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A “Hyper” Trap

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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Vekka could not be mistaken as anything other than one of the Skaven: a race that could be respected or scorned, depending on who the opinion was coming from. They were rat-like creatures: Ratkin, Underfolk, Children of the Horned Rat – all were references to their race. Treated as treacherous and double-crossing, often suspected to be not the most intelligent of races despite their cunning natures, the Skaven, as it always proved to be, were far, far more than that. They were, most certainly, not the sum of opinions about them.

The Skaven sank low to the ground, her knees bent, snout angled as she inhaled. She could smell her own musk, but Vekka pushed past that as the scents of the city infiltrated her system. She had to sift through them all, one at a time, though the reek of the less pleasant parts of the urban area clawed at her, wanting to overwhelm. That was, unfortunately, a side to Karikon City she was more than used to.

Cautiously, Vekka cast her gaze to the end of the alleyway where she was hunkered down, clad in her leathers, her tail twisting to the side while she surveyed her options. Lord Karvzion (his family and ancestors, of course, were affiliated with the city) and his estate were merely around the corner, so to see a horse and carriage drawing past the end of the alleyway was not at all a surprise to her. A night watchman, as twilight fell, drawing the city into the evening and night hours, silently paced by the main street, lighting the lanterns as he went. In the grand estates, of course, they would have a wizard (likely someone with minor powers) do that task for them, but those without the coin to spend on such a luxury would have to make do with the lanterns being lit manually.

Her nose twitched, drawing in the scent of a dark elf passing by. How they had come to be on good terms with the mankind that dominated the city was beyond her – but that wasn’t something Vekka had a say in. She crept around the corner, watching the silver-grey haired elf stalk away, holding himself like he didn’t belong there. Even if he heard her, he didn’t turn to see her, but she understood that about him just from his scent. Some things, despite the world around her, would forever remain common.

Scent changed with species, but the differences in attitudes, well...they all had a certain smell to them. Therein lay Vekka’s advantage as she pattered down the street, light on her feet and the hood of her cloak drawn up over her head.

Soon…

_ _

The walls of the estate were made from stone blocks and she couldn’t help but think about all the labour that had gone into building that, though it was likely few had been paid fairly. Her muzzle wrinkled at the thought of that, as corruption ran rife through the city and beyond. Infighting would, of course, better benefit the skaven.

Besides, Vekka was an assassin. Whether she was correcting a wrong or making another one, she cared not.

She waited, looking up, the street cast into the glow mankind favoured, though it always looked to be artificial to her. They didn’t have night vision – or, at least, it wasn’t good like hers. The night guard walked slowly along the wall above her, which was wide enough to have a parapet on both sides, to protect against accidental falls, and a pathway along the top of it. It was not all for show, though she adjusted her weight, waiting for the guard to pass in his helm and showy armour – and then climbed.

She moved near silently, scaling the wall and landing on the other side, over the parapet with only a light pad of her feet. Her toes curled, though the scum of the city marking the undersides was not all that pleasant, though it offered her greater slyness as she wriggled her way through her quest. However, Lord Karvzion would not be alive by the breaking of the dawn, so she would find herself too with a new coin bag tucked into her bag, rendering her in good financial standing for several months hence.

Alas, Vekka dropped down on the other side of the wall, swinging off the ledge of a window, the narrow room on the interior presumably used by the guards. That was nothing out of the ordinary as the Skaven inhaled, taking it all in, but a stray step sent her plummeting. A trap!

To her credit, Vekka didn’t squeak or cry out as she fell, managing to keep up her stealth, at least for the time being. Yet she landed hard in the pit that was at least six-foot deep, coming up over her head. She sprang up again and sank into a fighting stance, her six-inch blade in her hand, fingers curled around it and claws tucked out of the way. Yet there were no spikes or obvious threat down there as her heart pounded and she fought to control the adrenaline pumping through her bloodstream.

Instead, a purple glow – gas? – surrounded her and she exhaled, fighting against the instinctive urge to inhale. Yet she still had to breathe as she launched herself at the side of the pit, as smooth as it was, and made to haul herself up.

“Agh!”

She sucked in a breath of the purple gas and her body instantly reacted. The fizz of magic coursed through her and she couldn’t stop it, twisting away, her clawed fingers hooking over the edge of the pit as muscle memory kicked in and hauled her out. It was too late, however, as she heaved for breath, but it didn’t matter how much clean air she pulled into her lungs – the trap had already taken her as its victim.

“What… What has the man-thing done?”

She slipped into more Skaven-like speech patterns, something that found themselves less and less on her tongue with how widely travelled Vekka was, but the trap clearly wasn’t about to reduce her to ash like she’d expected. Spikes or flames or hidden poison… Any of those things could have duly been expected, yet her body felt...strange.

She stood, tucking herself in under a tree, for the other side of the wall opened up into Lord Karvzion’s expansive gardens, surrounding his manor house on all sides. The shadows concealed her where the lanterns did not reach and she exhaled.

Only, her breasts did not soften and lower with her exhale. They tingled, pushing up, filling her simple bra binding and the cropped leather top. She looked down at them, blinking a couple of times, but needed to sheath her blade before inspecting them with both hands.

“I know I had...bigger breasts,” she muttered, struggling not to repeat her words as her tongue so sorely wanted to do. “But not like this…”

Saying it out loud, somehow, made it more real to her as she exhaled and shook her head. No! She could ignore the fact that, very clearly to her, her breasts had grown with the engagement of the trap, her skin stretching and pulling over them as if they had always been that way. The weight of them made her feel off-balance, like something irrevocably had shifted in her.

Vekka gritted her teeth, grinding them back and forth. It would not distract her from her mission, no. If it wasn’t a very high-level wizard who’d cast that spell, perhaps it would do no more to her.

She skulked through the gardens, ducking from tree to tree, from shrub to shrub, her tail whipping behind her. Her breasts strained, though it was only a little, and Vekka thanked the gods she was not affected for it more, pushing her torso a little more upright to compensate for the weight of her breasts.

Just a hindrance, I can deal with it.

_ _

She steeled herself as she came up to the wall of the manor house itself, ignoring the fountains. They didn’t hold her target, though poisoning the water system there was a passing thought. Though Vekka lived by few morals, when she’d not been given any reason to do otherwise, she didn’t fancy poisoning the entire staff Lord Karvzion kept in his employ. Too messy.

A window on the first floor, the next one up from ground level, she jumped and scrambled, hooking her fingers into the stonework. The smallest cracks and gaps helped her climb, though the Skaven did it without thinking, shimmying her way up to the window. However, it was then that the other effects of the spell came to be seen as her breasts rubbed against the wall in passage. Her stomach was exposed with the cropped, leather top – allowing her easier flexibility – but her breasts usually didn’t get much sensation through the leather.

Not that time. That time, even the light brush of the stone against her breasts through that layer of clothing had her shivering, something warming her through as heat curled tentatively around her core.

“Oh…”

Vekka let out the soft utterance as she dropped down inside the window, having pushed it up to allow herself inside. There was a red carpet in the centre of the extensive, elaborate hallway with carvings and paintings displayed on the walls, but that wasn’t what she was thinking about. Taking in her surroundings and letting her body move automatically, instinctively, was second-nature to her, but that was not the point. Her breasts ached in a way she was unfamiliar with, as if her body was trembling and rumbling, coursing through her with every beat of her heart making her blood sing.

“Unff.”

She managed, just about, to clench her teeth in time and push back against the change, but she was no magic-user, not in any sense of the term. Vekka huffed, dragging in much-needed breath, though the rumbling pouring through her chest had her breasts spilling forward into the bra-binding she’d had in place. It was a rather rudimentary manner of keeping her breasts in check, but allowed her to better shape and support the long strips of stretchy fabric around them, though it did not seem to be doing all that much good at keeping her breasts contained right then.

The cropped, leather top, tied at the front, strained as her breasts filled all the space allowed to them and brimmed over, pushing up. Tail flicking, she cursed under her breath in multiple languages, stalking down the hall at a half-crouch, seeking her target. The sooner she made good on her mission, and took care of the two other targets in the manor house as bonuses, the sooner she could find a wizard to lift the spell, or curse, from her. Either way, getting through and out was the only option for Vekka.

Still, she couldn’t help but be excessively aware of how her breasts weighed her down. It should only have been a very small change to her chest, as her breasts had been easily in proportion to her body before. They’d been large enough that Vekka had, from time to time, used her assets to get what she wanted in inns and way stations, of course, using her body to her advantage as a distraction, but that was nothing compared to what they already looked like, in their changed form. Frankly, Vekka appeared as if she hadn’t put on the correctly-sized clothes, forcing her breasts to squash down, though they were far from contained there.

It was hard to shake off as she took the lay of the land, how quiet the hallways were. She slipped behind the curtains to an ornate window – as a maid passed by, clearly taking care of someone’s laundry for the next day. Vekka took a breath.

There’ll be more traps, I can’t die-die here.

_ _

She grimaced at the thought of a tricky job ahead of her, but brushed it aside. It was more than time to get to work.

Skulking down the hallway, she kept her hood up in case she was spotted, taking every precaution she could. On that level, it seemed to be mostly guest rooms for nobility Lord Karvzion wanted to woo, though none of her targets were there. No, her mission was to take out the members of his family, his household. Movement in a room had her pausing, catching the sound with one, large year, but they did not do anything more than stir. Some retiring early for the night was a blessing in her case, though Vekka doubted The Horned Rat was looking down on her at that time.

She moved carefully – but that didn’t help her. She avoided her breasts like the plague, but dipping into a servant passageway, hidden behind a tapestry she’d had scouted out beforehand by a disgruntled butler on staff, had the fabric wafting over her breasts.

“Ohhh…”

Vekka sucked in a breath, but she could only do so much there, a rush of arousal flowing through her. That wasn’t right! She didn’t usually become aroused so quickly, but...something had changed.

Pressing herself to the cool of the stone wall while her body ached and expanded, her thighs blossoming with a fresh roll of soft fat that hadn’t been there before, it offered her no relief. Her body felt like it was burning up from the inside out, an unseen flame licking at her skin from entirely the wrong side. With every snatched breath into her lungs, her arousal grew, the back of her hand grazing her right breast.

That was the wrong move as she sucked in a rushed, hasty breath, which offered her no comfort. She just wanted to adjust the binding on her breasts a little to make it more comfortable, maybe to better contain her expanding chest, but she couldn’t do that without, somehow, stimulating herself more and more. As she tugged at the leather, trying to shift and wriggle it into place, she only sent lancing spears of heat through her body, the ties on the leather top straining tauter and tauter.

“Unff… C’mon…”

Vekka muttered under her breath, but it didn’t do her any good. Even the compression of her clothes around her tits, losing the battle against squashing them into shape, was too much as her head swam. Anxiously, though that was hardly a feeling she was at all in-tune with, she pulled at the ties keeping it closed, though the Skaven’s wrapped breasts bulged between them.

“Agh!”

Suddenly, one ripped – and that tear was enough to start the others off. The top tie gave way with a splitting of leather that was never supposed to hold out through such strain, her breasts blossoming forward with another rush of arousal. Even Vekka’s lean, light figure, athletic to a fault, was softer and not the way she’d come to expect her body to be, swaying away from the wall with a gasp. Too late, she tried to free her breasts completely, to relieve the burning, swelling pressure in her body through any means possible.

Rrrriiiiiip!

_ _

The leather thongs tying her top closed broke free, leaving only the bottom one, under her breasts, in place, but that didn’t offer Vekka any modesty at all. She spat a curse as she clutched her breasts and tried her best to ignore the aching shot of arousal pouring through her veins, not even aware she’d thumbed a nipple in the process. The top cut into her back where the leather strained far, far too tight, only held in place by a single tie, though she didn’t have the presence of mind to take care of it at that time.

More fat slunk down her waist and hips, giving her a thicker frame, though it was only enough, at that time, that really Vekka would have noticed. Anyone looking at her would not have been able to pinpoint that shift when her breasts were the most eye-catching thing about her, popping out of her top.

Hastily, she clawed at the last leather tie holding the top in place, getting a claw underneath and sawing at it haphazardly. Heat prickled across her skin and her tail tucked in close to her leg, but she managed to get it undone and, seeing nothing else for it, stuffed the top into a crack in the wall higher up. In the dingy passageway, hopefully no one would see it. But it didn’t look like her breasts were about to return to their usual size anytime soon.

Eyeing the bindings, she didn’t dare touch them, though her breasts bulged over the top and some of the fabric strips were starting to separate, showing grey fur between them. Vekka took a deep breath, ignoring how that fresh weight on her chest moved with her, and pushed down any lingering arousal to continue. The bindings would have to remain, at least for the moment, despite her body crawling with need.

She grunted, licking her lips, and pressed on, working her way through the manor house to the next level, the next floor up. Slipping out into the hallway, she unsheathed her blade, ignoring the press of her breasts against the bindings, though taking a full breath was harder and harder to glean. There, she was on the level of Lord Karvzion’s household, his family that had caused so much harm to so many people in the world – but she wasn’t about to care who she assassinated, of course. That wasn’t what Vekka was there for.

She inhaled, catching Noble Harris’ musk on the air and following it to the room he was in. It was locked, of course, for even the cousin of Lord Karvzion would not be so foolish when there were many who wanted him dead, but the reek of the man-thing was more than enough to guide her. She made quick work of the lock – and quicker work of her target.

Her lip curled in distaste, yet Vekka was nothing but professional. Lightly, she hopped up onto the headboard of the bed, a hand outstretched for balance on one of the posts, blade in the other. And then she dropped, like the angel of death, a hand over Noble Harris’ mouth as the blade drew sharply across his throat.

Her hand remained in place, muffling his final cries, until his body fell limp against her. Leaning over him in the process, Vekka neatly avoided getting any blood on her, though she swayed and tipped forward, rolling over herself and off the bed to land on her feet, however awkwardly, for her heavier chest had not allowed her to balance in that position anymore. She swayed, checking herself over for evidence. Satisfied that there was none, she wiped off her blade on the sheets and left his body to be found the next morning. By then, Vekka would be long gone.

One dead-dead, time to go-go.

_ _

She ignored herself slipping into a more colloquial pattern, her senses sharp but her head fuzzy. Need coursed through her and she hastened back and out into the hallway, checking for servants and finding none. There was another room down the hallway, with a suite, but she passed that one by. It didn’t have the scent signature she required and she wasn’t being paid to assassinate just anyone.

Yet her second target, Lord Devron, Lord Karvzion’s brother, was not there. Her brow furrowed and she exhaled, disliking the way things were going. Passing by a chest in the hallway, she rolled her eyes. That one was too obvious a trap for her to go for, but the riches she’d collect for that job would, by far, outweigh any trouble she found there.

Vekka tried not to let her chest touch anything as she took the stairs to the next level up, the third floor of the manor and the top floor. It was awkward with that undercurrent of need flowing through her, making her feel like she would set off another growth spurt at any time. Even the tread of her steps seemed heavier with the extra weight of her body and Vekka had to work harder than ever to step lightly, so as not to alert anyone to her presence.

However, her sharp ears picked up another sound as she entered the top floor and the grand entertainment rooms. They were just footsteps, but there was laughter there too – drunken laughter. Slipping behind the curtains once more, which had a leafy plant in front of them for extra cover, she leaned back against the cool of the window, trusting the pane to bear her weight.

“Hum-dum… Hum-dum-dum… Ah-hahaha, what a fine bit of tail that servant girl is turning out to be…”

Her lips turned down. Not a target, but not a man-thing she would ever want to be around. Vekka followed him with her eyes, that pull of selfish greed tugging at the pit of her belly all over again. Skaven, well… That was natural for them, looking out for themselves. She could not even imagine putting herself in the position of a noble – then again, Vekka wouldn’t want to.

Steeling herself, she grunted marginally as the curtain pressed too close to her and heat tingled through her again. As soon as she was aroused, however little, her body swelled, sending all that desire straight to her breasts. They wrappings on her chest strained as her fur showed through between them, forcing them to stretch in a way they had never been designed to do.

“Oof…”

She let out the tiniest of grunts, grateful, at the very least, that the curtain was hiding her. Yet that didn’t do anything to hide her growth, her breasts swelling, demanding to be unconstrained even when they should have, even then, been hidden. Vekka had no ill-feeling towards her body, but she expected it to, mostly, do what she wanted it to, grunting in the back of her throat as her thighs and ass thickened up just a little too. Of course, she was sure, shifting her weight back and forth, that her muscle was still there, just hidden underneath, her entire body softer and perhaps, in a way, more feminine than it had been before.

Her breasts squeezed up over the top of the bindings, rising in a round that, to be fair, was not smooth at all. Her grey fur stuck up in odd directions and, despite the heated push of arousal warming her body, Vekka grimaced. Being like that, really, was not at all how she wanted her body to be, not seen as...well...sexy.

But the image of her on the outside no longer “fit” how she saw herself, trying to hold her breasts in place, desperately, with a grab of two hands. That only sent another bolt of electricity through her, like she’d been caught by a spell, and Vekka swallowed her groan as the rumble of change rising through her body concentrated in her breasts. It was like there were vibrations, inner and hidden, running through her, demanding every fibre of her being acquiesce to their demands, one way or the other.

Forcing her hands away from her breasts, for that was the only thing Vekka could think to do, she grunted and listened intently. The supposed servant was further away and, in a move quite unlike her, she squeezed her way out from behind the curtain, trying her best not to touch anything. There was no denying the clawing heat and demand that settled low around her core, however, her body shifting and desperate for some manner of relief.

Her breasts didn’t look like hers at all anymore, uncomfortable with the too-tight bindings, though they were the only thing keeping them at least somewhat under control right then. Vekka did her best to force her mine away from that, though there was a small part of her mind that wondered just what could happen if she leaned into the spell. If she didn’t have any clothes on her top half at all and let her breasts grow and grow, skin and fur adjusting around them while she got used to their new weight, her new centre of balance…

She sucked in a breath. No. She couldn’t think about that – not at all, not right then. Either way, it didn’t matter as she headed up around the corner of the staircase, making an effort to be light on her feet when her body felt so much heavier than it had been. Her claws tapped against the stone steps and she winced. Everything was so different, her breasts wobbling over the top of her chest bindings, the strain immense.

One more floor up, one more kill. This’ll be easy.

_ _

That was what Vekka had to tell herself, however, taking a steadying breath as her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her focus intense. The next floor was lavish, laid out for opulence, and she inhaled slowly, letting herself natural sift through all the scents in the air. Following Lord Karvzion’s scent was easy and she moved on instinct, staying close to the wall and skulking along, up on her toes and the soles of her feet, as light as she ever was. She did not sink back, forever poised to leap into quick, agile movement, but that did not come as easily as it should have for her.

Vekka sucked in a sharper breath as she teetered, off-balance and forcing herself to push into the wall with one side of her chest. Ignoring the hot shot of need that spiked within her, she scurried along, intent only on getting the job done as quickly as possible, finesse be damned. Sometimes, delicacy could go out the window, though the light flap and pull of her cloak around her gave her some comfort. It would, perhaps, be useful to hide her breasts when she had to leave too.

Her breasts ached, the strain in them something she would have struggled to imagine beforehand, like a heaviness that dragged her forward. They had to have room to grow and Vekka swallowed a whimper, though there was a chaotic sense of euphoria behind it all too.

It was not something she was familiar with, but she wriggled all the same, letting the sensation settle into her body just a little more. Her cheeks prickled with embarrassment, but Vekka ignored it, if only for a moment, as the tingling ache of her breasts pushed at the cloth covering her breasts. Her breath hitched in her throat and she swallowed hard, though the warmth blossoming within her was not so easily set aside. Was it wrong to like it, even a tiny, little bit?

Even her nipples… They were harder than before, yes, but not because they had any reason to be. Every small movement Vekka made had them rubbing and teasing against the bindings just a little more, making her want to push down a whimper – for that, of course, was not at all the sort of thing she would let out, no. Pleasure didn’t belong there and the skaven tried, instead, to focus on the discomfort of her perky nipples teasing through the cloth binding, like they could force their way all the way through. Yet heat billowed and she forced herself, with a great effort of will, to be still.

That has to be the spell.

_ _

Her pride was to be swallowed as she tracked Lord Karvzion down the hallway, ignoring the potted plants, the more ornate windows lining the walls. There was glass in them that, most likely, would not shatter if she had to make a quick exist, but she was renowned in her profession for a reason. The pulse of her heartbeat seemed to echo though her chest, though that was merely her mind trying to make sense of too many new sensations all crowding in on her at once, demanding to be recognised.

Every step made her breasts roll forward against her bindings and she fought down a hiss as they swelled again. The rest of her body remained softer, but most of the growth was focused on her breasts as she ignored it the best she could, though the hot rush of arousal was impossible to completely disregard. More fur and flesh still protruded between the straining bindings and she huffed, scurrying on her way as she focused on her task. If she did not, she’d be topless and exposed and still not have assassinated her target…

Strangely, there was no humiliation there for Vekka, but maybe that was her goal as she slipped into the room, a fire roaring in the hearth, where Lord Karvzion sat. He rested in a tall armchair and she let the door ease closed behind her, heart in her mouth. He would be hers and she could already feel the pocket full of warptokens. A glass of whisky sat on the table before him and the lord had his fingers templed for his chin to rest on them, almost as if he was on the edge of sleep.

It was not for Vekka to consider what he had done in his life, though there were many who would be better for his demise. She skulked through the shadows, blade in hand – and when she lunged, it was with a clean, sure stroke. Blood spilled and she backed off, wiping her blade, Lord Karvzion’s eyes still open as he slumped to the ground, his life-blood flowing from the gash in his throat. The rush of blood leaving him rendered him unconscious quickly, though it would take a little longer for him to die.

“Agh!”

She staggered away, unaware of how the instinctive movement had rubbed her breasts against the armchair with the tall back. Yet her job was done as the twisted spell did its work and her boobs exploded against the bindings. She let out a harsh, raw laugh with no humour – and then there was an almighty tear as her breasts spilled out. There was no stopping them as the bindings ripped through and there was most certainly no longer any support at all for her boobs.

She grabbed at her tits as they exploded forward in a roll of soft flesh, though there was no containing their swell. Vekka’s fingers dug into them and her flesh still squeezed out between her fingers, like it had to find some way to escape. A deep, rumbling ache rolled through her body and she moaned aloud, forgetting herself and her precarious position as they grew, though something twinged in the back of her mind. Only later would she realise that was to do with the spell coming to its natural end, no longer having the energy to sustain itself. She groaned, stifling her cries the best she could as Vekka came, somewhat, back to her senses, though the heat pouring through her was impossible to deny.

It came without her realising, without even touching herself. Vekka might have been ashamed of it too, if there had been anyone around to bear witness to it. Her thighs pressed together and yet that was not enough for her, not as she grabbed at her breasts, tail curling behind her, need rising to a fever-pitch that could not be withheld. Arousal spiked and flared, her blood running hot as, to her horror, orgasm wracked her, forcing her to jolt, for her body, vaguely so, could not have been in her control.

It was not in her control, not after Vekka had tumbled down into the hyper trap, sucking in a sharp breath that ripped through her lungs. She was fine though – as fine as it was possible to be – as she staggered back, finding a wall to lean against while her head spun. Her breasts tugged her forward, the weight massively off-setting her centre of gravity, though she’d later be able to better take in her new, curvaceous shape, how much more top-heavy she was with a heaving pair of tits. Her nipples perked up in the mild air, neither warm nor cool, and she swallowed a whimper as she gasped for air, but that was not the problem.

Her underwear soaked with her own arousal, for that was thankfully still in place despite pulling more tightly around her hips and upper thighs. The spell released her, though left her in that “hyper” form with her breasts aching deeply, begging to be touched even though Vekka doubted there was anything she could wrap around herself that wouldn’t cause her even more arousal. The discarded, torn bindings lay on the floor and she heaved for breath, even though the wash of pleasure, in its own way, was not all that bad.

Blinking, Vekka came around with a huffing grunt, attention shifting, though there was the heat of an embarrassed blush colouring the skin of her cheeks and neck. Thankfully for her, her fur hid most of it.

“I can’t wait to get rid of this damned spell-spell…”

Her speech pattern threatened to rise and she growled in the back of her throat, frustrated as she shoved it down. Daring not to find anything to cover her breasts with, she held her head as high as she dared, her job done, and skulked into the hallway outside. Her targets were dispatched and she had a purse full of coin to collect.

Yet her silhouette was different, more of an alluring hourglass that would have drawn anyone’s eye, the shift in her balance making her hips swing a little more. Vekka forced down a curse that would do her no good, yet the new flesh on her breasts jiggled with every step, as if her body wanted to make a point of how different it was. She’d keep to the shadows and backstreets, once she was out, for it was not as if she planned to be seen anyway.

One thing was certain and that was that Vekka would be more careful about falling into traps again, even if that one, technically, had not been her fault. It would be some time before she found a wizard able to remove the spell from her, however, forced to bear her enlarged breasts and all the wanting stares for quite some time hence... But did she even want to remove the spell?

Ah… With some things, only time would tell.