Rose Lalonde, Part 1

It was not, Rose rationalized, like she was doing this to her actual mother/daughter. Just their paradox ghost clones.

Since her transformation at the hands (tentacles?) of the Horrorterrors, Rose had been dealing with a number of strange urges. Her new body, already somewhat bloated, desired nothing more than to feed. If her mind wandered, her legs would begin exploring their environment and bringing anything remotely eatable up to her face. Suffice to say, as she wandered through the dream bubbles of millions of dead members of doomed timelines, she found plenty to eat.

The other urge was to warp the people she found there with her dark magic. This one, Rose admitted to herself, was likely less the doing of the Horrorterrors and more her own curiosity at what the limits of their boon was. Being dead, she had no reason to turn her talents toward a useful task, and so her fellow dream bubble denizens became fodder for her experimentation.

In this case, she stumbled upon a Roxy and a version of her Mother who seemed open to whatever strange desires she might inflict upon them, themselves bored out of their minds at the changeless monotony of death. Rose’s fingertips tingled as she drew out a new spell, her bottomless hunger forefront in her mind.

As Rose lifted them into the air with her squirming limbs, the paradox clones’ breasts began to expand, rapidly outgrowing any natural sizes on their march toward bloated immensity. Mom’s ended up bigger, of course, having had more material for Rose to work with from the start, but Roxy’s now-enormous pair was closer.

The milk hit Rose’s throat like a geyser, and at first she struggled to drink it fast enough. Within moments, however, her body adapted, and Rose realized that her throat now simply stayed “open”, milk rushing down into her belly without her having to swallow. Another gift from the Horrorterrors, she imagined, although the purpose of that particular attribute seemed unwise to dwell on for long.

As she drank, Rose could feel her body growing fatter and larger. Untold ages of wandering through the bubbles snacking had taken its toll on her figure, to be sure – her potbelly had been prominent before this moment – but this onrushing of milk was rapidly lifting her into a new weight class. A new layer of healthy-looking fat was being deposited along her arms, while her breasts were doing their level best to outpace her belly’s rapid growth. Even her tentacles were growing, she realized as her perspective inched upward. forcing her to readjust her grip on her two milk-laden family members.

After what felt like an eternity, Rose let Roxy’s first breast, drained of its burden, fall from her lips. She glanced at her Mother’s form, which had continued to swell with milk production as she had been drinking, then slowly hefted Roxy’s other nipple to her face.