“IF YOU ARE A WOMAN BETWEEN THE AGES OF 25 AND 60 YOU MAY QUALIFY FOR OUR STUDY INTO THE DEVLOPMENT OF PROMISING NEW MEDICATIONS FOR THE PREVENTION OF CANCERS OF BREAST. CALL THE NUMBER ON YOUR SCREEN TO FIND OUT MORE AND TO CONTACT A PARTICIPATING DOCTOR IN YOUR AREA.”

She’d seen the ad before.

It had been airing on the local stations for over a year now, late at night after the network talk shows. When Janice Waters passed away after a brief battle with the disease, her daughter Sarah went through a difficult mourning period where she had difficulty sleeping and would often stay up watching TV. These ads haunted her at first, then one night, around 3AM, between reruns of The Golden Girls and The Nanny, when she should have been asleep in bed, she decided “what the hell” she would call the number. To “find out more.”

She was directed to the office of Doctor Emily Broom, a local physician who was participating in the study.

This is her story.

An Ounce of Prevention

By Kowalski

“It’s very simple, Ms. Waters. The vaccine works similar to the way that many vaccines work, by giving you a small, controllable version of the condition we want your body to develop its own immunity against. In this case, however, we will infect you with a genetically-altered virus that has been designed to induce a form of benign tissue growth known as macromastia.”

“Macromastia? What’s that?”

“Macromastia? It sounds scarier than it is. It’s just the medical term for excessive growth of the mammary glands. Women who are diagnosed with this genetic condition have… what you and I would consider to be… abnormally overdeveloped breasts. Almost always perfectly healthy, but, well, technically-speaking it IS a form of cancer to the extent that it is characterized by out-of-control cell growth. In this case simply an unwanted over-proliferation of duct and lobule development. When the breast grows beyond what would be considered physically or psychologically comfortable, the patient suffering from this condition will often elect to undergo corrective surgery in the form of breast reduction. Other than that it is categorically NOT a life-threatening condition.”

Doctor Broom paused before continuing, carefully repositioning her rimless eyeglasses on her pretty face with hands decorated with distractingly huge and glittering diamonds. She took a moment to gaze appraisingly at the young lady sitting across from her. Sarah Waters took a tiny sip of the boiling hot tea sitting in front of her on the doctor’s desk. Her brow furrowed slightly, not at the scalding tea but rather at the rather troubling thought of permitting herself to be infected with any kind of virus.

The doctor pushed a cream-colored piece of paper across her desk, her face solemn and serious. The paper briefly explained the goals of the study and the simple procedure Sarah would undergo. At the bottom was the finely printed waiver of rights and a place for the volunteer to sign her name.

“Our breast cancer vaccine works by inducing a very mild, controllable case of macromastia in the patient. Research has discovered that women who suffer from macromastia are somehow immunized against developing breast cancer. It seems their benign healthy breast growth, though excessive and sometimes inconvenient, seems to have the natural benefit of preventing any form of malignancy. The statistics, which researchers have been gathering over the last few decades, bear this out.”

Sarah chewed her lip and scanned the sheet of paper with trepidation. Her eyes danced over the skimpy text without coming to rest on any of it. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. This is why she was here, to volunteer to be part of the study. In hopes of dodging the bullet that claimed her mother. The vaccine was no longer much of a secret, judging from the TV ads as well as the numerous articles she’d found online. There was disagreement in the medical community as to the validity of the science. The integrity of the doctors behind study had been called into question early on. A persistent rumor that this was nothing more than an “end run” effort to conduct human trials of an experimental breast enhancement drug had scandalized the study and had made legitimate widespread testing problematic. Women volunteering to be test subjects discovered there was sometimes a social stigma attached, that they were simply seeking a drug-induced boob job.

But that’s not why Sarah was here.

Her own mother had died of breast cancer, at the relatively young age of 45. And her grandmother had died at an early age from the disease as well. She had the ‘family history’ and had good reason to fear contracting the disease herself.

She usually avoided doctors, except for the naturopath she’d gone too a few times. Sarah was in perfect health, though she did take various vitamins and herbal supplements. She was always trying some new alternative remedy or fad diet. Rarely did she stick with any one thing long enough to do any good (or any harm.) But this was different. It was the promise of an actual cure, or at least the hope of a cure, that had prompted her to pick up the phone and call. Whether it worked or not, she was willing to give it a try. This consultation, and the vaccine, was all about putting Sarah’s troubled mind at ease, nothing more. All of which she explained to the doctor.

“Don’t worry. The vaccine works. And as I said, the virus is engineered to induce only a very mild case of… the macromastia. We call it a ‘controlled burn.’ A twelve week gestation is just enough to carry the intended and desired effect of immunizing the patient against future cancerous growth, but without the progressive hypertrophy I just described.”

Sarah didn’t comprehend the words progressive hypertrophy.

The doctor didn’t bother to clarify.

Sarah plucked at the collar of her blouse as she formed her next question.

“So… how long… I mean, how much… growth…”

Dr. Broom smiled wanly. She discretely sized Sarah up when she first entered the office. The patient was a perfect C cup, she guessed. Which already gave her diminutive frame a slight hourglass shape. She was no doubt concerned about growing much larger.

“Not much. One cup size on average.”

“A cup size!”

“Possibly not even that, to be perfectly honest.”

“Oh, well… that’s probably good.” Sarah said, heaving a sigh of relief.

That assuaged her fears. The mere mention of “abnormally over-developed breasts” and “genetically-engineered” scared Sarah. Big frankenboobs she could live without. Sarah had begun to develop earlier than the other girls in her junior high school class, and by freshman year of high school she’d already filled out to a full C cup. More than enough to attract the attention of the boys at her school, in particular Jason Hatfield, an upperclassman who robbed her of her virginity before she was even old enough to date.

No, Sarah was satisfied with what she had. Dean (her fiancé) teased her sometimes about getting a boob job. But he was only joking. He loved her perfect 32 C’s but, well… he would probably wouldn’t mind it if her breasts were a little bit bigger.

“At the very most, two cup sizes.” Dr. Broom added as a casual afterthought.

TWO cup sizes?? Sarah raised a skeptical eyebrow and cocked her head to one side.

She noticed for the first time that the Dr. Broom’s lab coat had fallen open in front, revealing a rather impressive bosom as well as a tiny bit of cleavage. It occurred to Sarah now that the blonde bombshell sitting across from her seemed young, almost too young to be a doctor. Sarah had attended nursing school, but quit after only one semester. The classes were just too much.

“You must be a real brain,” Sarah thought to herself.

“Don’t worry.  In a post-adolescent adult, you see, our virus, in its abbreviated form, well… it just isn’t strong enough, and doesn’t have time enough to cause the kinds of… symptoms… you would see, say, in a younger woman suffering from macromastia.” When she said the word “symptoms” she churned the air in front of her causing the silver bangles around her wrists to clatter musically. Causing Sarah to chuckle softly.

“It sounds scarier than it is, Sarah. Believe me.”

“I’m just, concerned…”

“Of course you are. The women I talk to… are understandably concerned, about growing too large. The risk of that is very low, I promise you. I would say non-existent. And the anti-virus is quite effective at bringing any growth to a halt at the end of the twelve weeks.”

Sarah picked up the sheet of paper again. The bullet points seemed to echo word-for-word everything the doctor had just gone over. The only thing left was to sign the agreement and roll up her sleeve.

Dr. Broom pulled her lab coat closed, concealing her own breasts from view.

“To tell you the truth Ms. Waters, we haven’t had any complaints. The bottom line is: vaccine works, and is perfectly safe.” The doctor said with a businesslike tone.

Sarah signed the piece of paper, which sent the doctor to a metal cabinet on the wall a few feet from where the two of them sat. With glossy French-manicured nails she removed the plastic wrapping from a syringe containing a pre-measured dose of genetically-altered virus. Before the tea had a chance to cool in front of her, Dr. Broom roughly swabbed Sarah’s upper arm with alcohol, quickly injected her with the experimental vaccine, thanked her for her cooperation, announced they’d see each other again in six weeks for Sarah’s mid-way checkup and left the room.

As Sarah exited through the crowded waiting room she avoided eye contact with the half-dozen or so other women who filled the seats lining the walls. Less than an 45 minutes after she’d first arrived at the desolate non-descript office park where Dr. Broom’s office was located, Sarah Waters was returning to her car. Her white sneakers squeaked slightly on hot asphalt as she as her quick stride broke into a jog as she hurried to her car at the far end of the huge parking lot. Her arm still stung and radiated a dull pain from the shot. She put her key the ignition and the little four cylinder engine coughed to life. She caught her own worried gaze in the rear view mirror. She had willingly let herself be infected with a virus that would produce a disease condition in her healthy body. Had she acted impulsively? Stupidly? Looking at the grey windowless building she had just left, the place looked less than state-of-the-art. Almost shabby, for a medical facility. She put on her sunglasses to block some of the harsh glare of the afternoon sun.

The tiny engagement ring on her hand reminded her of Dean.

What would he say if he knew what she’d done?

Why had she been afraid to discuss this with him? Did she not want him to worry? Did she not want him to talk her out of it? Did she not want him to talk her INTO it? She trusted him in all things. He was so smart, for a jock. So why had she decided to go through with this in secret? Would she tell him what she’d done? And if so, when? She felt more like a secretive teenager than a grown woman of 26. She was appalled at her own foolishness, shaken now by lingering doubts, but ultimately—when she took a deep breath and attempted to put these misgivings aside—she was exhilarated and took comfort in the prospect of being cured of the terrible disease that had claimed her own mother and her mother’s mother before her.

A week after her visit to Dr. Broom, Sarah had put the whole thing to the back of her mind. The stinging in her arm was long gone and with it the self-doubt that had nagged her that day. Life went on as usual. She returned to her Monday through Thursday afternoon massage therapy classes, to her regular workouts at the gym, yoga classes and her night job as hostess at The Covington, an upscale restaurant in the gallery district downtown. (Not the kind of job she’d pictured for herself in her younger days, but it paid the rent.)

It seemed unnecessary now to even bring any of it up with Dean. She felt no ill effects of any kind and more importantly was noticing none of the visible changes that would have necessitated explaining anything to anyone.

After two weeks she began to doubt she’d have to worry about that cup size of growth that Dr. Broom had warned her about, as there was still no change in her breasts.

Three weeks hence she had pretty much given up on seeing any growth at all.

Then finally she noticed it; something unusual about her nipples.

Early Sunday morning, exactly thirty days since the injection, Sarah woke up to a distinct tingling behind her nipples the likes of which she’d never felt before. Dean—the love of her life—lay sleeping by her side, a motionless 210 pound heap. She felt the urge to wake him up, but thought better of it. Through her thin nightshirt she took both nipples between thumb and forefinger and gave them a light squeeze.

“Ooohhh….” She gasped aloud, involuntarily, as a surprising ‘woosh’ exploded in her chest.

She pressed her palms down against her sensitive nipples and drove them into the softness of her breasts. The sensation was sudden and intense. The unfamiliar feeling of the two stiff nubs against her palms was a little weird. They were swollen, almost hot to the touch, and pronounced. Like small finger tips.

She took them in hand again and pinched, sending a jolt of sexual pleasure straight into her pussy, which grew instantly moist. The virus! It was working, she realized with an unexpected rush of excitement. Her flesh felt like it was crawling. Such an odd sensation. She cupped her breasts appraisingly beneath the bed sheets.

Had they grown???

No.

Aside from the change in her nipples, she could detect no difference. Not even the slight swelling she sometimes experienced during her time of the month. Just her usual nice handful, no more, no less.

She snaked her arm lovingly around her sleeping fiancé of six months and pressed herself against his back. Years of high school and college sports, and a decade working as a personal trainer had left her lover toned and fit when other men his age had already begun to let themselves go. She felt his muscles jump to life as he woke to her touch.

“Morning, lover.” She cooed in his ear as she crawled on top of him.

“Hey good lookin’.” He replied, chasing the sleep from his eyes.

Already he felt her damp pussy grinding against his cock. What a great way to start the day. Sarah felt so small sometimes when she lay beneath her lover during sex. At 5’1” she even felt small during those occasions when she was on top. Either way, Sarah Waters liked a big strong man and Dean Sutton more than fit the bill at 6’1”

Plus, he was big where it counts. Almost too big.

“I like it when my little girl takes charge.” He said with a slight grin as he guided his thick ten inch cock into his petite fiancé. “So sexy”, he thought, with her silky dark hair hanging down tickling her bare shoulders. She could have been a fashion model, he always told her. Ignoring the fact that she was far too short. And while she was attractive, her unconventional good looks (slight bump in her nose, slight overbite, slightly masculine cleft in her chin) and tom-boyish demeanor were far from what would ever pass as magazine beauty.

Sarah gyrated against Dean’s member, working carefully but expertly to accommodate the overly-large dick that filled her so satisfyingly, stroking him in and out as she bent forward and pressed her chest against his.

“Jesus. You always feel soo good.” She cooed. “Oh god. Oh baby, I think I’m gonna cum already.” She warned with a note of surprise in her voice as she rode her man at an increased tempo. She thrust her tongue into his mouth and steeled herself against climaxing too soon.

“Wow, honey. What’s gotten into you?” Dean increased his own efforts, rutting her with more force, bucking against her lithe 105 pound body, lifting her repeatedly up off the bed with no difficulty.

Sarah’s titties jumped on her chest.  She thought her nipples might explode as her orgasm approached. As if he could read her mind, Dean took her nipples in his hands and tweaked them the way he knew she liked, sending her over the edge.

She felt a flood of her own juices release between her legs, something she’d only done one other time in her life. Dean felt the watery rush of his girl’s ejaculate splash out and flow down between his legs as his own orgasm erupted inside her. When they were done a large wet spot spread out on the bed beneath them. This was one for the record books, he thought happily as Sarah collapsed beside him.

In the warm afterglow of their Sunday morning lovemaking, Sarah lay staring at the ceiling, clutching at her overheated chest, feeling her pounding heart, thinking about the virus and about the incredible and completely unexpected aphrodisiac effect it seemed to have had on her. So wonderful! It really didn’t matter to her if she stayed a 32” C. That really was an ideal size as far as she was concerned. Anything bigger would be too big on her tiny frame anyhow, wouldn’t it?

“Why didn’t you tell me about these … side effects?” She asked a stuffed bear on her dresser (who stood in for the absent Dr. Broom) before erupting into soft giggles.

Sarah became hyper aware of her nipples as they seemed to be in a constant state of arousal. They were more sensitive than she could remember them ever being, and visibly larger. By the end of the week she began to notice her areola were different, darker, bumpy and slightly raised. Dressed in a tee shirt her nipples showed clearly, even through her bras. She went about her work as usual, making her best effort at concealment, but even through her more conservative black work outfits in the relative darkness of the restaurant she felt as though the two little bumps were catching the light, as well as every little bit of friction caused by the fabric inside her brassieres.

Maybe it was a tiny bit embarrassing, constantly nipping out the way she was, but no one seemed to notice, not even the slightly-inebriated groups of flirty businessmen it was her job to escort to their tables.

Another week went by.

Aside from the persistent tingling sensation behind her nipples (and the puffiness of her areola that gave her breasts a slight cone shape) Sarah could detect no visible changes in her breasts. Dean welcomed Sarah’s increased enthusiasm in bedroom but didn’t appear to think much of it. She played it off as nothing out of the ordinary. She tried not to appear too unduly interested the night that 60 Minutes aired a scathing expose about the “rogue” doctors around the country who were continuing to perform a “dangerous” procedure on women under the guise of “a false promise of a cancer vaccine.”

She’d made a point not to miss it, but was appalled by what she saw.

Sarah felt foolish as she sat watching the interview with experts who insisted the cure was a nothing short of a complete fraud. One woman, a single working mom in her thirties who appeared to have breasts the size of Dolly Parton, had sued the doctor who’d injected her. She lost her case but was appealing the verdict in civil court. Another pair of young women, sisters who proudly claimed to be a DD cup and an F cup insisted the study was legit and they had no interest in pursuing charges. Another woman who agreed to be interviewed was only shown in shadow, but the backlighting showed the dramatic silhouette of her bust line. Her personal physician and her attorney were seated next to her. The doctor claimed his patient was suffering from an extreme case of progressive hypertrophy of the breast brought on by the experimental vaccine. Through her sobs the woman said her breasts had grown so large she had been forced to quit her job as a television news reporter, and that she rarely left her house because of the pain and embarrassment her breasts now caused her, and that she was additionally now suffering from severe depression, all because of her breasts. She said she didn’t know how large they were. (???)

Sarah felt stupid and ashamed.

And disappointed.

And confused.

What would people think if they found out she’d willingly volunteered to be injected with this experimental vaccine everyone was now referring to as “the big boob virus”? Even though it was sold to her as a breast cancer cure, and even though she wasn’t going through what these women were going through, people still would assume she’d done it in hopes of getting big tits. She decided not to tell Dean—or anyone else, ever—about being a volunteer in the study.

At the end of week six it was time to return to Dr. Broom for her check-in. It would be her only scheduled office visit before her final check in when the anti-virus was to be administered. She was glad it was half over already. Twelve weeks couldn’t come soon enough.

As she sat in the waiting room in a long-sleeved tee shirt, Sarah could feel a hot flushness in her cheeks. She felt impatient and nervous, bouncing her knee, constantly thinking of the 60 Minutes story. Should she confront the doctor about what she was hearing in the news? She felt perfectly healthy, and contrary to the scare campaign that was going on in the media about the so-called big boob virus, Sarah’s experience had proven the naysayers wrong.

Despite the fact that the entire office seemed strangely empty, this time she was made to wait almost a half hour before seeing the doctor. She glanced around at the few tattered old magazines provided for patients. Playboy? Maxim? Sports Illustrated…

She picked up a two year old issue of Maxim and flipped through it absently until a young man announced that the doctor was ready for her. He didn’t look like a nurse. He didn’t even act like he worked there. He led Sarah to a private examination room and told her the doctor would be with her shortly, then disappeared down the hall.

Five minutes later Dr. Broom entered and greeted Sarah in a genial but subdued tone of voice.

“Ms. Waters. It’s nice to see you again. How are we today?” she smiled a forced smile and looked Sarah up and down.

“Great. Doing great.”

“Great.”

Dr. Broom gathered up a handful of her tousled blonde hair and pulled it back out of her eyes and pinned it into place with a plastic clip. She glanced silently at a slim file folder that would be Sarah’s chart. Sarah wondered what was in her chart. Aside from being asked her height, weight and birth date, education and line of work, she had never really been properly examined at admittance. They never even took a blood sample. Satisfied with whatever was in the manila folder, the pretty doctor put it down, let out a tired sigh.

Sarah sat up straight on the examination table. Her snug tee shirt kept no secrets; she was nipping out like crazy in the air-conditioned office, as was plain to see.

“Well… how are things? Have you noticed any changes? Anything out of the ordinary to report?”

Sarah confirmed what was probably obvious, that she had experienced none of the growth Dr. Broom had warned about (and that the media would have her believe was the real reason for this vaccine!)

“No growth.” The doctor muttered, jotting something down in Sarah’s chart. “That’s just fine. Anything else unusual?”

Sarah studied the doctor’s face, looking for any sign of concern, or surprise, or deceit. If anything, the doctor appeared distracted by some other matter. About something beyond the four walls of the tiny examination room. The scandal surrounding her work, no doubt.

Despite herself, Sarah’s heart went out to the woman.

“Any questions? Any concerns.”

“My nipples, … um, I don’t know… they seem…” She waved her hands in the air in front of her chest, indicating what was plain to see.

“Oh?” The doctor’s mood seemed to lift slightly. “Have you experienced some change in your nipples then?”

“Yes. They are very extremely sensitive. And… well, I guess…bigger?”

Her face flushed beet red with embarrassment.

“I see. Well why don’t you let me have a look, as long as you’re here.”

Sarah removed her tee shirt, unhooked her thin tee shirt bra and exposed her bare chest to the doctor. Though she hadn’t examined them directly before, this patient’s cone-shaped nipples were obviously engorged and quite big in contrast to the moderate size of Sarah’s breasts. The cool air of the examination room hit them directly and caused the decidedly large brown areola to crinkle up.

“If I may…” The doctor lightly pinched the nipples to assess them, feeling behind the nipple a soft but thick stalk of ductile tissue that was thicker and more developed than what you might expect to find in a breast of this size.

Sarah tried to suppress a groan of pleasure as the doctor expertly manipulated her breasts.

“Well Sarah, everything seems to be in order here. You are perfectly healthy.”

Was the doctor even going to acknowledge the rumors? The bad press? “Should I bring it up? Why doesn’t SHE?” Sarah wondered nervously, waiting for just the right moment to confront the doctor.

“So, should I be concerned about, you know, growing any larger? Or…”

“I think not. Anything’s possible, of course, but I doubt it very much at this point. We would have seen some signs of it by now. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You’re going to be just fine. You can put your shirt back on.”

And with that Sarah was unceremoniously dispatched from Dr. Broom’s office once again and told to return in six more weeks, when the virus would have run its course and the cure would be in full effect.

Sarah convinced herself that the bad press about the cancer vaccine must have been undeserved. A “big pharma smear campaign” as some were calling it. She was personally invested in believing in the cure, naturally. And her personal experience was the furthest thing from what the shadowy woman on 60 Minutes had reported. If anything she was a tiny bit disappointed she hadn’t experienced a little bit of growth. She felt a twinge of regret at the doctor’s conclusion that if she were going to grow she would have started to see some changes by now.

“It might not be so bad to be a D cup”, Sarah reasoned to herself, as she thrust her chest out behind the steering wheel and tweaked her sensitive nipple through her shirt at a traffic light on her drive home from the doctors.

Another week went by.

And another week.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror before bedtime after washing her face, Sarah briefly inspected her breasts, hoping for a sign but expecting more of the same. She’d been doing this same routine self-examination for two months now. Nightly at first, afraid of what she might find. Less frequently now, afraid of what she might not find. She was “over it” already. Yes, her areola had continued to expand a bit and were now almost three inches in diameter and smooth. But her nipples, though perpetually distractingly erect and sensitive to the touch, seemed not to have grown since she first noticed the change in them.

That was when she noticed something slightly odd; red marks in her skin. Indentations. Obviously from the elastic of her brassiere. She immediately clutched her boobs, holding them against her chest.

She didn’t feel any bigger in her hands.

She cupped them.

They didn’t feel any heavier.

Had her bras shrunk in the wash? She snatched her black bra off the shower rod and put it back on. The band felt comfortable enough but now that she was looking closely she noticed the contours of the cups and the shoulder straps pinching her flesh slightly!

“Thump thump thump!” There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Hey, bathroom hog. You in there?” Dean bellowed.

Sarah whipped off her brassiere and slipped into her faded Hello Kitty night shirt which draped itself enticingly form the tips of her erect nipples. She swung the door open and threw her arms happily around her lover’s neck and kissed him passionately, pressing her body against his. He might not have noticed, but there was a slight difference in his woman’s kiss. A new excitement.

“You hurry to bed mister. I think I have a job for you.”

Sarah’s breasts had waited until week nine but they appeared finally to have grown a little!

Dressed in her usual white tank top and jeans Sarah’s breasts felt ever so slightly fuller and firmer and “in view” as she energetically worked on her lucky afternoon customers at the massage academy. She was so giddy! She couldn’t hide her broad smile all day.

Letting out the straps on her brassiere helped relieve the digging in at her shoulders, but still, now that she was aware of it, the pinching and binding of the cups was more than obvious. To her anyhow. Her snug C cup bra clung to her breasts. By the end of the following day it felt almost like it was strangling her.

On Friday, on her way home from school, she stopped at the mall and purchased a 32 D off the rack. She didn’t bother trying it on until she got home. Dean was working late at the gym so she excitedly peeled off her tank top as soon as the front door closed behind her. Discarding her clothes on the floor as she made a bee-line for the hallway mirror she pulled the new cream-colored brassiere out of the Victoria’s Secret bag and tore the tags off it. She slipped her skinny arms through the shoulder straps and reached behind to fasten the three rows of hooks. Gathering up her tender swollen breasts she positioned them in the larger cups and was satisfied to discover she filled the large bra completely. Supported by a brassiere of the proper size, Sarah’s boobs projected out. High and round and proud.

“My god, I look… so sexy.” She thought to herself, turning slightly at the waist, inspecting her newly buxom figure.

She drew her narrow shoulders together slightly and admired her cleavage.

She pulled her tank top back on over her D cups and laughed at the sight of her rack in the mirror. “I guess I’m a late bloomer.” She thought. She proven Dr. Broom wrong. She’d achieved that extra cup of growth after all!

Would Dean notice the change?

Had he already noticed the change?

She rolled that thought over in her mind as she admired herself in the mirror, bouncing lightly on her heels, watching her boobs bounce inside their confinement.

What would she tell him?

She decided, for the time being, that she wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t make a habit of going through her drawers and looking at her bra tags. “If he notices anything or asks, just say you’ve gained a little weight”, she told herself. Which was the truth anyhow. It gave her a little thrill to have this secret from him. Like her recently enlarged nipples, this secret was hidden in plain view, but there was nothing terribly suspicious about a woman experiencing a little swelling, or gaining a little weight in the right places.

Let ‘em wonder, she thought, giggling to herself.

Did this mean that the vaccine was a fraud after all?

No.

Sarah reminded herself that they made no secret about the fact that a little bit of breast growth was part of the cure. If anything this was proof to Sarah that the vaccine was working as it should!

She picked Dean up at work that night, dressed in that very same, very tight tank top, which displayed her new Ds and their enticing bit of cleavage to great effect. She’d put on her “work face” which meant she was a little more made up than her everyday, with smoky eye, lipstick, the works. At dinner she couldn’t help but notice that despite this, Dean’s attention was mostly directed at her chest. The look of confusion on his face told her that he had definitely noticed.

But he said nothing.

Besides, what would he say at dinner, in a public place?

“Honey, have you gained weight?”

He knew better than that!

After dinner he suggested they see a movie, a cheesy action flick called Bagdad Siege. Sarah was in the mood to go home and get busy in the bedroom, but she agreed to the movie. A slight chill in the air made her reach for a dark colored hooded sweatshirt she’d brought along.

Even wrapped in a thick zip up sweatshirt, Dean noticed, his fiancés boobs looked… kinda big. Bigger than normal anyhow. He wasn’t imagining things.

In the darkness of the theater, filled to capacity with the Friday night date crowd, the couple did something they hadn’t done in a long time. They made out. Sarah was exhilarated at the feel of Dean’s hands on her. Maybe she should have been more discrete but despite her better judgment she found herself pushing her body at him, shoving her tongue into his mouth and kissing him forcefully. Dean slipped his large hand inside Sarah’s sweatshirt and felt her breast through her tank top. She desperately wanted to tell him. Tell him what his hands already knew. His little fiancé was a not so little these days!

Sarah couldn’t control herself. She was so excited she did something she’d never done in her life, at least not in public; she reached over and unzipped Dean’s pants, right there in the crowded theater and reached into his jeans and grasped his stiff cock and began to stroke it. The incessant explosions on the screen were ear-splitting and seemed to give her good cover for what they were doing. No one seemed to pay much attention, although a few patrons shot them some disapproving sideways glances. Finally couple got up and moved to different seats two rows back.

Sarah had been a wild cat in bed recently. Dean didn’t question why or think anything was “wrong” with having his lady wanting sex on a regular basis, even twice a day sometimes. But this was something new altogether. And those boobs!

After she coaxed out a load of sticky inside his pants Sarah withdrew her hand and quietly rested her head on his shoulder and returned her attention to the screen as the deafening roar of fighter jets shook the theater. Dean sat motionless, waiting for his breathing to return to normal.

It was only a couple minutes before she once again crept up and found his mouth with hers and began kissing him again, first tenderly then passionately. Dean returned her passion until he could feel her arousal increasing once again. He pulled away and looked her in the eyes. They were watery and full of tears.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Was she crying? What was going on here?

“Can we go home?” Sarah whispered in his ear.

Dean looked confused, and concerned.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as, over her shoulder, troops were parachuting noisily out of  black helicopters into the Green Zone.

“I don’t know, but I reeeally want to fuck you right now.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. They left long before the movie was into the second act.

  _________________________________________________________

That weekend Dean did finally get around to asking Sarah if she’d gained some weight.

She admitted she had, but didn’t seem too worried about it, and he accepted that. Even though normally she was very careful with her diet and watched her weight closely and exercised religiously. Even though she hadn’t put on weight anywhere but her chest. Even though there was something, well… unusual about how horny she had become. He didn’t question it.

He enjoyed this new little sexed up, voluptuous version of the Sarah he’d come to know and love. Of course he couldn’t help but notice—and appreciate—how nicely she was filling out her clothes all of the sudden. And she seemed so happy. Really happy. Always with a huge smile on her face.

It wasn’t three days later that Sarah noticed it again.

As she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror as she got dressed for work, there they were; the tell-tale red marks. She had sensed it but thought perhaps she was imagining things. After all, the new bras and her newly larger breasts and crazy nipples just “felt different” anyhow. Felt different in clothes, felt different to the touch. What did normal feel like at this point? She was more aware of her breasts than ever, but also perhaps unaware, in some ways. She had to keep telling herself that she wasn’t fat, even while she was saying exactly the opposite to her friends and coworkers. She felt confused. The sexy D cup bras that had seemed such a perfect fit at first, was it possible they were too small? Already? Looking at herself in the mirror she tried to reconcile what she saw looking back at her; her same old petite but athletic 5’1” body endowed now with two rather plump, rather womanly and unfamiliar breasts. Big Ones that looked nothing like the perfect and proportional little C cups she had grown accustomed to over the last 15 or so years since puberty. These were full and round—almost pendulous—and were beginning already to overwhelm her slender frame. It was like they didn’t belong on her. They looked like they belonged to someone else.

With her hands shaking slightly Sarah struggled to let out the straps on her bra and proceeded to try it back on, grabbing at her boobies and pulling the cups up over them, maneuvering their abundant mass for a more comfortable fit. She could feel the underwires digging in at her sides where her breasts had begun to grow up into her arm pits, and her cleavage was swelling out over the cups now like too much bread dough. A panic struck her, and her heart pounded now as the realization dawned on her. How could she not have noticed? She had grown, considerably, practically overnight.

“I guess I’m going to need a bigger bra.” She told herself, attempting to minimize the import of what was happening. She would make another trip to the mall tomorrow morning. Tonight she had her Friday night shift at The Covington.

“You’ll manage.” She told herself in the mirror with a wry smirk.

She pulled on her black pants and just managed to button up the black knit top that was her usual uniform. She focused on her hair and makeup, trying for the moment to forget about her two burgeoning breasts and the rather sexy bit of cleavage showing at the open neck of her blouse.

When it was time to leave she took one last look at herself in the hallway mirror. She liked what she saw. Not a hair was out of place. Makeup was perfect, if a little overdone. She felt uncomfortably harnessed in by the undersized underwire, but she could deal with a little bit of physical discomfort. Her blouse felt scandalously tight, but it was made of a stretch material and, after a moment’s hesitation, noticing the stress on the buttons holding her blouse together, Sarah unfastened one of the top buttons, relieving some of the pressure on the garment and revealing another couple inches of pillowy cleavage.

“My god…” she said to herself. Surprised at the improbably sexy display. “Nothing my customers would complain about” she told herself with a confident grin.

Big mistake.

The long evening shift felt like an eternity for Sarah. No one said anything about her appearance, except for a few comments she overheard from some of her drunken male customers. Her pale white cleavage was practically spotlighted against the black fabric of her uniform. At first she rather enjoyed feeling sexy and “out there” for the first time, with her “girls”, but after a couple hours, when the night got busy, she felt horribly self-conscious, over-exposed, attracting unwanted looks, clumsily bumping into people and things. She felt a bit like a bimbo with her bosoms on display for every man and woman who came through the doors. And because she is shorter than most people, it felt as if everyone—men and women—were looking straight down into her blouse, like her cleavage was a magnet for prying eyes.

Yes, she needed new bras. But she was going to need some new clothes, she realized, if she didn’t want to feel like she was bursting out of her little tops.

She didn’t get a proper fitting at the mall. She just bought some 32”DD brassieres that she was lucky enough to find at JC Penny, hoping those would do the job.

Like the D bras before them, they seemed to fit all too perfectly.

“I don’t know honey, I must be eating too much or something. Or else I’m having a growth spurt of some kind.”

Sarah wasn’t prepared to explain what was going on with her boobs to Dean. But he asked what was “going on” with her tits.

Poor Dean.

“Yeah right…” she thought for the brief moment that she worried Dean might be upset, or that he might be turned off by what was happening to what he always called her “perfect body.”

 The doctor had said, “two cup sizes at the most.” And here she was, finally, a DD. She was probably finished growing, she thought. On her small frame though, she was realizing, DD tits looked quite large, depending on how she dressed. Her swelling bust looked out of proportion now with her tiny rib cage, narrow shoulders and thin arms. Her cute tush and curvy hips helped to balance out her figure, but now she was inarguably top heavy.

She knew she looked hot. Practically a sex pot. Big boobs at work weren’t really what you could call a liability, as long as she had the proper attire. But enough was enough. At the gym, and at the massage table, anything bigger than a DD would be problematic for her, she realized. She definitely didn’t want to get any bigger.

It was inevitable that some would assume she’d had a boob job. The only thing unnatural about Sarah’s large breasts, though, was how suddenly they’d taken up residence on her chest. She put on a brave face and laughed it off as one-by-one her friends and co-workers acknowledged what was obvious to everyone; Little Sarah had INDEED had a growth spurt.

But a brave face and her insistence that she was just putting on weight would only work for so long.

As days went by Sarah’s boobs continued to grow.

And she knew it.

Sarah watched helplessly as she slowly but surely outgrew the DD bra. The beaming smile and the bubbly gee-whiz denial disappeared the day she finally went into a specialty lingerie shop downtown (on the recommendation of a rude clerk at Victoria’s Secret) for a proper fitting.

The Hot Zone wasn’t so much a lingerie shop as it was a garish sex store. More Fredericks of Hollywood than Victoria’s Secret.

“A G cup??”

“Numbers don’t lie, honey” a tattooed sales girl said matter-of-factly.

“What? Wait a minute. No. No no no no NO… That CAN’T be right?!” Sarah’s jaw dropped at the sales girl rolled her tape measure up and stuck it in the pocket of her waistcoat.

“We actually stock that size in some of our styles. We have some very sexy bras that will suit you nicely.”

32” G?

Sarah never imagined such sizes even existed. At least not outside of a strip club. Standing in front of the fitting room mirror naked from the waist up she felt shock and disbelief, even as the proof stared back at her from five different angles. Her breasts had gone from perfect to large to, well… huge… seemingly overnight. “What happened to E and F?” She wondered to herself, looking at the now grossly inadequate, and rather ugly DD bra she’d been stuffing herself into for the past couple weeks.

She stood staring at her reflection in the mirror, realizing finally that the doctor had lied to her when she said “two cup sizes at the most.” Had she lied to her on purpose? Or just stretched the truth? Her breasts were enormous now, like cantaloupes, as large as her head. They simply overwhelmed her frame, projecting out in front of her and to the sides, obscuring her upper arms. Her big nipples now looked perfectly suited to the inflated tits they adorned, though they were positioned further apart and further away from her body than they originally had been.

She needed to call Dr. Broom and schedule an appointment. Today.

It was only a week and a half until her final appointment but she felt she shouldn’t wait.

The sales girl returned with an assortment of bras of varying styles and colors. The cups looked impossibly almost comically huge, like spandex parachutes.

“Try this one on. I think you’ll like it…,” she instructed Sarah, holding out a purple pushup model with satin half cups. “A lot of the girls that come in here love this one.”

Sarah dutifully helped gather her considerable flesh and position her tits in the cups of the bra as the sales assistant fastened her in the back. The garment was surprisingly comfortable, even as it held her heavy jiggling half-exposed breasts high aloft, making them project obscenely like two fleshy bongo drums, and producing a huge cleavage that seemed to reach all the way to her clavicle.

She looked like Dolly Parton.

She felt like a stripper.

“Does it… come in another color?”

“I’m sorry, purple is all we have left.”

Her face showed her discomfort as she tried to make sense of what stared back at her from the mirrors. The sales girl reached for another bra, a white satin model with lacey cups and a rose appliqué that looked quite pretty. This bra felt less comfortable, even though it provided more coverage and seemed to immobilize her jiggling flesh. She felt like a sail boat with the two white expanses of fabric soaring out in front of her. No longer crushed by the inadequate DD bra she arrived in and properly shaped and supported by the huge harness, Sarah’s tits soared like two zeppelins filling her field of vision as well as the five way mirror. Who could reasonably believe she’d just had a little growth spurt? No one.

“That’s a great bra for every day, when you’re not in the mood to cause scene. Great with tee shirts or knit tops or whatever you want to throw on.”

Which Sarah did. She pulled (and stretched, and yanked) her undersized tee shirt on over the ridiculous 32 G brassiere, covering herself up, expecting to achieve some modesty. But no such luck. She looked like an inflatable doll, like a walking pair of tits.

“I’ll take both, I guess.” She paid for the bras and left the sex shop in haste, pretending not to notice the dildos and thongs and lurid magazines that leapt out at her as she exited the garishly-lit space.

Sarah raced home, intent on calling Dr. Broom to schedule an appointment. The sooner the better.  It was all she could think about. This had to stop. Her poor heart—buried beneath an absurdly large pair of breasts she had not asked for and did not want—pounded in her chest as she pondered the thought of growing even larger. Steering the car, with two melon-sized breasts constantly in the way, demanded more conscious effort than usual. Was it natural for women with full-blown macromastia to grow this much over such a short time? Sarah’s mind wandered, trying to make sense of how she’d landed herself in this predicament. She wanted to blame someone other than herself but she kept coming to the conclusion that it was her own fault, that she had been nothing short of stupid to trust Dr. Broom, to sign that paper and volunteer for that study. She should have known better.

A mile from her apartment she got pulled over by the police for speeding. She’d been clocked going 56MPH in a 25MPH school zone, according to the policeman. Thirty over the limit.

“I’m sorry, officer. Oh my god, I didn’t realize I was going so fast.” She said in a breathless pleading tone.

She realized she was breathing heavy, as if she’d been sprinting on the treadmill.  The seatbelt cut between her boobs and felt exceedingly tight, almost like it was constricting her breathing. She unbuckled it and adjusted her driver’s seat back slightly. The small space of her little car felt slightly less crowded.

The officer looked at her driver’s license then looked in at her and smiled. He stared at her for a moment without saying anything. She could feel his eyes practically touching her breasts which were just inches from resting on her steering wheel.

“Ms. Waters… sometimes these things happen. But you caught me in a good mood today, I’m going to let you go with just a warning.” She saw him gesture to his partner in the car behind her, waving him over.

“Oh, thank you!” Sarah smiled and sat back against her seat. Without intending it, pulling her shoulders back had the effect of thrusting her breasts forward, stretching taut the fabric of her shirt.

“Well, Sarah, you’re quite welcome. Because I’m looking at quite a… well, quite a hefty fine here, let me tell you. So I’m not gonna give you a ticket today, young lady. But can I give you something else??? ….a word of advice, Sarah? If I may?”

She looked up at the officer as he knelt down, resting his hand on the window of her car. She could smell his cologne. It was creepy that he was calling her by her first name, but what could she do? The other policeman approached her car and looked in at her over the first cop’s shoulder.

“This is a school zone, you see. Next time you’re driving through here, Sarah, I want you…. to take it… nice and slow. Don’t… ya know… get ahead of yourself, if you know what I mean. We’d hate for anything to happen to you, Sarah. Because that’d be a real shame.”

He paused for a moment, as if there was something else he wanted to say. Drawing a blank, he just helped himself to a long close look at the little woman’s sexy cleavage, actually licking his lips in the process. Through the awkward silence Sarah sat perfectly still and let him look as long as he wanted to look. She thought she could feel his breath on her skin. It was humiliating.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, so much.”

“Alright then. Well…. You have a good day, Sarah.”

Dr. Broom answered her own phone when Sarah called her office, which was surprising.

“Of course, you should come in right away. Does tomorrow work for you?”

Sarah was relieved she’d be able to see the doctor so quickly. And she took some tiny bit of solace in the fact that the doctor said there was nothing “wrong” with her. A small handful of other women had experienced the kind of growth she described. It was nothing life-threatening. They would administer the anti-virus during the office visit, and even though it was a little over a week shy of the standard 12 weeks, Sarah would still enjoy the full benefit of the promised cure.

“Now, because of the waiver you signed, the breasts are something you will just have to cope with, of course.”

“Of course.”

“No extra charge” she joked. Her joke was met with Sarah’s confused silence.

The doctor was under no obligation to remedy the situation, i.e. reduction surgery, which she stipulated on the phone in no uncertain terms. She was very clear about it.

Reduction surgery.

The thought horrified Sarah. Never in her life had she wanted or expected or even fantasized about having such big boobs, she explained to Doctor Broom, trying (unsuccessfully) to convey her dissatisfaction and concern. But the idea of reduction surgery was even more unthinkable. The doctor agreed that surgery was unnecessary and possibly worse than the prospect of just living with large breasts. She listened to Sarah’s concerns and took her time on the phone attempting to put her at ease. “Please don’t worry. And try to look at the upside. Like I tell all our patients, we’ve never had any complaints. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you through this.”

Sarah stretched out on the sofa, curling her toes as she listened to the doctor’s encouraging words. Lying on her back she could scarcely see the tips of her toes. Her view was obstructed by her tits. Dean walked through the front door just as Sarah was getting off the phone with the doctor. From her relaxed position on the couch, dangling one of her sandals from her toe, she appeared to be talking to one of her girlfriends.

Except Sarah didn’t really have any girlfriends.

Dean dropped his gym bag onto the floor and looked at his sexy fiancé sprawled in front of him, her tee shirt stretched tight across a pair of incredible knockers.

“Hi honey…” She sat upright with a slight effort, appearing to struggle against her own weight.

Dean leaned over and gave her a kiss on the mouth, reaching down to squeeze one of her boobs in his strong hand. Sarah felt that intense but by now familiar warmth radiate inside her chest, bringing her quickly, almost too quickly, to arousal.

“Who were you talking to, babe?” he asked her as he proceeded to massage the pliant pillowy tit through her tight clothing.

She paused, caught up suddenly in the sensation of her man’s touch on her body. She needed to tell him, finally, what she’d done. How else to end this charade she’d been living? It was an insult to him, and it made her sound stupid, to go on pretending that she was just “putting on weight.”

“Dean… I think I need to tell you something. I should have told you sooner.”

“Is this about your boobs, I hope?” he kissed her flush on the mouth and forced her back against the couch. Squeezing her expansive breasts, which overwhelmed his hands. Sarah moaned with pleasure beneath him. Lifting one leg she entwined her body with his and drew him nearer. He encircled her tiny waist and pulled her to him, pressing his hard-on against her.

“Yes. OH… it is… It’s… about my boobs. This is silly. I don’t’ know how to say this lover, but… I haven’t just been putting on weight.”

“Uh huh…”

She told him about the study. About Dr. Broom. About the commercials she saw on TV. About this condition called macrocomastia. About her insomnia and how she was afraid that what happened to the other women in her family was going to happen to her if she didn’t do something about it. But she felt so stupid for what she had done. She should have listened to the stories. What if she couldn’t get her massage certification? She’d worked so hard. She didn’t want to be a waitress the rest of her life! She told him about her trip to the lingerie store that day. About the G cup bra she was wearing. The speeding ticket.

Dean took it all quite well. Almost too well. Almost as if it came as no surprise. Of course he remembered the 60 Minutes story. He had seen the same ads she had seen, that everyone had seen. He knew all about the controversy surrounding the treatment. He even knew there was a doctor in their city that was one of the notorious doctors participating in the study. Dr. Broom was her name. Some of the younger women at his gym were volunteers in the same study, it turned out. The rumors were rife. It seemed almost like he knew as much, or more, about it than she did.

“So did you know?”

“Did I know what?”

“Did you know I’d had the treatment?”

“Baby…” he said as he proceeded to massage her big boobs, with both hands. “No. I didn’t know. Not at first anyhow. How could I? But lately, well, it seemed like a distinct possibility. I just didn’t want to say anything.”

“Oh god…” she began to cry, tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “I feel so stupid. Look at me.” She pushed his hands away and replaced them with her own, cupping her large chest. She pushed her breasts together with tiny hands. “I look ridiculous. What am I going to do? This is so humiliating.”

“Don’t cry honey. I think you look gorgeous as ever. There’s just, more of you to love, is all.”

Sarah erupted in heaving racking sobs.

“That’s what you say to a FAT GIRL! Do you think I’m FAT?!?”

He unbuttoned her jeans and exposed her flat stomach, slapping it lightly with the palm of his hand.

“Does that look fat to you? You don’t have an ounce of fat on you.”

“Except in my tits. In my fat tits.” She fought back her sobs. She felt so embarrassed. Pinned beneath her own flesh. “I never should have called that place. What have I done to myself? I wish I could just take them off… but… I can’t. They’re always there. I’m constantly aware of them now. None of my clothes fit. I can feel people staring at me everywhere I go.”

“You look amazing.”

“I look like a hooker.”

“Stop it. I think you look hot. So incredibly hot.” He gathered up both her breasts and lifted them. Her bra and overmatched tee shirt stretched and twisted beneath his aggressive manipulation of their soft contents. He was practically mauling her. It felt so nice.

“You do? Really??”

“Yes. I do. I love your big tits, baby.”

“But they’re too big. Don’t you think?”

“No. Not at all.” He nuzzled her cleavage and pressed his face against her bosom. “I think they’re perfect. I think you’re perfect. Like a dream.”

“Yeah, a WET DREAM!?”

Dean unbuckled his pants and hauled out his erection. He peeled off Sarah’s jeans and tee shirt and removed her soaked panties. Her drooling pussy was open and aching for him.

“OH, GOD.”

Dean plunged his big tool into her with one smooth effortless stroke, filling her where she needed it. Sarah clutched the sofa cushions beneath her and steadied herself against the onslaught, dressed in nothing but the enormous white spandex bra she’d just purchased.

“You’re so hot like this, Sarah.” Dean grunted.

“Ha ha. I’m glad you think so. I guess?”

“I want to fuck your big beautiful tits. For the rest of my life.”

“Oh, honey. I love you. If they make you happy...”

“They make me happy.”

“Are you sure you don’t think they’re too big?”

“Not at all.”

“Okay then. That’s good. UNGH… OH GOD…” Dean twisted her fat nipples, sending a jolt of sheer pleasure through her tiny body. “OH JESUS… as long as they don’t get any bigger, I SUPPOSE it’s okay.”

Dean was delirious with lust at the sight of his cute fiancé, burdened physically and psychologically and sexually with two of the biggest pair of pleasure-giving tits he’d ever seen on a woman. What if her boobs DID get even bigger? That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, he thought to himself. After all, he reminded himself, lately she had been enjoying herself as much as he had been.

“I’ll just need some time to get used to it, I guess… you know? And you’ll have to help me, honey. It’s just… I don’t know… I couldn’t take it if they got any bigger than this. Because I just… OH…”

With that Dean exploded inside her. Thrusting violently into her small body he drove her into the cushions as he grunted out his pleasure, quieting her for a moment. After a minute or two he softened and pulled out and collapsed on the floor next to the couch. Sarah snaked one of her hands down between her legs and parted her lips and let his ooze pour out of her. She fiddled with her clit until she quickly achieved her own orgasm.

“I suppose I’ll get used to it, honey. I guess I’ll HAVE to…”

Dean didn’t answer.

“Honey?”

In the throes of passion, Sarah informed the doctor, she found she rather enjoyed her new “predicament.” But out in the world was another matter entirely. She expressed concerned that she’d never be able to lead a normal life. That she’d have to give up her plans of becoming a massage therapist. Even her job at the restaurant would be problematic if she made too much of a spectacle of herself. When she thought about her future it felt like she was starting over, with this new “handicap.”

“So is it safe to say you have mixed feelings about being… well-endowed?”

“I suppose so.” Sarah blushed.

She had not planned to have this conversation with the doctor. She came into the appointment wanting to express her anger and frustration with what had happened, she wanted the doctor to admit something had gone wrong, and now, once again, she was talking to her like an old girl friend. Or a counselor. Where was her outrage?

“I see. Well that is normal. I feel that way sometimes myself.” She swabbed Sarah’s arm and administered the anti-virus without fanfare.

“There you go. That will put a stop to… this.” The doctor pulled her lab coat open and displayed her own impressive chest to Sarah.

“Did you take the vaccine too?”

“Of course. And I have never felt any regret. Never felt like these would prevent me from performing my job.”

Sarah felt reassured.

Although the doctor wasn’t anywhere near a G cup. Maybe a DD, tops.

“Neither of us will ever have to worry about that terrible disease, Sarah. That’s the important thing to remember here.” She handed Sarah a release form to sign, indicating that her participation in the study was at its conclusion. She gave Sarah a copy of the release, which she folded and tucked into her purse.

“You’re right. I guess.”

“The key for you now, I think, is to embrace this. Embrace who you are.”

“What do you mean?”

The doctor put her hands under Sarah’s boobs and gave them a playful bounce. Sarah was aghast. The woman was a doctor, not a sorority sister. The gesture was beyond unprofessional. Was this some kind of joke to her?

“There’s no shame in having large breasts, honey. Believe me.”

Honey?

“But I DO feel ashamed. It’s embarrassing. They’re TOO big!” Sarah found her outrage again. Having the doctor touch her inappropriately and suggest it was all no big deal and that she should just “embrace who she was”. She glared at the doctor, at a loss for words.

“Too big? Tell me; how big is too big?”

Dr. Broom urged Sarah to think back to the night before and the pounding she’d received from Dean, and the way she’d left him spent and lying on the floor. The thought made her feel all warm inside, despite herself. “Is your fiancé attracted to busty women?” Obviously, he was, Sarah realized. “Maybe he likes you better this way, did you ever think of that?” The conversation had taken an odd turn and was making Sarah uncomfortable. Sarah gathered her things as if to leave.

“Sarah, don’t go. Please. Sit back down.”

Sarah put her things back down on the doctor’s desk and took a seat. She was fuming.

“You’re unhappy with what’s happened.”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know how you feel.”

“I guess not.”

“Sarah, I want to help you.”

“Help me? Help me how? Haven’t you done enough.”

“Sarah…… All I’ve ever wanted to do is help you. All I’ve ever wanted to do for any of my girls is help them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sarah, I want to give you something. Something to help you… cope.”

“What. What..”

“Shhhh…. I want you to listen to me, Sarah. I’m going to tell you something that’s going to help you. Something that helped me.”

Sarah looked down at her lap, down at the two enormous breasts that were now hers to lug around for the rest of her life. She paid no attention when Dr. Broom dimmed the lights slightly in her office.

“Sarah, look up. Look at me. See this pendant I’m wearing?”

She looked at the gold necklace Dr. Broom was wearing around her neck, and at the pretty heart-shaped pendant that hung from the delicate chain and came to rest at the beginning of her tanned cleavage.

“That’s right. Look at this pendant and listen to me. Look at this pendant and listen to me and do exactly as I say and I promise you will never feel shame again.”

A calm sleepy look came over Sarah’s face.

“You feel tired. Tired of worrying. Tired of feeling ashamed. Tired, and ready to listen to me now.”

Sarah slumped in her chair, her eyes closed. Dr. Broom was surprised how easily Sarah had fallen under hypnosis. Surprised and relieved, this would not take long.

“Sarah, this is all so much more simple than you know. So very simple. You have made it difficult, but only in your mind. Now we’re going to make it simple for you. Simple in your mind. You’re going to listen to my words and do as I say and KNOW, that it is all so very simple. You are a beautiful woman Sarah. You have always been a beautiful girl. A beautiful sexy girl. It’s as simple as that.”

Sarah smiled in her seat, eyes fluttering.

“Now you are a beautiful, sexy, busty woman. It’s as simple as that.”

Sarah moaned softly to herself, still smiling.

“Yes. There is no point in hiding Sarah. You have large breasts. Huge breasts. Anyone can see that. Everyone WILL see that. And there is no shame in that. Do you hear me? No shame.”

“No shame.”

“That’s right. And you love your body. You are proud of your body. You are proud of your big beautiful breasts. They are a great source of pleasure to you and to everyone around you. They are a great source of pride. You love big boobs. LOVE THEM. The bigger the better. Right?”

Sarah giggled softly.

“No matter what you look like, no matter how big your boobs are, you simply love tits. Not just any tits, but big, round, proud, sexy tits. You want to see and feel them there all the time. You want the world to see, you and your titties. It’s as simple as that. You’re a simple girl and you simply love your titties. You are your titties. Just as your titties are a part of you. It’s as simple as that.”

“Simple as that.”

“Okay. Now, when I count to three you’re going to wake up. And when you do you will experience a great feeling of calm and peace as it settles on your shoulders, free of all shame, free of all doubt, free and proud of what you have become. Now, count with me: one… you are slowly coming to consciousness, slowly… two… you are beginning to wake up again, aware now of your surroundings… annnd, THREE

“Oh. Jeeze, did I fall sleep??”

“I’m sorry. I was out of the room for a moment. You must have been tired?” Dr. Broom turned the lights back up.

Sarah gathered her things and came back to full awareness of where she was.

“Well, Ms. Waters. I think we’re finished here.”

A month later Dean was going through a stack of papers on the kitchen table one morning when he came across the crumpled and stained release form from Dr. Broom’s office, signed by Sarah.

“Patient acknowledges that anti-virus has been administered. Patient absolves Dr. Emily Broom of all liability for physical effects past, present and/or future. Patient understands that administration of anti-virus completes vaccination and all participation in Study. Patient understands that anti-virus will reach full effect no sooner than one week and no later than one year after administration.”

Sarah snatched the piece of paper from her roommate’s hands, wadded it up in her tiny hands and tossed it into the trash.

“I told you to throw that thing away. That’s all history now, sweetie.” She leaned into Dean, pressing her soft chest into him. She kissed him good morning and stole a bite of his toast. “Good morning lover. How you feelin’…”

Dean let out a big yawn, craning his neck, flexing his muscular shoulders.

“I’m tired. How do you feel?”

Sarah’s hands flew to her bazooms and swept over their expanse, caressing them and pushing them together slightly.

“I feel just great. Better than ever.”

Her purple push-up bra (his favorite) showed clearly through the threadbare Hello Kitty tee shirt that had until recently served as her oversized nightshirt. Now it was one of the few tee shirts of hers that fit over her bloated tits. Boobflesh pooched out around the confines of the bra’s cups. The underwire lifted away from her rib cage, leaving the underside of her breasts exposed. Cleavage bulged up and out. That 32” G cup brassiere just wasn’t up to the job.

“I know. I KNOW.” She said with a smile as Dean pushed her fleshy orbs together, assessing their hugeness. “They’re bigger. I can tell. I need to get a new bra, I think.”

“Ya think??”

She playfully slapped him and turned on her heel as if to leave the room. Dean grabbed her by the waist and held her in place. She tugged on the shoulder straps of her bra through her shirt and tried to achieve a fit that was no longer possible.

“So what are you saying? You think they’re getting too big now?”

“No. I didn’t say that.”

“You said you LIKED me with big boobs.”

“I do. I do like you with big boobs.”

“The piece of paper SAID they might continue to get bigger, for up to a year.”

“I know. I know.”

“Well?” She held him at arm’s length and tugged at the bottom of her ragged tee shirt in an effort to downplay her big melons.

“Well, I guess I’m just worried that YOU think they’re getting too big” Dean said in a serious voice.

Sarah plopped down on one of the kitchen chairs and munched on another piece of Dean’s toast. Her breasts were literally resting on the table.

“This is gonna sound crazy, I know, but… I actually WANT them to get bigger. Is that crazy of me??”

She’d stopped going to classes after she realized it was impossible to perform a massage without molesting her customers with her big titties. After an incident with one of the female customers at the restaurant (who claimed Sarah had touched her husband “inappropriately”) Sarah was let go from her job at The Covington. Dean worried that she would be depressed or upset by the situation but Sarah seemed oddly okay with it. At the moment she was still going to the gym regularly, at Dean’s insistence, but doing anything besides treadmill caused a serious disruption at the gym and she didn’t want to jeopardize Dean’s job.

“I don’t know, honey. I mean, no. I don’t think your crazy.”

“I mean, I LOVE having big tits. Sometimes, I just… I don’t know. I just want to show the world. I mean, they’re staring all the time anyways… it’s to the point… I’d rather just hire a photographer and take pictures and CHARGE THEM for the privilege.”

“What?! NO, Sarah.”

“Why not? I need the money, Dean. What else do you suggest I do?”

“Sarah, there a many things you can do besides… nude modeling.”

She reached over with her bare foot and untied his sweatpants with her toes, releasing her man’s perpetually erect penis from its confinement.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” She bent over and took his beautiful cock head into her mouth. Dean unhooked her brassiere through her tee shirt and felt her heavy tits slip down against his thighs. He positioned himself so that Sarah could sandwich his cock between her fleshy pillows. Though his cock was twice as large as the average man, Sarah had no trouble engulfing its entire length in her cleavage. A trick she seemed proud to be able to perform.

“You like that, don’t you, sweetie. You like it when little Sarah tittyfucks you with her big boobies. Don’t you?”

As much as he loved his cock-crazy huge-breasted little girl, as much as her hot tits made his balls ache, this Sarah was not the one he had proposed to, not the woman he had dreamed of spending his life with. Not only did her tits attract a lot of attention now (wherever they went), she seemed to enjoy that attention, and even did things to encourage it, whether it was the clothes she wore, or the amount of skin she displayed, or that way she walked sometimes that produced an obscene upper shelf jiggling in her tits. She liked the all attention, and what was worse, she seemed to enjoy it when Dean was forced to stand up for her when other guys approached her. As if she were his prize. That seemed most unlike her. There was no mistaking it; Sarah had changed. She was INTO the whole trip of being a sex bomb that guys were always leering at. He was ashamed to admit to himself that he was beginning to have second thoughts about marriage, and not just because of his mother (who had recently confessed that she felt Sarah was “all wrong” for him) but because of the changes in her whole attitude. She used to be rather demure, almost shy. He never felt as though he had to “fend off” rival men when they were out in public.

And now she wanted to hire a photographer?

“UNNNGGH!!!!” After a few minutes of stroking in and out of the canyon between his fiancé’s boobs, Dean pulled out and pumped his cum all over her.

Sarah gathered up his huge load with her fingers and shoveled it into her mouth, appearing to love the salty treat.

“Thank you, honey.” She said sweetly as she licked up and down the length of Dean’s cock. “You’re the best.”

Dean retreated to the bathroom to clean himself off. Sarah cleaned herself off.

When he returned she was still sitting at the kitchen table, naked from the waist up, tugging absent-mindedly at her nipples with eyes closed, reveling in the delicious sensations.

When she heard him enter the room she opened her eyes but continued feeling up her tits.

“I really do think I want to try modeling.” She said, drawing her arms close to her body in a pose that squeezed her breasts together in a display of explosive cleavage. She wasn’t asking what he thought about the idea, or if he would mind. She was simply informing him that this was what she wanted to do. That this was what she intended to do. She admired herself as she waggled her shoulders, sending her hangers into motion, swinging them to and fro.

“Don’t you think I would be good at it?”

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