Eve going to sleep and waking up bigger!

Eve slipped into her small room at the back of the dormitory wing. The door clicked shut behind her with a soft finality that felt far too loud in the quiet parish. Sloth had already drifted inside ahead of her and floated up to the roof, her monumental blue rear swaying gently with each invisible current of air.

Eve didn’t bother speaking to her. She simply locked the door, drew the heavy curtain across the narrow window, and began the exhausting process of undressing.

The habit fought her every inch of the way. The black wool, once loose and modest, now clung like a second skin to the swollen, heavy curves of her lower body. She had to shimmy and twist, biting her lip as fresh ripples traveled through the plush new weight of her ass. Each movement sent soft, liquid claps of flesh against flesh that made her cheeks burn with shame. The torn remnants of her underwear had long since given up and disappeared somewhere between her cheeks like a defeated flag of surrender.

When the habit finally pooled at her feet, Eve stood naked in the dim lamplight, staring down at herself in horrified fascination.

Her once modest figure had been utterly remade from the waist down. Her hips flared dramatically outward, easily three inches wider than they had been that morning. Her thighs had thickened into soft, heavy pillars that brushed together even when she stood straight. But it was her ass—Lord have mercy, her ass—that made her feel breathless.

Two enormous, perfectly rounded black cheeks dominated her silhouette. They jutted out behind her like twin overripe melons, each one heavy and pendulous, yet impossibly perky in that supernatural way. Filled with that new strange fat that wasn't quite held by gravity. The deep cleft between them was plush and inviting, the skin smooth and warm under her trembling fingers. She could feel the weight of them pulling gently at her lower back, forcing a subtle arch into her spine that made her posture feel almost lewd.

Eve reached back with both hands. Her fingers sank deep into the yielding flesh, far deeper than they should have on any normal woman. It was warm, impossibly soft, like warm dough or the world’s most luxurious pillow. She gave an experimental squeeze and a low, involuntary moan slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

The sound shocked her. She snatched her hands away as if burned.

“No,” she whispered fiercely to the empty room. “This is not me. This is not of God.”

Sloth’s sleepy chuckle drifted down from above.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, Sister. Your body’s already getting used to moi~"

Eve ignored her. She pulled on the plain cotton nightgown she usually wore—only to discover it no longer fit properly. The hem rode up scandalously in the back, barely covering the lower curve of her new cheeks. The fabric stretched taut across her widened hips, outlining every exaggerated swell. She tugged at it futilely, then gave up with a frustrated sigh.

Exhausted, and mortified, Eve climbed into bed. She could still lay on her back but right now her lower half was pressing up against her body. Sleep claimed her quickly, dragged down by the emotional weight of the day, Eve drifted into neverland.

When Eve woke, pale morning light was filtering through the edges of the curtain. For one blissful second, she forgot her transformation. About to greet the day happily, Eve raised her arms upwards.

Then she shifted—and felt it.

The weight had grown. Dramatically.

Eve’s eyes flew open. She sat up too quickly, and the sudden motion sent a heavy, liquid wobble through her lower half that made the entire bed creak.

“Oh… oh Lord…”

Her hands flew behind her. Both palms met warm, impossibly plush black flesh that had swollen even further overnight. Her ass had ballooned tagain, they went from a plush rapper size to a very, very inflated plush rapper size. A Sir Mix-a-Lot prosthetic. They spread out beneath her when she sat, forcing her thighs even wider apart. The nightgown had ridden all the way up to her waist, completely defeated.

Eve gripped the enlarged globes with both hands, fingers sinking deep into the yielding warmth. The sensation was overwhelming: soft, sensitive, and far too pleasurable for something so humiliating. A deep, throaty moan escaped her before she could clamp her lips shut.

“Mmmhh… ahh…”

The sound was mortifyingly sexual. Her nipples tightened against the thin cotton of the nightgown. Heat pooled low in her belly, right where that strange bloated knot had first formed yesterday.

She squeezed again, unable to stop herself, and another helpless moan spilled out. The flesh jiggled and bounced under her fingers, settling into new, even rounder shapes when she released it. Her hips had widened further too—her waist still trim by comparison, creating an exaggerated teardrop shape.

Eve’s breathing came in shallow pants. One hand stayed on her ass, gently kneading, while the other pressed against her mouth to stifle the next sound that threatened to escape.

Sloth’s voice drifted lazily from the foot of the bed, where the sin had materialized again sometime in the night. She was sprawled across the footboard like it was the world’s most comfortable hammock, her own gigantic blue rear hanging off both sides, completely bare.

“See? Told you it feels nice,” Sloth mumbled, one eye cracked open.

Eve glared at her through heavy-lidded eyes, still gripping her own massive black cheeks.

“This… this is sinful,” she whispered hoarsely, even as her fingers gave another involuntary squeeze. “I must… I must pray. I must find a way to—”

But the words died as another slow, syrupy swell rolled through her rear right then and there, pushing her cheeks outward another inch, making them even heavier, even softer. The moan that tore from her throat this time was louder, needier.

Sloth just smiled sleepily and rolled over, her own colossal ass wobbling like jelly.

“Keep prayin’ if it makes you feel better, Sister Eve. But your body’s already learnin’ to love bein’ a fat-assed anchor for little ol’ me.”

Eve buried her face in her pillow, one hand still helplessly kneading the warm, growing expanse of her rear, torn between prayer and the terrifying new pleasure singing through her veins.

The day had only just begun.