Eve expands again

The walk back to the parish felt interminably long.

Every step sent a soft, liquid ripple through flesh that had no business moving the way it did. The black fabric of Eve's habit, already pushed to the absolute limit of decency, groaned in quiet protest. Threads strained and Eve thought one bad move would split it apart. And since her growth happened, Eve wasn't wearing anything underneath her habit at this moment.

The black woman kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, chin high, trying to maintain the dignified posture that had been drilled into her since postulancy. But dignity was difficult when one could feel one’s own ass cheeks gently clapping together with each stride.

Her eyes widened as a sensation that she was slowly becoming accumulated to made itself known once more.

A slow, syrupy swelling bloomed between her cheeks. It wasn't like the explosive growth like before, but just an inexorable, almost polite inflation. Like dough rising under a warm kitchen towel

Her hips pushed outward another inch… then another. The motion **** her thighs to part slightly with each step, creating a soft, continuous friction that made heat crawl up the back of her neck. The torn remnants of her underwear had long since ridden uselessly upward, now little more than a thin, defeated strip disappearing between cheeks that seemed determined to swallow everything in their path.

Eve pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Lord, give me strength." She thought to herself. A hand went down to grope at flesh.

She refused to look down. Looking down would make it real. Looking down would mean acknowledging that the gentle curve she had once accepted as simply “womanly” was rapidly becoming something obscene, something that belonged on the cover of magazines she had been taught to avert her eyes from.

Sloth floated beside her — or rather, drifted, besides Eve. Back in her immaterial form, no one saw the sin's own monumental rear swaying like a pendulum in mid-air. Occasionally one enormous cheek would brush against Eve’s shoulder, soft and cool and smelling faintly of liquor and vanilla body lotion.

Eve flinched every time.

“You’re… growing again,” Sloth mumbled without opening her eyes. A lazy, half-smile curled her lips. “Feels nice, right? Like sittin’ in a really good chair that just keeps gettin’ better.”

“It does not feel nice,” Eve hissed under her breath, cheeks burning bright with embarrassment. “I feel huge and heavy. Flesh shouldn't hang so...so...far!"

“Mm. Dramatic.” Sloth yawned so wide her jaw cracked. “You’ll get used to it. Everyone does. First it’s embarrassing… then it’s just… normal. Then it’s nice. Then you can’t imagine not havin’ it.”

“I will never consider this normal!" Eve hissed.

“Sure you won’t.” Sloth’s tail lazily curled around Eve’s wrist like a sleepy cat claiming ownership. “That’s what they all say.”

Eve yanked her hand away — or tried to. The tail simply reformed around her fingers, soft and insistent.

They reached the side gate of the parish grounds just as the late-afternoon sun dipped behind the steeple. Golden light spilled across the lawn, catching on the new curves of Eve’s habit in a way that made the fabric look almost liquid. She could feel eyes on her even though no one was visibly watching.

Or maybe she was just paranoid.

Probably both.

Back at the Parish, Eve slipped through the front gate. Usually she could shimmer through it half-opened, but at her current size, her hips caught briefly on the iron frame. A tiny, shameful squeak escaped her throat before she could stop it.

Sloth giggled.

Eve hurried across the cloister garden, each step sent fresh waves of jiggle through her increasingly unmanageable backside. By the time she reached the dormitory hallway her breathing was shallow and her face felt fever-hot.

She needed to get to her room.

She needed privacy.

She needed to pray.

She needed to figure out how to reverse this before—

“Sister Eve?” The voice came from behind her.

Eve froze.

Slowly she turned.

Sister Thalia stood at the end of the corridor, holding a small stack of folded linens. Her eyes were wide. Not horrified, exactly. More… stunned. Like someone who had just walked in on something they were absolutely not prepared to process.

Eve felt another fresh swell happen right then, right in front of the youngest sister.

Another rolling expansion that traveled the curvature of her ass. The hem of the habit rising another half-inch in the back as her cheeks pushed downward, rounder, heavier, more pronounced.

Thalia’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“I… um…” The girl’s voice cracked. “Mother Nikki asked me to… to bring you fresh bedding. She said… she said you looked… tired.”

Eve closed her eyes for one long second.

When she opened them again, Thalia was still staring just not at Eve’s face. She looked at the way the habit now clung on Eve. At her newly made silhouette.. At the way the black wool lovingly outlined every new curve like it had been tailored for exactly this purpose.

Eve **** a smile.

“Thank you, Thalia,” she said, voice remarkably steady considering the circumstances. “You can just leave them by the door.”

Thalia swallowed. But she didn’t move. Not at first. Then, in the tiniest whisper imaginable:

“…Are you okay, Sister Eve?”

Before she could speak, Eve felt a third pulse of growth ripple through her lower half softer this time. It was like a lover’s hand slowly cupping, kneading, claiming her flesh for themselves. It made the poor nun whimper.

She exhaled through her nose.

“…I’m not entirely certain yet,” she answered honestly.

Thalia finally set the linens down. Her hands were shaking.

Then, to Eve’s eternal mortification, the youngest sister dipped into a quick, awkward curtsy, eyes still locked on the obscene curve of Eves lower half.

“I’ll… pray for you,” Thalia whispered.

And fled.

Eve waited until the sound of running footsteps faded completely.

Only then did she let her shoulders slump and let her palms rest against the warm, impossibly plush new weight behind her. It yielded under her fingers like memory foam. And somewhere behind her left ear, Sloth’s sleepy voice murmured:

“Told ya. Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Eve didn’t answer.

She wasn’t sure she could trust what her own mouth might say.