Busting the Beach

(contains hyper breast expansion, wardrobe malfunctions)

Commission for Xilimyth

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Being sucked into an isekai was supposed to be all flashy, overpowered mechanics followed by crowds of cheering adulation for heroic deeds. That was how it always worked in the light novels. The protagonist served as some blank slate given the powers of a god and the natural attraction of a movie star.

Instead, no one gave a damn about Desmond. Hell, he wondered how he was still alive after so long. True to his title, the shield hero was no warrior. The heavy tool permanently latched to his forearm only served one purpose; blocking. Bashing it into someone’s face had no hope of doing anything significant except annoying them. And that was speaking from experience. Many people in this shitty other world kingdom loved to antagonise Desmond, and he was not one for social etiquette. He just resorted to what felt got his point across.

Long story short, the king and his first princess did not accept such counter points once their black eyes healed.

“Master Fallout! Look, I caught a crab!”

Desmond allowed a content smile to break the black fur of his muzzle. Turning to watch the athletic cheetah woman bouncing towards him was a welcome sight. The triumphant shine on her face while holding out an impressively large king crab in offering oozed a cuteness the shield squirrel never expected to feel again.

“Good work, Xilitalia, but watch the pincers. Those won’t be kind to you.” He reached out to pat the woman’s head between her rounded yellow ears. That got her tail wagging faster.

“I’m wearing battle gloves, master. It’d have to be a demon to pierce them so easily.” Xilimyth huffed in her tornado of emotions. She had the body of a mature adult, but could act so moody like a teenager.

Honestly, Desmond had no idea how to deal with her. He just continued smiling while she worked to tie up the crab’s claws and get a pot boiling for lunch. It might have been no exaggeration the cheetah was probably the sole reason for his making it this far.

Circumstances had forced him to buy a slave just to have any offensive capabilities, but their dynamic changed fast. While the rest of the kingdom seemed hell bent on killing the shield hero over stopping an invading force of monsters, Xilimyth was risking life and limb for his sake without prompting or hesitation. She was everything; a friend, family, and the perfect sword to his shield. At least there were some good things in this world.

A chorus of giggles was quick to remind both of them there were plenty of bad things as well. Just down the slope to the nearby beach was the spear hero strutting his way across the sand with nothing but swim trunks and signature weapon slung over a shoulder. No surprise his party of entirely female humans were swarming over him, all in bikinis to show off their attractive bodies. The sight was not morally pleasant to take in, but Desmond’s gaze still lingered for a bit long after they had passed their humble campsite. At least they did not stop to share friendly words. Being one of the people that has given them the most trouble, that might have ended with another shield bash incident.

Their unexpected appearance on the beach gave Desmond an urge to go for a swim himself. It had been a long time since he got to enjoy any kind of luxury, much less with a friend. He turned to suggest the idea to Xilimyth, only to lose his voice under the angry scowl she was giving him. “W-what?”

“You were staring at them for a very long time, master Fallout.”

“Y-yeah, sorry,” Desmond said meekly. There was no point trying to lie about it, Xilimyth had a way of knowing when he did anything even if she was not a direct witness. “We both know what an idiot that guy is. I’ll never fathom how he can get a whole harem swooning at his feet.”

Xilimyth dropped her crab into the pot, giving a disgruntled huff. The lid was slammed on top so hard it was amazing the sticks supporting it held. “Neither of you seem to complain about their huge breasts, though.”

“I... huh?” Desmond’s ears lowered with his raised eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you could aspire to much higher standards than his shallow gains, master.” Xilimyth turned away, making a grumpy noise, tail thumping the ground. While her anger said one thing, her posture seemed to try expressing another. It was almost like she was trying to show off her profile. Countless weeks of grinding levels on local monster quests had given her an impressive muscle definition. They showed even under her usual skirt and hide armor.

“Are you saying you want bigger boobs?”

“W-w-whaaaaat!?” Xilimyth recoiled so badly she nearly went into a tumble down their hill. A blush spread until her face was practically red with black spots. “What the hell are you priorities, pervy master!? You’re such an idiot spending so much time gawking at huge women that don’t even care about you. It’s not like I’m a flat plank of wood either, or... or that I’d mind you looking at me... I mean, uh... mmmph!!”

“Uuuhhh…” Once again, Desmond had no idea what this cheetah was thinking. Picking up on this, Xilimyth shortened her speech into a silent glare for several seconds before directing her gaze at the fire boiling their meal. Tension drew so thick, he would not be surprised if Xilimyth was magically burning the pot with her mind. “Oh, hey, I’ve been practicing my spell casting on our way over here.”

“Yeah?” Xilimyth’s mood flicked faster than a light switch, ears perking and tail raising as she turned to him curiously. She must have been just as happy for a topic change as Desmond, although she probably could not have suspected his motives. “That witch shopkeeper said you were attuned to nature, right?”

“Yup, watch this.” Desmond stepped back for space, raising hands in the air in a wide stance pose. Almost immediately, the air around him changed. Green lights leaked from the surrounding plants, including the grass at his feet, drawing into the squirrel’s blue fur to create an aura of energy. “I am the Hero of the Shield who commands the origin of power. I have read and deciphered a law of nature. I call forth the power of nature...to make Xili the bustiest thing on this beach!”

“WHAT!?” Xilimyth leapt to her feet, but even a trained swords woman could not dodge the beam of nature energy fired her way. She let out a soft grunt as it collided into her hide breastplate, easily bypassing the physical protection to absorb into her chest. The magic flowed through her being, tensing muscles and straining her senses. Tail fur puffed out into a thick spotted bush, cracking hard through the air. That was not nearly as worrying when the sensations passed, leaving an intense heat rising inside her breasts. “M-master! That is a horrible misuse of magic. Y-you c... could have let me change out of m-m-my traveling gear… Ummmpph...”

Desmond’s smile quivered, only half sure he had made a wise choice. Not that either of them could stop the pressure boiling under the cheetah’s soft flesh. “You were jealous of spear dorks entourage, right? I was planning to use this to mock them later, but now you can even the playing field.”

“T-that really doesn’t help, ma-aaah!”

Xilimyth’s breaths quickened, eyes locked in horror down at the pulsing leather she wore. It was not just the movement of her lungs shifting anymore. With each passing second, the sturdy material lifted further outwards away from the cheetahs torso. Material groaned in weak attempts to stretch around increasing mass underneath it.

Too bad leather is rather accommodating. Xilimyth wiggled in place, giving strained grunts, trying to tug the collar of her armor for more room. As it curved out into a small shelf, she gave up on that and struggled to tear off the ties binding it. The breastplate gave a sharp pop open from the pressure, matching Xilimyth’s soft mew of relief. She quickly removed the tight covering, only to yowl in dismay upon seeing the damage.

Even Desmond’s eyes popped out, watching Xilimyth’s chest bulging far and wide under her traveling blouse. His cheetah companion already reached the same density as the first princess who had tried the hardest out of everyone to get them killed. But the spell continued working, quickly swelling Xilimyth past even a royal’s ripe melons. The top lace of her blouse creaked, trying to hold the heavy mounds, only to snap when she took too deep a breath.

“Aah... aaah... nya! M-master! How big am I going to get!?” Spittle leaked out of Xilimyth’s muzzle with her labored pants. Delicate gloved hands hovered around the ever-expanding spheres on her chest, heavily reluctant to make contact. She was afraid to confirm such weights pulling down her front were real. Knowing Desmond, anything she did might accidently make their growing condition worse.

The question caught Desmond off guard. Two fingers tapped his chin, but pensive yellow eyes refused to gaze at anything but the other laces of Xilimyth’s blouse snapping. The undershirt she wore fell out in the ripping space, losing what slack it had left. Its material tightly outlined a pair of round orbs easily bigger than his head. “Well, I was going to make that bitch princess into a cow until she could not move, and I only gave you like twenty percent of the spell’s power. So... not a lot bigger? Hopefully?”

“Hopefully!?” Xilimyth felt a flush of anger parroting her master’s uncertainty. That only lasted three seconds when she felt a hard shift in her mammaries. They inflated in a huge growth spurt that destroyed her blouse under the pressure. Loud tears filled their campsite, quickly complimented by soft sloshing noises. The poor cheetah was nearly rocked off her feet with heavily laden breasts shifting wherever gravity dictated.

Now with only an undershirt barely keeping Xilimyth’s breasts held back, Desmond could not keep the blood dripping from his nose. Just one of them had swollen bigger than the toy ball he had bought her shortly after their first meeting. And still they continued to bloat bigger and rounder. Bits of white fur bulged out from under the hem as the shirt strained on taut threads.

The realization that she was on her last barrier of any common decency sent Xilimyth into a panic. Both hands slapped across her expanding bust, clearly unable to do anything against their growth. She could barely hug her arms around the massive rack, it’s soft flesh squishing pliably as pillow over and under her limbs.

“M-master, please! Make them stop! Make them... o-oh, I... I think they stopped...?”

Neither really noticed with the vast size Xilimyth’s bust reached when it actually stopped. Xilimyth stared at her squishy cleavage bulging through the shirt’s neck for a long time before finally being convinced the ordeal was over. Arms slowly pulled back, letting the mounds rolled off into a low hang at her waist. The firm bit of abs she had developed were hidden under large furry sandbags, overfilled with milk glands and fat. In her exhausted state, the cat’s tail snapped again, sure she could hear the liquid sloshing inside them.

“Well...good to know the spell works for next time we see them, eh?” Desmond chuckled nervously. “Hey, mind if I try your butt next? We could at least give you a sense of symitr-EEEEEEEEE!!”

Despite having gained effectively thirty-pound weights to her chest, Xilimyth remained a blur of speed. Barely a second passed before she cleared the distance to Desmond, grabbing both his pointed ears in a hard pinch. She did not feel the least bit guilty about using claws on the sensitive lobes, bringing Desmond to hit knees squealing from the pain. The fact this brought his face planted between her new canyon cleavage only strengthened her resolve.

“That was so careless and stupid, Master! Not only are you abusing magic people train their lives for, but how am I supposed to be your sword like this!?”

“W-what? OW!”

A sharp twist of the ears let Desmond know interruptions were not appreciated.

“You ever try fighting with water-skins slung over your shoulders? That’s ten times better than what these stupid tits are going to be like.” Xilimyth heaved a few times, trying to calm her thoughts. Thankfully, she did not notice how it punched Desmond’s bloody nose between the aforementioned tits. Nor did Desmond desire to bring it to her attention. “What’s going to happen if we get attacked or I need to help with traveling problems? If you get hurt because of your own stupid perversions, I don’t know how I’m going to feel. You dummy.”

The pressure on Desmond’s ears released, but before he could take a breath Xilimyth wrapped both arms around to hug his head into her pillowy mounds.

“Uuuhhhh…”

“If this is what makes you happy, master, I might as well let it be.” Xilimyth could feel the heat radiating off her face from such embarrassing circumstances. Still, at least she got her wish for a bit more loving attention.

At least until Desmond reached up to give both mammaries a squeeze. That was just the extra effort push needed to overtake her undershirts limits. The entire front bounced once and exploded in a shower of white cotton scrap. Now completely free, the cheetahs boobs flowed out to blanket her belly. Almost all of Desmond’s face became buried in cleavage, with his paw pads being the only support for their heavy weight.

With a bit of wiggling, the squirrel’s face resurfaced, resting his chin atop the white rack to give Xilimyth his best ‘innocent’ face. “So, uh, I’m forgiven then?”

A chill breeze moved past the area across exposed nipples, tickling Xilimyth into a hard shudder. In response, Desmond found himself suddenly struggling to breathe. Not from the overwhelming mammaries pressing into his head, but the spotted yellow arms tightening their hug on his neck.

“You have a long way to go for THAT, master!” Leaving their crab meal on a dying fire, Xilimyth turned and effortlessly dragged Desmond down across the coastline. There was a tiny fishing village visible some distance away. “First, you’re going to give me some damn clothes to cover this mess. Then we can talk about how your planning to dispel this before the next wave invasion. And it’s definitely going to be over a meal. An expensive one too! Not those cheap copper stuff you’re so frugal about. Honestly, you dumb goof! How am I supposed to do anything for you looking like this!?”

If Desmond had not been suffocating for the next several yards, he might have noticed the anger left Xilimyth’s voice. If anything, his best friend was smirking a little as she pondered what other ways he might make her grow. Hopefully, they could include growing clothes with it.