The List

The feeling you wake up to the next morning is all-too familiar, not unlike the day after a truly intense workout, yet also bizarrely new. Because it's not your body that's suffused with that half-agonizing, half-euphoric sense of having gone to the limit and come back battered yet stronger, but rather your soul. Apparently draining and then refilling your pool of magic in such a rapid-fire method is not unlike a high weight, low rep set for whatever it is inside you that regulates your control over your magic. There's something deeply unsettling about the sensation, but you think you sort of love it. Maybe Soul Day can get squeezed in after Leg Day.

Reconfiguring your workout schedule can wait for later, though. Today you're cracking open The List. And that means you have an interview to run.

You swivel impatiently in your chair in the managers' office of the Bad Starbucks, allowing yourself a moment to smirk at your reflection in the hall mirror. You certainly don't look like you're less than half a day removed from the most intense magical workout of your life. Never let'm see you sweat, mystically or otherwise! Rather, you've taken this rare opportunity to sport professional attire and worked the magic that only someone as hot and stylish as you can manage.

Well now that you've taken a taste you need a proper mouthful; might as well fully face the mirror and give yourself a little show.

Your black floral jacquard pants were obscenely expensive, but their high rise and cigarette legs accent both your trim waist and delightfully rounded rear, so it was worth it. And while some might consider your daringly fitted, sleeveless white silk blouse a bit much for an office setting, those people can fuck right off. Your prodigious breasts are always going to be an 'issue' when it comes to non-casual dress, and even if hiding them was an option you've got no interest in that noise. You won't censor your own body just because society thinks it's somehow disreputable to be bigger than a C-Cup. Embrace it, you say! Your ensemble comes straight out and says 'I am a woman and these are my boobs, and if you have a problem with any of that I have zero problem taking my business elsewhere'.

Plus the fun dangly black tie makes you look like a sort of present to the world. And really, isn't that what you are?

Jenny, looking no slouch herself in her polka-dotted blouse and pencil skirt, archly raises her eyebrows from her spot on the couch. "How does it feel to be the most vain person in the world?"

"So good."

Your friend chuckles, but before she can say anything else the office door starts to open. You swivel back toward the front, adopting what you trust is a professional expression as Jenny rises to join you by the side of the desk. A moment later Isabelle enters, sleekly confident in her chic blazer and light turtleneck, a somewhat frazzled looking young woman trailing her like a puffball of a duckling following her mother. She's about what you'd expected, a few years older than you and rather shapeless in a poorly fitted sweater and slacks, her mud-colored hair looking as if she spent the whole morning fighting with it. Not that any of that particularly matters.

No, what truly matters is that when you rise up from your seat and lean across the desk, arm extended to her in greeting, the girl can't resist sneaking a nervous eyeful of your jutting rack. "You must be Charlotte! Or is it Lottie?"

The girl flushes slightly as she shakes your hand. "Oh, um. Charlotte's fine."

"Really? We must have gotten that wrong." Charlotte reddens again, mumbling something incomprehensible as you smoothly breeze along. "Well you've already met Isabelle, obviously. I'm Ash, and this is Jenny." Once again, your predictions are paid off when Charlotte's eyes dart down for a peek at Jenny's big boobs as well. So far, so good.

Isabelle motions for Charlotte to take a seat, passing a folder off to Jenny before joining you on your side of the table. Jenny flips through a few pages, making a show of reading over something as Isabelle offers the nervous girl a warm smile. "Did you have any questions before we got started?"

Charlotte looks as if she wants to quickly shake her head 'no' out of instinct, but then seems to surprise herself by speaking up. "Actually, kinda? Your email said this interview was for..." She glances down at her phone. "'The Milk Lady Magic Dairy'? But um, is it actually for Starbucks?" She quickly leans forward, a worried look on her face. "Not that that's bad! I mean, I'd totally work for Starbucks! I've been a barista before!"

Jenny glances over the folder at the girl. "Really? That isn't on your resume."

Charlotte blanches. "Oh, um, of course it isn't. Because I haven't. I just got nervous and started talking and said something stupid and I should just--!"

Isabelle wafts a soothing noise in Charlotte's direction, who looks like she can't decide if she'd rather burst into tears or flee as fast as she can. "Charlotte, it's okay. How about we start over?" She offers the girl her hand. "I'm Isabelle. Charmed!"

Charlotte sniffs loudly, the shakily takes Isabelle's hand. "Charlotte. Also charmed?"

"See? This is going great!" She sniffs again, though now it's through a shaky smile as Isabelle gives you a little nod. Alright, it's time to get this started.

You plant your elbows on the desk and lace your fingers together, your heavy breasts nearly brushing the table as you lean forward to rest your chin on your hands. "Mind if we ask you a few questions?" Charlotte nods, so you continue on. "Do you still live at home?"

"Oh, um, no. My parents passed away when I was really young, so I live alone."

"Really? No siblings...aunts, uncles? Grandparents?" She shakes her head again, and you move on. "Not married, then?"

Charlotte snorts at that, a gesture that you find delightful but judging by the way she shrinks back in her chair she finds mortifying. "No, not married. Not really anything like that." That brings her to a pause, however, the girl tilting her head questioningly. "Are these normal interview questions?"

Isabelle sits down on the edge of the desk, blocking off Charlotte's probing stare. "Of course they are. Now, let's try a little exercise. I'm going to ask you a series of questions, and you just answer them as quickly as you can. No wrong answers, just whatever pops into your head. Okay, Charlotte?" When the girl hesitantly nods, Isabelle begins. "What's your favorite color?" When Charlotte knits her brow in thought, Isabelle gives her another smile. "You don't have to think hard about it, just say something. Anything!"

"Okay. Um, green. No blue!"

"What's your favorite season?"

"Spring?"

"Do you like dogs, or cats?"

"Both!"

"How often do you wash your bedsheets?"

Charlotte's starting to get into it now. "Omigod, all the time. Fresh sheets are the best."

"Do you play any games or anything like that?"

"Yeah! I really like shooters! I tried streaming once, but I couldn't really figure out how to do it right."

Isabelle's questions are speeding up now that Charlotte is clearly comfortable with the exercise. "What to you think you'll have for dinner tonight?"

"Ugh, probably just popcorn and wine again."

"Subs or dubs?"

"Subs obviously. Except Cowboy Bebop. Then it's the dub and I'm ready to fight about it."

"Will your new submission be ready for the forums tonight?"

"Oh yeah, it came out so well! I really think tha--?!" Charlotte's eyes go wide at that, her mouth clamping shut as the three of you stare at her expectantly. Everyone in the room sits in silence for what seems like an eternity before Charlotte finally muster up the will to finish her thought. "Um...I mean, er, what do you mean?"

Jenny pulls some pages from the folder, raising her eyebrows at Charlotte. "She means whether or not you'll be posting another morph of yourself on that transformation forum tonight. This is you, right? Under the handle 'Lotsa_Lottie'?" Charlotte's turned so red that she may burst into a cinder as Jenny flips around a photo of what certainly looks like your interviewee, though the girl in the photo is groping breasts the size of medicine balls as they nearly burst out of her sweater. "These are good! Is it all Photoshop? Or is there, like, some sort of rig or breast plate involved?"

By the time Charlotte is able to answer, her voice is a very small and timid squeak. "Are you the Internet Police or something? Is, is this a sting? Am I under arrest?"

You and your friends quickly share glances, silently agreeing that bursting into laughter would be a dick move. So instead you carefully clear your throat and do your best to sound less amused than you absolutely are. "Of course not, Charlotte. It's obviously not illegal to to like stuff like this. And you're only changing photos of yourself, which puts you in like the top one percent of Internet users from an ethical standpoint."

The girl looks momentarily relieved, which makes space for other emotions to bubble up as she abruptly glares at you. "Well yes then! I did post that stuff! So what?!"

You spread your hands out wide. "Well, it means that you might be exactly the sort of person we'd like to work with."

Charlotte blinks at you for a moment, trying her best to work through that. When she finally speaks, the flush is creeping up her neck again. Though you suspect it isn't entirely out of nerves anymore. "Wait. Is the Milk Lady Magic Dairy some sort of...collab or something? You're looking for models and artists and stuff?"

Jenny passes the photo over to you. "Something like that."

"Wait, how did you even know who I am? I made sure to blur out my face in all of the photos..."

"Oh, that's easy." You stand up from your seat, striding around the desk to take your position between Isabelle and Jenny. "We used magic."

Charlotte snorts again at that, waiting for you to follow up your joke with an actual answer. Much to her surprise, one never comes. "Um...what?"

"We used magic, because we're magic. We're witches." It's wild how casually you're able to say something like that about yourself now. "We aren't looking for artists, or models. We want to do something like this,"--You lift up Charlotte's photo--"Only for real. And we thought you might be interested in being a part of that."

Charlotte looks like she's ready to move on. "Look, um, I'll admit that I'd normally be down to roleplay this out? You guys are really..." She's visibly stopping herself from taking another hungry look at your boobs. "...fun, you guys seem fun. But I actually do need a job and stuff? So, um, I don't know; maybe we could trade numbers or something but..."

Isabelle shakes her head. "This isn't roleplay; we're being serious. And there this really does come with an actual job, for the record, with actual money."

The girl still looks very much unconvinced, so Jenny goes in for the kill. "How about this? You choose one thing about you, and I'll change it however you want. No charge, totally separate from whether or not you join us. How does that sound?"

Charlotte clearly decides that it's easier to just humor the three of you, because she makes a show of thinking about it. After a moment of performative consideration, she reaches up and snags a bit of her hair. "Well, my hair has always been a mess. Why don't you magic me up a nicer style?"

Jenny leans forward. "Oh, hair is easy; that was literally the first thing I learned." With that, she lifts her hand and gives a ringing snap of her fingers. Charlotte begins to dramatically 'ooo' and 'ahh', clearly prepared to play act herself changing, only to freeze when a mote of opalescence sparkles into existence before her eyes. The girl flinches back, but before she can move further the rainbow shimmering floats up to touch the fringe of her dry, dull hair. She takes in a quavering breath as the energy slowly works its way up to the crown of her head, leaving behind a glow that sinks into her damaged locks.

By the time Jenny's magic finishes its work and vanishes in a poof, Charlotte is left with a stylish bob of flawless hair, her gorgeous chestnut tresses practically radiating good health. Jenny folds her arms, looking quite pleased with herself. "Not bad work, is it Charlotte?"

The girl is too busy staring at herself in the mirror to put much thought into her response, eyes wide as she runs a hand through her magically perfect hair. "You can call me Lottie."

You press onward as Lottie continues to drink in her own reflection. "Well, Lottie, if you aren't interested in our offer, you can think of this as a gift from us. Once you walk out these doors, you won't remember anything that's happened or been said here today. You'll simply think you're having a very good hair day, then count yourself fortunate when that good hair day continues on for the rest of your life." You deliberately stand up, motioning towards the door. "Anyways! If that's everything, we really must be--"

"One more!"

Well that sure sounds like a bullseye. You do your best to keep your expression smooth and innocent as you shoot Lottie a questioning look. "One more?"

The girl nods quickly, the flush spreading past her neck and into her cheeks. "Yes! Just do it one more time! Um, so I know it's not, you know...look, can you just change me once more, maybe? Please?"

You glance Jenny's way, indicating that it's her decision. She amiably shrugs, rising her hand for another snap. "What's on the menu this time?"

Lottie is beet red at this point. "M-my chest? Please?" When Jenny nods, she quickly throws up her hands. "Wait!" The girl struggles out of her oversized sweater, revealing a somewhat ratty green t-shirt with a faded Triforce directly over a totally flat chest. She screws her eyes shut and squeezes her arms together, trying to best present the little that she actually has, and then she gives Jenny a quick nod.

She whips them wide open as soon as she hears the snap ring out, practically hyperventilating as the mote of rainbow power settles on her practically concave chest. She lets out her breath with a shudder, then groans as mass begins to bubble up between her tightly pressed arms. And before she can fully process what's happening, the energy fades away, leaving her what look like a pair of cute B-Cups smooshed between her arms and fat, furious little nipples tenting her t-shirt.

Jenny offers Lottie a shrug as the girl squishes her newly grown breasts with shaky hands. "Sorry, that's all I can give you with what you already had to offer. Still, they look good!"

Isabelle agrees. "You're pretty close to the same size as me, it looks like. Not everyone needs huge breasts, right?"

"I do, I need them!" Lottie bursts out of her seat, pert little boobs happily jiggling in her shirt. She looks like she might actually drop to her knees and start begging. "I'll do anything! Anything!"

You quickly motion for Lottie to sit back down, waiting for her outburst to even out a touch before responding. "It's great that you're eager, Lottie, but don't agree before we tell you what we need." She opens her mouth, but you cut her off. "And don't say you'll do 'anything' again. That's simply not true. Frankly, we wouldn't have even brought you in if we thought you would do anything. Okay?"

Lottie swallows hard, doing her best to tamp down her intense excitement. "Okay." You nod in approval, then proceed to give Lottie a bare bones run down of both your magic and your situation. You explain how you need to increase your power source, and how to do that you need to increase your number of followers. As you make things clearer and Lottie continues to listen, the raw anticipation fades somewhat from her face.

But you don't miss that her flush goes nowhere.

The girl stays quiet for a moment after you finish, then hesitantly raises her voice. "So...you're saying that you need to put together a second...um, herd, you called it? For another weekly Ritual?"

"That's right."

"And it's...like a sex thing?" When you nod, she shrinks back into her seat. "Then...it's probably no good that I'm not into guys? Like at all?"

Isabelle tuts, leaning forward to pat Lottie on the shoulder. "That's absolutely fine! You certainly wouldn't be alone in that, after all. We need more girls for the second part of the Ritual anyways."

Lottie gulps at that, sweat starting to glisten on her forehead. "You mean, um, getting m-mil-, getting m-..."

"Yes." Jenny leans forward, giving the trembling girl a sly smile. "Getting milked." She flips the folder back open, thumbing through until she comes to a particular page. "Based on the 'Lotsa Lottie: Down on the Farm' set you did, we guessed you might be okay with that." Jenny makes a show of flipping past a dozen or so print outs. "Otherwise, why do all these sequels?"

You're rather surprised, and honestly quite impressed, when instead of immediately agreeing to your proposal Lottie instead steels herself and asks another question. "You said there was an actual job involved, too?"

Huh, how responsible. "Absolutely. You'd technically be working here? You'll be on the payroll at least, but it doesn't really matter if you come in or do anything. It's complicated; magic is involved." Though, asking such a practical question after being offered literally all of her deepest fantasies certainly speaks to character. "Actually, it would be great if you wanted to come in and run the place. You could be the manager! Even Sydney would agree that she's not the best manager."

"Who's Sydney?"

"I'm very glad you asked." You press a button on the intercom system, leaning over the microphone and raises your voice. "Sydney, would you come back here, please? We're ready for you."

Lottie furrows her brow at that and twists around in her chair to look at the door, only to gasp when Sydney bounces through. You suspect the only reason she isn't stammering is because she's biting down hard on her lower lip, eyes all but bugged out as they take in Sydney's impossibly flawless face and plump, sensuous lips, her perfectly slender little frame and the outrageously huge breasts she's stuffed into a cheetah-print tank top.

Sydney does a little jump as she reaches the side of Lottie's chair, the little green apron she's wearing making a vain attempt to cover her immense bust as it continues to jostle long after she's come to a stop. She gives Lottie a cheery wave, then suddenly gasps. "Omigod you have the best hair! I'm so jealous!" She gives her currently violet-dyed mop of hair a shake, inadvertently starting another boobquake. "Should I try that color? Do you think I could pull it off?! I'm Sydney, by the way!"

Lottie seems to have zero control over her shaking arms as she dizzily turns her head to you, indicating Sydney with a trembling finger. "I'd...like that?" When you nod, she swallows again. "Like...exactly like that?"

Good question. "Well no, not exactly. It seems to be mostly based on what you want? I'm sure that if you didn't want it, you wouldn't wind up looking quite so..."

Sydney merrily chimes in. "Slutty?"

"Yes, exactly."

When Lottie finally responds, her voice is very quiet. "Um...maybe a bit s-slutty, though? I don't mind if boys look." Her cheeks, if it's even possible, turn a deeper red. "I want them to look."

You pass an empty cup to Sydney. "Well then Lottie, all you have to do is drink this."

"Drink whaaaaaa~?!" Lottie's question dissolves into a noise of shocked lust as Sydney hikes up her top, struggling it over her oversized tits until they finally release to smack heavily against her small frame. The too-ripe vixen doesn't leave her soon-to-be compatriot long to simply oogle her gloriously massive wonders, humming in pleasure as she takes one throbbing nipple in hand. She gives it a practiced pull, and Lottie melts back into her seat as a thick stream of sparkling milk splurts out of her gushing teat.

A moment later, Sydney is stuffing her fat udders back into her shirt, giving them a pleased little pat, and Lottie is staring down at a cup filled to the brim with faintly rainbow-tinted milk.

This milk is one of your proudest achievements, actually. You'd always thought there was a flaw with the Induction Ritual as you went through it, with the **** fight against impending bimbo-ification and all. After all, not everyone can be a High Priestess. Assuming they only want to help support the coven, why **** them through a test they can't pass and then treat their inevitable failure like a punishment?

So after pouring over the Book, you've created a second version of the Venti Late Oath. Maybe call it the Grande Frappuccino Oath; the name's still a work in progress so no quoting on that. The point is, this version of the milk locks the drinker into being a member of the herd, but significantly dampers the negative parts of the whole 'docile cow' thing. Plus it can be produced by less senior members of the coven, which saves your poor little nips a lot of strain.

But the best part is, you actually thought up something cool to say this time. You finally did it. You always knew you had it in you, but honestly it feels---

Oh, wait. Lottie just started chugging it down as soon as Sydney put the cup into her hands. Fuck. You never get to say anything cool.

Well, might as well enjoy the show. Even as Lottie is still mid milk-gulping frenzy, you notice the color of her shirt beginning to fade. You watch in fascination as the dull green becomes a vibrant white, the Triforce design shifting as the girl's nipples threaten to lance clean through the fabric. A moment later, the old image has been replaced a logo displaying a cartoony cow's face and a milk jug, 'Lon Lon Ranch, Finest Milk in Hyrule' lettered across the center. No sooner have the words finished forming, though, than they immediately begin to deform, Lottie's newly sprouted boobs gleefully soaking in the magical milk and starting to grow.

Lottie already had quite a pretty face, though she was so retiring and twitchy that it was hard to tell. Now though, as her features begin to shift slightly in a dozen ways, she's become a full-on hottie. You aren't surprised when her lips wind up a bit more reasonable than Sydney's pair of slutty kissers, but do note with interest that her mouth is noticeably wider. It gives her an appealingly cat-like quality, with a smile that seems to curl in on itself and hint at all the tricks its capable of.

And that isn't the only significant difference in the two girls' changes. While Sydney stayed incongruously petite, Lottie's body is ripening into a sinful lushness. Even as her tummy tighten and tones it remains sleek and soft, drawing immediate focus to her newly flaring hips and big, shapely butt. Jesus, what a goddamn ass; that cake would **** a million thots to shut down their TikToks in shame.

In short, while the milk left Sydney with the sort of body built for dancing half of the night and fucking for the rest, Lottie's been gifted the sort of body that would drive an onlooker to tears, **** to know for just a second how wonderful her softness must feel.

Though of course, the milk isn't finished yet. The main event, as always, is saved for last.

Lottie has barely even begun growing before you're **** to contend with the fact that there is about to be yet another girl with breasts bigger than yours around. You saw Lottie's morphs, you knew what she was into, so just accept it and be a big girl already. So you can only offer a resigned sigh as the newly minted cow gathers up her jiggling boobs, holds them as long as she can, then groans in utter bliss as they spill over her outmatched arms and keep on growing.

You notice that as soon as she grows big enough to warp her shirt's logo beyond recognition, it immediately snaps back to clarity as reality replaces it with a size large enough to accommodate her absurdly fat rack. This happens once more before Lottie's growth finally tapers off, leaving the panting girl with breasts that it takes you a moment to realize aren't that much bigger than yours. But it's not just their size, they just seem so full and heavy as they ponderously wobble within her snug shirt that you can't help being somewhat in awe.

You've got a killer rack? But Lottie is a blue ribbon cow, there's no two ways about it.

It's few minutes before Lottie is able to shakily rise from her chair and several more after that before she's finished tearfully thanking everyone within sight, her newly enormous boobs sending stacks of papers, a cup of pens and a lamp tumbling to the ground as she sways about the room. Eventually you're to send her off with Sydney, the two cows linked arm in arm and chatting like newfound best friends. Okay, phew. That went pretty well. You spend a few moments picking up after Lottie's careless knockers, then move to settle back behind the desk again.

"Alright then. Next?"