Milk hungry
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 9
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Lunch had barely started when the hunger hit Sharon like a freight train.
She stared at the grilled chicken and green beans on her tray, nose wrinkling in sudden revulsion. Meat suddenly looked… wrong. Dry. Pointless. Her mouth watered instead for the pale puddle of mashed potatoes drowning in gravy, the slice of cheesecake someone had abandoned two tables over, the untouched carton of 2% milk sitting in front of Lily.
Without a word she shoved her chicken-laden tray to the side and stood up. “Be right back.”
She returned with a chaotic armload: two full cartons of chocolate milk, a large vanilla yogurt parfait, a grilled cheese sandwich oozing cheddar, a cup of cottage cheese, and—after interrogating the lunch lady with bossy insistence—three cheese sticks and a bowl of rice pudding she’d confirmed was made with whole milk.
The girls watched, eyebrows climbing.
“Uh… you good, Shar?” Tammy asked, popping her gum.
Sharon didn’t answer. She tore into the grilled cheese first, moaning softly at the molten cheddar hitting her tongue. Then the yogurt—spoonful after greedy spoonful. She drained one chocolate milk carton in four long pulls, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and immediately reached for Lily’s untouched milk.
“Gimme that.”
Lily blinked. “I was actually—”
“Share, bitch. I’m starving.” Sharon snatched it, popped the straw in, and sucked half down before Lily could protest.
Tammy cackled. “Girl, you’re like a dairy vampire now. What’s next, you gonna start mooing?”
Megan giggled nervously. “Maybe the pill’s turning her into a cow… but, like, a hot one?”
Sharon ignored them. Her eyes scanned the cafeteria like a predator. A table of freshmen nerds sat nearby, each with a milk carton. She sauntered over, hips swaying with predatory confidence.
“Hey losers,” she purred, looming over the smallest one. “Hand over your milk. All of it.”
The boy froze. “B-but—”
Sharon leaned down, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You really wanna say no to me right now?”
He shoved both cartons across the table without another word. Sharon snatched them, flashed a triumphant smirk, and strutted back to her table.
Tammy howled with laughter. “Oh my god, you just extorted milk from nerds. Iconic.”
Lily shook her head, amused. “You’re literally becoming a milk cartel, Shar.”
Sharon just grinned, ripped open the second stolen carton, and chugged.
By the time the bell rang she’d consumed: two chocolate milks, one plain milk (Lily’s), another plain (stolen), the entire parfait, both cheese sticks, half the cottage cheese, the grilled cheese, and the rice pudding. Her stomach felt impossibly full, yet the craving still simmered under her skin like an itch she couldn’t scratch.
They left the cafeteria in their usual formation—Sharon leading, the others trailing like a royal guard—and headed toward the locker rooms for gym class. They were first; the echoing space was empty, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the smell of rubber mats and old sweat faint in the air.
Twenty minutes until the whistle.
They went straight to their lockers. Tammy pulled out neon-pink shorts and a matching crop top. Lily grabbed sleek black leggings and a fitted tank. Megan already had her gym bag open, revealing compression gear that showed off her six-pack.
Sharon reached for her usual outfit—tiny white booty shorts and a baby-blue sports bra—when her stomach gave a violent, audible rumble.
She froze.
Then came the pain: sharp, twisting, like a knife just below her ribs.
“Fuck—” she gasped, clutching her midsection.
The girls turned.
“You okay?” Megan asked, worried.
Sharon didn’t answer. She bolted toward the bathroom attached to the locker room, high ponytail swinging.
Behind her, Tammy snorted. “Too much milk, dairy queen!”
Lily laughed. “She’s gonna explode.”
Sharon slammed into the first stall, locked the door, and bent over the toilet, expecting to puke.
But the pain… stopped.
Replaced by heat.
A deep, rolling wave of molten warmth flooded her from core to fingertips. Her breath hitched. Her vision blurred. A low, involuntary moan slipped past her lips.
Then it hit.
Pleasure—sharp, electric, overwhelming—lanced through every nerve. Her eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out, cheeks flushing crimson. Her knees buckled; she braced both hands on the stall walls.
Her body ignited.
Muscle fibers thickened and lengthened beneath her skin. Shoulders broadened slightly, capping into rounded deltoids. Biceps swelled, triceps horseshoed, forearms veined and corded. Her back flared into a dramatic V-taper, lats spreading like wings. Abs that had been softly defined carved themselves into deep, brick-like eight-packs, obliques slicing sharp diagonals down to narrow hips. Quads and hamstrings ballooned with power, teardrops popping above her knees, calves diamond-hard.
Her breasts surged—already firm C-cups ballooning into heavy, high, gravity-defying DDs, then pushing toward Es, skin stretching taut over dense tissue, nipples hardening to aching points against the shredded remnants of her bra.
Her ass rounded and lifted, glute striations appearing with every involuntary flex. Thighs thickened into sculpted pillars while staying sleek and feminine.
Vascularity bloomed—veins snaking over biceps, forearms, lower abs, even the tops of her breasts.
Her hair—already long—spilled downward in a glossy cascade, thickening and lengthening until the tips brushed the tops of her newly heart-shaped, powerful glutes.
The growth tore fabric. Seams split along her shorts, sports bra ripped down the front, shirt shredded at the shoulders. Buttons pinged off the stall walls.
And then the climax.
A tidal wave of ecstasy crashed through her. Her hips bucked forward.
Splurge
Spluurge
Spluuurge
Thick, sticky cum so copious it soaked through what remained of her panties and dripped audibly onto the tile.
She shuddered violently, moaning deep and animal, then slumped against the wall, panting.
Silence.
Sharon opened her eyes.
Torn scraps of clothing hung off her like battle flags. She stared down at herself—veined, striated, impossibly curvaceous and muscular. A bikini-model physique carved by gods: powerful yet hyper-feminine, every line screaming sex and strength.
She stepped out of the stall on trembling legs.
The large mirror over the sinks reflected a goddess.
Long dark hair (somehow darker, richer) swept down her back to mid-glute. Face sharper—cheekbones lethal, lips fuller, eyes brighter. Body glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. Abs like cobblestones. Arms that could crush, yet elegant. Breasts impossibly perky despite their size. An ass that demanded worship.
She was speechless.
The bathroom door creaked.
Lily stepped in. “Shar, you okay? You ran out like—”
She froze. Mouth fell open. Eyes bugged.
Sharon turned slowly.
Lily’s gaze raked from head to toe, then back up. No words.
Footsteps—then Tammy and Megan burst in.
Tammy: “What the fu—”
Megan: soft gasp, hand over mouth.
Silence stretched, thick and electric.
Sharon flexed—biceps peaking into softball-sized mounds, abs crunching into razor relief. Veins pulsed.
She looked at her reflection, then back at her stunned friends.
A slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
“…I like it.”
Tammy’s voice cracked. “You—what?! Sharon, you’re—you’re fucking jacked! Like, bodybuilder jacked! And your tits—oh my god—”
Sharon laughed—deep, confident, sultry. “Relax, Tammy. It’s still me. Just… upgraded.”
She stepped closer. “Come on. Touch. I know you want to.”
They hesitated only a second.
Then hands were everywhere.
Lily’s fingers traced the deep cuts of her abs, whispering, “How is this even real…”
Tammy squeezed a bicep, eyes wide. “Jesus, it’s like concrete…”
Megan—blushing furiously—ran palms over Sharon’s lats, then tentatively cupped the underside of one massive breast. “They’re… so firm…”
Sharon purred. “Told you. Perfection.”
Voices echoed from the locker room—other girls arriving.
Panic flickered.
“Shit—quick!” Lily hissed.
They scrambled. Megan grabbed the only thing in Sharon’s locker that might stretch: a pair of tiny black training leggings she sometimes wore ironically. They yanked, tugged, stuffed. The material screamed in protest but held—barely. The waistband dug into her obliques, the legs stretched translucent over quads, the crotch pulled scandalously tight. No top would fit; they settled on draping her shredded sports bra artfully across her chest like a makeshift bandeau.
Sharon looked down at herself—absurdly overdeveloped yet sexier than ever.
She grinned at the mirror.
“Let’s go play.”
Option 1: They go play volleyball and Sharon completely dominates the game, she's much stronger than she looks.
Option 2: They go for a run and light athletics training, Sharon easily defeats them all.
She stared at the grilled chicken and green beans on her tray, nose wrinkling in sudden revulsion. Meat suddenly looked… wrong. Dry. Pointless. Her mouth watered instead for the pale puddle of mashed potatoes drowning in gravy, the slice of cheesecake someone had abandoned two tables over, the untouched carton of 2% milk sitting in front of Lily.
Without a word she shoved her chicken-laden tray to the side and stood up. “Be right back.”
She returned with a chaotic armload: two full cartons of chocolate milk, a large vanilla yogurt parfait, a grilled cheese sandwich oozing cheddar, a cup of cottage cheese, and—after interrogating the lunch lady with bossy insistence—three cheese sticks and a bowl of rice pudding she’d confirmed was made with whole milk.
The girls watched, eyebrows climbing.
“Uh… you good, Shar?” Tammy asked, popping her gum.
Sharon didn’t answer. She tore into the grilled cheese first, moaning softly at the molten cheddar hitting her tongue. Then the yogurt—spoonful after greedy spoonful. She drained one chocolate milk carton in four long pulls, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and immediately reached for Lily’s untouched milk.
“Gimme that.”
Lily blinked. “I was actually—”
“Share, bitch. I’m starving.” Sharon snatched it, popped the straw in, and sucked half down before Lily could protest.
Tammy cackled. “Girl, you’re like a dairy vampire now. What’s next, you gonna start mooing?”
Megan giggled nervously. “Maybe the pill’s turning her into a cow… but, like, a hot one?”
Sharon ignored them. Her eyes scanned the cafeteria like a predator. A table of freshmen nerds sat nearby, each with a milk carton. She sauntered over, hips swaying with predatory confidence.
“Hey losers,” she purred, looming over the smallest one. “Hand over your milk. All of it.”
The boy froze. “B-but—”
Sharon leaned down, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You really wanna say no to me right now?”
He shoved both cartons across the table without another word. Sharon snatched them, flashed a triumphant smirk, and strutted back to her table.
Tammy howled with laughter. “Oh my god, you just extorted milk from nerds. Iconic.”
Lily shook her head, amused. “You’re literally becoming a milk cartel, Shar.”
Sharon just grinned, ripped open the second stolen carton, and chugged.
By the time the bell rang she’d consumed: two chocolate milks, one plain milk (Lily’s), another plain (stolen), the entire parfait, both cheese sticks, half the cottage cheese, the grilled cheese, and the rice pudding. Her stomach felt impossibly full, yet the craving still simmered under her skin like an itch she couldn’t scratch.
They left the cafeteria in their usual formation—Sharon leading, the others trailing like a royal guard—and headed toward the locker rooms for gym class. They were first; the echoing space was empty, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the smell of rubber mats and old sweat faint in the air.
Twenty minutes until the whistle.
They went straight to their lockers. Tammy pulled out neon-pink shorts and a matching crop top. Lily grabbed sleek black leggings and a fitted tank. Megan already had her gym bag open, revealing compression gear that showed off her six-pack.
Sharon reached for her usual outfit—tiny white booty shorts and a baby-blue sports bra—when her stomach gave a violent, audible rumble.
She froze.
Then came the pain: sharp, twisting, like a knife just below her ribs.
“Fuck—” she gasped, clutching her midsection.
The girls turned.
“You okay?” Megan asked, worried.
Sharon didn’t answer. She bolted toward the bathroom attached to the locker room, high ponytail swinging.
Behind her, Tammy snorted. “Too much milk, dairy queen!”
Lily laughed. “She’s gonna explode.”
Sharon slammed into the first stall, locked the door, and bent over the toilet, expecting to puke.
But the pain… stopped.
Replaced by heat.
A deep, rolling wave of molten warmth flooded her from core to fingertips. Her breath hitched. Her vision blurred. A low, involuntary moan slipped past her lips.
Then it hit.
Pleasure—sharp, electric, overwhelming—lanced through every nerve. Her eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out, cheeks flushing crimson. Her knees buckled; she braced both hands on the stall walls.
Her body ignited.
Muscle fibers thickened and lengthened beneath her skin. Shoulders broadened slightly, capping into rounded deltoids. Biceps swelled, triceps horseshoed, forearms veined and corded. Her back flared into a dramatic V-taper, lats spreading like wings. Abs that had been softly defined carved themselves into deep, brick-like eight-packs, obliques slicing sharp diagonals down to narrow hips. Quads and hamstrings ballooned with power, teardrops popping above her knees, calves diamond-hard.
Her breasts surged—already firm C-cups ballooning into heavy, high, gravity-defying DDs, then pushing toward Es, skin stretching taut over dense tissue, nipples hardening to aching points against the shredded remnants of her bra.
Her ass rounded and lifted, glute striations appearing with every involuntary flex. Thighs thickened into sculpted pillars while staying sleek and feminine.
Vascularity bloomed—veins snaking over biceps, forearms, lower abs, even the tops of her breasts.
Her hair—already long—spilled downward in a glossy cascade, thickening and lengthening until the tips brushed the tops of her newly heart-shaped, powerful glutes.
The growth tore fabric. Seams split along her shorts, sports bra ripped down the front, shirt shredded at the shoulders. Buttons pinged off the stall walls.
And then the climax.
A tidal wave of ecstasy crashed through her. Her hips bucked forward.
Splurge
Spluurge
Spluuurge
Thick, sticky cum so copious it soaked through what remained of her panties and dripped audibly onto the tile.
She shuddered violently, moaning deep and animal, then slumped against the wall, panting.
Silence.
Sharon opened her eyes.
Torn scraps of clothing hung off her like battle flags. She stared down at herself—veined, striated, impossibly curvaceous and muscular. A bikini-model physique carved by gods: powerful yet hyper-feminine, every line screaming sex and strength.
She stepped out of the stall on trembling legs.
The large mirror over the sinks reflected a goddess.
Long dark hair (somehow darker, richer) swept down her back to mid-glute. Face sharper—cheekbones lethal, lips fuller, eyes brighter. Body glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. Abs like cobblestones. Arms that could crush, yet elegant. Breasts impossibly perky despite their size. An ass that demanded worship.
She was speechless.
The bathroom door creaked.
Lily stepped in. “Shar, you okay? You ran out like—”
She froze. Mouth fell open. Eyes bugged.
Sharon turned slowly.
Lily’s gaze raked from head to toe, then back up. No words.
Footsteps—then Tammy and Megan burst in.
Tammy: “What the fu—”
Megan: soft gasp, hand over mouth.
Silence stretched, thick and electric.
Sharon flexed—biceps peaking into softball-sized mounds, abs crunching into razor relief. Veins pulsed.
She looked at her reflection, then back at her stunned friends.
A slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
“…I like it.”
Tammy’s voice cracked. “You—what?! Sharon, you’re—you’re fucking jacked! Like, bodybuilder jacked! And your tits—oh my god—”
Sharon laughed—deep, confident, sultry. “Relax, Tammy. It’s still me. Just… upgraded.”
She stepped closer. “Come on. Touch. I know you want to.”
They hesitated only a second.
Then hands were everywhere.
Lily’s fingers traced the deep cuts of her abs, whispering, “How is this even real…”
Tammy squeezed a bicep, eyes wide. “Jesus, it’s like concrete…”
Megan—blushing furiously—ran palms over Sharon’s lats, then tentatively cupped the underside of one massive breast. “They’re… so firm…”
Sharon purred. “Told you. Perfection.”
Voices echoed from the locker room—other girls arriving.
Panic flickered.
“Shit—quick!” Lily hissed.
They scrambled. Megan grabbed the only thing in Sharon’s locker that might stretch: a pair of tiny black training leggings she sometimes wore ironically. They yanked, tugged, stuffed. The material screamed in protest but held—barely. The waistband dug into her obliques, the legs stretched translucent over quads, the crotch pulled scandalously tight. No top would fit; they settled on draping her shredded sports bra artfully across her chest like a makeshift bandeau.
Sharon looked down at herself—absurdly overdeveloped yet sexier than ever.
She grinned at the mirror.
“Let’s go play.”
Option 1: They go play volleyball and Sharon completely dominates the game, she's much stronger than she looks.
Option 2: They go for a run and light athletics training, Sharon easily defeats them all.
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June 13
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