You watched her grow—inch by inch—until your world disappeared between her thighs.

Diane used to be the kind of girlfriend everyone overlooked. Quiet. Awkward. A l*ttle too shy to speak up, too small to stand out. But not to you—you knew there was something inside her. Something wild. Something powerful. Something aching to be unleashed.

So when she told you she found a clinical trial that could make her “more confident,” you didn’t think much of it. Some hormone boost. A l*ttle therapy. Cute. But what they gave her wasn’t confidence. It was something darker. Something primal. A serum designed to awaken the parts of her no one ever saw—and grow them until the world had no choice but to notice.

When she came back from the lab, she was already taller. Stronger. Her hoodie clung to her curves in ways it never had. You watched her hips sway, her chest rise, her voice deepen... and then you heard the first tear. The fabric around her *ss split like wet paper. Her socks stretched thin, then burst open as her toes expanded, thick and flexing. Her bra snapped apart with a loud pop as her breasts surged forward, full and untamed. She moaned—sharp, low, commanding. And she didn’t stop growing.

She groaned with every inch, her spine cr*cking upward, thighs expanding outward, muscles tightening and bulging with power. You stared, helpless, as your girlfriend’s body transformed into a living tower of raw, feminine power. Her shoes detonated around her feet. Her jeans tore up to the waistline. She grabbed at her own legs, breath hitching, overwhelmed by the sensation of her own unstoppable size.

By the time she looked down at you, she was barely human. More like a goddess. A giantess with thick, dripping thighs and a smirk that told you exactly what was coming next. “Oh, look at you,” she purred, voice deep as thunder. “You liked me small... didn’t you? Too f*cking bad.”

You tried to back away, but it was too late. Her hand came down like a crane, wrapping around you. She brought you to her soaked p*ssy, already trembling, hungry. She held you there—rubbed you there. And then she started using you. Like a toy. Like nothing. Like you existed for one thing only: to make her c*m, harder than anything ever had.

And as she got louder, wetter, tighter, shaking the walls with her moans, you realized—she wasn’t your girlfriend anymore.

She was your new g*d.
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