weight of them on her neck, as they swelled forwards. She was going to finish her damn show. Then she was going to fuck Dave and smother him with her vast chest. He probably liked that kind of thing.

“Yeah, so I don’t want to hear any more applause. You know why. If I hear any before I finish, I’m leaving. You can laugh, you can cry, do whatever else you want, but if I hear one more clap, I’m gone. And so are these.” She pushed her breasts together (realising with a start that she had to reach around them to do so, so wide had they gotten. They bulged up together, and she heard another rip. “Best get a move on”, she thought to herself.

Francesca thought she would tear through her routine, but all of a sudden she found the audience hanging on her every word. Not giving them an outlet to appreciate (beyond laughing, of which there was plenty), she would people’s attention was rapt. She performed a very confident set (though with a lot of quivering of a lot of breast) and her growth from the previous applause was pretty much done, so she only swelled up another inch throughout. Admittedly this was almost too much for her dress to take, but it held admirably. She pulled it up, giving her swollen top half more room, leaving the base of her dress at mid-thigh.

Reaching the finale of her set – an anecdote about a roommate in college coming to terms with her boyfriend’s mono-ball – Francesca delivered every punchline with aplomb, leading up to the big, final word, which had the audience in hysterics.

“Not yet”, she put a finger up to the crowd, her tremendous breasts shaking, her dress bursting at the seams. They had stopped growing in the last few minutes, but she knew they’d start again very soon.

“David Matherson, if you are in the crowd, I want you to meet me backstage in 3 minutes.”

And with that, she bowed, exposing fiftteen inches of cleavage bursting out of her dress, in a huge swollen tirade of breast. The sight was magnificent. As she stayed bowed, staggered at how heavy her immense breasts had become, she looked up. She stood to her full height, and stretched her back, feeling the rip as her dress began to lose what little structural integrity it had left.

“You may clap”

The enormous wave of applause burst forth, and so did Francesca.

Reviews of that night were unanimously positive.

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