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The ballroom was dark, the blinds closed and black studio fabric had been hung from the curtain poles, making the high ceilings vanish and the room itself appear as though a black hole with a lone island of cameras and stands in the center. Two tall, cold studio lights had been mounted on tripods and the Wolf was only just affixing the diffusion panels in front of them to reduce lumen count to a level one could stare into. Sable blinked a couple of times to get rid of the photosensitivity so she could adjust herself on the small barstool she had been given to rest herself on.\n\n“We should be ready in just a bit!”\n\nThe voice of #4 could be heard from behind the stack of pelican cases stacked behind the lights. She and another of the service Does, #13, were helping to set up the production chain for the photoshoot she would be the center of today. This particular shoot had been in preparation for over a month now, the majority of it spent on the Goat training and practicing to make sure her body would meet the requirements the Wolf had demanded in order to achieve the desired effect. Six weeks of straining her tits. All just to flaunt them in front of a Hasselblad for a couple pictures.\n\nHer assignment had been simple on paper; train your tits to take strain. She had never been a stranger on the subject to begin with, given her history of excessive lactation that required at least one milking every morning. A milking she had to skip at times for numerous reasons, usually to do with those stupid Does making a mess. But like missing a day of brushing your teeth and it leaving a nasty film on your molars, the need to drain them always lingered the rest of it and made her moody, which she despised with a passion! There had also been numerous times of the Wolf simply denying her a milking on purpose, just because he wanted to see her tits swell with the backlog, letting them grow heavy and full, leaking in small spurts that made the fur around her areolae a mushy mess and prevented her from functioning properly. She had tried to hide it, of course, but eventually the pressure was too great to ignore, which is what she had been training to cope with in these six weeks.\n\nIt was not just milk, however. The Wolf’s plan for this photoshoot was very apparent from its title: \n\n[b]The Perfect Tits.[/b]\n\nPhotos of a pair that simply could not be improved on. And to achieve it, he would mix and match all methods he knew of to increase and shape a girl’s bosom: milk, Saline and air. She had fully expected this task to fall onto one of the Does, they were his perpetual attempt to spite nature after all. Though even with all the skill put into it they were, as anyone with Saline implants straining their chest knew, far from perfect. It was one of the many reasons the Goat had never, ever wanted to go down their path. \n\nThe tits of the stupid Does were enormous but the Saline fillers in their chests made them vulnerable to imperfections, with the sheer absurd amount of it exacerbating the issue. They were hard to the touch, they bounced about as well as a stuffed backpack and they were ugly. Sable felt nothing but disgust for those chests, she had seen them at their worst too many times. A mess of deep purple veins and stretch marks, with some of the oldest in the flock even boasting scar tissue around the armpits and the area where they had rubbed perpetually against the pectoral muscle… even damage to the lowermost ribs wasn’t unheard of. Damaged kneecaps from the weight, flattened hooves; there were just so many long-term issues. And yet, all of them had gone for it, just because they fetishized it. All of the medical issues worth their disgusting transformation.\n\nSable adjusted her seating once again while flicking her left ear, causing the old, yellow tag stuck in the lower lobe to flip and the sharp inner edge to scrape her cheek. It was a self-soothing measure, hurting just the right amount to get her thoughts back on track; she couldn’t afford to be upset today. She had to be [i]proud[/i], that was one of the Wolf’s strict requirements for this strange ritual he crafted. \n\nShe still wished the task could have been taken by one of the Does, even if the fact that she was the only candidate suitable for what he had planned filled her with a manner of cockiness, something she was trying to harness and use like a drug. The Goat was asked to do a perfect job and that is what she would do. She’d perform, at any cost, because it meant she would get to see his eyes light up in that particular way that made her thighs clench…\nThe Does were not suitable for the trinity of expansion methods because of their implants. Lactation was more or less unheard of, especially in the older ones because the Saline shell had absolutely squashed their mammal glands over the years and what bit of milk one could coax out of their stretched nipples would hardly make a difference with their volume. But even if they had been able to produce milk anymore, that still left the third method to contest with.\n\n[i]Air.[/i]\n\nThe thought alone made the Goat feel her neckfur bristle with discomfort. Her hooves scraped the stainless steel of the seat’s feet and her knees pushed into one another. Air was perhaps the most unnatural means to increase a set of tits and it required some of the most unorthodox methods she had seen thus far. Few individuals were even capable of enduring the process and it came with certain prerequisites that Sable unfortunately all matched. An already ample breast size and well-trained, frequently used aveoli glands. The tool used was a horrific device, a long, thin lance of stainless steel with\na multitude of bore holes dotting its sides, inserted into the center of the nipple and slowly worked down the gland canal to then be fixed in place. With gentle pressure, it would then inject air into the milk glands and swell them up, causing the tissue surrounding them to contract and fatty layers to tighten, creating a truly spherical breast. A literal, goddamn balloon on your chest. The depth of penetration needed to achieve this and the fact that the center hole of most nipples is barely large enough to fit a hypodermic needle, meant that it saw most individuals - but especially the Does - wholly unsuited for this. Their glands and canals would need catheters to be widened which pushed it way out of the realms of even advanced fetish play.\n\nSable on the other hand was a perfect candidate for this on all accords. Her Saanen heritage, the excessive lactation, even her fur patterns that would provide such a pleasing aesthetic for when those tits of hers were filled to the utter brim; the patchy spots wouldn’t be perceived as distorted, yet still be notably too large compared to the rest of her frame. A frame that was short, thin and lithe with virtually no rear to speak of that could distract from the goods. Or at least, this was how the Wolf had described it all to her. The Goat dug her hoofed digits into her palms, the two fingers pressing painfully into the soft tissue to stifle her ire and calm herself. She hated his reassurances; they were not needed! She was perfectly capable of making up for her lack of ass by not making one out of herself every given minute like the Deer!\n\nThe happy bleating coming from behind the lights finally managed to pull her out of eating into herself. “Super! We are ready to shoot! Like, photos I mean el-oh-el!”\n\nSable adjusted her stance on the seat, pushing out her back and feeling the strain of her heavy globes pulling down her shoulders. The pectoral muscles ached as they flexed, already bruised and still in a recovery state from the prior days of hauling those monstrous milk tanks she now sported as a chest about. While idly listening for #4’s hoofed clicking across the old hardwood floor to make her way to the intercom system and call the Wolf, she reached out with both arms to roam her hands across her bust. Her hooves pressed against the stands of the chair, she angled her knees outwards to provide support but her bust had hopelessly overgrown them and a majority of the weighty orbs sagged, creating a teardrop shape that sloped across her knees and pressed down her shins. Her fingers and thumbs spread, she all six of her digits pushing through the soft flesh on both breasts. Each of them much too big to reach the nipples unless she leaned forward, which would tip even her caprine balance. Feeling the coarse goat fur bristle up in-between the hard horn of her digits, it provided another reminder on just how full they were… at this stage, she could feel the bloated glands underneath the fatty tissue. Bulbous shapes, clusters of milk-filled pods, little bumps smoothed out by layers of fat. Here and there, she would press a digit into them – only to stop in her tracks and release a stifled gasp through clenched teeth! “Fuck…”\n\nThe sensation was borderline erotic, the soft bulging of the canals that moved dense milk like hydraulics, the pressure pushing up to the very top and making her areolae and nipple bulge. The amount of milk that had accumulated and simply begged to be let out was grinding down her resolve and for just a moment, she was back in the bathroom of her private chambers. She could just let it flow, if she kept pushing, yes! Just a little bit! Relieve the pressure and let it flow, lean forward, mush those stupid milk bags against the edge of the sink! Let her nipples glide across that one, not quite sanded-down porcelain edge she used to get to get the flow going in the morning, like some girls used their bedposts to-\n\n“Girls!”\n\nSable’s head jerked up, panic riding her synapses and she forced her stance to be straight with such haste, she could feel the muscles in her backside scream! She quickly made sure no milk had actually misted the floor in front of her… good. The only thing flowing was a tear in the corner of her eye from the sudden strain, which she quickly wiped off before putting her hands down to her sides, grasping the seat of the chair with firm fingers, putting on a forced, little smile. When the Wolf walked around the lights put up and the Goat spotted him, it became a genuine one.\n\n“I see we are all ready to get started!” \nHe was smiling, lips split by joy, the corners of his muzzle tucked up and his hands rubbing one another as he peered at the Goat. He wore a red velvet blazer with peaked lapels and black, pleated pants á la Hugh Hefner, suspiciously missing the ascot in favour of unreasonable amounts of chest fur pushing through the mostly unbuttoned shirt; fitting attire for the occasion, if nothing else. She’d never tell him but this was among his favourite outfits of hers as it also omitted shoes, leaving him barefoot and thus showing more of his body than any other. He walked closer and her nose caught his scent, realizing he didn’t wear perfume this night either.\n\n“How are we feeling, Goat?” he crooned after squatting down next to her. His eyes lingered on hers for only a moment and only to drink in her wide-eyed expression. She was not used to him not covering his smell in perfumes or cremes… the predator scent was leeching on her rationale and him being this close did not help. Sable had tried for years to build up a resistance for it but it was neigh impossible; like staring in the face of a wild animal met in the forest. It was a primal reflex, impossible to ignore. Notes of canine, but different. Warm and earthy. Powerful. The scent of your bed after a boy spent the night with you. What she would give to encounter this in any other situation! He knew exactly what he was doing.\n\nThat short look he gave her before beginning to inspect her tits was all she needed to know. Heros seldom played fair but she knew this was outlandish even for him. Was this punishment? Had she not gotten as big as he felt she needed to be? Sable felt her throat seal as she grew choked up, the weight of potentially failing him was much more difficult to bear than her tits.\n\n“I am fine. I can take more.”\n\nHer stoic answer came without so much as a pause, her green eyes staring confidently back into his crimson ones, trying to gauge if he was disappointed or not. The excitement that stared back was all too unsettling. \n\n“Good! Then we can move swiftly along to phase two. We have the milk, now we need a pinch of salt!” the Wolf cackled, raising his fingers and snipping them loud enough to make her ears flick. Sable’s breath grew elevated when she heard the sounds of roller wheels screeching across the floor; the two service Does were moving IV drips towards the both of them. Typically, these would be unassuming stainless-steel stands on wheels, but like most of the old canine’s toys, these were special. The simple metal prongs atop of them had been replaced with more shapely, curved ones, resembling the antlers of a Buck, offering twelve hangers to drape injection bags from; each of them loaded with a 500CC bag of medical Saline. Sable could feel her gut turn.\n\n“Thank you, girls!” the Wolf mused, reaching out to run his hand across a slightly wrinkled injection tube fixed to the first of the IV bags on his right. His excitement was all-too apparent, the bulge in his stretched dinner pants was moving, the heavy endowment happily churning away with a liquid much denser than what was about to be put into her tits. She wanted to protest. She did not need any of this! Saline was what goes into Does, not Goats! She had milk, why would she need any more liquid in her bosom? \nBut she did not dare protest, not uttering so much a single word of rebuttal and merely watched him prepare for the following hours of injection to come. A small plastic try was placed next to the Wolf just as he was beginning to turn his torso in search of it, his right index and middle finger holding the tube pinched between them, the slack letting the plastic parts swing against the steel stand. “Ah, splendid… you two are dismissed for the time being, go get lunch, it is about time.” Heros shooed the Does to exit the room. \n\n“I want lunch.” Sable mumbled, a hint of pouting swinging in her voice. She curled her lower lip as the Wolf looked up at her, not bothering to look shocked at his disapproval this time. The eye contact was maintained for a moment, just until the loud clicking of the heavy double-doors indicated that the Cervids had left.\n\n“We can’t have you pudgy when we shoot the photos, Sable.” Heros explained, peeling the foil on a sterile wipe with his claws before standing up again with a low huff, the joints in his knees creaking with age. “It would ruin all the preparation we worked so hard on ~”\n\n“I am not [b]pudgy[/b]!” \n\nThe Goat’s rebuttal was much more combative now that she was alone with him. And likewise, the Wolf appeared more forgiving, if yet still entirely ignorant of her protests. Left hand placed on her left breast he gave it a soft roam with his palm to bristle up the fur a few centimeters diameter below her collarbone to aid in disinfecting the area. Sable’s breathing quickened somewhat, though it had less to do with the feeling of his warm hands on her skin this time. The distinct rustling of a medical pouch being torn open was heard as was a fresh, capped needle being retrieved from its packaging. The Wolf pushed the luer at the end of the tube into the opening and uncapped the needle before pointing it at the center of the cleaned patch. With a single hand, his skilled fingers pushed the needle into her skin, holding it in place while fishing for a cannula plaster. Sable was trying not to look too closely; she had learned not to be bothered by the sight of needles for over a year now but it was different when they were pushed into her own body. Despite the Wolf’s precision, she could still feel the thin tube inside her breast, a nasty little stinger that ran deep enough to make the corners of her muzzle twitch every time it moved. Thankfully, once the plaster and fixers had secured the tube across her breast, she could no longer feel it. Not until the procedure was completed on the second breast and the vent was opened on the drift chambers. A faint little pop could be heard and the Saline was flowing from its clear sack into the drift chamber dangling just underneath it. The Wolf turned to face her and poked his thumb against the injection apparatus. “Tell me when it is too much for you.”\n\nSable flinched. Not from the Saline, it was only just beginning to enter the tube when his thumb had opened the roller clamp; it was his wording. Too much? There was no too much, not for her! She would show him, she’d take those 12k CCs in record time! He wouldn’t be able to swap the bags fast enough, he’d-\n\n“Ahh-!“\n\nSable’s teeth clenched as she felt the clear liquid rush into the tissue of her breasts. Heros had opened the flow almost fully, making sure that first hit set a harsh reminder on the flow rate. She could feel the burn of the chlorine when it seeped into her fatty tissue and spread throughout it, her breasts drinking it like a sponge and she could feel it seep deeply into her tissue. Every little bit of headway it made into her tits, the barely room-temperature Saline was making her huff and pant, squint her eyes! Her legs were clenching but she refused to make any more noises. Finally, the Wolf showed some mercy, pushing the roller pins up to squeeze the tubes to a much more manageable rate with a sadistic little cackle. \n\n“Ahh, this here will do just fine. We don’t want you to overexert-“\n\n“I can take more.”\n\nHeros’s ears perked up and he finally bothered to look at the Goat. Sitting in her chair, her back straightened out and her hands grasping the seat with enough force to push sinews and knuckle bones to the surface. Yet her face was stoic, the brows just the smallest bit clenched and pushing towards one another. \n\n“I can take more.” She repeated, huffed outright! The Wolf’s gaze made a sharp turn from mild surprise to downright devilish as he nodded and heeded her wish by pushing his thumbs down and opening the roller pins to where they had been previously. Watching as the Goat twitched once again, her breathing growing more and more elevated as the minutes passed… yet she would not request for him to decrease the flow. The Wolf’s endowment was working as much as the Goat, straining, moving in the tight grip of the soft, black fabric and she tried to think of it rather than the liter of Saline funneling much too quickly into both her breasts. Their eyes met once again and she could tell he was trying to convince her to ask him to slow the flow. Wide eyes staring with malice, just waiting for her to beg!\n\nNever! Not in a million year would she even consider to beg! She could take this, and she’d take it at this rate, even if the burning sensation was gripping her chest like acid by this stage. Minutes passed. Two, then ten, then fifteen… Heros had moved out of her field of view and behind the lamps, his presence only visualized by the wafts of cigarette smoke that had begun to trail across the diffusers. With him gone, she needed to find another way to distract herself but the dark room offered so very little to grab her attention. All she really had left was to peer at the drops of Saline coming from the plastic sack above… and just as if she was preparing for surgery, her mind would move to calculate the drip rate, seemingly on auto-pilot.\n\n[i]Wait for a minute.\n\nCount the drips.\n\nDrop rate of… 170-ish.\n\nI am so fucked…[/i]\n\nThe minutes crawled like snails on a salt trail, every second a painful slip and there was barely any discernible difference by the time the plastic sack had emptied itself. A full liter of Saline, enough to outright double the chest of most girls her height and yet it added nothing but a low, dull burn that tormented the upper portions of her breasts. Watching the Wolf step forward to replace the Saline bags with another, she simply closed her eyes and made attempts to enjoy what little break she was afforded; it did not last long.\n\nSaline pushing down the tubes. Pouring into her breasts. Every fresh bag came with a sense of dread instead of achievement. She tried to count the seconds within her head to keep track of how long she was sitting on the stool and yet the only thing that was a reminder of the time was how much closer she could feel the plywood move towards her butt as her tits grew in weight and finally, also in size. How close to finishing was she? She did not want to look at the stand but her curiosity forced her eyes; the eighth bag! That’s not so bad, four left to go, she could take that! Just needed something to distract herself with. \n\nThe chloride burn had mostly subsided by now, she could feel her tits becoming saturated, for lack of a better word. There was no difference in temperature felt anymore and as she paid closer attention to the enormous orbs; she could see an increase in diameter starting to take hold. Her tits were beginning to change in shape as well, the soft perk they had displayed previously, the obvious dip in the curve the closer it got to her nipples, it was slowly disappearing, replaced by a shape that was perhaps not a full circle but more… firm, shapelier. She specifically avoided the term ‘filled’ as the pressure was by now beginning to make itself noticed. And it was about to become much, much worse!\n\nBy the time Heros was back to swap for the final two bags, hooking into the 11th, the difference to the previous infusions was becoming almost instantly apparent to her! Sable’s face contorted and her teeth gritted with enough strength to make it audible! Her molars grinding with such force, it made her jaws hurt, yet she found no other way to stifle what tried to be a pained moan escaping her throat! Instead, she moved her legs and slumped forward for just a moment, the sound alerting the Wolf; she could almost hear his ears perk to it, his snout moving closer as he bend over at the waist and put his right hand onto her shoulder.\n\n“Growing too tight, are we?”\nSneer and mockery. His tone was all but trying to gaud her into opening her mouth and scream! The pressure was mounting and she could hear a faint, yet notable straining sound emanate from the enormous orbs on her chest! They were protruding so far beyond her legs now, each almost twice as wide as her torso, if she had to guess; and she really, really did not want to guess.\n\n“We can stop right here.” He mused, his hot breath washing against her left cheek. “Just… say the word and I’ll remove the needles. Nobody would blame you if you reached your limits by now, you have been [b]very[/b] brave ~”\n\nSable’s eyes widened for a moment and she felt her head involuntarily tick to the side, trying to sink her left horn into the Wolf! She did not hit him, of course but not because she held back; he had simply moved away, almost as if he had seen it coming from a mile away. And he likely had, her state was borderline delirious at this point, which was made all the more apparent when she looked at him and had trouble focusing on his eyes.\n\n“No!”\n\nHer tone was defiant, she could feel spit make its way past her clenched teeth and spray as a fine mist across the vast expanse of her chest. Her anger eradicated all else for a moment and she wished nothing more than to show the old man just how nasty she could be when poked with sticks like this! How dared he question her! As if there was so much as a chance, she’d fail him! She’d rather split both her breasts open before he’d be dissatisfied with her, she’d-\n\n“Very well, Gote!” came the answer, underlined by an obviously pleased huff. The Wolf stepped back and waited for her to ride her emotional high out, before finally swapping bags for one final time. Sable’s eyes turned in their sockets, wanting to roll them upwards, yet she forced herself to keep them on his hands, those clawed fingers working slow and methodically to remove the empty bag and install a fresh one. Another half-liter of Saline. It was nothing. Just a bit more liquid, she had already taken so much, she could make it. \n\nShe could take more.\n\nClosing her eyes, she commanded her body to relax, her breathing ran steady and she focused on the inhale and exhale of her lungs. Breathe in. The Saline came a rushing down the unrestricted tube. Breathe out. Her eyes wanted to widen the moment the Saline hit the tissue, she could feel a harsh shudder trace her spine all the way down to her tailbone, her little tailpatch flicking up and down, pressure rising once again and subtly but steadily, she felt her skin grew tauter for the final time. There was hardly any changes to be seen, the payoff for the pain had almost disappeared, all that was added was pressure and strain on her hide, the final bag coming with a particularly harsh draw on her shoulder areas! The skin most stressed as it connected her absurd chest to the rest of her, the area to the respective left and right of her collarbones, it had taken on a soft, pink-purple hue, almost invisible under her fur, though she could feel its nasty sting more and more! Like wearing straps of a backpack with a sleeveless top, the skin was drawn both to the front and the side and it took Sable every shred of her willpower to not scream! The pain was at its most intense when she twitched, but as long as she sat still, she could take it…\n\nThen it was over. The Wolf’s hands removed the plaster from the left needle, providing one final horror in letting her watch the needle rise like a small lance, the sheer tautness of her skin making it rise like a thin, metal cock, poking up proudly from within her skin and both were removed without pain by his steady fingers. He took a few steps back to take a glance at the result, spreading his arms to push his palms into the sides of her chest and thus forcing her to take in the sheer enormity of her width circumference of her tits. A T-pose of debauchery, a man of over 2 meters in height needing to spread his arms fully to reach the edges of the twin-globes growing on a Goat shut shy of one and a half…\n\n“I… Мне нужен перерыв…”\n\nSable whimpered softly, she could no longer hide her tone change. She was so full, it was so much worse every time she moved even the smallest bit, how could she possibly go on! But she had to, yes? Her vision was turning and she felt a sick feeling rise in her stomach when trying to adjust her backside. It did not matter! She had to push on, no matter what. The Saline was already in, she couldn’t give up now. She’d be perfect, she’d provide him with the photos he craved to take!\n“Doing alright there, Sable?”\n\nHeros’s tone showed no signs of worry, already busy preparing the next section of her grotesque fill-up. The one she dreaded the most out of all three; air. The almost instinctual shaking of her head was quickly corrected into a nodding and stopped altogether when she got a look at the tools his hands were working on; the lance she had described in the beginning. A thin piece of metal with holes, pressure fitted into a quick-disconnect fitting, attached to a black piece of flexible tubing wrapped in a metal wire mesh. Fitted with knurled pieces on the fitting’s rings and leather padding on the small metal plate to aid pushing it in, the pieces were a mixture of S/M and industrial gear. He squatted down in front of her while preparing the second lance, glaring up over the curve of her tits, the sheer distance between their faces once again reminding her of her size. \n\n“Ready?” he simply asked, not bothering to wait for an answer.\n\nShe wanted to look, see when she’d need to clench her teeth, but her own tits blocked the view of her engorged nipples. Heros’s huffs of hot air made her raise a brow until she realized that he was attempting to warm the metal, alternating between breathing at it and clutching it in his fist, before finally poking the fluted end against her nub. Sable could feel him tuck at her nipple first, his claws pushing into the tight crevice between nipple bas and areola, a sensation that not only hardened her nub like a small gravel but also made her release a small, whimpering moan… oh, how she wished, he’d continue! It would take nothing but a few more, tiny tucks of his fingers to make her squirt milk like a fire hydrant at this point! But he wouldn’t. He pushed the metal against the tip, keeping the numb in place tightly with the padded digits of his index finger and thumb, then gradually inserted the lance.\n\n“H-Heros…!” Sable’s voice was staggered, her ears were stiff and she felt her neckfur bristle like a shoe brush!\n\nThe sensation was among the oddest things she had experienced in her short life. A cold, hard object suddenly tickling nerves she did not know were there before! The feeling was most intense at her nipples, arousing, heated, the nerves desperately wanting to feel what was inside on the outside, there was no better way to describe it! The lance pushed deeper into the canal and by the time it began to widen it, she felt a harsh pain drive away any thoughts of pleasantries; this pain was new, deep inside her breast and it made her shoulders tense up and her neck stiffen; her teeth clenched.\nWordlessly, the Wolf pushed the second lance into her left breast, a little quicker this time and much to the same effect. Sable was beginning to squirm in her seat, despite it irritating her tight skin all the more, setting the enormous, heavy orbs in her lap in slight motion.\n\n“Heros…” she began once more.\n\nThe Wolf did not heed her unspoken wish. He rose to his full height once more, setting the stage for the final test of the night as his fingers united the two hoses on a small, trapezoid piece. He kept eye contact with the shaking, heaving Goat as he turned his back. She could feel every small tuck and movement of the hose in her tits, the lances stuck so deep in her flesh, they were moving her nipples atop the taut, tormented hide. Her areolae were growing damp, smallest dollops of milk oozing from their pores, yet nothing even close to worth mentioning could escape; the dampness was all down to mere sweat; irony truly was cruel at times. And as the Wolf turned back to her, he held a slim, long cylinder in his right hand. The cherry-red bicycle pump with a black handle was a classic piece she had seen many, many times but never used this way and never on herself. She had seen him perform with this instrument however and it had a unique ability to coax notes from the player, rather than itself. The soft little click of another quick-disconnect was the last thing she could in good faith describe. The moment the Wolf had lifted the plunger and began to push it down, Sable experienced what Germans called Filmriss.\n\nShe had never been able to even closely guess as to the sensation she felt. The air rushing into her tits, widening the thin, delicate tubules of her lobes and ligaments in an instant was nearly enough to have her pass out! It was a sensation akin to tearing a muscle, but in her breasts! Tissue separating, nerves that circled the surfaces being stretched and the uncomfortable feeling of liquid being displaced by gas inside of her body… it made the Goat ache her back out and throw her head backwards, releasing a single, pained [b]BLEAT![/b]\n\nHer legs kicked when the second plunger hit the pump and this time, she could feel her tits warp! The strain was growing, she could feel her skin clad around her tits like firm wrap, it ceased to be a comfortable encasing of her flesh and instead became a harsh prison that dug into her fatty tissue and compressed the alveolar glands contained within! She began hitting her legs against the stool until she could feel her digitigrades grow numb, offsetting one pain with another was all she had left! Her eyes were squinted shut, her molars pushed and ground against one another, her jaw hurt as yet another rush of air pumped her tits even fatter…\n\nThey were growing, not much larger but rounder, the heft of their weight offset by sheer tautness of her hide. The Wolf got to watch the display in all its glory, the Goat’s tits evening out and tightening to a degree that was looking even more deliciously unnatural than what his fabled service Does sported! Yes, these truly were the pair he had been looking to fashion… only a few pumps more and they would be suitable! Made eternal by means of photography, a true testimony to his craft! \n\nIt was easy for him to proclaim. He did not need to suffer for it, after all. And with his excitement getting the better of him, the Wolf kept pushing the plunger, he drove Sable’s tits to their utmost limit! The fur patterns on her cleavage began to shift, slightly at first, then moving like a slideshow, the black spots growing larger, moving positions and the hide began to grow a bright pink. Thin fur showed the pained, tested skin underneath, portions of it translucent before milk, Saline and air finally were evening out, the pressured forced working inside of her tissues smoothing the surface and before long, the two orbs became truly, utterly spherical.\n\n“Nnngf… I… cantakemore!”\n\nSable wanted to make the Wolf proud, even in her borderline delirious state, she had to blurt out that final proclamation. The sentence seemed mandatory to her, she had to prove to him that she could do it! He had to know she was the best, how she could take anything he would throw at her, no matter what. And just like that, it was over.\n\nThe Goat could hear the pump hitting the floor, followed by an exhausted, canine huff. His hands pushed against her areolae, the nip clamped in-between two knuckles on his spread fingers and with a long, incredibly satisfying slip, she felt the lances being pulled from her nipples! The gasp her lung uttered without her command was a mixture of a pained bleat and an exhausted sigh, followed shortly after by a sputter of stomach acid and bile that her cramped stomach was welling up into her throat!\n\n“BLLRGH!”\n\nSable’s eyes watered as to the burning and disgusting bitterness of bile, the nearly colourless liquid seeped across her cleavage and pooled up in the crevice between both her chest balloons, the sheer and utter tautness not allowing the liquid to even seep in-between them… \n\nHer eyes looked up at the Wolf, seeing the broad and exited grin on his lips. Her lips moved, muttering soft bleats while he grew busy inspecting what he had created. He had no eyes for her, not bothering to help her wipe the vomit off her tits, but she could not care less; the way he brushed his palms across her straining, borderline rubbery skin like a teenager getting to grope tits for the first time was worth it to her… seeing him with such genuine excitement saw her clenching her legs and bite her lower lip. His fingers attempted to dimple her skin, but found little success, the digits causing a bizarre play of shapes to be set in motion… air pockets pushing about underneath a thinned layer of Saline-saturated fatty tissue, akin to watching the shadow of Koi fish in a pond under the sun. Every little push and prod caused another bit of bile to push up her throat, so unforgiving was her skin by this point. A twitch in her spine, a gurgle in her throat and yet… and yet, she felt content.\n\n__________________________________________________________________\n\n“Okay, okay, you ready, Miss Koz?”\n\nIt was not quite an hour later. Sable stood on her hooves, the enormous balloons of hers now comfortably resting on large, nylon meshes hanging by thin, threads mounted to metal beams above her head. The lighting had been adjusted to fit the scene, the tits seemingly hovering in front of her had been treated with foundation and wax, coated in oil to show just the right amount of the pinkish hue that had taken a hold of her orbs. The Goat adjusted the collar she had been given and placed both her hooves onto the plunger of the pump the Wolf had used prior, feeling a shudder run down her spine. \n\nSmiling would have been difficult, had it not been for a quick glance backwards at the white screen that was to serve as a backdrop; it was the widest they had on hand. And in a fit of smug irony, the Goat had requested not to procure a bigger one, to which the Wolf has agreed. That was all she had needed. Despite the strain, despite her still upset stomach, she got to show off just how far she had outmatched the expectations – and with that, a grin managed to sneak onto her lips.\n\n“Ready ~” \n\n__________________________________________________________________\n__________________________________________________________________\n[b]This illustration of Caprine Perfection was provided by a friend ~[/b]", "description_bbcode_parsed": "The Goat squinted to dilute the influx of bright light coming from in front of her. The ballroom was dark, the blinds closed and black studio fabric had been hung from the curtain poles, making the high ceilings vanish and the room itself appear as though a black hole with a lone island of cameras and stands in the center. Two tall, cold studio lights had been mounted on tripods and the Wolf was only just affixing the diffusion panels in front of them to reduce lumen count to a level one could stare into. Sable blinked a couple of times to get rid of the photosensitivity so she could adjust herself on the small barstool she had been given to rest herself on.

“We should be ready in just a bit!”

The voice of #4 could be heard from behind the stack of pelican cases stacked behind the lights. She and another of the service Does, #13, were helping to set up the production chain for the photoshoot she would be the center of today. This particular shoot had been in preparation for over a month now, the majority of it spent on the Goat training and practicing to make sure her body would meet the requirements the Wolf had demanded in order to achieve the desired effect. Six weeks of straining her tits. All just to flaunt them in front of a Hasselblad for a couple pictures.

Her assignment had been simple on paper; train your tits to take strain. She had never been a stranger on the subject to begin with, given her history of excessive lactation that required at least one milking every morning. A milking she had to skip at times for numerous reasons, usually to do with those stupid Does making a mess. But like missing a day of brushing your teeth and it leaving a nasty film on your molars, the need to drain them always lingered the rest of it and made her moody, which she despised with a passion! There had also been numerous times of the Wolf simply denying her a milking on purpose, just because he wanted to see her tits swell with the backlog, letting them grow heavy and full, leaking in small spurts that made the fur around her areolae a mushy mess and prevented her from functioning properly. She had tried to hide it, of course, but eventually the pressure was too great to ignore, which is what she had been training to cope with in these six weeks.

It was not just milk, however. The Wolf’s plan for this photoshoot was very apparent from its title:

The Perfect Tits.

Photos of a pair that simply could not be improved on. And to achieve it, he would mix and match all methods he knew of to increase and shape a girl’s bosom: milk, Saline and air. She had fully expected this task to fall onto one of the Does, they were his perpetual attempt to spite nature after all. Though even with all the skill put into it they were, as anyone with Saline implants straining their chest knew, far from perfect. It was one of the many reasons the Goat had never, ever wanted to go down their path.

The tits of the stupid Does were enormous but the Saline fillers in their chests made them vulnerable to imperfections, with the sheer absurd amount of it exacerbating the issue. They were hard to the touch, they bounced about as well as a stuffed backpack and they were ugly. Sable felt nothing but disgust for those chests, she had seen them at their worst too many times. A mess of deep purple veins and stretch marks, with some of the oldest in the flock even boasting scar tissue around the armpits and the area where they had rubbed perpetually against the pectoral muscle… even damage to the lowermost ribs wasn’t unheard of. Damaged kneecaps from the weight, flattened hooves; there were just so many long-term issues. And yet, all of them had gone for it, just because they fetishized it. All of the medical issues worth their disgusting transformation.

Sable adjusted her seating once again while flicking her left ear, causing the old, yellow tag stuck in the lower lobe to flip and the sharp inner edge to scrape her cheek. It was a self-soothing measure, hurting just the right amount to get her thoughts back on track; she couldn’t afford to be upset today. She had to be proud, that was one of the Wolf’s strict requirements for this strange ritual he crafted.

She still wished the task could have been taken by one of the Does, even if the fact that she was the only candidate suitable for what he had planned filled her with a manner of cockiness, something she was trying to harness and use like a drug. The Goat was asked to do a perfect job and that is what she would do. She’d perform, at any cost, because it meant she would get to see his eyes light up in that particular way that made her thighs clench…
The Does were not suitable for the trinity of expansion methods because of their implants. Lactation was more or less unheard of, especially in the older ones because the Saline shell had absolutely squashed their mammal glands over the years and what bit of milk one could coax out of their stretched nipples would hardly make a difference with their volume. But even if they had been able to produce milk anymore, that still left the third method to contest with.

Air.

The thought alone made the Goat feel her neckfur bristle with discomfort. Her hooves scraped the stainless steel of the seat’s feet and her knees pushed into one another. Air was perhaps the most unnatural means to increase a set of tits and it required some of the most unorthodox methods she had seen thus far. Few individuals were even capable of enduring the process and it came with certain prerequisites that Sable unfortunately all matched. An already ample breast size and well-trained, frequently used aveoli glands. The tool used was a horrific device, a long, thin lance of stainless steel with
a multitude of bore holes dotting its sides, inserted into the center of the nipple and slowly worked down the gland canal to then be fixed in place. With gentle pressure, it would then inject air into the milk glands and swell them up, causing the tissue surrounding them to contract and fatty layers to tighten, creating a truly spherical breast. A literal, goddamn balloon on your chest. The depth of penetration needed to achieve this and the fact that the center hole of most nipples is barely large enough to fit a hypodermic needle, meant that it saw most individuals - but especially the Does - wholly unsuited for this. Their glands and canals would need catheters to be widened which pushed it way out of the realms of even advanced fetish play.

Sable on the other hand was a perfect candidate for this on all accords. Her Saanen heritage, the excessive lactation, even her fur patterns that would provide such a pleasing aesthetic for when those tits of hers were filled to the utter brim; the patchy spots wouldn’t be perceived as distorted, yet still be notably too large compared to the rest of her frame. A frame that was short, thin and lithe with virtually no rear to speak of that could distract from the goods. Or at least, this was how the Wolf had described it all to her. The Goat dug her hoofed digits into her palms, the two fingers pressing painfully into the soft tissue to stifle her ire and calm herself. She hated his reassurances; they were not needed! She was perfectly capable of making up for her lack of ass by not making one out of herself every given minute like the Deer!

The happy bleating coming from behind the lights finally managed to pull her out of eating into herself. “Super! We are ready to shoot! Like, photos I mean el-oh-el!”

Sable adjusted her stance on the seat, pushing out her back and feeling the strain of her heavy globes pulling down her shoulders. The pectoral muscles ached as they flexed, already bruised and still in a recovery state from the prior days of hauling those monstrous milk tanks she now sported as a chest about. While idly listening for #4’s hoofed clicking across the old hardwood floor to make her way to the intercom system and call the Wolf, she reached out with both arms to roam her hands across her bust. Her hooves pressed against the stands of the chair, she angled her knees outwards to provide support but her bust had hopelessly overgrown them and a majority of the weighty orbs sagged, creating a teardrop shape that sloped across her knees and pressed down her shins. Her fingers and thumbs spread, she all six of her digits pushing through the soft flesh on both breasts. Each of them much too big to reach the nipples unless she leaned forward, which would tip even her caprine balance. Feeling the coarse goat fur bristle up in-between the hard horn of her digits, it provided another reminder on just how full they were… at this stage, she could feel the bloated glands underneath the fatty tissue. Bulbous shapes, clusters of milk-filled pods, little bumps smoothed out by layers of fat. Here and there, she would press a digit into them – only to stop in her tracks and release a stifled gasp through clenched teeth!  “Fuck…”

The sensation was borderline erotic, the soft bulging of the canals that moved dense milk like hydraulics, the pressure pushing up to the very top and making her areolae and nipple bulge. The amount of milk that had accumulated and simply begged to be let out was grinding down her resolve and for just a moment, she was back in the bathroom of her private chambers. She could just let it flow, if she kept pushing, yes! Just a little bit! Relieve the pressure and let it flow, lean forward, mush those stupid milk bags against the edge of the sink! Let her nipples glide across that one, not quite sanded-down porcelain edge she used to get to get the flow going in the morning, like some girls used their bedposts to-

“Girls!”

Sable’s head jerked up, panic riding her synapses and she forced her stance to be straight with such haste, she could feel the muscles in her backside scream! She quickly made sure no milk had actually misted the floor in front of her… good. The only thing flowing was a tear in the corner of her eye from the sudden strain, which she quickly wiped off before putting her hands down to her sides, grasping the seat of the chair with firm fingers, putting on a forced, little smile. When the Wolf walked around the lights put up and the Goat spotted him, it became a genuine one.

“I see we are all ready to get started!”
He was smiling, lips split by joy, the corners of his muzzle tucked up and his hands rubbing one another as he peered at the Goat. He wore a red velvet blazer with peaked lapels and black, pleated pants á la Hugh Hefner, suspiciously missing the ascot in favour of unreasonable amounts of chest fur pushing through the mostly unbuttoned shirt; fitting attire for the occasion, if nothing else. She’d never tell him but this was among his favourite outfits of hers as it also omitted shoes, leaving him barefoot and thus showing more of his body than any other. He walked closer and her nose caught his scent, realizing he didn’t wear perfume this night either.

“How are we feeling, Goat?” he crooned after squatting down next to her. His eyes lingered on hers for only a moment and only to drink in her wide-eyed expression. She was not used to him not covering his smell in perfumes or cremes… the predator scent was leeching on her rationale and him being this close did not help. Sable had tried for years to build up a resistance for it but it was neigh impossible; like staring in the face of a wild animal met in the forest. It was a primal reflex, impossible to ignore. Notes of canine, but different. Warm and earthy. Powerful. The scent of your bed after a boy spent the night with you. What she would give to encounter this in any other situation! He knew exactly what he was doing.

That short look he gave her before beginning to inspect her tits was all she needed to know. Heros seldom played fair but she knew this was outlandish even for him. Was this punishment? Had she not gotten as big as he felt she needed to be? Sable felt her throat seal as she grew choked up, the weight of potentially failing him was much more difficult to bear than her tits.

“I am fine. I can take more.”

Her stoic answer came without so much as a pause, her green eyes staring confidently back into his crimson ones, trying to gauge if he was disappointed or not. The excitement that stared back was all too unsettling.

“Good! Then we can move swiftly along to phase two. We have the milk, now we need a pinch of salt!” the Wolf cackled, raising his fingers and snipping them loud enough to make her ears flick. Sable’s breath grew elevated when she heard the sounds of roller wheels screeching across the floor; the two service Does were moving IV drips towards the both of them. Typically, these would be unassuming stainless-steel stands on wheels, but like most of the old canine’s toys, these were special. The simple metal prongs atop of them had been replaced with more shapely, curved ones, resembling the antlers of a Buck, offering twelve hangers to drape injection bags from; each of them loaded with a 500CC bag of medical Saline. Sable could feel her gut turn.

“Thank you, girls!” the Wolf mused, reaching out to run his hand across a slightly wrinkled injection tube fixed to the first of the IV bags on his right. His excitement was all-too apparent, the bulge in his stretched dinner pants was moving, the heavy endowment happily churning away with a liquid much denser than what was about to be put into her tits. She wanted to protest. She did not need any of this! Saline was what goes into Does, not Goats! She had milk, why would she need any more liquid in her bosom?
But she did not dare protest, not uttering so much a single word of rebuttal and merely watched him prepare for the following hours of injection to come. A small plastic try was placed next to the Wolf just as he was beginning to turn his torso in search of it, his right index and middle finger holding the tube pinched between them, the slack letting the plastic parts swing against the steel stand. “Ah, splendid… you two are dismissed for the time being, go get lunch, it is about time.” Heros shooed the Does to exit the room.

“I want lunch.” Sable mumbled, a hint of pouting swinging in her voice. She curled her lower lip as the Wolf looked up at her, not bothering to look shocked at his disapproval this time. The eye contact was maintained for a moment, just until the loud clicking of the heavy double-doors indicated that the Cervids had left.

“We can’t have you pudgy when we shoot the photos, Sable.” Heros explained, peeling the foil on a sterile wipe with his claws before standing up again with a low huff, the joints in his knees creaking with age. “It would ruin all the preparation we worked so hard on ~”

“I am not pudgy!”

The Goat’s rebuttal was much more combative now that she was alone with him. And likewise, the Wolf appeared more forgiving, if yet still entirely ignorant of her protests. Left hand placed on her left breast he gave it a soft roam with his palm to bristle up the fur a few centimeters diameter below her collarbone to aid in disinfecting the area. Sable’s breathing quickened somewhat, though it had less to do with the feeling of his warm hands on her skin this time. The distinct rustling of a medical pouch being torn open was heard as was a fresh, capped needle being retrieved from its packaging. The Wolf pushed the luer at the end of the tube into the opening and uncapped the needle before pointing it at the center of the cleaned patch. With a single hand, his skilled fingers pushed the needle into her skin, holding it in place while fishing for a cannula plaster. Sable was trying not to look too closely; she had learned not to be bothered by the sight of needles for over a year now but it was different when they were pushed into her own body. Despite the Wolf’s precision, she could still feel the thin tube inside her breast, a nasty little stinger that ran deep enough to make the corners of her muzzle twitch every time it moved. Thankfully, once the plaster and fixers had secured the tube across her breast, she could no longer feel it. Not until the procedure was completed on the second breast and the vent was opened on the drift chambers. A faint little pop could be heard and the Saline was flowing from its clear sack into the drift chamber dangling just underneath it. The Wolf turned to face her and poked his thumb against the injection apparatus. “Tell me when it is too much for you.”

Sable flinched. Not from the Saline, it was only just beginning to enter the tube when his thumb had opened the roller clamp; it was his wording. Too much? There was no too much, not for her! She would show him, she’d take those 12k CCs in record time! He wouldn’t be able to swap the bags fast enough, he’d-

“Ahh-!“

Sable’s teeth clenched as she felt the clear liquid rush into the tissue of her breasts. Heros had opened the flow almost fully, making sure that first hit set a harsh reminder on the flow rate. She could feel the burn of the chlorine when it seeped into her fatty tissue and spread throughout it, her breasts drinking it like a sponge and she could feel it seep deeply into her tissue. Every little bit of headway it made into her tits, the barely room-temperature Saline was making her huff and pant, squint her eyes! Her legs were clenching but she refused to make any more noises. Finally, the Wolf showed some mercy, pushing the roller pins up to squeeze the tubes to a much more manageable rate with a sadistic little cackle.

“Ahh, this here will do just fine. We don’t want you to overexert-“

“I can take more.”

Heros’s ears perked up and he finally bothered to look at the Goat. Sitting in her chair, her back straightened out and her hands grasping the seat with enough force to push sinews and knuckle bones to the surface. Yet her face was stoic, the brows just the smallest bit clenched and pushing towards one another.

“I can take more.” She repeated, huffed outright! The Wolf’s gaze made a sharp turn from mild surprise to downright devilish as he nodded and heeded her wish by pushing his thumbs down and opening the roller pins to where they had been previously. Watching as the Goat twitched once again, her breathing growing more and more elevated as the minutes passed… yet she would not request for him to decrease the flow. The Wolf’s endowment was working as much as the Goat, straining, moving in the tight grip of the soft, black fabric and she tried to think of it rather than the liter of Saline funneling much too quickly into both her breasts. Their eyes met once again and she could tell he was trying to convince her to ask him to slow the flow. Wide eyes staring with malice, just waiting for her to beg!

Never! Not in a million year would she even consider to beg! She could take this, and she’d take it at this rate, even if the burning sensation was gripping her chest like acid by this stage. Minutes passed. Two, then ten, then fifteen… Heros had moved out of her field of view and behind the lamps, his presence only visualized by the wafts of cigarette smoke that had begun to trail across the diffusers. With him gone, she needed to find another way to distract herself but the dark room offered so very little to grab her attention. All she really had left was to peer at the drops of Saline coming from the plastic sack above… and just as if she was preparing for surgery, her mind would move to calculate the drip rate, seemingly on auto-pilot.

Wait for a minute.

Count the drips.

Drop rate of… 170-ish.

I am so fucked…

The minutes crawled like snails on a salt trail, every second a painful slip and there was barely any discernible difference by the time the plastic sack had emptied itself. A full liter of Saline, enough to outright double the chest of most girls her height and yet it added nothing but a low, dull burn that tormented the upper portions of her breasts. Watching the Wolf step forward to replace the Saline bags with another, she simply closed her eyes and made attempts to enjoy what little break she was afforded; it did not last long.

Saline pushing down the tubes. Pouring into her breasts. Every fresh bag came with a sense of dread instead of achievement. She tried to count the seconds within her head to keep track of how long she was sitting on the stool and yet the only thing that was a reminder of the time was how much closer she could feel the plywood move towards her butt as her tits grew in weight and finally, also in size. How close to finishing was she? She did not want to look at the stand but her curiosity forced her eyes; the eighth bag! That’s not so bad, four left to go, she could take that! Just needed something to distract herself with.

The chloride burn had mostly subsided by now, she could feel her tits becoming saturated, for lack of a better word. There was no difference in temperature felt anymore and as she paid closer attention to the enormous orbs; she could see an increase in diameter starting to take hold. Her tits were beginning to change in shape as well, the soft perk they had displayed previously, the obvious dip in the curve the closer it got to her nipples, it was slowly disappearing, replaced by a shape that was perhaps not a full circle but more… firm, shapelier. She specifically avoided the term ‘filled’ as the pressure was by now beginning to make itself noticed. And it was about to become much, much worse!

By the time Heros was back to swap for the final two bags, hooking into the 11th, the difference to the previous infusions was becoming almost instantly apparent to her! Sable’s face contorted and her teeth gritted with enough strength to make it audible! Her molars grinding with such force, it made her jaws hurt, yet she found no other way to stifle what tried to be a pained moan escaping her throat! Instead, she moved her legs and slumped forward for just a moment, the sound alerting the Wolf; she could almost hear his ears perk to it, his snout moving closer as he bend over at the waist and put his right hand onto her shoulder.

“Growing too tight, are we?”
Sneer and mockery. His tone was all but trying to gaud her into opening her mouth and scream! The pressure was mounting and she could hear a faint, yet notable straining sound emanate from the enormous orbs on her chest! They were protruding so far beyond her legs now, each almost twice as wide as her torso, if she had to guess; and she really, really did not want to guess.

“We can stop right here.” He mused, his hot breath washing against her left cheek. “Just… say the word and I’ll remove the needles. Nobody would blame you if you reached your limits by now, you have been very brave ~”

Sable’s eyes widened for a moment and she felt her head involuntarily tick to the side, trying to sink her left horn into the Wolf! She did not hit him, of course but not because she held back; he had simply moved away, almost as if he had seen it coming from a mile away. And he likely had, her state was borderline delirious at this point, which was made all the more apparent when she looked at him and had trouble focusing on his eyes.

“No!”

Her tone was defiant, she could feel spit make its way past her clenched teeth and spray as a fine mist across the vast expanse of her chest. Her anger eradicated all else for a moment and she wished nothing more than to show the old man just how nasty she could be when poked with sticks like this! How dared he question her! As if there was so much as a chance, she’d fail him! She’d rather split both her breasts open before he’d be dissatisfied with her, she’d-

“Very well, Gote!” came the answer, underlined by an obviously pleased huff. The Wolf stepped back and waited for her to ride her emotional high out, before finally swapping bags for one final time. Sable’s eyes turned in their sockets, wanting to roll them upwards, yet she forced herself to keep them on his hands, those clawed fingers working slow and methodically to remove the empty bag and install a fresh one. Another half-liter of Saline. It was nothing. Just a bit more liquid, she had already taken so much, she could make it.

She could take more.

Closing her eyes, she commanded her body to relax, her breathing ran steady and she focused on the inhale and exhale of her lungs. Breathe in. The Saline came a rushing down the unrestricted tube. Breathe out. Her eyes wanted to widen the moment the Saline hit the tissue, she could feel a harsh shudder trace her spine all the way down to her tailbone, her little tailpatch flicking up and down, pressure rising once again and subtly but steadily, she felt her skin grew tauter for the final time. There was hardly any changes to be seen, the payoff for the pain had almost disappeared, all that was added was pressure and strain on her hide, the final bag coming with a particularly harsh draw on her shoulder areas! The skin most stressed as it connected her absurd chest to the rest of her, the area to the respective left and right of her collarbones, it had taken on a soft, pink-purple hue, almost invisible under her fur, though she could feel its nasty sting more and more! Like wearing straps of a backpack with a sleeveless top, the skin was drawn both to the front and the side and it took Sable every shred of her willpower to not scream! The pain was at its most intense when she twitched, but as long as she sat still, she could take it…

Then it was over. The Wolf’s hands removed the plaster from the left needle, providing one final horror in letting her watch the needle rise like a small lance, the sheer tautness of her skin making it rise like a thin, metal cock, poking up proudly from within her skin and both were removed without pain by his steady fingers. He took a few steps back to take a glance at the result, spreading his arms to push his palms into the sides of her chest and thus forcing her to take in the sheer enormity of her width circumference of her tits. A T-pose of debauchery, a man of over 2 meters in height needing to spread his arms fully to reach the edges of the twin-globes growing on a Goat shut shy of one and a half…

“I… Мне нужен перерыв…”

Sable whimpered softly, she could no longer hide her tone change. She was so full, it was so much worse every time she moved even the smallest bit, how could she possibly go on! But she had to, yes? Her vision was turning and she felt a sick feeling rise in her stomach when trying to adjust her backside. It did not matter! She had to push on, no matter what. The Saline was already in, she couldn’t give up now. She’d be perfect, she’d provide him with the photos he craved to take!
“Doing alright there, Sable?”

Heros’s tone showed no signs of worry, already busy preparing the next section of her grotesque fill-up. The one she dreaded the most out of all three; air. The almost instinctual shaking of her head was quickly corrected into a nodding and stopped altogether when she got a look at the tools his hands were working on; the lance she had described in the beginning. A thin piece of metal with holes, pressure fitted into a quick-disconnect fitting, attached to a black piece of flexible tubing wrapped in a metal wire mesh. Fitted with knurled pieces on the fitting’s rings and leather padding on the small metal plate to aid pushing it in, the pieces were a mixture of S/M and industrial gear. He squatted down in front of her while preparing the second lance, glaring up over the curve of her tits, the sheer distance between their faces once again reminding her of her size.

“Ready?” he simply asked, not bothering to wait for an answer.

She wanted to look, see when she’d need to clench her teeth, but her own tits blocked the view of her engorged nipples. Heros’s huffs of hot air made her raise a brow until she realized that he was attempting to warm the metal, alternating between breathing at it and clutching it in his fist, before finally poking the fluted end against her nub. Sable could feel him tuck at her nipple first, his claws pushing into the tight crevice between nipple bas and areola, a sensation that not only hardened her nub like a small gravel but also made her release a small, whimpering moan… oh, how she wished, he’d continue! It would take nothing but a few more, tiny tucks of his fingers to make her squirt milk like a fire hydrant at this point! But he wouldn’t. He pushed the metal against the tip, keeping the numb in place tightly with the padded digits of his index finger and thumb, then gradually inserted the lance.

“H-Heros…!” Sable’s voice was staggered, her ears were stiff and she felt her neckfur bristle like a shoe brush!

The sensation was among the oddest things she had experienced in her short life. A cold, hard object suddenly tickling nerves she did not know were there before! The feeling was most intense at her nipples, arousing, heated, the nerves desperately wanting to feel what was inside on the outside, there was no better way to describe it! The lance pushed deeper into the canal and by the time it began to widen it, she felt a harsh pain drive away any thoughts of pleasantries; this pain was new, deep inside her breast and it made her shoulders tense up and her neck stiffen; her teeth clenched.
Wordlessly, the Wolf pushed the second lance into her left breast, a little quicker this time and much to the same effect. Sable was beginning to squirm in her seat, despite it irritating her tight skin all the more, setting the enormous, heavy orbs in her lap in slight motion.

“Heros…” she began once more.

The Wolf did not heed her unspoken wish. He rose to his full height once more, setting the stage for the final test of the night as his fingers united the two hoses on a small, trapezoid piece. He kept eye contact with the shaking, heaving Goat as he turned his back. She could feel every small tuck and movement of the hose in her tits, the lances stuck so deep in her flesh, they were moving her nipples atop the taut, tormented hide. Her areolae were growing damp, smallest dollops of milk oozing from their pores, yet nothing even close to worth mentioning could escape; the dampness was all down to mere sweat; irony truly was cruel at times. And as the Wolf turned back to her, he held a slim, long cylinder in his right hand. The cherry-red bicycle pump with a black handle was a classic piece she had seen many, many times but never used this way and never on herself. She had seen him perform with this instrument however and it had a unique ability to coax notes from the player, rather than itself. The soft little click of another quick-disconnect was the last thing she could in good faith describe. The moment the Wolf had lifted the plunger and began to push it down, Sable experienced what Germans called Filmriss.

She had never been able to even closely guess as to the sensation she felt. The air rushing into her tits, widening the thin, delicate tubules of her lobes and ligaments in an instant was nearly enough to have her pass out! It was a sensation akin to tearing a muscle, but in her breasts! Tissue separating, nerves that circled the surfaces being stretched and the uncomfortable feeling of liquid being displaced by gas inside of her body… it made the Goat ache her back out and throw her head backwards, releasing a single, pained BLEAT!

Her legs kicked when the second plunger hit the pump and this time, she could feel her tits warp! The strain was growing, she could feel her skin clad around her tits like firm wrap, it ceased to be a comfortable encasing of her flesh and instead became a harsh prison that dug into her fatty tissue and compressed the alveolar glands contained within! She began hitting her legs against the stool until she could feel her digitigrades grow numb, offsetting one pain with another was all she had left! Her eyes were squinted shut, her molars pushed and ground against one another, her jaw hurt as yet another rush of air pumped her tits even fatter…

They were growing, not much larger but rounder, the heft of their weight offset by sheer tautness of her hide. The Wolf got to watch the display in all its glory, the Goat’s tits evening out and tightening to a degree that was looking even more deliciously unnatural than what his fabled service Does sported! Yes, these truly were the pair he had been looking to fashion… only a few pumps more and they would be suitable! Made eternal by means of photography, a true testimony to his craft!

It was easy for him to proclaim. He did not need to suffer for it, after all. And with his excitement getting the better of him, the Wolf kept pushing the plunger, he drove Sable’s tits to their utmost limit! The fur patterns on her cleavage began to shift, slightly at first, then moving like a slideshow, the black spots growing larger, moving positions and the hide began to grow a bright pink. Thin fur showed the pained, tested skin underneath, portions of it translucent before milk, Saline and air finally were evening out, the pressured forced working inside of her tissues smoothing the surface and before long, the two orbs became truly, utterly spherical.

“Nnngf… I… cantakemore!”

Sable wanted to make the Wolf proud, even in her borderline delirious state, she had to blurt out that final proclamation. The sentence seemed mandatory to her, she had to prove to him that she could do it! He had to know she was the best, how she could take anything he would throw at her, no matter what. And just like that, it was over.

The Goat could hear the pump hitting the floor, followed by an exhausted, canine huff. His hands pushed against her areolae, the nip clamped in-between two knuckles on his spread fingers and with a long, incredibly satisfying slip, she felt the lances being pulled from her nipples! The gasp her lung uttered without her command was a mixture of a pained bleat and an exhausted sigh, followed shortly after by a sputter of stomach acid and bile that her cramped stomach was welling up into her throat!

“BLLRGH!”

Sable’s eyes watered as to the burning and disgusting bitterness of bile, the nearly colourless liquid seeped across her cleavage and pooled up in the crevice between both her chest balloons, the sheer and utter tautness not allowing the liquid to even seep in-between them…

Her eyes looked up at the Wolf, seeing the broad and exited grin on his lips. Her lips moved, muttering soft bleats while he grew busy inspecting what he had created. He had no eyes for her, not bothering to help her wipe the vomit off her tits, but she could not care less; the way he brushed his palms across her straining, borderline rubbery skin like a teenager getting to grope tits for the first time was worth it to her… seeing him with such genuine excitement saw her clenching her legs and bite her lower lip. His fingers attempted to dimple her skin, but found little success, the digits causing a bizarre play of shapes to be set in motion… air pockets pushing about underneath a thinned layer of Saline-saturated fatty tissue, akin to watching the shadow of Koi fish in a pond under the sun. Every little push and prod caused another bit of bile to push up her throat, so unforgiving was her skin by this point. A twitch in her spine, a gurgle in her throat and yet… and yet, she felt content.

__________________________________________________________________

“Okay, okay, you ready, Miss Koz?”

It was not quite an hour later. Sable stood on her hooves, the enormous balloons of hers now comfortably resting on large, nylon meshes hanging by thin, threads mounted to metal beams above her head. The lighting had been adjusted to fit the scene, the tits seemingly hovering in front of her had been treated with foundation and wax, coated in oil to show just the right amount of the pinkish hue that had taken a hold of her orbs. The Goat adjusted the collar she had been given and placed both her hooves onto the plunger of the pump the Wolf had used prior, feeling a shudder run down her spine.

Smiling would have been difficult, had it not been for a quick glance backwards at the white screen that was to serve as a backdrop; it was the widest they had on hand. And in a fit of smug irony, the Goat had requested not to procure a bigger one, to which the Wolf has agreed. That was all she had needed. Despite the strain, despite her still upset stomach, she got to show off just how far she had outmatched the expectations – and with that, a grin managed to sneak onto her lips.

“Ready ~”

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