Dee's Tao
The Way Of An Anatomically Challenged Masochist

by Andante

Chapter One
Humiliation On Fifth Avenue
(Anatomically Challenged, Extreme Bra and the Inner Dee )

It has been said that ultimate truth is a very personal thing; that few
things can be secured with universal approval as being absolute. The debate
regarding the validity of this proposal is replete with numerous musings and
compelling, rational thought. Suffice to say that worthy individuals such as
you and I do, as often as possible, attempt to create and control our own
present and future circumstances and having succeeded even to a small
measure, know with certainty, that it is a "real" and secure thing. Such is
the case for Deanna Winston, a most worthy, enduring, and highly unusual
presence - extremely and shockingly so, as we shall discover - in the
universe of 1989, where the first scene of her story begins.
  She is making her way through the bustling pedestrian traffic of New York's
Fifth Avenue, on her way to the office of Dr. Marsha Kline, known within her
profession as a renowned but rather mysterious expert in the fields of
female hormone disturbances. She is also highly regarded for her occasional
forays into plastic surgery. Dee is in desperate need of Dr Kline's services
and has managed to steel her nerves for the visit and the particularly
intimate and unusual examination she knows is forthcoming.
  Dee is one of those rare women that though not beautiful falls into that
other meaningless category of very attractive. However, if it is true that
"pretty is as pretty does," then Deanna Winston can be regarded as one of
the world's most dazzling goddesses of beauty and pulchritude. Discarding
the extreme proportions of her unbelivable hourglass figure, she would still
be an imposing presence in most companies. Her five foot eleven inch height
is solidly distributed on a medium-heavy frame. The only significant fat she
possesses is distributed massively in her breast and buttocks.
  One of the many accommodations necessary to adapt to her evolving
abundance, is daily strengthening rituals, especially her shoulders, back
and legs. Accordingly, her long legs, extremely strong back and abdomen are
well defined by larger than average, almost perfectly honed muscles. Her
skin exhibits a smooth, pale complexion. This is because she usually keeps
herself well covered in order to hide a multitude of old and new scars,
welts, punctures and other bondage residues that have very much been her
pleasure to collect during the last twelve years. Some are livid evidence of
what must have been extremely savage beatings and "abuse". Most in fact,
were administered by herself and her mother. Others were contributed by her
only two high school friends. Only one of the latter stays in touch on rare
occasions.
  Being the unremitting masochist that she is, self-inflicted pain and public
humiliation have been her principal recourse during the last five years.
Many opportunities were possible for the inclusion of other interested
parties to put Dee through the paces. She rejected both the overt and covert
offers with politeness and occasionally, with questionable regret. None of
the people offering themselves seemed to possess the special characteristics
she intuitively knew she required.
  Dee is a paradoxical presence. Her body, despite its obvious disproportion,
projects a real as well as perceived strength. Curiously, her demeanor
exhibits a combination of resolve and self-confidence, in concert with a
passive-like submissiveness. It is not a complicated state of affairs. Quite
simply, she has long had the ability to recognize that her public and
private affairs are separate slices of her life. She reigned over both with
total control, switching from one to the other as circumstances, needs and
desires dictate. She is the ultimate feminist, willing to fight viciously
for any and all opportunities to have a choice in a matter. However, given
the opportunity to make the choice, she will not, does not, suffer the value
judgements of others, especially the deluded, self-proclaimed protectors of
her gender. She is Deanna Winston first and foremost. All else, especially
her gender, were less than secondary.
  At the moment, Dee's large, oval, hazel-blue eyes - which rarely gaze
directly at another pair today - expose a persona of humiliation and
suffering. It is real and it primes the pump of her now dribbling cunt. She
licks her medium thick lips, which contour a wide, expansive, but very
proportional mouth. The trained eye knows this mouth has the potential to
absorb a lot of girth. It also has the potential to exhibit frequent and
wonderfully broad and sincere smiles. An astonishing range of suffering and
intense, sensual agony are also frequent visitors to her uniquely expressive
eyes and mouth. Her longish, nervous tongue exposes itself briefly to
moisten her rapidly drying lips in anticipation of the struggle that is
immediately forthcoming. A sharp erotic pang strikes the center of her
bottomless pussy. Her head jerks back in response, causing her thick,
slightly wavy, shoulder-blade-length, auburn hair to fly sideways.
  Deanna Winston is indeed an awesome sight. She easily turns the heads of
men and women whenever she is in public. One could follow her out of sight,
simply by the sound of screeching brakes and the occasional loud, insulting
hoots from the men and the silent but equally penetrating bete-noire stares
from the women. Such frequent belittlement has been her fate since age ten
when her early budding breasts exploded to a size 35C within ten months. By
the time she had just turned twelve they had zoomed to 42DD. A visit to the
family Doctor revealed that she certainly had a severe hormone problem.
Medication required to halt the condition was not available. A breast
reduction was not advised until physical maturation was complete and all
growth had ceased.
  On the day of her fourteenth birthday, her mother treated her to the choice
of any skirt and blouse combination she wished. Off the shelf, dresses were
out of the question due to the extreme nature of her figure. Moreover, her
mother was not able to afford custom-made clothes. By this time, Dee was
fast outgrowing even the larger sized off-the-rack blouses. She was five
feet, five inches tall and was exhibiting the evolution of an extremely
voluptuous figure. Her unusually small 22 inch waist was perceived as tiny
when viewed in concert with her 38 inch hips and ass. Finding a nice skirt
was much less challenging than selecting a matching blouse. Why? Because in
the two year interim since age twelve, she had expanded from a 44DD to a
51EEE which necessitated a 48FF bra. This was close to the maximum size her
mother could find locally. It was also becoming more painful to wear - much
to Dee's increasing satisfaction. Her hormones continued their physiological
anarchy into her fifteenth year.
  A couple of months after Dee had turned sixteen, her mother decided that
another trip to the Doctor was absolutely necessary. This was essential in
part, because of the unrelenting growth of her breasts and the equivalent
growth of Dee's genitalia which had also begun to manifest itself at age
ten. She was also deeply disturbed and confused about Dee's "abnormal"
behavior. At that time, Dee's bust and other wildfire, hormone-fed
anatomical "blessings" had evolved to an appalling size.
  Later, about age eighteen, her biological mechanisms began slowing towards
a "normal" situation. Within a year, she stopped growing. However all hell
broke loose again at age 24, six months ago. She was now an absolute human
anomaly.
  Crossing over East 49th Street, she literally creates a Red Sea parting of
the pedestrians in her proximity. Harried businessmen and women, as well as
school children, casual shoppers, and the few panhandlers present, find
themselves automatically sidestepping as Dee approaches them. Almost all,
turn left or right and stare in goggle eyed amazement. She has long had the
capacity to create these omnipresent humiliating gauntlets, which are
populated by all manners of leering, gawking, often taunting, occasionally
propositioning, citizens. Most of these people are, in fact, very honorable,
considerate, citizens. At worst, they would only sneak a glimpse at the
occasional presence of an unusual person in their mist. However, with Dee
they HAVE to stop and stare. Some sling humiliating comments and insults at
her, that, under ordinary circumstances, they would never think of uttering.
In fact, Dee's entire physical and psychological being compels them to
stare. Some feel compelled to verbally abuse and mentally rape and torture
her.
  Dee knows this will happen, but being extremely shy, modest, unassertive
and non-confrontational, endures it with only occasional tears, quite,
choked-back sobs and rare eye contact.
The biggest problem for Dee in public circumstances is not the occasional
seepage from her eyes, but the almost constant seepage from between her
legs, once these gauntlets begin, which is usually as soon as she leaves her
apartment. She experiences real fear and trepidation each time she has to be
in public. The inevitable humiliation is truly dreaded. It is in fact, a
small terror that only serves to infuse her libido before she even opens the
door. Her passion and carnal devices often take possession of her once she
is on the street. This rutting mind fuck produces greater humiliation, which
of course, hones the cutting-edge pangs of her growing lust. To make matters
worse, today, she has to walk over a mile. After managing 49th Street, there
are still several blocks to traverse before she arrives at Dr Kline's
office.
  The only reasons that Dee has not gone mad from this humiliation is because
of the persistent, and extremely brutal training and guidance provided by
her mother until Dee was nineteen years old. Equally contributing was Dee's
own psychology, and inner strength. Lately and especially today, (a lengthy,
degrading walk such as this, in such crowded circumstances) has her at a
fever pitch. She is just before starting to actually gush from her
constantly seeping, obscene sized cunt. She has to dig deep in her arsenal
of strength. The crowds are thicker and her quickened pace to be on time has
caused the inevitable independent movements of her massive tits. They are
the principal visage that has altered the crowd's attention and behavior.
  Like most women with oversized breasts, Dee often attempts to downplay
their size by wearing dark oversize blouses - now almost impossible to find
off the shelf, and over-large vest or jackets. By now, it is impossible to
hide the independent planets that constantly attempt to go into independent
orbits of ever changing directions. God knows what havoc would take place if
she were not wearing the single tailor-made bra that she was finally able to
buy after saving for three months.
It could actually be classified as a harness, in that it was constructed of
heavy canvas intermeshed with thin stainless steel. No frills here, just
pure utility, which is decreasing monthly. The upper cup-supports are
half-inch thick stainless steel loops that are triple sewed to the
wire/canvas mesh with thin stainless steel wire that is covered with a layer
of patent leather. The diameter of the cup openings where these loops are
located, is eight inches. This used to be a perfect fit for the upper
expanse of each breast. However, during the last six months they have become
too small. Lately, each steel loop is over-lapped by a substantial amount of
breast meat that quivers and undulates at her slightest movement. Today, the
escaping flesh is very noticeable as two independent blouse bulging masses,
the top four inches being visible above the pressure-lost top button of the
blouse. It billows to the bottom of her neck. All of her vests and jackets
are much too small too even attempt to wear. She has to depend on the blouse
and the bra to maintain their integrity and to contain their colossal
baggage.
  Each cup of the harness/bra is connected by thick patent leather, which is
secured by five layers of thin stainless steel stitching. Four-inch wide,
heavily padded shoulder straps, connected at the top of the cups, intersect
into a single two-inch wide strap below her shoulder blades. It is looped
through a brass D-ring stitched to the bottom rear of the bra, which extends
to just above her 45-inch ass. This corset-like portion of the bra extends
to just above her pubes in the front. Thus, we have a garment that covers
the entire torso. To function, it must be connected at the front, via a
severe clinching of metal stays and the dangling rear strap.
  This two-inch wide slightly elastic strap which is the extension of the
shoulder straps, hangs from the rear center of the bra, just above the
terminus of her tight ass cleavage. After exiting the brass D-ring, it
drapes over her rotund ass, gradually widening to six inches at the bottom
of her butt, where it tapers back to a two-inch terminus. The last six
inches of the strap consist of a stainless steel cover. This cover contains
a series of metal projections that face outward.
  In order to put this torture device on she must first drop the whole affair
over her head. Then, she must bent over and reaching at total arm length,
attempt - with increasing difficulty lately - to get each huge dangling,
swaying breast in its proper cup. Accomplishing this, she must now somehow
keep her still unrestrained, heavy hanging monsters away from her torso, in
order to clench in the front stays on the front portion of the bra. One way
she can accomplish this to wrestle each 25-plus pound cup-encased sac over
her shoulders. Then, standing as still as possible in a slight bent back
position, to prevent them from sliding off, she begins the ordeal of
clinching in the metal stays. Lately, they have grown to such an
extraordinary extent, that they frequently roll off her too-narrow
shoulders, landing with a heavy slap against her chest, abdomen and hips.
There are ten connecting devices running down each of two, five-inch wide
metal strips that have been welded to the front of the (as yet) unconnected
front panels of the bra. Each open panel is attached to the bottom of the
cups just above her waist. Thus, it would resemble an unbuttoned vest, that
had been attached to the bottom of the permanently connected cups.
  The only effective way to create the degree of support needed is to ratchet
the thin flexible strips located (riveted) on the front of the left panel,
through metal receiver loops located on the right panel. This was the
tricky, painful part. Each of the receiver loops had a small hex screw at
its top. Dee has to manually thread each half- inch wide, ribbed, flexible
strip, through its opposing receiver loop on the opposite panel. The metal
strip was then ready for tightening, by inserting a special wrench over the
hex nut and turning until the proper amount of constriction is attained.
  Dee has a natural 24-inch waist, which at over five feet eleven inches and
combined with a monumental 45 inch rotund ass, presents an awesome sight.
However, the effectiveness of the bra/harness requires that she cinch
herself down to an almost impossible, agonizing, twenty-one inches. And,
this was when she first started wearing the device. Now, because of her last
six-month ordeal of raging hormones and the resultant increase of her
already obscenely huge sacs, she must ratchet herself down to tear emitting
twenty inches.
This part of the process takes over a half an hour to complete. It requires
that she ratchet a little at a time, working up and down in sequence. The
front of the garment stops just above her pubes, compressing her thick mat
of black, navel high cunt hair as flat as paper. Once this rather severe,
self implemented, but necessary bondage is completed, her breathing becomes
somewhat strained and limited. She loves it. It is an adjustment she has
learned to make, whether at work, or attending to other personal affairs.
However, the requirement of tightening an additional inch causes her to gasp
rather frequently and to forcibly feed her starving lungs by consciously
gulping as deep as possible and engaging in hyperactive breathing. This is
especially true when she begins to move. Walking is especially stressful.
  After completion of the ratcheting process, she must complete the most
dreadful part of this one-hour total dressing process. In order to actually
get her massive tits up off her torso to some degree, she must reach between
her legs and draw the rear dangling strap up between the crack of her ass
and over the six inch wide mountain of her obscenely large and hormone
inflated vulva. More shocking is the fact that her fat usually slippery
vulva is the residence of a now half-erect, still mostly hooded clitoris. It
is a clit of such monumental proportions that some readers may wish to exit
at this point rather than face up to the organic reality that nature can
take, even if only once in billions of sets of possibilities. Medical
journals are replete with the most hideous of oddities. Poor Dee, as noted,
is an extreme case of genetics gone asunder. No matter, her prodigious
anatomy will not be ignored. Besides, as we will see, she is much more than
mere ectoderm.
  Before pulling the cup-hoisting strap in place, Dee must cram her huge and
still growing vagina with several highly absorbent hand towels. This is
enables her to soak up as much of the cunt drool as possible. Lately even
two towels do not seem to be enough. She knows she will end up leaking her
hot effusions before she even leaves the apartment. Hopefully the towels and
the severely tight bra strap will dam the mess up long enough to enable her
to reach her destination.
  The painful but necessary bondage of the harness/bra, the inevitable public
humiliation and sheer physical sensations will definitely drive her to a
sensual fury. The intensity will increase when her tits and ass begin their
uncontrollable, tossing gyrations. She loves the weighty feel of her tits
and the intense erotic sensation of the swaying and trouncing they give each
other and her torso. As always, it will be a challenge not to cum during her
walk. Added to this sweet agony will be the pulling, tearing and constant
chafing that the bra/corset will inflict on her. However, as much as her
tits will eventually sway and toss, without it she would surely be arrested
as a public nuisance or exhibitionist. She did not really wish to exhibit
herself to the extent she was getting ready to do so. She knew the
embarrassment and public humiliation would further drive her into a heated
frenzy. Thus, she must always prepare accordingly and use the towels.
  After the towels were inserted, she must pull the strap with almost all her
strength to get her tits to begin lifting up via its attachment to the
shoulder straps. Due to her recent growth, she is just able to get the upper
metal studded end of the strap into its corresponding, hex-nut receiver slot
at the bottom of the now-closed front panels.
  A larger wrench is required to ratchet the strap upward through the other
receiver slots. Each agonizing inch results in a corresponding half-inch
lift of the metal meshed cups. When the monsters are up far enough to
project outward almost twenty incredible inches, she has to stop. The
pressure on her anus (one of the few things below her waist that is of
normal human dimensions) is too agonizing. Her obese pussy lips have started
to mush out of the sides of the six-inch wide portion of the strap.
"AHHHHEEE... unhhh... OHH God almighty, I'm not going to make it to the
Doctor's office. I will cum in front of everybody. Ahhh, it hurts so well.
Well screw it! I will make it. Mama taught me how to get through situations
like this. I will damn well get there without cumming, even if I have to
leave a constant trail of slime behind me like last week's trip to the
store. Jesus, it was so humiliating to be ordered out of the store in front
of all those haughty, ignorant bitches and drooling bastards. I should have
waited for the dryer to finish the last basket of towels instead of just
stuffing one up my stinking trench and being in a hurry. Damn, what a mess.
But as close as I nearly did so, I did not cum, even after the bitch of a
manager shoved me out the door so hard I landed on my ass."
  Though shy and unassuming with others, Dee was especially brutal with
herself. Not out of guilt or an ignorant psyche, but because a very large
part of her world was focused on the want and need to suffer. She would see
to it that she did. Her strength was that she could do so, at least in part,
through ordinary day to day circumstances. She had learned certain controls
from her mother and had agonizingly learned how to apply them to the extent
that she was able to earn a two year computer technician degree from her
hometown Community College. This enabled her find a nice job in New York
City, 90 miles from home.
  "Unggg!!!... Hard to breathe; but I am gonna have to get these sacs up at
least one more inch so that they will at least be even with my waist. Damn!,
I've always loved my unique body, but this growth has got to stop. It was
bad enough six months ago when the lady at the custom bra shop said my tits
were 82 inches and this torture bra was equivalent to a 76HH. There's no
telling what size they are now. God knows how many hatpins I could
accommodate now. Fifty in each areola last week but had to stop, knowing
about this appointment. She might not want to take me if she knew what a
'pervert' I was. But that was silly, she is gonna see all these other marks
anyway."
  Dee smiled at the "pervert" tag she had applied to herself. It was actually
the rest of the world's pronouncement, given out of the universal human need
to stamp all things understood or not with a label of good or bad and to
draw up consequences accordingly. Society and cultures demand a norm and
anything outside of that, no matter how close to the periphery, was suspect
at best. Thus, these days Dee did not find herself in a Public Square
impaled on a stake or broken on a wheel as an abomination to mankind or God.
  Now, she was simply gawked at by everyone and tormented with a variety of
humiliating comments and occasional gropes. She carried the heated results
of the humiliation home with her. They were an added ingredient to all
manners of rather crude, unsophisticated methods of self-abuse. These
lengthy auto-erotic ordeals often resulted in no less than 10-12 intense
cunt spurting orgasms a session.
  Crying in real torment, she just manages to squash her overly compressed
cunt lips outside the strap another bit while gaining another inch of tit
lift. They now rest just above her navel and heave out almost 22 inches.
Each expands a good deal beyond the outside perimeter of her arms. This is
why she has to walk. They long ago became a total hindrance to driving a
car. Taxis are just too expensive.
Worst of all and most challenging to her control not to cum during this
torture trek, is the fact that the cunt strap, which has compressed her
major and minor labia to a dangerous degree, has mushed her half rigid, huge
clit downward into the region of her vagina, not stuffed with towels. The
massive root has no more room to grow but will strive to do so with every
step she takes. "Lord give me strength" she mutters whipping her tears.