Becoming hers (Bridget Breast Vore)

[mariasnowlily]

This is a story where you become the boobs of Bridget Guilty Gear. The concept was revealed to me during prayer, unironically.
F/F, trans, cw: for absorption, breast vore, general vanilla transfemme sexual stuff

Helping organize queer student groups in college gives you an eye for this sort of thing. You see a shortish, twinkey guy walk in, eyes darting around in a mixture of excitement and nervousness, his dirty-blonde hair poking out like a soft glimmer of light from behind a deliberately nondescript gray hoodie, and you already know: gosh, she’s gonna be gorgeous.

Over the next few months, you slowly see her blossom. She’s picked the name Bridget, which suits her playful demeanor perfectly. After a couple group meetings, some parties and a few cuddle puddles, you’re part of a rather large group of friends giving her advice to get HRT, buy new clothes... You see her deck herself out in all the typical cringey baby-gay shit, swap her major three times in an unevenly spaced walk from mechanical engineering to archaeology, hear her bitch about her first girlfriend and breakup that she’s able to have with all the new messy and hormonal emotions of early transition...

Within a year, she’s become someone who turns heads in most rooms she’s in. One of the rare people who remain athletic through transition, her playful, deliberate gait, surprisingly toned body and unblunted bold side have girls and even several guys crowding around her. She’s even developed a rather unique sense of fashion, wearing a large blue cardigan slightly reminiscent of her earlier hoodie, over a soft beige blouse tied right below her rather small chest, as if double-bluffing the one trait in which transition was unkind to her into something that felt distinctly feminine and alluring. Given your own rather-common complex in that area, her body does become something you spend a somewhat shameful amount of time thinking about.

Honestly speaking, it’s very clear to you that you have a crush on her at this point. She remains very friendly and close with you, in the little-sister way that younger trans girls often fall into, but you have some awareness of how far out of your league she’s landed over the past year. Even in the kind of queer friend group where over half the possible permutations of people have been a relationship at some point, and after dozens of your own casual relationships in the past year, you still find yourself hesitating to properly ask her out, leaving it as a soft sexual tension in a close friendship.

As the semi-yearly Rainbow Prom organized by your group comes around (infamous for resulting in the most hookups out of any officially college-recognized event, you’d always note with some pride), you find yourselves helping each other get dressed, and you can’t help but to have your eyes wander in some less-than-sisterly directions, clearly more than you really need to to suggest blouses.

“Well, if I’ve got a girl looking at me like that already, I might not even need to go to this party” Bridget says, poking fun at your attention.

“Oh my bad, I was distracted by how blindingly beautiful you are”, you joke, resolving to take the hint and act more normal here. “So how about this?”, you say, tossing a jacket her way and trying to change the subject.

She holds onto it for a second, as if lost in thought. “It’s not like there’s that much to look at there anyways”, she says in a soft voice.

“Given how you dress, I never thought that really bothered you... You do look amazing either way though, and maybe HRT will come in clutch in the next year or so”, you say, slipping into admittedly template reassurances, vice-president of Rainbow Alliance style. It wasn’t bad advice or anything, but given her build, it did seem unrealistic that she would have too much growth in the next while...

“Oh trust me, I know,” she said, striking a jokingly provocative pose while putting on the jacket. “It’s just not really how I wanted to look, y’know? But I guess every trans person is gonna have stuff like that...” she drifted off. It was kind of uncharacteristic of her, with how confident she often presented herself. Maybe being the one person in the friend group to never try hitting on her had made her comfortable enough to talk about this... not that this is the direction you wanted your relationship to go with your crush of several months.

You look at her for a few seconds, at that beautiful girl that you’d been slightly obsessed with for the past few months, and before you really think about it, you find yourself offering: “So what if you used me?”

The silence lingers in the air for a couple seconds, before she reacts. “What?... I mean, are you sure?” she asks, slowly moving towards you. “It isn’t really something you can take back, y’know? Is it really ok?”

It wasn’t exactly an unusual method among trans women, especially younger first-years, but it was rare to see a senior thinking about doing it. Objectively speaking, it's one of those horny bad decisions you’re supposed to be a bit too old to make at this point. But seeing Bridget there, topless behind her open jacket, looking at you full of hesitant desire, you can’t believe how much you want it. “Yeah... I’m definitely sure”, you say, with a nervous conviction this time.

Both of you start removing most of the few clothes you’d put on, the atmosphere nervous, excited, electric... You reflect back on her words as she asked you to be sure. Hesitancy on your part aside, shouldn’t there be some doubt on her end? You’d think there’d be some doubts a person would have about turning a whole human being into bigger tits for themselves... As you have this thought, you notice her starting to stare at your body eagerly as you continued to strip, especially your chest, almost hungrily... She... definitely wanted this, huh.

It was kinda funny, in retrospect, how differently transition had been for both of you. You were, as always, awkwardly tall, you struggled with your voice more than a little, and your love of baking had definitely shown on your figure over the years. Your main redeeming feature was your chest, a rare natural D cup on a trans woman (technically an F cup by most conventions, but mostly because of fuckery meant to measure cis women)... the contrast with the classically beautiful, petite, small-chested Bridget was notable.

As if thinking the same thing, you feel her slowly move to touch your chest, softly feeling its weight, its softness in her hands... Softly, she bends down and gives it a kiss, then gently runs a finger through the wet spot she created, making your knees go weak. “So pretty... I can’t believe these are going to be mine soon...” she says, her voice full of desire. She stands on her toes and softly kisses your neck, then gently kisses it. “I can’t believe you’re going to be mine soon... all mine...”. Your mind goes blank with desire and emotion that completely dwarfs the growing voice of hesitation on the back of your head, your mental keysmash distracting you as she finishes softly removing your pants, leaving you entirely naked. “Well, it looks like we’re ready!” she says brightly. On the back of your mind, you blankly note that she’s left the lower half of her underwear on, as she gestures for you to approach.

Your heart pounding, you hesitantly reach your hand towards her chest. The discussion had centered on how she found it insufficient, but for the millionth time you couldn’t help how beautiful you found it. It was a bit petite, sure, but in the adorable, slightly angular way that trans women often have... it suited her figure perfectly, especially with the way she usually flaunted it... and it felt so fucking soft...

Your fingers sink slightly into the softness of her chest, before she asks one last time, slightly hesitantly, “Are you sure you want to do this?” Her eyes remain full of desire for it, such that you can tell she can barely make herself even ask it, but ethically she seemed to feel a need to verify it, one last time. You nod softly, your eyes brimming with the same desire, as she starts to take you...

Your fingers start to sink... deeper, somehow, encountering a warm, soft resistance, as if sinking slowly into warm sand. You feel their structure kind of fade a little, as if they’re still there, but only half so, as if they’re also something else, as if, with a very soft sensation, you could feel her chest, all of it at the same time, through the same nerves that once gave sensation through your fingers. You feel her breathing quicken, becoming a gentle panting, as you slowly put your fingers in all the way. Curiously, you wiggle them around, which on your end seems to give the same sensation, of gently moving your fingers into a soft resisting texture reminiscent of sand but with the softness of flesh. On the outside, however, all that seems to happen is a very small, gentle jiggling of her chest.

You stare at it with fascination, interrupted when she gives a soft yelp, as if unable to contain a moan any longer. Instinctively, you move to pull back your hand, asking quickly, “oh sorry, did I hurt you, are you ok?” She catches your wrist immediately, eagerly, with a tight grip, and replies passionately, as if struggling to hold back her desire. “Yes fuck please keep going fuck keep going please...”

Your last bits of hesitation gone, you resume pushing in your arm. As your fingers go in deeper, the sensation of them being two things at once, scattering into their surroundings, becomes stronger and stronger... you need to try really hard to even identify where the fingers are as you try to move them. The sensation of them scattering, melting away into this warm, soft world, felt so wonderful, letting you feel a powerful, throbbing pleasure through them, a warm, sexual sensation that helped to overwhelm your ability to even think about what was happening to them. Your hand, and then your wrist started to sink in, also melting away into that soft pleasure, and making her adorably moan again as they disappeared inside her. Slowly, gently, teasingly, you sink your arm in, delighting in her needy, pouting expression as she visibly held back from trying to pull you in faster. The moment felt so intimate, so warm, as you savored every part of giving yourself to this adorable girl.

Once your arm was in past your elbow, you found yourself naturally straddling her lap, as you moved your other arm to start giving it to her. As you feel a more-than-slight bulge pressed softly against you, you’re amused how even in this front, she’s blessed in a way you’d only dreamt of. The soft throbbing against your ass almost distracted you for a second, before you remembered your desire to play more with the situation.

Teasingly, you bring your other hand’s fingers to her chest, near her other breast, and rather than sinking them in, you start gently playing with her nipple, making her moan gently in pleasure and frustration. Surprisingly, with most of your arm gone into her chest, you felt most of the same pleasure you were able to give her flooding your arm which no longer felt like an arm... was she always this much more sensitive than you, or did it have to do with what was happening now? The sensation was so good, you found yourself taking your time teasing her, kissing her chest, slowly savoring the experience, before she groaned in mock-frustration, grabbed your wrist, and pulled it hard into her chest... only to make both of you moan again, distracted in the strength of the sensation of having so much sink in at once into her chest... sink into you, it was increasingly feeling like.

As you gently sink in your other arm, your body adopting a posture funnily similar to giving her a hug, you both start talking for a last time, the arm slowly sinking acting as an hourglass for the next step.

“Y’know, I’ve had a crush on you for the past like half a year at this point. Not that it’ll matter much now, but you really were fucking beautiful before. I hope you end up happy with me though...” you say, kind of deciding to lay it all on the table at this point.

“Hehe, you don’t say. Y’know, I’d have totally gone out with you before, I just figured you didnt wanna date a sophomore. Not anymore though, I like you soooo much better like this.” she replied, breathing softly, enjoying the sensation.

Saying your piece, you sink in a bit more of your arm. As it starts rounding the elbow, you kind of wonder. “So how does it feel when I do this?”, you ask as you start moving your arms and fingers, struggling a surprisingly amount to... locate? would that be the word? your arms and fingers to move them, within the chest that now also you.

“I... fuck...” she says, sort of unconsciously shifting her cock in your direction, as she moaned softly. You let a corresponding amount of your attention drift there, although at this point several parts of your body are rather compellingly making cases for your attention. “It feels kind of... I don’t know how to describe it... it's like, incredibly good, but kind of an unfocused, generalized throb of heat and pleasure... is that what happens when you move? I can’t feel any distinct part of you at all...” The implication of the upcoming state of your body carries a pleasant, hazy silence, as your arms are now sunk in, up to your shoulders.

“Well then... any last words?” Bridget says playfully, composing herself from the messy situation. You realize the extremely obvious implication as she lightly pokes your head in with her finger. This is it. The point of no return. The last time you’ll be speaking as a person before you’re just a part of her, just hers. Forever. Come to think of it looking at them up close Bridget’s tits look so much bigger now with just your arms... she’s so pretty... wait fuck you need to say something. Say something to that beautiful girl giving you such an affectionate look, the radiant smile at how excited she is right now, the girl doing the heavy breathing and discreet dry-humping that’s distracting you from the situation... something to remember you by.

In the end, words fail you, and you say something as straightforward as could be. “I think I love you...”, you say, slightly unsatisfied at the emotion’s ability to gesture how you feel in a moment like this, when you’ll be not her lover but just a part of her, having it feel so perfect, wanting nothing else. Would saying “I adore you” have been better? It feels rather wrong to cap off your last words on a bad note, and you scramble mentally for something better.

However, she seems to know what you mean, and succinctly ties it up perfectly. With an index finger softly pushing your head in, silencing your correction mid-sentence, she sums up her emotions simply. “Well, good for you. You’ll be with me forever then. You’re mine now, forever.” And as she pushes your head into her tits, banishing into the warm, reassuring darkness inside her, her demeanor changes, as she properly goes from treating you like a person to what you are, a part of her body.

Bridget here abandons all composure, leaning back against the chair and grabbing you messily, roughly, by your chest, moaning to herself, “fuck I love these tits I need them inside me I want all of you I...”, just losing herself in the pleasure. You can feel her masturbating intensely outside, her movements clumsy and erratic, as if she couldn’t figure out if she was getting more pleasure from touching herself or pushing more of you inside her, swapping often between both.

While feeling her masturbating and groping you would normally demand your attention, the bigger part of your mind was softly melting into her chest, much as your arms had. Normally, you’d figure someone would die if this happened, but instead, you feel your mind being stretched, softened, almost as if spiritually melting into her tits along with your body... the sensation was strange, as it’s not like you really got dumber, or less yourself. In fact, if you stopped and searched for all your mind, you could think exactly like you did before! Instead, it felt much like your fingers had, as if it was kind of lost in the expanse of Bridget’s chest, like you had to stop and gather yourself to form a thought, to make yourself break away from just passively focusing on the passive sensations of warm, softness, slight motion, that her chest provoked.

What was not helping matters was the flood of pleasure that was flooding your new body. Bridget’s tits were flooded with that non-specific, sharp, throbbing pleasure at your every motion that she had described, and you were newly able to feel that pleasure now that your mind was a part of her. Pleasure that felt like it eroded at your sanity, at your coherence, with a mind that was itself somehow experiencing the panting of her breath, warping with every motion of her chest. It would definitely qualify as a B-cup, now that you were shoulder deep?

You also started feeling, properly, like you were on this side of things now. With your mind in here, it felt less like you were going into Bridget, and more like you were feeding on something outside, growing, enjoying the pleasure of having it become more of you. What were you eating... oh right, its your tits! Your best feature, you were often told. Fuck it felt good going in, melting into more of you...

Bridget started falling into a blissful rhythm that flooded your mind with so much pleasure it felt like it was hard to think of anything, hard to process, just leaning back and taking the overwhelming sensation. With her left hand, as distant as it felt to you now, she was grabbing your ass and pulling it into her, making quick work of your tummy. Funnily, even your cock seemed to become something sharper, more full of sensation as it melted in with you, properly a part of you instead of distantly twitching off in the distance. Bridget came as your cock slipped into her, moaning messily and possessively... perhaps she got off on the concept of it? before immediately starting again, the desperate pleasure of absorbing you seemingly completely brushing aside any concerns of abstract notions like refractory periods.

Although it was more and more of the same, the sensation never got old, the surging sensation of having a part of you slip into her, and loosely melt, spread out, become more of the new you, throbbing with pleasure all the while. Bridget made quick work of your legs, before loosely grabbing hold of your toe, the last part of you on the outside.

“Y’know, it's kinda funny. Apparently I can still pull you out here, while there’s still a bit of you outside. I think Chelsea did it once. But this is it, y’know? Once I push this last little toe in, you’re all mine. There’s nothing anyone could ever do to find you once you’re all in there, no matter how much they might want to.” Your brain was struggling to remember how to process words. You just wanted to sink in where you belong, you wanted all of you to be together, you wanted to be hers, in the soft, pleasant warmth... you couldn’t help but wiggle your toe, trying desperately to slip in... and in one moment of surprise from her, you did.

Having all of you inside her let you finally focus on your new form. Your mind, your body, all of you was stretched into her tits. It didn’t really feel like your old body separations held any meaning anymore... the part of you that once felt your finger, or your butt, or your head, all of it was at once in all of her chest, as if your brain needed to relearn how to separate out your body. It was messy and hazy and warm and, fuck, it felt so good... you could feel her pleasure as she came for a last time, messily groping her chest, the warmth and excitement following from every last touch she gave you, and from deeper in her body.

After a half minute, as she came down from her happy haze, she stood up and posed before a mirror. Her new chest was... probably a bit shy of a C cup? or just barely one. Funnily, it was very clearly smaller than what yours had been. It didn’t feel like that huge of a change, considering what had happened for it. But it suited her perfectly. It felt so right. Somehow, you could see her giving herself a radiant smile through the mirror, the more sexual pleasure clearing from her head and being replaced with the warm buzz of gender euphoria.

Happily, she tried on a couple of her and your old clothing, feeling out how her body looked now, how much more femininely and naturally new clothes fit her. A bit bemused, she pokes at her nipple softly, immediately getting your attention, and complains a bit. “Hehe, I don’t think any of my old bras would fit me at all anymore... do you mind if I borrow some of yours? Geez, you shoulda told me you were gonna do this...”, she said, as she tried tightening the bra you wore here. “It almost feels like walking out wearing your underwear is meant to feel kinky, but I think in this scenario it’s more funny than anything. I’m gonna borrow your bed actually, not like you need it anymore. Not really feeling the party after all this...”

You felt her softly stripping and cuddling up in your blankets. Held tightly against you, or you’d guess against her chest, she held her stuffed bear, Roger, as she slowly drifted off. Didn’t she tell you at some point he was supposed to be haunted or whatever? Hopefully he felt ok about you being here now, you wondered idly as you felt yourself falling asleep. It seemed that your consciousness was tied to hers now... but as you drifted off, you heard her happily and affectionately mumble, “thanks for doing this... I feel so happy... it feels so right...” And just as hazily happy as her, you drifted off.

---

The next Monday, in what could only be described as the perfect embodiment of the concept of “long-suffering”, the president of the student group, Yakov, read out. “Just as you would expect from this group of degenerates, sigh, it appears that our vice-president went and became boobs this weekend.”

Bridget raised her hand and cheerfully exclaimed, “my bad! Teehee”, in a joking pose. Everyone looked around at her and stared at her chest. Some people laughed, a couple girls jokingly wolf-whistled, Yakov’s boyfriend yelled out “whoa, nice tits!” in the corner. At some point someone started jokingly clapping, and most everyone joined, while Bridget laughed unashamedly.

A couple days in, your consciousness tended to be sort of lightly dormant. You felt time passing, and you felt a vague, lazy warm satisfaction as Bridget went about her day, but it was seldom that you gathered all your energy to properly think actual thoughts. This, however, definitely got your attention; the idea that everyone in the group, from the freshmen you’d give advice to to your friends of many years, knew that you were this much of a horny idiot, that you’d given yourself over to Bridget, that you were fucking tits now, was so unbearably humiliating... Desperately you tried to squirm, only to realize that you really had no way to do so at all anymore, no way to even express these emotions. The people on the back clapping were right: you were just a pair of fucking tits now. Aaaaaaaaaaa

Yakov glared at Bridget and sarcastically replied. “Yes, thank you Bridget, for your, ahem, sincerity. Anyways, we’ll be holding elections next...”

After the meeting, a couple of your friends went and semi-flirtingly asked to touch you. Some of them groped you, a few joked that you “looked so much prettier like this!”, and then people got bored and started talking about Chelsea’s D&D campaign.

For the rest of the year, people would occasionally call back to you. Sometimes in parties, people would jokingly pour one out for you, with one enterprising butch girl insisting on pouring it onto Bridget’s boobs and licking it clean in your memory. Occasionally Bridget would hook up with an old acquaintance who would jokingly say hi while kissing you, or really kissing her body, probably not fully realizing how they really were jolting you with pleasure when they did so. Other times, she would remember you exist and speak out loud to you, informing you of her day or plans. Each time felt like a jolt, almost as if reminding you of a dream. “Oh right!”, you’d suddenly think, “I was a person once!”.

Such things, however, quickly faded away after a year. Most of your old friends graduated, and there’s only so long you can speak out loud to your tits before you just feel silly. After a while, months would go past without anyone acknowledging anything about the situation, years...

Life as a pair of tits was simple and straightforward. You spent most of the day in the same lazy, warm, pleasant haze you always did, gently entertaining your reduced thinking power with the soft motion you’d have with her gait. To some extent it seemed that Bridget’s emotions would set your baseline mood, and she was a happy and playful person, so it was fairly nice. Occasionally Bridget would wear a tight bra, and you’d feel cramped, or she’d go jogging, and you’d feel just as exhausted as she did from all the activity, taking a big breath of relief as she tossed off a sweaty sports bra. Sometimes, through Bridget’s rather unchaste lifestyle, you would be kissed, or teased, or groped, and silently scream out in pleasure, more lost in the sensation than anyone in the room.

You never really contemplated your new situation that closely, a perhaps bizarre concept for those whose minds hadn’t been as scattered as yours had. Fuzzily, you were happy and satisfied. Overthinking it from the outside seems like it kinda misses the point though. Is it really worthwhile to contemplate the emotional state of some girl’s tits?

[Manwad]

Actually good trans rep, in MY vore forum? More likely than you think.

Story's good, keep it up.

[grunz0]

holy cow, this is your first story ? it's so good !!
the world could always use more t4t vore smut, and op you certainly rose to the occasion.

love that u said this was revealed to u during prayer—t4t is sacred after all

[mariasnowlily]

holy cow, this is your first story ? it's so good !!
the world could always use more t4t vore smut, and op you certainly rose to the occasion.

love that u said this was revealed to u during prayer—t4t is sacred after all

I'm really glad you liked it!
If I get approved for a gallery thing, I might try something similar again, I really like mixing tf and vore stuff. Maybe like a food tf thing would be fun.

The prayer thing is because I was literally praying and then had this idea and got distracted lmao.

[ThatOneTastyFellow]

Wow! This is really good!

[MamaBimbloatfly]

What an excellent story! You're a fantastic writer.