PoundOfCure

Volunteering for that medical study was luckiest thing that ever happened to Sarah Waters. At least she thought so. To be vaccinated against ever contracting breast cancer was all the justification she, or any woman, would ever need. Sure, there were the unfortunate side-effects of the controversial vaccine. The genetically-engineered drug worked by inducing a mild case of macromastia in the patient, which served to protect the body against ever developing the cancer, but which also resulted in a certain degree of breast growth, sometimes minimal, sometimes not so minimal. This little “side-effect” had drawn criticism from the medical establishment and the media, who accused the scientists behind the study of lying to volunteers and of trying to hoodwink the FDA into approving their “breast growth drug” under the Trojan horse false claim of a cancer vaccine.

Sarah looked forward to the day when the treatment (the breast cancer vaccine, which she believes in wholeheartedly) would be approved by the FDA. No woman would ever need fear the dread disease again. And the world might be a happier, sexier place as a result. For women AND for men! Until that day, brave women like her would endure the slings and arrows of the drug’s opponents and be forced to ask themselves: Is an ounce of prevention worth a pound of cure?

“I’m not going to wear a fucking sports bra to your family barbecue, honey.”

Sarah stood ankle deep in shopping bags, clothing tags and laundry, both dirty and clean as she tried on various outfits, trying to find one that satisfied her fiancé’s request that she wear something a little bit conservative to his parent’s house. Something that would conceal, or at least minimize, her large breasts. The basic white bra and matching panties she was wearing would have been perfectly acceptable on anyone else. But on Sarah’s tiny frame, a 32” G was simply outrageous, no matter how you dressed it down.

It came down to a choice between a black scoop neck racer back shirt (which showed a daring amount of cleavage), a peach-colored button up ruffled blouse (which no longer fit through the chest, where the stress on its oyster shell buttons threatened to pull them off), and a new red and white striped long-sleeved pullover which hugged her curves but at least provided some cover.

Sarah pulled her shoulders back and tousled her highlight-streaked auburn hair into a kind of teased-out 4^th of July “rocker chick” look that made her seem like more of a hussy than Dean knew her to be. The pullover did a good job of accommodating her breasts, wrapping them snugly and hiding their nakedness from view. But the striped pattern revealed and defined sexy her curves as it stretched and distorted around them. Her new G cup bras, Sarah pointed out, did away with the unsightly “double boob” she was getting with her old bras.

Dean noticed this too and complimented her on the fit. He had found Sarah plenty sexy enough when she was a C cup. He was alarmed—and aroused, constantly—by the cartoonish top-heavy figure his Sarah now presented. It was beyond his wildest dreams. (The bustiest girl he’d ever dated was Melani Harstadt, back in high school. Notorious for having the biggest tits in school, he was crazy about her DDs but couldn’t put up with her bitchy personality for more than a month.)

Sarah tilted her hips in the mirror, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, checking the effects of gravity and physics on her curvy body. Her boobs moved slightly inside their confinement, though not distractingly. In properly-fitting clothes, he reminded himself, she was a bit less of a sight.

Dean’s cock grew stiff at the sight of Sarah tweaking her nipples through her clothing until they were erect and visible, as if no outfit was complete without two nipples showing. He put his hands around her tiny waist and kissed her on top of her head. “Thank you. I appreciate the effort.”

“You’re welcome.” She said with a self-satisfied wink as she reached around and grasped his erection through his jeans.

The low-rise denim shorts she was wearing were another matter entirely, exposing her bare midriff, as well as the hint of a little butt cheek. He decided to let it slide. Dean had to choose his battles these days. Besides, no one would bother noticing these little indiscretions of style with Sarah’s rack drawing all the attention.

Dean had become such a “fuddy duddy” lately, Sarah was keen to point out. But she was the one who seemed intent on pushing the envelope of acceptability as she “adjusted to life as a woman with big tits”, a phrase she’d repeated again and again to excuse all kinds of flirty shameless exhibitionist behavior. Her recent growth spurt had certainly come as a surprise, to Sarah and everyone who knew her. But one day she just decided that the best way to deal with the hand she’d been dealt was to own it. Play it. Let it all hang out, so to speak.

And maybe it was a healthier way to cope than to get caught up in shame or regrets. How could she regret being cured of the horrible cancer that had taken her mom from her? Besides, she liked feeling so sexy. Dean certainly enjoyed his voluptuous sexed-up little lady, at home anyway. But around other people and in public Sarah’s behavior had become unpredictable and occasionally flat-out embarrassing.

He had tried to opt out of the barbecue altogether. He knew all too well how his parents, particularly his mother, felt about Sarah. They had both been crazy about her at first. Over the moon, in fact. So pretty and sweet, so down to earth, and obviously in love with their only son. They were thrilled when Dean asked Sarah to marry him. The Suttons were comfortably well-off. John Sutton had made his fortune in commercial real estate and hoped to see his grandchildren enjoy the benefits of his lifetime of hard work before he was in the grave. He was approaching retirement age and was relieved to see his shiftless son finally settling down with such a nice girl.

But Mr. and Mrs. Sutton’s unqualified acceptance of their son’s choice of a mate had recently turned to surprised concern, first at what they saw with their own eyes when Sarah, at the age of 26, began her sudden inexplicable “growth spurt”, then to shocked dismay when they learned of the controversial medical study she’d foolishly volunteered for (without first consulting a doctor, or even their son), then finally to barely-concealed disgust as Sarah’s personality changed, and for the worse, conforming itself to the image of the big-titted bimbo she’d become.

So Dean Sutton brought her around less and less often these days, as he himself was still coming to terms with the New Sarah. The last time they had gone out to dinner with his parents was on his father’s 60^th birthday. They went to The Ocean Club, a fancy seafood restaurant that was his dad’s favorite watering hole and a place where he liked to take corporate clients. Sarah made a bit of a spectacle of herself that night. Dressed in high heels and little black cocktail dress with her cleavage bared for the whole restaurant to see, she flirted with the waiter, was openly and inappropriately affectionate with Dean at the table, addressed the Suttons as “John” and “Brenda” and even brushed her body against Mr. Sutton in the parking lot on the way back to the car (which Dean didn’t learn about until the day after.) His disapproving mother pulled Dean aside that night, as Sarah jiggled her way across the bar during one of her trips to the ladies’ room, and asked him, “Is that what you want to be married to? Is that the kind of woman you want for the mother of your children?”

Dean didn’t put up much of a defense at the time, claiming only that Sarah was going through a difficult period. He was embarrassed for himself and for Sarah when she returned to the table and ordered another glass of wine, seemingly oblivious to the show she was putting on. It was as if she could sense their disapproval and was—whether consciously or unconsciously—pushing back by acting even more obnoxious.

Though he was slow to admit it, something was not right with Sarah, something beyond just her boobs growing out of control. She’d managed to get herself fired from her night job (the official reason for the firing was “inappropriate conduct”) and had been asked not to come back to her classes at the community college where she was studying massage therapy, only weeks away from getting her certification. This was completely out of character for Sarah. She had always been so grounded, so responsible and hard-working. And what was even more out of character was how oddly nonchalant she was about the whole thing. She was now living off her credit cards and off of Dean, who was barely covering their rent with his modest income from his job as a trainer at a local gym.

“Do we really have to go to this fucking barbecue?” Sarah pressed herself against Dean, squeezing his bicep with her tiny hand as she moved her leg between his. “Can’t we just stay here and fuck?”

Dean’s cock betrayed him as it surged inside his jeans. Sarah was insatiable. She never used to talk like this. He would like nothing more than to avoid the whole scene at his parent’s house with extended family, neighbors and his dad’s colleagues. For a moment he considered skipping the whole thing. But he’d promised his father that they’d be there, he reminded himself. He never missed the family 4^th of July barbecue.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you baby??” She grabbed his rear end in her hands and pulled him to her, pressing her new boobs against his muscular body.

“I’m so fucking wet for you right now.” She whispered the words against the skin of his bare chest. Taking his hand in hers she guided it down between her legs. Though they were already running a half hour late, Dean moved his finger up inside her shorts and found her slippery hole. She was always wet these days, it seemed. Always horny. The changes to her body that the genetically-engineered vaccine had caused had obviously also affected her sexual desire.

She quickly undid Dean’s pants and hauled out his cock. Not satisfied with his finger, she pushed him backwards toward the couple’s unmade bed, unbuttoning her shorts.

Dean’s heavy dick whipped around between them. Sarah licked her lips at the sight of it. Her cheeks were flushed bright red.

She ignored him and proceeded to climb on top of her man, positioning the dripping head of his thick cock at the opening of her vagina. “Put it in me. Hurry.” She lowered herself onto him.

Dean felt himself glide effortlessly into his little woman. She bit her lip as she felt his ten wonderful inches fill her. Her breath caught short as he hit bottom. With practiced ease her body began to undulate in a familiar rhythm as she rode his length, stroking it smoothly in and out of her like a pro. Until recently she’d complained of his size, always complaining that he was “too big.” Lately though she seemed to have no problem with it. Dean bucked his hips, thrusting into her, feeling the heat rise quickly between them. This wouldn’t take long.

When Sarah came it was with a relieved grunt, not the passionate moans and ecstatic cries of their first morning session. This wasn’t so much love making as it was fucking. She really was just getting off.

“Thank you, lover.” She kissed Dean on the mouth and proceeded to pull her shorts back on. “I needed that.”

When they pulled into Dean’s parents’ house the driveway was already full of cars. Escalades, Mercedes, Lexus and a Ducati that probably cost more than his old Jeep Cherokee.

“Just as well” he thought. This way it’d be easier for them to slip out and leave early when the opportunity arose.

The couple caused a minor stir when they finally made it around to the back yard where the afternoon was in full swing. He found his father out by the grill, wearing his old BBQ apron and drinking beers with a few older guys Dean recognized from years prior. As he approached, the conversation stopped and the men all directed their eyes immediately toward Sarah as she wobbled across the lawn.

“Well, hello Dean. How goes it? How are things down at the gym?” Tom Grossman was one of his dad’s golfing buddies and a business associate and was only six or seven years older than Dean. He reached out to shake Dean’s hand while leering at Sarah’s boobs.

“Pretty good, Tom. Hanging in there.” He met Grossman’s macho grip with a forceful squeeze that was more of a show of strength than he usually considered necessary.

One of the catering people came by with a tray of drinks. Dean took a beer and Sarah helped herself to a mojito.

The way she was dressed, frankly, Sarah more closely resembled the assorted teenagers hanging out across the yard than she did a 26 year old woman.

“Yeah, are you sure she’s of age, John?” another guy joked with Dean’s dad.

“So I heard you two are engaged now? Congratulations, buddy.” Grossman said with a smug nod of his blocky head. “Thanks.” Dean drew off his beer and looked at the ground.

“So let’s see that engagement ring, huh?” Grossman addressed Sarah’s ring finger. She lifted her hand for the men to have a look at her tiny engagement ring. “Nice,” he said with a tinge of sarcasm. It was the smallest diamond any of them had ever seen, but she didn’t care.

Sarah would have felt uncomfortable and wanted to leave were she not there with Dean, and were it not for the fact that these dirty old men were no doubt sporting hard-ons inside their kaki shorts. A thought that gave her a strange satisfaction. She knew the effect she could have on guys. Even old Viagra-gobblers like these. And she kind of liked it. “Yeah, have a good look boys. And think of me when you’re with your wives tonight,” she thought to herself as she was introduced to them one by one.

The men resumed their conversation even as their eyes continued to stray to the young woman’s rack. Sarah sipped her drink and diverted her attention to the Sutton’s beautiful million dollar house. She liked to picture her and Dean living there some day.

Just then Brenda Sutton came walking across the yard carrying a platter of meat. The woman looked great for 52, trim and tanned, though a recent chemical peal left her face looking at bit tight and weirdly shiny.

Sarah smiled at Dean’s mom, waiting for her kiss on the cheek but not expecting one.

“Hello, Sarah.” Dean’s mother gave Sarah an appraising and dismissive glance.

“Can I help you with that, honey?” John Sutton took the platter from his wife.

“Thank you dear. Now, there’s bratwurst, and wieners, and marinated chicken breasts.”

“Mmm, nice big ones.” Grossman exclaimed, checking out the big plate of meat. Brenda Sutton affectionately scolded him by slapping him rather hard on the arm.

“And there’s a tray of hamburgers coming out. I hope you boys are hungry.”

Sarah was starving. She’d worked up quite an appetite since her morning mattress workout with Dean. She bounced impatiently on her heels, causing her rack to quiver like jello when suddenly Brenda grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her away from Dean.

“We’ll only be a minute.” She said to her son, leaving him with his dad and the rest of the men.

“Watch your step, dear” were the only words Mrs. Sutton said as Sarah followed her future mother-in-law across the large manicured lawn and up the stone steps leading to the house. The wedge sandals she was wearing, combined with the effects of the surprisingly strong cocktail, left her feeling unsteady on her feet. The cold air-conditioned air hit her as soon as she stepped through the back door, causing her nipples to stand at attention, like two big round pleasure knobs.

Mrs. Sutton led her across the formal dining room and into a large kitchen outfitted with high-end restaurant grade appliances and enough granite countertop for two or three upscale kitchens.

It galled Brenda that this tramp at some point decided to call her by her first name. But she wasn’t going to make an issue out of it. She went over to a punch bowl and filled a plastic cup with a red fruit punch she had been mixing up.

“Will you tell me if this tastes like it has too much booze in it?” She offered the glass to Sarah, who took a drink.

The fruity drink did taste strongly of alcohol. But she lied and said it tasted just fine, drinking it down. Mrs. Sutton added more tequila and refilled Sarah’s cup.

“I think I made it too weak. Here. Try this.” Sarah took another sip. Smacking her glossy lips together.

It tasted like the strongest margarita she’d ever had, almost pure tequila, but she drank it down.

“I like your outfit today, Sarah.” Brenda lied as she poured another cup for herself and for Sarah. She handed Sarah a third helping of the spiked punch and urged her to drink up.

An attractive dark-skinned young man entered the kitchen. One of the caterers returning an empty drink tray.

“Oh, Carlos, I’d like you to meet someone. This is my son’s friend Sarah. The one I was telling you about.”

An inebriated Sarah didn’t notice that she was being introduced as a friend and not the fiancé. (Not even a girlfriend.) She smiled and offered her hand to the handsome Hispanic hottie. His eyes went wide at the sight of her big boobs with their nipples showing clearly through the thin tee shirt she was wearing.

Sarah blushed at the compliment, not noticing as Brenda slipped away, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen.

“Are you a fraid of the Suttons?” Sarah asked, her head buzzing unaccountably.

“I work for John sometimes.” He flashed a smile as he looked at her body with hungry eyes. She could feel the stranger scanning her curves and straightened her posture, sticking her chest out further. Sarah realized Dean’s mother had left the room when she heard her voice outside. She crossed the short distance over to the punch bowl on the far counter by the pantry, stumbling slightly along the way. She helped herself to another glass of the delicious concoction. “Would you like some punsh?” she asked in a musical teasing tone of voice. She felt her speech slurring as her vision blurred. She fought to maintain coherence. “Mmm… is yummy.”

“I’d like to fuck you, my love” the strange man said in a quiet voice as Sarah brushed past him. She could feel his breath on her skin, so close was he.

“What’dyou say??” Her crotch moistened with arousal. Where was Mrs. Sutton? Where was Dean? She couldn’t see into the yard or hear any voices. Then she felt it. The man’s hand was on her breast. His large strong hand squeezed her big soft boob, grasping at her swollen nipple and rudely tugging at it through her clothing. Her lips parted as her arousal flooded her.

Sarah pulled away from the man and staggered backwards into the granite counter. His hands grasped her around her bare waist.

“Shhhh… it’s okay..” he whispered as he lifted her with no difficulty and sat her on the cold hard counter top. He could smell her arousal as he moved his hands toward her practically bared crotch. She could feel his thumbs slip past the elastic of her panties and come into contact with her moist lips.

“Oh..” Sarah’s eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the man’s hands invade her soaking wet pussy. This was wrong. So very wrong.

He was whispering in her ear, his hot breath making the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up.

“Oh no? Why don’t you prove it. Right now. Show us those beautiful titties of yours.”

And with that the man peeled her tee shirt back, up and over the girl’s incredible rack, exposing her big white bra to anyone who might walk in. Sarah’s heart raced like a locomotive in her chest. Her skin felt hot. “Please stop” she begged him in her thoughts. Though somehow she couldn’t say the words. With her tee shirt pushed up around her chin her pale cleavage was on full display. She felt glued to the spot. Helpless as the man pulled the cups of her bra down, letting her fat tits flop out.

“Aya, carumba!” the man said at the sight of Mrs. Sutton’s would-be dauther-in-law, exposed in such a pornographic display. As he heard people approaching through the back door, he left the girl there on the counter, just as she was, and quietly escaped through the living room and out the front door.

“SARAH!!” Dean shouted out at the sight of his half-naked fiancé, fumbling awkwardly to hide her exposed tits.

“OH MY GOD!!!” His mother screamed as John Sutton ushered some of the teenagers and other children out the back door, back out into the yard.

Dean would have a hard time ever explaining Sarah’s trashy behavior at the barbeque. To his parents, Grossman, his friends at the gym, or even to himself. It was hard to hide his anger and disgust. Sarah claimed she had too much to drink that day and accused Dean’s mother of putting something in her drink. But that didn’t begin to explain a whole pattern of increasingly irrational behavior that had been going on for weeks.

Not only was Sarah unfazed by the shameful 4^th of July scene in the Sutton’s kitchen, she, as usual, just carried on as if it never even happened. She had virtually no memory of being alone in the kitchen with Carlos the catering guy, who was the last person seen with her (according to Dean’s mother, who was now more opposed to the marriage than ever.) Something was wrong, mentally wrong, with Sarah. By the end of the summer Dean was convinced of this. She needed help, but what kind of help he did not know.

He continued to indulge her and made every effort to satisfy her physically and emotionally, though her sexual appetites and need for attention seemed insatiable and childlike. Even dangerous. He had managed to talk her out of the nude modeling she was expressing interest in. Her argument was that it would be a great way to earn some extra money, but it seemed to him she was as much into the turn-on of it (of exposing herself) than she was interested in making a buck. He put his foot down and refused to let her do it, insisting on paying her rent and credit card bills until she could get back on her feet.

While Dean worked to support the two of them, Sarah proceeded to spend her days doing a whole lot of nothing; shopping, going to the gym occasionally, and… pleasuring herself.

One Monday morning, after another trying weekend with Sarah, Dean located the old piece of paper she’d been given at the research clinic. The release form she had thrown in the trash on more than one occasion (only to have Dean dig it out again when she wasn’t looking.) He reread the photocopied sheet, looking for something that might explain what might have gone wrong.

“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.”

There was a number at the bottom of the page; the Broom Clinic’s business address, and office hours. Though she was closed on Mondays, he called the number anyhow and left a voice mail. He explained briefly that he wanted, needed, to ask a few questions, hoping to find out if something might be wrong with Sarah.

“That’s quite alright Mr. Sutton. I understand you have some concerns about your girlfriend.”

“Well that’s why I called. She’s… well, physically, I guess she’s doing just fine.”

“I recall she had some concerns about her breasts growing a bit large. Is that right?”

“Yes, she was concerned about that, but. Well, that doesn’t seem to be a problem for her. And that’s not why I called.”

“Because it’s not unusual, Mr. Sutton, as the anti-virus takes effect, for the growth to slowly taper off. Sometimes this can take weeks, or months.”

“Yes. Okay. But… well… the thing is, the reason I called… it’s about Sarah’s behavior.”

“I don’t know how to say this, but, well… ever since… I don’t know. Ever since her breasts…”

“And has this become a problem? I mean, FOR SARAH? Has this become a problem?”

“No. No it hasn’t. She seems… well, she’s quite happy, I guess. Maybe even too happy.”

“That’s not what I mean. What I mean is, somehow, it’s… I don’t know… it’s like her judgment is impaired. From what it was. You know, before.”

The doctor didn’t seem too interested in making this easy for Dean. He expected as much, but still was determined to get some answers.

“Well, first of all, I don’t know, it’s just been in the last month or so, honestly. But, she has been fired from her job. She dropped out of school. She has made inappropriate, um… she has behaved, inappropriately. Around family, around strangers.”

“Yes, well. That may seem inappropriate but these things are subjective Mr. Sutton. What you and I consider inappropriate… sometimes it’s just…”

“I’m worried for her safety, doctor. Do you understand? I was surprised when she was fired from a job she had held down for years. Then, well I can’t tell you how saddened I was when she dropped out of school. She’s been skipping her workouts. She is not herself.”

“No. No, Mr. Sutton. Look, I just wanted to give a little extra help to Sarah. I didn’t want for her to lose her job. And none of us want her to get hurt.”

“I simply gave Sarah a few simple post-hypnotic suggestions that have been proven to help some of our more well-developed ladies overcome any potential body issues… simplify things as they… make the adjustment. Without shame.”

“Yes, well. I’m sorry if this has made things difficult for Sarah. That was certainly not my intention.”

After another long silence Dr. Broom explained to Dean that yes, it was possible for him dehypnotize Sarah. She wouldn’t need to return to the office. She wouldn’t even need to know that she had ever been hypnotized in the first place. In fact it was probably better for her if she didn’t.

“So long as you are committed to being there for her, Mr. Sutton. Which, obviously you are concerned for her. She may be in a very vulnerable state of mind after you remove the suggestion.”

Dean scribbled the phrase down on the back of the release form, repeating the phrase as he wrote it out; “Simple Sarah Knows Nothing So Simple.”

Dean decided bedtime was a good time to try to remove the hypnotic spell Sarah was under. Preferably right before she was about to fall asleep. It was Friday night around 3AM and the couple were rocking towards another incredible orgasm. Dean could tell she was ready to drift off to sleep. As Sarah tensed her sweaty body against the shuddering wave of orgasm she clutched and embraced her pillowy tits.

“Ugh… I love you too. Umff… I love your… ungh… Oh God, I love your cock.”

She laughed at her own plight, and her incredible luck to be engaged to such a hung stud.

“Oh FUCK ME… oh god… oh FUCK… do you love my tits, baby? Tell me.” She suddenly doubled the tempo of her body rhythm. “Do you love little Sarah’s big titties?? Huh??”

Dean answered by increasing his pumping, though his considerable strength was beginning to wane. Sarah seemed to appreciate every little extra bit of ramming her man could muster, meeting his upthrusts with her own fluid hip motion.

His answer made her smile. She licked the perspiration from her lips as she continued rocking her hips with sweaty determination, on the edge of orgasm, sleep calling her away. She released her embrace on her breasts and let them fall gravidly, feeling their weight pull her forward. She redoubled the tempo of her rapid strokes as Dean spoke the words into her ear. Slowly and softly.

Sarah’s face went slack as an orgasm greater than any she’d ever known exploded in a blinding white flash behind her eyes. A sudden rush of watery female ejaculate escaped from her exhausted body, splashing out between her legs, soaking Dean and the sheets and mattress beneath him. She convulsed and shuddered from the climactic onslaught while Dean came weakly inside her, his balls emptied and aching.

She began to sob softly, for reasons she didn’t understand, as aftershocks shook her body without mercy. She curled up beside him in the fetal position, twitching, cradling her fleshy pillows between her arms as she drifted off to sleep.

Both of them were so tired they slept through the night on the cold wet bed linens.

The next morning Sarah woke before Dean and treated herself to a long hot shower. Her head felt fuzzy, as if from a massive hangover. She felt the emotional and physical weight of her overgrown titties like she hadn’t felt it in weeks. The big beautiful breasts she loved so much, that were so sexy and so much… fun… were, she reminded herself, as she soaped them up in a sobering moment of clarity, just terribly big, and terribly heavy. Huge. They were the biggest tits she’d ever seen, and they were attached to her! She almost couldn’t believe her own eyes as she wrestled her wet soapy boobs with her tiny hands. She pulled on her fat nipples as the hot jets of water danced on her skin. Her face was flush as she felt the electric connection between her nipples and her pussy send a pleasant shudder (her first climax of the day) throughout her tired little body.

As she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself, it felt as if the there wasn’t enough towel to contain her abundance. She pulled and tugged on the corners until she managed to get it tucked under her arms and held in place. Her cheeks were still flushed red (and her knees weak) from cumming in the shower, and now, increasingly flushed at the sight of herself in the foggy mirror. Even dressed in nothing but a dingy bath towel—which was long overdue for the laundry—she looked like a cartoon sex object. How did it ever come to this? Unemployed. Quit school. Racking up massive credit card debt with her new wardrobe. Especially all those expensive custom-ordered bras she now needed. And obsessed with (possibly addicted to) sex like she could not remember ever being.

She’d always had a healthy normal sex life, so she thought. But nothing like this. Even thinking about it now was causing her crotch to tingle unaccountably. She put her hand between her legs and felt her sopping wet pussy, plunging her fingers into her depths, frigging the swollen nub of her clit with a practiced touch. She steadied herself against the bathroom wall as her towel fell away and her breaths grew short and rapid.

“I can’t go on like this.” She said aloud to herself as her boobs shook like Jell-o. She was chasing that feeling. Her next orgasm. The sight of herself, frantically masturbating, helpless, her pale skinny arm smacking against boob, making it collide obscenely and repeatedly with its mate; it appalled her but it also—strangely enough—turned her on to see herself in that state.

Sarah’s orgasm came in a satisfying convulsion, stronger than the one she’d enjoyed in the shower. She let out a series of quiet animal grunts as it passed over her in waves. When finally the sensations subsided she turned away from the mirror, unable to look at herself any longer. Her breasts hung down heavily, brushing against her belly, reaching half way to her navel. She snaked a clean bra around her ribs and hooked it behind her, almost without any effort at all, and quickly lowered her large mams into its conveniently-spacious cups. With a quick jostle and a tuck and a tug she achieved the fit she was looking for. Though the woman looking back at her from the bathroom mirror was no less obscene or cartoonish for the effort. She let out a resigned sigh of defeat.

She felt her mood sink bit by bit as she proceeded to dry her hair and apply some makeup, working around the two large protrusions. Despite her best efforts to work around them or ignore them, her tits were constantly in the way, distracting her, impeding her easy movement, making something as mundane and mechanical as brushing her teeth look practically pornographic.

“What are you worried about? You look amazing.” She thought to herself, searching in vain for the easy self-confidence that only just yesterday she seemed to exude. Where was it? Now when she saw her reflection, dressed in nothing but her underwear with a mouthful of toothpaste and wet tangled hair, all she could see was sweet Little Sarah the tom boy, with her funny nose and skinny arms, now saddled with two outlandishly overgrown “big lady” boobs.

What only yesterday seemed all too natural and all too wonderful suddenly felt, just… all too much.

She put her hands to the sides of her big bra and pushed her breasts together, chagrined, but still—on some basic level— amazed at the sight of her deep cleavage. Cleavage any porn star, even Dolly Parton herself, would be envious of. But that just wasn’t her. Was it? “Oh my god, when did you bleach your hair?” she asked her blonde reflection. Her nipples tingled slightly as her confused thoughts swam around drunkenly in her throbbing head.

“Oh no you don’t. Not again.” She said aloud as she could feel her panties soaking through.

She pulled on an old pair of blue jeans and one of her favorite old tee shirts she found in the bottom drawer of her dresser. It was skin tight but with a little bit of stretching in the right places it still fit.

By the time Dean rose from the dead, Sarah had showered, dressed, put a pot of coffee on and had started a load of laundry. The first of many that needed to be done.

The couple’s apartment looked like it hadn’t been straightened up or cleaned in over a month, which it hadn’t. Sarah threw herself into housework full tilt, welcoming the much-needed distraction from… well, from herself. Or at least from her body.

When Dean emerged from the bathroom dressed in gym shorts and one of his ratty workout shirts Sarah was busy vacuuming the living room.

She felt him sneak up behind her and pinch her around her tiny waist. She turned around and kissed him good morning. Dean gazed into her eyes. Something already seemed different. Was the Old Sarah back? Even dressed in old jeans and a threadbare old tee shirt Sarah looked nothing like the girl he met three years ago. That Sarah was gone forever. But in her gentle smile he could see that familiar twinkle. It stared out from behind tired eyes, and most notably, from behind a pair of exceptionally large breasts. But it was there.

Sarah felt the reflexive desire to drop the vacuum cleaner and jump Dean. But she resisted the urge, for now, and continued her housecleaning while Dean raided the kitchen in search of something to eat.

As she plowed through a pile of old magazines and other trash next to the sofa she came across the crumpled old release form from Dr. Broom. “I thought I threw this away.” She said with contorted expression on her face. She went to wad it up and toss it when she paused and unfolded it and reread it. There was handwriting on the back. Dean’s handwriting.

What did it mean? She said the words aloud and felt a heaviness, like a weight settling on her shoulders. “That’s weird.” She shrugged it off, wadded up the paper and tossed into the trash. This time for good.

It was only a matter of time before Sarah grew restless with the unemployed life. She couldn’t continue to sit around on her ass getting fat. She at least needed to hit the gym and see if it would be possible to streamline her burgeoning figure a little bit. Besides, it wasn’t fair to Dean to go on living off of his income like she had been. And she’d run up quite a debt on her credit cards over the relatively brief period of time since she’d been fired from her hostess job at The Covington Inn. She missed all her friends there. Why didn’t any of them call her? She felt ashamed now that she’d ever suggested nude modeling to Dean, and vowed never to bring it up again. But she had to do something. It wasn’t fair that bitch Caitlin, her massage teacher at community college, had asked her not to come back to classes. Sarah couldn’t even remember now what had provoked her. She seemed to remember leaving in a huff. As Fall approached she went back to the college and learned that the teacher was no longer employed by the college. There was no reason why she couldn’t re-enroll and finish the program. She could have her certification by the end of the year, if only Dean could help her with tuition.

It took some cajoling before Dean was able to convince his father to consider loaning them the $1,500 Sarah needed to go back to school. It would be a long while before his mother would be willing to spend any time around “that trash” but Dean was able to arrange a series of casual lunches with him and his dad and Sarah where they were able to convince him that she was serious about trying to get her life in order. John Sutton, unbeknownst to Dean or Sarah, had learned what his wife had tried to pull the day of the barbecue; getting Sarah drunk and paying Carlos to make a pass at her. He would never admit what had happened to his son. But he felt bad about it and could easily afford the $1,500 she was asking for. And it wasn’t so difficult (now that she was back to something like her old self) for Sarah to remind John why he loved her in the first place. She was just a sweet and likeable girl. And damn if she didn’t have a hot body on her! In fact John Sutton had a hard time getting her off of his mind, a fact that gave him no small about of guilt. He insisted on giving her the $1,500. Plus an extra thousand for “living expenses.” Until she could get back on her feet. It was the least he could do.

The physical demands of body massage had always been a challenge for 5’1” Sarah. Even moreso since her growth spurt. But the minimizer bra she wore to school compressed her bust and made maneuvering around the table (and around her boobs) more than manageable. Even with the less-than-comfortable minimizer bra, little Sarah’s outlandish figure was no secret, and she was extremely popular with the male students she worked on in class. But her sweet personality and talent for massage made her popular with men and women alike, as well as her new teacher.

Though inconvenient modesty had been restored, enabling Sarah to exhibit self-control and common sense when necessary, the heightened sexual urges that had been a byproduct of her growth spurt continued unabated. She would hurry home every day after classes, anxious to get the constricting minimizer bra off finally, but also to relieve herself in other ways.

Dressing a little more conservatively and getting out of the house seemed to help keep her mind off of sex. She realized though that most of the new tops she’d been blowing money on did nothing but accentuate and show off her oversized breasts. Anything she tried on felt like an advertisement for sex. Most of the stuff in her closet was what you would call club wear. Half of it she didn’t even remember buying! She used some of the extra money Mr. Sutton had given her to buy some new Fall things, including some much-needed practical tops she could wear to class and a couple jackets, since none of her old coats would fasten in the front.

Sometime shortly after Halloween, Sarah came home from class one afternoon, desperate (as usual) to get free of the strangling minimizer bra she wore to school. Sitting on the edge of her bed naked from the waist up, she massaged her poor breasts, rubbing away the red impressions on her skin from where the constricting bra had gathered and crushed her flesh for six long hours.

Massaging her breasts always felt so good. By the time she was done her entire chest would be flush pink and tender and slightly swollen from its usual state. Then, “they” would routinely “calm down” and she’d slip into her comfortable house clothes and start dinner for her and Dean.

This day, as she kneaded molded her breasts with her small hands, they seemed especially swollen. More than usual. And awfully tender. “My poor girls. You poor babies.” Sarah said to her breasts as she manipulated them repeatedly, encouraging the blood flow to her chest. The cool air felt so nice on her bare skin. Her mouth felt unaccountably dry and she stood up to go to the kitchen for a drink of water.

It occurred to Sarah that her naked breasts were indeed swollen. Quite a bit so, as they barely hung down at all.

Instead of swaying pendulously as she padded from the bedroom to the kitchen, they seemed to project out from her chest, almost unnaturally, more full and certainly more firm than she could ever remember them being. The air on her nipples caused them to stand fully, surprisingly erect, nearly an inch long.

As Sarah poured herself a glass of cold water she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. Her cheeks were hot to the touch. “What’s wrong with me?” She wondered aloud, fanning herself with her palm. The heat seemed to be rising up from her chest and joining the hot flush in her rosy cheeks. She placed her finger tips on her tits and confirmed what she already knew; they were hot to the touch and incredibly firm. She drank down the glass of water and hurried back into the bedroom. Her swollen boobs jounced in front of her, unfettered, perched high on her chest.

When she stepped in front of the bedroom mirror her mouth fell open at the sight of herself. Her already huge boobs were BIGGER! She touched them with her flat of her hand. They were so firm. Almost hard. Tiny blue veins appeared beneath her pale skin.

Though they were engorged and heavy, the crease beneath each breast was exposed. The mass seemed to project straight out, without hanging down at all.

Just then she felt a tickle in her crotch. Arousal at the sight of her own reflection. She clamped her knees together and winced as a tiny orgasm blind-sided her, sending her staggering backward onto the bed, blonde hair hanging down in her face. The twin mountains of her swollen tits wobbled and rolled toward her face, bumping softly against her chin. Even laying flat on her back her nipples stood high in the air. Her breasts spread out somewhat, coming to rest on her upper arms, but still projected in high round hillocks, as if they were supported by an invisible push-up bra.

“Oh my god. It’s happening again.” Sarah thought to herself. The anti-virus. She was having another spurt. It had only been a little over four months since she’d been given the shot. The release form said “as long as a year.” A fact she’d conveniently put to the back of her mind, as she hadn’t experienced any further growth. A G cup was bad enough, but it was a fate she had finally resigned herself to. She’d never buy a bra off the rack again. But…

She reached up and pulled on one of her nipples. Both seemed to be begging for her immediate attention. A strong electric jolt of pleasure traveled from her overgrown chest straight to her crotch. She reached for the nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out a long red dildo. She had only a vague recollection of buying it at that sex shop downtown. It was embarrassing that she even owned it. But next to Dean it was her best friend in the world. She plunged the thick rubber toy into her yawning snatch and turned it on.

She proceeded to churn the devise in and out of her pussy as she grunted like a work animal. Within minutes her orgasm exploded, lifting her off the bed, sending her breasts undulating and rolling back into her face, repeatedly, the rolling hills of her own flesh threatening to smother her.

When Dean returned from the gym that night he found Sarah in the kitchen, standing at the stove stirring a steaming pot of pasta noodles.

Sarah continued to stir the pot, and just shook her head, sending her blonde pony tail swishing around the small of her back. Dean came over and took the spoon from her hand and turned her around to face him. Her cheeks were streaked with mascara.

She was wearing an old zip up hooded sweatshirt, so it might not have been apparent at first glance. Sarah collapsed into Dean, who enclosed her in his strong arms while she broke out into heaving sobs.

He could feel her two breasts pressing up against his body. But it didn’t occur to him that that was what she was crying about. He felt Sarah’s hands on his ass, squeezing it in a way that felt inappropriate to the mood. She looked up at him with red eyes and runny nose and suddenly lept up on her toes and kissed him passionately on his mouth. Gasping and sniffling for air as she plunged her tongue into his mouth.

Dean returned her kiss then gently pulled her away and looked her in the eyes. “Sarah, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Through her tears and sniffles Sarah finally managed a smile. Then erupted in an uncontrolled laugh. Was she drunk?

She lowered herself back down onto her heels. His fiancé’s big chest bounced slightly inside her thick sweatshirt. She looked up at him with a coy look in her bloodshot eyes as she reached for the zipper of her hoodie. Prelude to a kitchen strip tease?

“I have something I want to show you. But you have to promise not to get upset.”

She pulled her shoulders back and tucked her elbows in at her side and without saying a word she proceeded to slowly lower her zipper. Her cleavage appeared from the very start, beginning just beneath her clavicle and just continued as she opened her sweatshirt slowly and completely, revealing her secret to Dean.

Sarah’s breasts were no longer engorged. The blue veins that had appeared beneath her skin earlier were gone. They no longer stood out unnaturally from her body. Once again they were soft and hung down heavily, their weight pulling at her narrow shoulders. But as she peeled off her sweatshirt and tossed it onto the back of a nearby kitchen chair, Dean could see that Sarah’s breasts had grown larger.

She had on one of her roomiest G cup brassieres, and she was bursting out of it. Flesh was rising like bread dough up and out and over the edges of the satin cups, pooching out under her arms, and the underwire was once again lifting away from her rib cage.

Her tears had stopped, though her face was still a mess. She smiled a vulnerable smile at Dean as she reached in back and unhooked herself, letting her the weight of her breasts pull her too-small bra from her body. She let it fall freely to the kitchen floor. Dean’s eyes went wide at the sight. He reached out with open hands and placed them on each side of Sarah’s big breasts and pressed them gently together. They were definitely bigger. Bigger than her head. Bigger than his hands. Bigger than cantaloupes. Bigger than any pair of breasts either one of them had ever seen, or even fantasized about.

“I thought I was done growing. It’s been so long now. But they said it was possible.”

Dean resumed feeling up his future wife’s incredible tits. She snaked her arms around him and stood close, enjoying the feel of his hands on her body.

“I just hope this is finally it. I mean, this is getting ridiculous.” Dean pinched one of her pliant nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Sarah melted at his touch. “Oh, that’s nice.”

She turned off the stove and Dean carried her back into the bedroom. Dinner could wait.

It was torture getting back into her minimizer bra, which she now knew was at least a size too small. As were the rest of her brassieres. But Sarah managed, and suffered through a week of classes until her new bras arrived from Helga.com

The new 32 H cup minimizer did the job, but whether she wore the minimizer or a regular underwire, an H cup is nothing you can hide. And the difference now, in terms of her appearance, wasn’t so much a difference in volume but one of shape. So Sarah was left with a choice. The 32 H minimizer made her chest look about as pretty as Dean’s old gym bag, whereas the 32 H underwire made her look like, well… made her look like a buxom sex kitten. She opted for the latter.

Neither look was especially convenient, in terms of going about her business and not attracting looks and unwanted attention. But neither solution, she realized, really prevented her from giving a massage. Sarah was by now adept at navigating two large boobs around. She would manage, just with a tiny bit more difficulty. The comfort and support that the underwire provided (as opposed to the strangling torture of the minimizer) made the days go much easier for Sarah, so she soon gave up on the minimizer altogether. In another month her semester would be over and Sarah would have her certification. She just laughed it off whenever it was apparent that her boobs were “in the way” at all, or were the topic of conversation for whatever reason. By and large, her friends and classmates kept their mouths shut and their eyes to themselves, which was the best she could hope for. Everyone who knew her had already accepted the fact that Sarah Waters had a growth spurt. Some even knew she had participated in a medical study that was responsible for it. Besides, the difference between a G cup and an H cup, while not exactly negligible, was definitely not so easy to discern by an untrained eye.

Though she was on some level appalled that her large breasts were larger still, she took it in stride. No one but her and Dean, really, would know or care that she had grown from a G to an H. And she was not one to go around announcing her bra size. She was simply the cute little chick with the really big rack. That was about as specific as the casual passerby was apt to get.

The hard-on-summoning overabundance of jiggling flesh that Sarah was required to “deal with” (i.e. lug around, work around, dress suitably, support properly, ignore when possible, acknowledge when necessary) was, at this point, a fact of life. Though it was impossible to ever be free of their inconvenient bulk, she had grown accustomed to it. She may never see her own toes again, or even a sunset that wasn’t partially framed by her own sloping bustline. But constant strain on her back, and a porn star figure were a price she was willing to pay for the cure she’d sought that fateful day last Spring when she got the shot from Dr. Broom.

By Thanksgiving, the H cup bras were getting a little snug, as were her jeans. And Sarah knew why. She’d put on over fifteen pounds since she last weighed herself. And it wasn’t all going to her chest. She’d put on some pudge around her middle, and her caboose was decidedly more plump and round that she was accustomed to. All due to the fact that she hadn’t worked out in over two months. Jogging was a thing of the past for her now, and besides, it was getting cold out. Dean encouraged her to return to the gym, but even a half hour on the treadmill was uncomfortable for her, due to the jouncing of her chest. And the other people, men and women alike, stared at her the whole time.

As a Christmas present Dean and his family went together and bought Sarah an elliptical machine for home.

By New Year’s she was already beginning to lose a little of the chub around her mid-section. She rented a small space in an old building downtown, just big enough for her table, with an attached room she could use as an office. The rent wasn’t cheap, but John Sutton insisted on loaning her the “seed money” to get her started. He couldn’t run that one by Brenda. She was officially was in the dark about the financial assistance they were giving Dean and Sarah. But she knew anyhow. Her and Sarah never quite recovered from the 4^th of July incident. Though Sarah had only a dim memory of it, Brenda still harbored resentment of the “big titted bimbo” that wanted to marry into her family.

Word got around quickly about Sarah’s massage practice, and she was not wanting for clients. Naturally her clientele were mostly men, but she had quite a few women regulars too. Upon first meeting her it was natural to wonder if this little blonde with the big tits was legit. She could make a handsome living giving illicit massages, and it was perhaps surprising that she wasn’t. But folks quickly figured out that Sarah was on the level, and that there was (sometimes to the disappointment of the men) nothing unsavory going on.

Sarah grew accustomed to the erections that occasionally cropped up beneath the towels of her male clients. Though she did nothing to encourage this, and never made mention of it, she found ways to tactfully “work around” such things without causing undo embarrassment to herself or the client. Sometimes it was a simple matter of excusing herself for a moment and allowing the guy time to situate himself. Other times she would calmly direct him to just roll over onto his stomach. She enjoyed her work, and had a real talent for it, but the unintentional arousal of her clients frequently posed an extra challenge for her, as did her own.

The art of body massage is intrinsically sensual, of course. And though Sarah was learning to cope with her own heightened sexuality, it was more a matter of managing it than it was of controlling it. What at first had just seemed like a heightened libido (a kind of unexpected fun side-effect to go along with her other unexpected fun side-effects) had become a major distraction for her. Especially now that she had a business to run.

Rarely did a session go by when Sarah didn’t feel the arousal of her own sexual desire. Almost hourly it seemed something would trigger it. Sometimes as she brushed against the massage table, or the customer, even just the aroma of the incense and oils she used, and sometimes for no apparent reason at all Sarah would feel that incipient arousal, whether she wanted it or not. Usually manifesting as a flutter in her chest, or the flush of her cheeks. She dealt with it by directing that energy into her hands, converting it into direct therapeutic massage. More often than not that would drive her to distraction long enough for the feelings to abate. But not always. Recently she had been forced to excuse herself, however—on more than one occasion—to go into her office to relieve herself in private, fearing that she might otherwise do so involuntarily right there at the table.

After a bit of research on the matter she discovered this condition had a name, Persistent Sexual Arousal Disorder. Doctors seemed to have no idea what caused it, or how to treat it. (Some still argue that it doesn’t really exist. That it’s “all in their head.”) Women she found on internet forums who shared their personal stories about “suffering” with this condition made it sound very much like a curse. Something that was making it impossible for them to function normally. Even getting in the way of a normal happy sex life. But not all women described it that way. Some women, like herself, found the condition distracting, even frustrating at times, but not exactly a problem.

To Sarah, her heightened sex drive seemed perfectly suited to her hyper-sexualized body. Part and parcel. Besides, her and Dean had never been happier. That much was obvious. The only downside she could see to her body’s hair-trigger sexual response was something that had only reared its ugly head recently. The first time it finally happened to her she was shocked and mortified: spontaneous orgasm. If only it had happened while she was alone, or with Dean, maybe she could have avoided the embarrassment. But as it happened it happened at work, in the middle of a massage.

She was working on an older woman who had been referred by her Dean’s father. All she knew about her was that she was a dance teacher. Her body was in fantastic shape, and Sarah complimented her on her muscle tone.

“Hardly any tension in trapezius muscles. That’s where most folks store all their stress.”

The woman lie flat on her stomach, the towel draped across her nicely rounded behind. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t respond to Sarah’s comments, which was Sarah’s signal to be quiet and just do her job.

As she worked her way down the length of the woman’s left leg Sarah had a fleeting hot flash. She ignored it and tried with determination to just work through what she knew, or hoped, was a passing flush of sexual arousal. So she set her mind on other things. The cable bill sitting on the kitchen table at home. Those sunglasses she wanted. As her hands worked their way back up the woman’s upper thigh, Sarah felt a sudden twitch as her pussy convulsed involuntarily. Her breath caught short and she fought against the feeling. Holding her breath in her tight chest, legs clenched together, Sarah’s hands clutched the dancer’s strong quads, steeling herself against what was to come.

She gasped. The air rushed from her lungs, her knees went weak and her body writhed in place as a powerful orgasm seized her.

The customer opened her eyes. She didn’t move, only looked back at Sarah who was bracing herself now against the edge of the sturdy piece of furniture she was laying prone on. A shudder appeared to shake the masseuse where she stood, causing her exposed cleavage to jiggle.

The woman was left by herself in the dimly-lit room. Through the wall she could hear a door slam and a chair bang against a desk. Then a moan. Then some muttering.

Sarah returned quickly, adjusting her clothes and apologizing for the interruption. The woman noticed that not only was the masseuse’s face flushed, so was her chest.

They continued the session with no further incident and the customer said nothing. But Sarah felt sure that it was obvious what had happen as she herself had been caught completely by surprise. She had spontaneously orgasmed, standing up, without so much as touching herself, and in front of a customer. A customer she would probably never see again.

She decided against it, for now, hoping it was a one-time thing. She would need to be more attentive to the needs of her over-sexed body, she thought. Or maybe that was the problem: too much sex. She was making love to Dean two or three times a day now. Every day. Sometimes more than that. On weekends the two fucked like teenagers. And the way men looked at her all the time now, she was always aware of a sexual energy in the air around her. She seemed to radiate it.

That night after work she masturbated herself furiously, intent on exhausting herself and “getting rid” of whatever unspent pent up sexual energy she had in her. Dean worked late that night at the gym and she had the apartment to herself.

Starting out on the couch in front of the TV Sarah frigged herself off and on more or less nonstop, from six o’clock until she fell asleep naked in the bed around 10:30. When Dean returned home shortly after that he had already showered at the gym and was himself ready for bed. He was glad, this night, to find Sarah already in bed asleep. He would have the night off. Or so he thought.

“Hi sweetie. Sorry I already went to bed” a bleary-eyed Sarah purred in the darkness. Her blonde hair was in a tangle and plastered to her cheek.

“That’s okay, you go back to sleep. I’m just going to watch a little TV.” He’d turned on the bedroom TV. Cool light flickered in the darkened room, reflecting against Sarah’s shiny skin. She rolled over to face him, her naked breasts shifting on top of one another, coming to rest and filling the space between them. Their large areolas stared at him like big brown eyes in the night.

Dean leaned over to kiss her. Sarah put her hand to his cheek and caressed his face as she returned his goodnight peck with an open mouth, and then her tongue. His tongue entwined with hers and the goodnight peck turned into something more. Sarah rose up onto one elbow and put her arm around his shoulder, pulling herself closer to him. Dean could feel the heat rise off her body as the two lovers crowded closer together. Sarah’s boobs fought for space between them as Dean pulled Sarah close, reaching around and grabbing her pleasingly plump behind. That was all the encouragement Sarah needed to swing her leg over her lover. Not surprisingly, she was already lubricated. Dean’s thick cock quickly grew stiff and disappeared into its slippery home as Sarah started working her body.

He lay back against the headboard and put his hands on Sarah’s pudgy waist, those big brown areola looming large in the night.

This was his cue to give it to her. Dean pumped his hips and thrust a little harder. Sarah smiled and met his passion with her own. She arched her back, throwing her shoulders back, thrusting her big tits toward the ceiling. They slapped loudly together and against her body as she bucked wildly on top of her big man. The sight of her pushed him quickly to the brink. He was about to explode. Already. The sight of those huge uncontained tits of hers, flying around out of control was positively pornographic. In the darkness of the bedroom with the TV light dancing off them Sarah’s big boobs looked bigger than ever.

In short order Sarah grunted loudly in a low guttural voice as her orgasm hit with force. She slowed her motions as the first wave gave way to a second, and a third, and a fourth. Dean could feel her pussy convulse around his cock, tightening its grip on him, milking him of his cum when finally it came coursing out of him in forceful blasts. She smiled down at him, deliberately contracting her walls around his shaft, first as part of her effort to finish him off, then, when he was spent, simply for the fun of squeezing him, giggling softly as he softened inside her, until finally she clenched her muscles and expelled his spent cock from her pussy with wet slurp.

“Oh, baby. You’re so good to me.” She cooed in a sing song voice as she fell forward, lowering her big fun bags into his face, pretending to smother him the way she knew he enjoyed. Sarah leaned into him heavily, letting him feel the full weight of her tits. They felt bigger than usual as she playfully dragged them back and forth across his face. Dean put his hands to them and squeezed them together, putting a stop to her playful abuse.

She purred and giggled softly as she pushed her boobs back into her lover’s face. “Hmmmmm??” Had she had a couple too many glasses of wine tonight or was she just sleepy or was it a post-coitus happy haze, or… all the above?

She seemed to be drifting off to sleep already. Her body was going slack. He lowered her back onto the bed and she was asleep by the time her head hit the pillow.

Dean looked at Sarah’s spent naked body as it lay unconscious. A little smile played upon her lips as she drifted off to dreamland. The TV light still flickered on her skin. Those big brown areola stared back at him, wide awake. Her tits heaved slightly up and down with her breaths, like two beached whales sprawled between them.

He climbed out of bed and hurried into the bathroom where he found Sarah naked except for her bra.

Was it one of her old bras? Why was she wearing it, and how did she manage to even get it on? Her breasts appeared to be exploding out of it. The look on her face told him she wasn’t playing around.

She stared angrily at her reflection in the mirror, poking at herself with an accusatory index finger.

She looked exactly like she had looked that night he came home to find her at the stove. Boob flesh was escaping out in every direction from the cups of the undersized bra she was wearing. But it wasn’t an old bra.

She reached behind her and struggled to unhook the row of four hooks that held the thing together. The last hook eluded her, so Dean unfastened it for her. The woefully undersized 32” H cup bra sprung free and fell loosely from her body, it’s roomy cups collapsing into a crumpled heap of fabric in the bathroom sink.

They both looked at Sarah’s breasts. They were flushed bright pink, with pale indentations left from the tight bra. Sarah plowed her fists into them and roughly massaged them, almost with a vengeance. It was obvious to both of them what had happened. Sarah had had another one of her growth spurts. It was late February. Still a couple months shy of a year since she first visited Dr. Broom. Neither of them said a word. They just looked on, speechless. Her breasts now started at her collar bone, projecting out many inches from her chest wall, creeping around to her sides and up under her arm pits. The lower curves of them extended beyond her elbows and nearly reached her navel. The big brown areola stared back innocently from the mirror, seeming at first to ask “What’d we do wrong?” then, indifferent to Sarah’s wishes, “So? What are you going to do about it honey?”

Sarah’s upper body had been taken over by massive tits. And they appeared to be running out of growing room.

She stomped angrily out of the bathroom stark naked, her jiggling melons jouncing aggressively in front of her, leading the way. She snatched up her laptop computer and plopped down on the bed. She went directly to Helga.com, which was bookmarked and handy.

“Get over here.” She commanded Dean. She yanked open her nightstand drawer and its contents (dildo and spare batteries chiefly) clattered and knocked around loudly. She produced a tape measure from the drawer and threw it at her fiancé. She instructed him in how to measure her rib cage, and then how to take her measurement at the apex of her bust. Calculating the differential as she had learned through the website’s sizing chart she found her size.

“I realize I put on a little bit of weight but this is ridiculous.” She said in self-admonishment as she proceeded to pull up her favorite styles, checking size availability. Of course the weight gain only accounted for the expanded band size. Not the leap in cup size. As Sarah moved deeper into the alphabet, fewer and fewer styles were available in her size. And they were all so expensive! She had a close look at a few of the less-expensive plus-sized bras she had previously considered too ugly and “matronly.” She decided against those. Sparing no expense she ordered four bras (in styles she knew she liked) in her new size. The total including shipping was pushing $300. They would arrive in a few days, if she was lucky.

In the meantime she would try the sex shop downtown. They might have something she could wear to help her get by until then. Unfortunately, the closest thing The Hot Zone carried in her size was a poorly-constructed spandex and lace 38 GG sequined push up bra with that was not intended to be worn as underwear. It was something an erotic dancer would wear on stage and it was $160. It fit poorly around her rib cage and the GG cups, though bigger than her H cup bra, were still inadequate. Her breasts were shoved together causing her cleavage to swell up and out. It felt like her boobs came up to her chin.

She would be forced to live with that bra for almost ten days, as her Helga order was delayed. Then delayed again.

Meanwhile, she was booked solid at work. For the first time since she opened for business she was scheduling people weeks in advance. Her schedule that week was almost 100% first-timers, which compounded Sarah’s personal discomfort. Not only was she concerned—and rightly so—that her breasts had begun to grow again, the growth spurts were actually coming closer together. The problem had her worried, and for good reason. She found it was nigh impossible to do her job without her boobs feeling like they were in the way. The men on her table would have no complaints when Sarah was unable to keep from brushing against them. The women wouldn’t appreciate it at all though.

Dean’s father had continued to refer people to her. Lots of guys. Business associates of his. She appreciated the business but many of these men made no effort to hide their leering stares when they showed up at her office and met her for the first time. They didn’t make advances, by and large. Aside from the occasional offer to take her out to dinner, they didn’t really say anything she could call rude or inappropriate. Nevertheless, the sudden volume of business, and the fact that so much of it was coming from her future father-in-law, made Sarah a little bit uneasy.

To make matters worse, Sarah’s PSAD (if that’s what it was) had continued unabated. If anything it had kicked up a notch since her most recently growth spurts. Her nipples, for starters, seemed almost to have doubled in size and were now thicker, longer, much more sensitive and were constantly erect. She could see and feel them there all the time, poking out through her cloths and projecting out in front of her like two fingertips. It was so tempting to want to try to push them in, or tape them down. But she resisted touching them at all, at least during business hours.

When her 34”Js finally arrived from Helga it was a godsend. Compared to the tacky stripper bra she had been cramming herself into, the J cups felt like heaven. The fit was surprisingly comfortable, in many ways more comfortable that she remembered her 32”H bras had been. The shoulder straps of one of the models she found were padded and nearly an inch wide. Not exactly pretty but very practical. The band was four inches wide where it fastened in the back. The garment supported and contained her breasts admirably but the look it created, the figure Sarah Waters now cut, was, quite frankly, outlandish.

The little extra bit of junk in Sarah’s trunk these days helped to balance out her figure. But only slightly. No matter how she dressed now it looked like she was hiding too balloons in her shirts. The J cups lifted her big tits and made them project almost ten inches out in front of her. The expanse of her bulging front could be seen from behind. And it was clear the things were in her way. It was also becoming clear to Sarah that from now on her breasts would be the first, if not the only thing most people would see when they looked at her. Most people would assume they were fake, that she had paid for huge stripper implants. That thought depressed her a little.

When Dean was forced to leave town for two weeks in late March for a fitness conference, Sarah reluctantly allowed him to take a couple snapshots of her, to “keep him company” while he was on the road. Though she was not in the mood at first, after a few clicks of the shutter she relaxed and had fun with it, putting on a little mini fashion show for her fiancé, modeling her new bras and a few choice items from her closet while he captured her beauty with his phone cam. His business trip would coincide with spring break and the conference was being held in a hotel in Miami South Beach, of all places. She only teased him a little about “behaving” himself while he was out of her sight, hinting at the punishment that would be waiting for him when he got back if she found out he’d been bad boy.

Two weeks was a long time; the longest they’d been apart since they first started seeing each other. Sarah was feeling down as it was, but she had her little plastic friend to keep her company while he was gone. Dean bought her plenty of extra batteries and left them in the nightstand without telling her, in case she needed them. The night before his early flight the two made love into the wee hours. Sarah was insatiable, as always, but also a bit clingy, it seemed to him, as if she wanted to give him a night he would never forget. Every time he thought they were finished Sarah would start up again, brushing one of her big tits against his face, putting one of her nipples to his mouth, intent on getting another rise out of him. Finally Dean had to beg his lover to let him get a few hours sleep before he had to wake up and leave for the airport.

A few days after Dean left town Sarah got a booking for an appointment through her new website (which, naturally, John had arranged for her, free of charge, designed and hosted by one of his clients; a web design firm Sutton Properties had recently leased office space to.)

She remembered him as one of John’s many friends but she couldn’t put a face to the name. He’d purchased a block of five ninety-minute sessions, which bumped up Sarah’s account balance by $600! Later that evening, her spirits buoyed by a couple glasses of wine, she splurged and placed another order with Helga; a couple more full-coverage underwires and an expensive sexy push up model she thought she’d surprise Dean with. Buying lingerie, she realized, could cheer her up when she was feeling down.

The following day, despite a slight headache from too much wine, Sarah finally felt like a cloud had lifted from her troubled mind. The previous night she had given herself one of the best, most intense orgasms she’d had in a long time. Maybe ever. But it wasn’t her knack with the rubber dildo, or the toy itself, that had made it happen. It was her super-charged little body. She needed it so bad, needed to get off. Like a starving man needs a square meal. And when she finally did, the overwhelming sensations that erupted inside her left her shocked and amazed. Of course it was all because of the genetically-engineered vaccine she’d volunteered to be the guinea pig for. But that fact made the incredible feelings her body was capable of no less real.

Almost nine months now since receiving the anti-virus the thing was still working its way out of her system. That much was obvious to her now. In the alone time she had while Dean was out of town she would take time to reflect on what had happened. On what she had done to herself. Though she felt a little stupid, it was too late for regrets. “What’s done is done” she told herself, washing her hands of whatever debt she owed to modesty or self-recrimination for allowing herself to be essentially genetically-altered. What had happened, while perhaps unfortunate in many ways, was, in other ways, nothing short of wonderful. A miracle even! She didn’t always like the lewd comments and wolf whistles that followed her wherever she went. (Many a day Sarah Waters would have loved nothing more than to turn back the clock and be her little old C cup self again. Just so she could disappear into the crowd forever, or even just for one day.) But turning heads constantly with her attention-getting body, attracting stares… it wasn’t all bad. Sure, sometimes she felt like a freak, or a bimbo, but mostly she felt (for better or for worse) just incredibly sexy. Often it was a great turn-on just walking down the street, knowing that the sight of her big boobs was enough to cause guys to walk into lamp posts, fall over trash cans. It made her laugh and even made her feel empowered, in a weird way.

When Tom Grossman arrived at Sarah’s place for his first massage she recognized him on sight. As soon as she laid eyes on him she remembered: the 4^th of July BBQ at the Sutton’s house. She’d managed to pretty much block that entire episode from her mind, but now it all came rushing back.

She remembered Dean going on and on about how he hated Grossman. About what a “dick” he was to him ever since Dean was a teenager. She remembered shaking his hand, and some remarks he made about the size of her diamond engagement ring. She remembered him (more so than any of the other men at the picnic) unabashedly ogling her in the tight tee shirt and shorts she wore that day.

Grossman presented himself as a complete gentleman on this day though. Explaining to her that he had strained his back recently while golfing, and that John had urged him to call her, saying that she was “the best.” He appeared to be in pain, but despite that he was perfectly disarming. The furthest thing from the “dick” Dean had complained about.

“I think I may have pulled something, or pinched a nerve” he warned, unsuccessfully averting his gaze from the young woman’s big tits, which were bigger and sexier now than he remembered. Sarah noticed him linger a second or two longer than she would like. But she could forgive a guy for noticing what was impossible ignore. So long as he didn’t leer.

“Yes, well let me see.” In the small room she kept as her office, Sarah stood up and moved behind Grossman and put her hands on his back, pressing between his trapezius muscles and moving down his spine. Grossman sat upright in his chair staring at the empty bulletin board next to Sarah’s cluttered little desk.

Sarah led Grossman from the tiny office into the adjacent dimly-lit room where her massage table was located. She instructed him to disrobe down to his underwear and lay face down on the table beneath the sheet, then left the room, saying she’d be back in a minute.

Despite herself, Sarah felt her cheeks immediately flush. Her face felt hot. She drank a glass of water from the water cooler she kept in her office and looked at herself in the little mirror on the wall above the cooler. She stood up straight and pulled back her shoulders, checking her reflection. The scoop neck black pullover she was wearing was showing a bit more cleavage than usual. She tugged on the neckline of the shirt and situated her girls inside their confinement, unconsciously giving her nipples a slight tweak in the process.

“You’ve got ninety minutes to get through, Sarah. Calm yourself.” She took a few long slow deep breaths and closed her eyes, attempting to clear her head. She could feel the heat moving down into her chest.

It had been more than a minute when she realized she needed to get to work on her customer.

When she returned to the room, Grossman was laying out face down as instructed, the white linen sheet covering him from ankles to shoulders. Sarah folded the sheet back from his shoulders, exposing his bare back, and began to work on his muscles. He wasn’t as beefy or bulky in his musculature as Dean, but his body was well-toned and very strong. For the first half hour she worked on his back and legs, then instructed him to roll over onto his back.

Every motion Sarah made with her arms resulted in contact with the side of her breast, and when she worked both hands on one muscle group her boobs crowded together, giving her a view of her own cleavage that proved to be no small distraction.

When Grossman rolled over he looked at Sarah for the first time since the massage began. From his vantage point on the table looking up at her, her tantalizing tits looked just enormous, looming large and round in her tight black top. Sarah ignored his gaze as she applied oil to her hands and proceeded to work on his legs. Grossman closed his eyes and lay quietly, yet surreptitiously he stole glimpses of Sarah as she worked on him, drinking in the sight of her cleavage as she worked her skinny arms on his legs.

It was when Sarah began to work her way up her customer’s thigh that she noticed it; the man was sporting an erection beneath the sheet. Usually when this happened the customer would show some embarrassment, or Sarah would intervene and calmly ask them to roll over, but this time—for some reason—she hesitated, pretending not to notice. Grossman’s cock was further aroused as he felt the young woman’s trained fingers creep higher on his upper thigh. She smiled to herself when it was clear to her that the man had removed his briefs, that he was completely naked, and the thin white fabric was the only thing standing between them. With closed eyes Grossman drew a deep breath, inhaling the potpourri scent that infused the air, as well as Sarah’s perfume. He deliberately coaxed an extra surge of blood into his shaft, causing it to swell and extend further behind the sheet. He was tenting the fabric now, he realized.

“Maybe you would like to roll over on your stomach now.” Sarah cleared a frog in her throat as she spoke, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Grossman could feel her hands were still on his body as she said this. He opened his eyes and looked down. His erection was lifting the sheet away from his body and Sarah’s eyes were drawn to it. He lifted up onto one elbow and smiled as Sarah’s eyes met his.

Sarah’s face was red. Was she angry? Embarrassed? Her enticing cleavage was blotchy with pink and red patches as well. She took a step back from the table, seemingly at a loss for words.

The man turned on his side, as if to roll over, when he noticed the girl’s body twitch visibly, and her knees knock together. She bit her lip and winced, as if in pain, before finally staggering backwards and crashing into the wall, her big boobs shaking like Jell-O.

Grossman jumped up, letting the sheet fall from his body. His cock stood at full attention, dripping pre-cum. Sarah looked at it. Her eyes were wide with shock and disbelief, partly out of mortification that she had spontaneously just had an orgasm at the table, but also at the sight of what she was sure was the largest penis she’d ever seen.

She clamped her eyes shut and mewled as an aftershock ripped through her, causing her to convulse slightly against the wall. Grossman approached. She clutched at her clothing, seeming intent on covering herself, or covering her shame. He thought he heard her suppress a groan, as if in pain.

“Please, don’t.” Her eyes were fixated on his cock. Hungrily. He could see that now. Was this huge-titted woman jerking herself off while she was massaging him? He couldn’t believe his eyes. As he took a step closer, his cock still standing at attention, Sarah put a hand out. “Stay back, please.” Her eyes were streaming tears, as the panic and humiliation of her situation seized her.

She was standing at the table, bracing herself along its edge with both hands. Her knuckles were white. The customer was lying there, sheet in place, lying face down. Sarah’s arousal still surged and her pussy twitched with desire, but she had not orgasmed. She had not fallen to the floor. Tom Grossman had not moved.

Sarah looked at her customer, incredulous. His unmistakable bulge was visible through the sheet, but was nothing like what she thought she saw just a moment ago, when the man’s foot long monster was exposed and coming toward her.

“Uh, yeah. Why don’t you roll over. Will you excuse me for a moment? I’ll be right back.”

Sarah retreated to the rest room down the hall and frigged herself to a quick and efficient orgasm. She took an extra moment to look at herself in the mirror. What had just happened?

When Grossman was dressed and ready to leave he raved about her skills and thanked her for the relief. His back felt much better. He’d be telling all his friends about her. Et cetera. Sarah smiled, seeing dollar signs now when she looked at the handsome man and the expensive gold watch on his wrist. She thanked him and reminded him (and herself) that he had booked his next appointment for that Friday.

“So, how’s that boyfriend of yours these days?” Grossman inquired as he moved toward the door to leave.

“On business, eh? I didn’t know gym rats went on business trips” he joked. Getting in a friendly jab at Dean was de rigueur for Grossman. “What kind of business trip is it?” he wanted to know. She felt like she should be able to answer that question in greater detail, but in actuality she knew little about what the conference was about. “It’s a fitness conference. Trainers meet… I don’t know, honestly.” She laughed nervously as she showed him to the door.

“Well, if you get bored while my buddy’s out of town, maybe you’d let me take you out to dinner some night. Just dinner, of course. My treat.”

Sarah rebuffed his offer as nicely as she knew how. This playboy charmer was not Dean’s “buddy”, she reminded herself, and besides, she was spoken for. He was merely a customer, and he still had four more sessions lined up, possibly more if she was lucky.

At the end of their Friday afternoon session Grossman was again full of praise for her talents and grateful for the relief he was feeling in his poor back. “You’re a life saver, Sarah. I owe you big tim.” Before she could shake his hand or say thanks Grossman was extending his arms for a hug. She let herself be hugged by the man, feeling his arms encircle her and give her a friendly squeeze, enough that he could feel her soft chest compressed against him.

“Sure you won’t let me take you out” he said with the unflappable determination and ease of a career lady-charmer. It was 6PM Friday afternoon and he naturally assumed Sarah would be headed out right behind him.

“Well, you have my number. If you get hungry this weekend, give me a call.” He wished her a good weekend and left. Sarah was proud of how she handled herself, and relieved that “that dick Grossman” (as Dean referred to him) had proved a gentleman and that he would take no for an answer.

That night Sarah called Dean in Miami. It was late in the evening and he was in his hotel room. She could hear other people in the background, and Dean had had a few drinks, it was obvious. She let him know how much she missed him, and he assured her he was missing her too. Sarah could feel the distance through the phone connection like never before.

“Oh that’s Kendell. He’s one of the trainers we worked with this afternoon. He’s a funny guy.”

She heard laughter, then the phone was taken from Dean and passed from person to person. She heard the man’s voice again, this time speaking directly to her. “I’m looking at you right now. You’re something else, you know that??”

Sarah felt her anger flare. Dean was showing strangers her photos?!?! She heard a woman laughing. “Those aren’t real! Give me that. I wanna see!”

There was another struggle for the phone then Dean came back on the line. “I’m sorry about that honey. These guys have had a few too many tonight.”

Sarah heard voices in the background again. It didn’t just sound like a couple people in his room. It sounded like a full-on party. Dean shut himself in the bathroom but Sarah could still hear the voices muffled behind the door.

“Sarah, calm down it’s just some of the other trainers. We’re having a few drinks. It’s nothing to get worried about. I swear.”

“Get worried? Who said I’m getting worried?” Sarah wanted to hang up the phone. She sat in silence. Waiting for Dean to put his other foot in his mouth.

“Honey? I miss you..” he said. She could hear him slurring his speech. Suddenly she heard the loud thud of the bathroom door bursting open.

“Hi, Tits! Hey Dean, say hi to Tits for me…” she heard a woman’s voice in the bathroom, followed by cackling laughter.

Sarah hung up the phone. When Dean tried to call her back she didn’t pick up. After three attempts she turned off her phone and threw it in her purse. Her heart was pounding. How dare he show her picture around like that? She’d agreed to pose for him. For him and ONLY him! And who are these bitches he’s getting high with, calling her Tits? The image in her mind of the bunch of them in that hotel room laughing at her and passing their fucking bong around like brain-dead sorority girls. It made her sick.

She went to bed mad that night. Devastated. Laying on her back with her huge wobbling tits blocking her view, Sarah was reminded that she could hardly blame those women for calling her Tits. “Is that what Dean thinks of you now?” she wondered. Though it pissed her off, what could she say? She felt like Tits. Though she hated herself for it she tugged and twisted on her stubborn nipples, relishing the delicious feelings fluttering in her chest. Her snatch needed attention before she’d be able to fall asleep, and Sarah rutted away at herself with her trusty vibrator until finally, with tears in her eyes, she found relief. But it was purely out of basic physical need. Or habit maybe. She just didn’t know anymore.

The next morning she fast-forwarded through Dean’s voicemails. She wasn’t in the mood to hear his excuses or his apologies. The last message was from a drunken Kendell, who apologized for accidentally dialing her number. He clumsily explained that Dean was “passed out” and that he “behaved himself” and “don’t you worry.” She heard the girls murmuring in the background then she heard “Goodnight Tits” followed by “shut up!” followed by “fuck you, bitch” followed by laughter, then the call cut off. Sarah felt like she wanted to throw up.

In the time it took her to make it through all the voicemails there’d been another incoming call. There was a message. It was from Tom Grossman.

“Just thought I’d check again. Worried you might get lonely this weekend, or hungry, or whatever. Give me a call sometime.”

She wasn’t going to call Dean back, she decided. Why make it easy on him? She wasn’t in the mood to go shopping. She was tired from a busy week, and didn’t feel like seeing anybody, but she wanted to stay off the couch and out of the bedroom. She’d spent the morning wallowing around feeling sorry for her self and ignoring nature’s call. “I’ve been masturbating altogether too much” she told herself. “What’s wrong with you, girl? You need to learn some self-control. You need to get out of the house.”

Around noon she threw on a pair of jeans and her old zip up hoodie and a little bit of makeup, grabbed her purse and bolted out the front door, not knowing where she was headed. She needed to clear her head, and so she walked wherever her feet would take her. The Spring air still had a nip in it, but it was sunny and the trees were beginning to bud. She wound up down at a nearby city park where folks were walking dogs and pushing strollers and riding bikes along the paths.

It felt so good to just be out and walking in the fresh air, stretching her legs. She wasn’t dressed for jogging but as she felt her heart rate climb a little she picked up the pace, careful not to get her chest jumping too vigorously. Inevitably came the looks and the smiles and scowls and the second glances. Even dressed like a slob and out for an innocent stroll she attracted attention with her tits.

Her phone rang in her purse. She slowed down and pulled it out to see who was calling. Dean no doubt. But it wasn’t Dean, it was Tom Grossman. “Wow, you are nothing if not persistent, aren’t you” she said to herself with a smile. On a lark she decided to pick up.

“Much better thanks to you. So much better. I gotta thank you again. You’re a miracle worker.”

“Oh, nothing’s up. I guess. I just wanted to thank you again. I’d really love to repay the favor though.”

After an awkward silence Sarah broke in, “Look, I’m kinda busy right now.” She arched her back and stretched in the sun, thrusting her chest out.

An old woman walked by, scowling at Sarah as she walked by. Sarah turned her back to her and wandered off the path toward a picnic table.

“I’ve been out since 7AM with a client. Money never sleeps, unfortunately.”

“Well, technically I was at the golf course with some investors. I think I’ve sealed the deal on big condo development that we’ve been trying to get off the ground for over a year now. I’m kind of in the mood to celebrate. What are you doing tonight?”

“Oh come on. You have to eat don’t you? I really want to do something nice for you, after you helped me this week. And I always hate celebrating alone. I’d consider it a favor to me.”

She wasn’t out to punish Dean for his behavior last night. Or maybe she was. She wasn’t sure why she was agreeing to dinner with another man. Especially this man. On the other hand she wasn’t convinced that Dean hadn’t been up to worse things than he was letting on, possibly with Tiffany, or Kara, or Liz. She decided she had every right, under the circumstances, to go out on a Saturday night for an innocent dinner.

Tom didn’t say where they were going but she dressed up for the occasion just in case, deciding on a white sleeveless blouse with darts. It was fitted nicely to her busty figure, especially with the sexy new push-up bra she was wearing out for the first time, but it also looked very smart and stylish with a high collar. She wore a pair of black slacks and a pair of open toe sandals with a 3” heel and before she was done she was wearing a tad more makeup than her usual, giving herself a dramatic smoky eye, high cheekbones and even bit of lipstick to complete the look.

When Tom picked her up in his Escalade he was taken aback. For once he didn’t ogle her cleavage, even though it was bared for his viewing pleasure.

Sarah blushed at her clumsy compliment. Did she really mean to say he looked ‘gorgeous’? For a guy pushing 40 he did look good, she had to admit. Really good, and with a sense of style that made him seem closer to 30. Dressed in a colorful striped dress shirt with embroidery around the pockets and cuffs, gold chain, and tastefully distressed skinny jeans that she knew must have set him back for well over $300, Tom looked casual but he also looked like a million bucks.

During the short ride to the restaurant Tom explained all the boring details of his big condo deal. “500 units on ten acres, right on the waterfront. I mean, this thing is huge.” He managed to get Sarah excited. Or at least impressed. She had no idea he made that kind of money. Not that that should have anything to do with it, but as they exited the freeway into downtown Sarah could feel herself getting a little turned on. She pushed the feeling back down, refusing to give it any encouragement.

The valet at Monsoon seemed happy to see Tom coming. He was a good tipper, no doubt. Sarah felt like a million bucks as she stepped out of the SUV and walked along a red carpet into the front entrance of the trendy restaurant. She’d heard of the place but her and Dean could never afford even the appetizers.

Sarah put her troubles to the back of her mind and decided to enjoy herself. Maybe Dean thought this guy was a “dick” but her experience of him so far had been the complete opposite.

“I have something I want to give you” Tom announced after the couple had ordered. If you don’t mind.

Tom pulled a small robin’s egg blue jewelry box out of his pocket. She recognized it as a Tiffany’s box. That name! It sent her mind back to her call with Dean the night before. Grossman opened up the tiny box and lifted out a thin gold chain with a gold teardrop-shaped pendant hanging from it. The pendant seemed to have a diamond setting. Sarah nearly spit out her champagne at the sight of it.

“Nonsense. This is the least I can do. It’s my way of saying thanks. You have no idea the pain I was in until you fixed me.”

“But Tom, it’s too much. I can’t accept this” she said as he held the glittering gold necklace out, offering it to her.

The diamond caught the light and it was plain to see the diamond was big; bigger than the diamond in Dean’s tiny engagement ring she was wearing.

“Don’t worry. I can afford it. Especially after today.” Tom stood up and walked around behind Sarah. “May I?” he lowered the chain in front of her. She lifted her silky blonde hair off her shoulders and permitted Tom to encircle her neck with the gold chain, fastening it.

“Tom. I appreciate the gesture but… I just feel bad accepting this from you.”

“Nonsense. If you feel so bad go and sell it, or give it to your mother for all I care. I’m giving it to you to make me feel better, I guess. I love to celebrate and I love to give presents.”

The innocent mention of her mom gave Sarah pause. She’d been gone for two years now. The disease that had claimed her… it was what had caused Sarah to volunteer for that study, which in turn caused her to turn into the over-sexed big-titted eye magnet that Tom was obviously very much interested in, to the point of not giving a rat’s ass about the fact that he was moving on another man’s fiancé. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She felt so alone.

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry. Thank you for the necklace. It’s beautiful. It really is beautiful, and you’re so sweet. Thank you.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. Tom returned the gesture, placing his hand atop hers. They broke off their hold on one another when the waiter returned with their steaks.

Sarah ate like she hadn’t eaten in a long time. Though she put up a protest, she even relented to dessert upon Tom’s insistence. When the couple left the restaurant it was after 9PM. Sarah was feeling quite full and more than a little tipsy. The valet held the door for Sarah as she stepped back into the Escalade. The gold pendant tickled her neck. While Tom tipped the valet, she flipped down the sun visor and checked herself in the lighted mirror. The chain around neck shimmered. The diamond was big! She smoothed her hair and plucked at the collar of her blouse, which felt unaccountably snug at the moment, and was visibly tight judging from the way it was stretched across her bustline. The buttons were straining and gaps were showing. She chalked it up to the large meal she’d just had.

Her phone beeped inside her purse. She was getting a text message, from Dean. “Hi, Tits. Enjoy your tits, Tits. xoxo love Tiffany.” Another message followed. It was a photo of Sarah. One of the photos Dean had taken of her, with a caption, “Hahaha.” Another message followed. It was a photo of Dean dancing in a hotel room with two women.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She jammed her phone into her purse and stared out the windshield, doing her best to hide her rage and embarrassment.

“Well, it’s not exactly late. My place isn’t far from here. Could I interest you in another drink?”

Sarah looked over at Tom. She didn’t want to be alone right now. But she didn’t necessarily want to go home with this man. Why was Dean doing this? What had she done to deserve this? That asshole.

Under different circumstances Sarah might have been impressed by Grossman’s apartment. It was three times the size of her place, and had a balcony with a hot tub, leather sofa, huge fireplace. But all Sarah could think about was how furious she was at Dean. She paced around the strange living room, drinking a glass of wine, staring silently out at the city lights.

“Well, it wasn’t my plan, exactly… for you to come home with me tonight but I’m glad you did.” He held his glass up to hers and clinked it.

Sarah forced a smile and took a gulp of wine, emptying her glass. Grossman refilled it. Sarah took another sip, spilling a little bit onto her white blouse.

“Oops, careful” Grossman said, worried about her shirt but also about his white carpet. Sarah licked her lips and moved to the music a little bit. “It’s okay. It’s white wine it’ll come out. Right?”

Grossman couldn’t believe how hot Sarah was. Tiny by all accounts, she barely came up to his chest. But that body. Especially those incredible tits. He couldn’t believe that dumbass Dean lucked into this situation. As the music played and the wine went to work, Sarah began to loosen up, moving her ass, fiddling with the diamond hanging around her neck, tickling her cleavage.

“I love my new necklace, thank you again.” She said as Grossman moved his body a little bit, happy that she appreciated his extravagant gift. Sarah spun around and shook her rear end in his direction, then spun around again, laughing as she did.

Suddenly she winced, scrunching her face into a contorted expression. She appeared to be in pain.

“No. It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.” She forced a smile and held her glass aloft, its contents sloshing back and forth. She bit her lip and placed her other hand flat on her chest, feeling the heat rise from her body. Tom danced around her. Sarah turned her back to him slipped her fingers inside her blouse, feeling one breast. It felt swollen. Her bra, not surprisingly, felt extra tight. She turned back to face Tom. “Can I use your bathroom?” She asked happily. “Sure, down the hall, second door on the right.”

Sarah made a bee line for the bathroom, breaking into a hurried skip as she neared the door.

Tom figured she had too much to drink and paid it no mind. Inside the granite-lined spa bathroom Sarah was lit from all around by suspended halogen lights. She eyed her boobs, which looked to be swollen. Her shirt looked like it was ready to split at the seams. The tell-tale signs of faint blue veins were showing beneath the pale taut skin of her cleavage.

“Oh no, Sarah. Not again.” She took a gulp of wine and unbuttoned her top button, providing her girls with a little bit extra room to breath. “Are you having another little growth spurt, my love?” she asked her reflection. She placed her flattened palms in front of her immense tits and compressed them against her body. They felt firm and full. Her nipples were stiff and tingling. Her first thought was to get Tom to drive her home. Now.

She needed to pee so she peeled her tight pants off and sat on the toilet and relieved herself. As she wiped she could feel her lips were also swollen and tender. Without thinking she slipped a finger into her snatch and felt the moist flood of her vaginal juices pour out, soaking her hand.

“God, not now. You can’t be doing this.” Sarah got up from the toilet and pulled her pants back on over her plump ass. She checked herself in the mirror. Her nipples were showing plainly through her blouse, and her breasts were exploding from her bra. The diamond around her neck shone in the light and produced a flutter in her chest.

She bolted from the bathroom, leaving her wine glass behind. She strode back into the living room, her boobs jouncing painfully inside her shirt.

She looked at him, noticing that the neck of his shirt was open, his head swaying to the music.

“Sure, I can take you home. Is everything alright? Do you feel okay?” He asked with a concerned expression on his face.

“Yeah, I just think I really need to go home.” Her eyes had a hard time meeting his. She bit her lip and held her stomach. Was she sick? Then she laughed and shook her head. Tom put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get my keys, okay?” Just then Sarah put her hand on his and looked up into his eyes. She looked surprised by something, or… happy?

Sarah grabbed Tom’s shirt and pulled him to her. “Does it feel hot in here?” She asked him.

Sarah took Tom’s hand and placed it on her chest. “No, in here.” Tom could feel the heat rising from her body. She arched her back and pushed herself into him, looking into his mouth as her lips found his. Even the inside of her mouth felt hot as his tongue probed it. Grossman squeezed the girl’s big round boob with his hand. It felt surprisingly firm and heavy, really substantial, almost like implants he’d felt. But he happened to know Sarah Waters didn’t have implants. She was one of these Big Boob Virus women who’d volunteered for that medical study he’d seen on the news. That was why he’d taken such an interest in her. And now finally he actually had her in his apartment, and she was all but throwing herself at him.

Inside Sarah’s body, breast tissues were flooded with genetically-altered growth hormone. The elaborate bifurcating network of ducts, lobules, glands and surrounding layers of proliferating adipose tissue extending back from her overdeveloped nipples were on the brink of one last mutation. Every time Sarah’s breasts had undergone a growth spurt, this branching network of mammary development had split, and doubled, and redoubled. Her growth, like all the women in the study, occurred in sudden exponential leaps. One gland would branch into eight. Eight glands would branch into sixtyfour. Sixty four would branch into five hundred and twelve. Five hundred and twelve would branch into four thousand ninety six. And so on. And along with that growth, like another puberty, would come yet another rematuration of her sexual response, another redevelopment and strengthening of the nervous system’s sexual circuitry that connected nipple to clitoris to brain. And as much as she had hoped and prayed that the growth spurts were behind her, she was already feeling the first signs of one last spurt.

Grossman was pleased, though a little surprised, at how suddenly and forcefully the little slut had thrown herself at him, grabbing at his ass, forcing her tongue down his throat, driving her big tits into him.

“I think you’re so hot. And such a gentleman.” She cooed, blowing her hot damp breath into his ear. “Not like some men I’ve known.”

She began to unbutton her constricting blouse, but some of the buttons came loose and went flying across the room. The enormous white bra she was wearing wasn’t enormous enough to contain her burgeoning tits.

As if she could read his mind Sarah answered. “My boobs, I… it’s a long story, but I think I might be having a little growth spurt here. I could explain it but it’d take too long.” She reached over to remove Tom’s shirt, preferring instead to jerk it open, sending his buttons flying too. Then she moved to his pants and began yanking on them until she had them down. Inside his briefs his cock was standing at attention. When Sarah pulled back on the elastic waistband his erection lept out, nearly catching her in the face. Sarah jumped backward and gawked at it. It looked to be as large as Dean’s beauty.

Sarah felt her flesh crawl. The sight of the beautiful cock set off a fireworks inside her bosom. Her body cried out for him, as the elastic of her bra sliced into her. “Come on, help me get this thing off” Sarah pleaded. Tom obliged and helped Sarah unhook the formidable undergarment. With the unhooking of the last hook the thing snapped free and was tossed aside. She wriggled out of her pants and kicked her shoes off, her burning tits hanging heavily from her tiny body, stretching her skin. The cool air felt fantastic on her overheated body. Sarah wasted no time in moving into position atop Grossman’s pole.

“What’s the hurry he asked. Take it slow.” He didn’t want to hurt the girl. Sarah smiled and eased herself down, her sopping wet pussy accommodating his big tool with no trouble. She moaned her approval as the entire length of his inhumanly long dick filled her up. He put his hands to Sarah’s bare breasts. They were almost hot to the touch, the marks from where her bra had been digging into her were still visible, as were some distinct blue veins.

He placed her hands on her breasts and let her feel what she already knew to be true. With every pulse of her beating heart she could feel the pounding, the crawling sensation, almost like a tickle deep down inside, like a trickle, like an itch she could never scratch. It felt wonderful!

Sarah giggled and pumped her hips atop Grossman’s cock like no woman he’d ever been with. She felt so tight, yet seemed to be bottomless. Insatiable. Repeating the words, “Give it to me. Give it to me. Come on!” Over and over again, until she would seize up and an orgasm would shake her body. Then she would continue, pumping her hips, chasing her next orgasm.

They went on like this until Grossman thought he might give out from exhaustion. He counted six big orgasms that were strong enough to cause Sarah to grunt, in a low guttural voice, like an animal. He lost count of the smaller ones in between that left her laughing and sighing in delirium.

When finally her last big orgasm hit her, Sarah’s body shook. He thought perhaps she was having a seizure of some kind before finally she began crying out in pleasure, grasping at her burning tits before finally collapsing on top of him.

“Oh god, it won’t stop. Oh Tom… what’s happening to me??” She fought for breath as she lay atop him. His spent cock lay limp between his legs. Sarah pumped her hips against nothing but air then, suddenly, her face lit up with surprise. “Oh no. No no no no no no… OH!” The two felt Sarah’s breasts as they seemed to shudder, then looked on in awe as they began to visibly grow before their very eyes, like a pot of water slowly coming to a boil, imperceptibly slow at first, then…

Sarah’s already huge boobs grew even more, stretching her skin painfully, filling her hands to overflowing until she had to let them go. They came to rest in her lap. She could feel them brushing the tops of her thighs, the flesh tingling almost, like little needles, like a faucet had been turned on, released a gusher inside. Tom’s cock sprang back to life at the sight of Sarah’s body surging toward him, beyond her control, areola expanded to the size of saucers, nipples now as large as a man’s thumbs, or…

As soon as it started it stopped. Sarah was left panting, on all fours, her angry red teats hanging down like two cow udders, blue veins criss-crossing across their surface, her sore nipples brushing the floor.

Grossman sat in stunned silence, drinking in the bizarre sight. He was enthralled, and turned on, but also slightly repulsed. As Sarah raised up and sat back on her haunches her face was drenched with sweat, nose running, lips dry and parched. Her blonde hair was a tangled wet mass, her makeup smeared across her cheeks. She, snorted loudly, clearing her clogged sinues, licked her lips and coughed, staring off into the distance as she righted herself, not caring where she was or what she looked like. Sitting upright, she felt the weight of her heavy tits as it settled on her small frame. A tiny orgasm seized her, an aftershock, causing her to clench her abdominals as she pissed out a quantity of ejaculate all over Grossman’s white rug.

Grossman moved back away from her slightly, checking the odd look in her eyes. Sarah moved unsteadily to her feet. The force of gravity on the dead weight of her breasts pulled her down and forward. Her center of gravity felt all wrong.

“Do you want…” Grossman sat glued to the spot, not knowing what to do or say.

Sarah didn’t look at him, only brushed him away from her with her two limp hands. She still had the distant stare in her eyes when finally she gained her balance and started walking back toward the bathroom. Her unsupported breasts now hung down to her waist. She could feel her skin moving against her stomach.

Sarah bypassed the bathroom and instead walked directly into Tom Grossman’s darkened bedroom. Swiping her hand along the wall inside the doorway she flipped a switch, turning on an array of designer halogen lights that were positioned around the room. She rummaged through her drawers until she found a large tee shirt that looked like it might fit her.

When she returned to the living room the surprise and fatigue and the distant stare were gone from her face, as was her smile. “Mind if I borrow this?” she asked. Without waiting for a response she retrieved her panties from the floor and, after a couple clumsy failed attempts, stepped into them. Then she paulled on the dress pants she’d worn to dinner, and her sandals.

Grossman, dumbfounded, grabbed his keys and held the door for Sarah as she led the way back to his SUV.

Sarah didn’t say a word on the drive back to her apartment sometime after 1AM.

Her wits were slowly coming back to her: there was the anger she still felt toward Dean, toward Nature, toward Science. And she was especially irritated now by the unwanted and persistent little orgasms which seemed only to taunt her in her present predicament as she sat as quiet and as still as possible in the passenger seat of Grossman’s SUV.

With the diamond necklace still around her neck (hidden now by the drab oversized Fidelity Bank 10k Fun Run tee shirt she borrowed from Grossman) Sarah said a quick goodbye and disappeared into the entry of her apartment building. The shapeless bulk of his tee shirt was the last thing he saw as the door closed behind her.

Sarah removed Grossman’s shirt and threw it into the corner as soon as she got to her bedroom. She climbed into bed wearing only her panties, her soft pendulous tits pulling her with them onto the mattress. The scary blue veins were gone. The skin no longer felt stretched or tight. She curled up on her side, encircling her flesh with her arms. Stacked atop each other her breasts shifted independently of her. They were set in motion by her slightest movement. Though Sarah was beyond tired, the great quivering mass seemed restless, unable to settle down. She tried to find a comfortable position. Lying on her stomach was out of the question. She tried rolling onto her back but that was even worse. She clutched at her sprawling breasts, clawing into them with her fingers, feeling the thick rubbery stalk behind her nipples as it submerged deep into the expansive pillow of flesh. Praying now for the sweet relief of sleep that wouldn’t come, Sarah manipulated the huge mounds, tugging and twisting her thick nipples, enjoying the light show behind her eyelids as the incredible sensations erupted like fireworks, washing away—for the moment—her regret, her disgust over the scene at Grossman’s, her anger at Dean, her worry about what was to become of her. It didn’t occur to her to measure herself. She was too tired to bother with that. She wasn’t even curious to find out what size of a harness she would need for her breasts now. She only knew that they were huge. Terribly huge. Embarrassingly huge.

She woke the next morning to one errant breast rolling off the one beneath it, bouncing softly against her chin. A rude awakening and a reminder that the previous night had not been a dream or a hallucination.

She sat up in bed. Her big boobs gathered in her lap, seeming to fill it. She leaned over to the nightstand for her tape measure. The weight of her swinging breasts nearly dragged her down onto the floor.

With no small amount of difficulty Sarah took her own measurements, did the calculations and found something on Helga.com that would fit her. She ordered three bras in size 34” K cup, paying the extra this time for rush delivery and cursing the brassiere industry for making life so hard for women like her.

She would cancel her appointments on Monday and Tuesday. Hopefully by Wednesday she’d be able to go back to work. Until then she would live off pizza and cable TV. She ventured outside the house once Sunday afternoon, dressed in her dark hoodie and sweat pants. No one at the supermarket paid her as much as a passing glance. Without the support and shape that a bra would provide, Sarah simply looked fat. Or possibly pregnant. This fact didn’t help her mood.

When she finally spoke to Dean on Sunday she thought she was prepared to listen to his apologies. He simply had too much to drink, he assured her. Nothing happened. He passed out on the bed. She wasn’t satisfied. She still felt angry. She allowed that they would talk about it when he got home and cut the call short, leaving him feeling horrible for the remainder of the week. She would tell Dean about her date with Grossman and then, she reasoned, they would be even.

She decided not to mention anything about her boobs, saving that little bombshell for when he returned.

By Monday night (as she lay awake in bed at 5AM masturbating, praying for sleep) it was abundantly clear to Sarah that her Persistent Sexual Arousal Disorder was very real, as was her full-blown case of macromastia. The huge boobs were one thing. Nothing a sturdy bra couldn’t handle. But this feeling of sexual arousal that never fully subsided, that never quite left her as much as a moment’s peace to the point of waking her up in the middle of the night… well, that was something of a concern to her now.

Pleasuring herself didn’t relieve it. Ignoring it only made it worse. According to the PSAD website, some felt that chiropractic therapy helped to relieve it, believing that the condition was caused by a vertebrae pinching some kind of nerve down there. Others claimed that acupuncture helped. Most insisted that nothing really helped, that your best hope is that it was “a phase” and that some day it would just go away on its own. Sarah felt helpless. To her mortified chagrin, just reading about the disorder turned her on.

Tuesday morning arrived and along with it the cute FedEx man with her box from Helga. The 34”K cup bras were ridiculous, like silken parachutes. But they fit nicely and, to her surprise, they shaped and supported her two huge masses of tit admirably. If Sarah’s bosom was outlandish before, now it was bordering on the ridiculous. Checking herself in the mirror, she could barely reconcile the immense pair of tits with the tiny woman they were attached to. Indeed it looked more like the tiny woman was attached to the immense pair of tits! As she turned at the waist and posed herself in the mirror it looked as if the two great boobs were pulling her around, leading her this way and that, moving ahead of her, almost apart from her. (If little Sarah had taken high school physics she would have studied about the laws inertia and forward momentum and she would know that—indeed—this was exactly what was happening!)

“You’ll just have to get used to it, honey” she said as she turned her back on her reflection and walked away. But even without the aid of a mirror, Sarah was confronted with the sight of her two enormous breasts as they preceded her, leaping out ahead of her, pointing the way wherever she turned.

The first day with her new bras it felt as though she was colliding with everything; door ways, people. When she went back to work on Wednesday she found her job more challenging than ever. Working with her big boobs was no easy task. In fact they were just plain in the way now, no matter how she wanted to look at it. It was almost a joke. She found herself incredibly aroused by the bodies she worked on. During longer sessions she routinely excused herself to her office where she would quickly “rub one out” before returning to her customers. Aside from that, she was constantly on the verge of little orgasms. Sometimes, she decided, it was alright to just let them come. Her male customer’s might hear her emit pleasant sighs from time to time, but nothing that might cause suspicion that something… inappropriate was going on. Her female clients would probably be harder to fool. All of her customers were nice people. Sarah was a nice person. But how much longer, she wondered, before her customers would drop the pretense of niceness?

She had spoken with Tom prior to his session, thanking him for Saturday night, apologizing for the scene she’d caused. She reminded him that she was still engaged to Dean and that she planned to tell her fiancé what had happened and was determined to work things out. Tom was gracious and understanding and even apologetic that he had “taken advantage” of her, though the cheap imitation diamond he gave her absolved him of any such crime, he figured. He wasn’t interested in a relationship with Sarah anyhow. Yes, she was hot as hell, but with those ridiculous tits… he could never be with someone like that. Not seriously. (Besides, he had a girlfriend!)

He was nevertheless pleased, and a little surprised, when Sarah agreed to see him for his regular appointment. When he arrived at her office at 3PM that afternoon, the electricity between them was still crackling in the air. Sarah, to his amused delight, was wearing her new necklace.

Though the honest compliment seemed like a bizarre understatement, as she stood before him with breasts dramatically and inexplicably larger than the last time he’d visited her in this office less than a week ago. She had dark circles under her eyes, from lack of sleep. She looked, for all intents and purposes, like she belonged on stage in a strip club—as the headliner. Or in a seedy magazine. Sarah took Tom’s compliment at face value, not knowing what else to say (or how to act, for that matter.)

When inevitably she got back to work on Tom’s body, and found her self in proximity to his erection, Sarah felt the urge to just go ahead take it in her hands this time. She lingered on the area for a time, working it slowly and lovingly while a sweet orgasm surged through her. She sighed softly, making little effort at concealing what was all too obvious.

Tom shifted slightly on the table, his cock pulsing with life beneath the thin sheet. It was getting toward the end of his ninety minutes. He noticed Sarah licking her lips. The delicate teardrop diamond pendant dancing around the swells of her cleavage.

“I guess I am a little uncomfortable” he said. “Are we almost finished?”

“Huh? Oh… yes. We’re almost finished.” Sarah worked Tom’s upper thigh, letting her fingers slip dangerously close to the base of his erect cock. Who was she fooling? Him? Herself?

“Sarah…” Tom reached up with his hand and grasped Sarah’s wrist gently. Their eyes met briefly. Without need of force he gently moved her hand to his cock. She encircled it without resisting. She felt the heat from it, felt the thick veins and the blood pumping into it. She could practically feel his pulse, so sensitized was she to the touch of his throbbing organ. All of the air seemed to go out of the room as Sarah stood motionless, helpless.

“I………….. I don’t know.” She hesitated for a moment, but didn’t remove her hand. She eyed Dean’s little engagement ring on her finger.

It was all the encouragement Sarah needed. She began stroking the long beautiful cock she had made love too not five days prior. Though now, sober and fully aware of what she was doing, this was a different kind of indiscretion altogether. And oddly enough, it felt… okay. It felt right, she thought, as her skinny arm repeatedly bounced off the side of her huge tit. It felt, somehow, as though it was simply part of the job.

Before she knew it Grossman was spewing thick white ropes of cum from the tip of his long dick. Sarah aimed it toward his chest and squeezed it tightly in her hand, milking it, releasing the load all over him until finally he stopped spurting. His ninety minutes was up.

“Okay.” Sarah said softly, wiping her hand on the sheet and covering him up. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. We’re finished now.

The next morning she found herself with another first-time customer. Another man she’d never met before. He’d found her through her website. Toward the end of the hour, after ignoring the man’s hard-on throughout the massage, she finally let her hands get closer and closer to it until she heard him sigh.

“Would you like for me to finish you now?” She asked quietly. Her mind was someplace else, yet she was very much in the moment.

Without thinking too much about it, and with a flutter in her chest, Sarah nervously slipped her hands under the sheet and took the man’s penis in her hand. It was small. Barely six inches long. She pumped it a few times, letting the man laying on her table have a good look at her boobs. Before she could remove the sheet the man had cum all over himself.

“That was easy” she thought, smiling to herself. The man gave her an extra fifty dollars on his way out.

That afternoon she performed this special service to three more guys, all of who were more than comfortable with it, and more than generous with their tips. After locking up that night Sarah went to office and dug her dildo out of her purse. After a day of little orgasms and the occasional “real thing”, she desperately wanted to really get herself off. She pulled her pants down around her ankles and, sitting on her office chair with one heel up on her desk, she inserted the red rubber toy into her wet snatch and proceeded to work it in and out. Within a few minutes she was crying out her relief.

“Okay honey, I’ll be home in a minute,” she said to her reflection in the little mirror over the water cooler.

By the time she got home it was dark outside. The lights were on inside her apartment. Dean was home.

She opened the door to find Dean sprawled out on the sofa. When she walked into the room he sprang to his feet. The sight of her stunned him.

He extended his arms to her. She threw her purse down by the door and removed her jacket, seemingly in no great rush to get to him. She walked slowly toward him, glancing down at her own self as her boobs led the way toward Dean’s outstretched arms. He hugged her tight. Sarah’s tits felt twice as big as he remembered them. She kissed him and allowed him a moment to take it all in. She’d had another growth spurt, obviously. But knowing that, and having seen it before, did nothing to prepare him for the shock of seeing Sarah’s new 34” K tits for the first time.

“You like?” She swiveled at the waist and drew her arms to her sides, casually swelling her cleavage, displaying for her fiancé the full measure of her pulchritude.

She satisfied his predictable curiosity as to her bra size. She heard him out when he apologized once again for their fight on the phone, and for letting her photos get out. She asked him point blank about the other women, the ones who called her “Tits.” She wasn’t about to let THAT one go. Dean’s face turned red with embarrassment now as he had to answer to Sarah as she stood there with her hands on her hips, pointing her two gigantic tits directly at him. He swore to god that nothing happened.

He meant it as an honest statement of fact. And it was true. Though the assurance felt like it came with a piercing double-edge as Sarah considered the probability that Dean would indeed be the only person who might ever really remember the girl she was before she grew her huge tits.

Wanting to “get it off her chest” she told him she “went out” with one of her customers, but she didn’t bother to tell him who. It didn’t matter. And out of his own guilt Dean let it slide. She would eventually tell him about the strange turn things had taken at work, but not tonight. It could wait, she thought, as she reached down to grab her lover’s cock through his jeans.

“Do you forgive me then?” Dean asked sheepishly as Sarah grappled with his dick through his pants.

“I guess so.” She said with a giggle, smiling finally in a way that let him know that she had forgiven him.

“God, I missed you,” Dean confessed as Sarah led him by the dick down the hall to the couple’s bedroom, which was a total mess. (But he didn’t care about that.) “I guess I missed you too,” Sarah admitted as she kissed the head of his fat cock, teasing it with the tip of her tongue.

She peeled her top off, wrenching it free of the encumbrance of her enormous boobs and tossing it across the room. Dean gazed in astonishment at the sight of his lover’s 34”K cup bra, and the deep deep cleavage between her two overgrown breasts.

“Are you ready for this?” Sarah asked as she reached behind her back and began to unfasten her hooks. Dean simply nodded.

As her bra went slack Sarah gathered it in front her, cradling her armful of flesh with puny arms, lowering her hands slowly until the full immensity of her breasts was revealed. Dean was speechless. Sarah’s breasts seemed to overwhelm her entire upper body. From the waist up she was nothing but a pair of tits. The biggest tits he’d ever seen. She leaned forward to kiss him, letting her heavy teats drag across his stiff dick, bending it to the side, trapping it against his leg.

“Would you like to fuck my tits? Huh?” she said with a devilish grin on her face.

Dean lay back and let Sarah guide his cock to the soft canyon between her huge boobs and held it there, pushing her breasts together, engulfing it completely.

“Where’d it go?” she asked in mock surprise. Then she released her breasts and let it emerge into the light again.

And she played at this game for awhile before Dean took her tits in his strong hands and sandwiched them around his cock and tittyfucked Sarah until he quickly released a considerable load all over her.

The couple fucked and sucked well into the night until it felt like old times. Until Dean was well spent. Exhausted and ready for sleep, Dean lay back against his pillow, Sarah and her two pillows draped across his body.

“I’m glad. I want you to miss me when we’re apart. Because I missed you. So much.”

“No one can love me like you. No matter how big my boobs get. No matter how horny I get… you always make me feel so good.”

Dean drifted off to sleep. Sarah didn’t notice and kept on talking to his chest.

“You know just how to get me off the way I love it. You know how to play with my big sexy titties. I love it when you fuck my big tits. I know maybe they’re getting too big. They ARE too big, actually. But, well… I just hope… I hope YOU don’t think they’re too big now. DO you?”

She looked up to see Dean snoozing away. She patted him on the chest. “Honey? Are you asleep?” Dean didn’t stir. “Honey??” She tweaked his tiny nipple, but got no response.

Not satisfied at 4AM, Sarah moved back down to Dean’s flaccid cock and began to play with it, trying to squeeze some life back into it. She massaged his big balls, sinking her little fingers into his soft sac, expecting that would rouse him from his slumber. Dean still didn’t budge, so she continued, roughly handling his balls and stroking his limp dick. “Come on you… don’t be like that.” She was talking to it. Finally it responded, plumping in her hand. She put her lips to its head and sucked it into her mouth, sucking more blood into the spent shaft. Then she moved her wet mouth along its length until finally he was hard again.

Without waking her sleeping lover Sarah climbed atop him and inserted his hard cock into her wet snatch and started humping away.

She smiled down at him, wondering when or if he might wake up to see his big-titted girl sitting on top of him, fucking him in his sleep. When he didn’t wake up, Sarah simply bucked her hips and rode him harder, sending her heavy tits into motion. The sound of them flopping against her belly should have been enough to wake the dead but still Dean slept away. Finally Sarah felt an orgasm approaching. She leaned forward and brushed her nipples across Dean’s face.

Still Dean didn’t wake up. Sarah’s orgasm came and went, leaving her panting and wanting still more. In a momentary lapse of sanity, frustrated and exasperated, Sarah climbed off, letting Dean’s soft useless cock go. She spun around on the bed, straddling her lover’s sleeping face and lowered her pussy onto his chin.

She rode his chin, nearly to the point of suffocating the sleeping man, when finally Dean stirred.

“Oh, you finally woke up.” She grunted as she drove her pussy into her lover’s face. “I need your help, honey. Come on.”

Ignoring his muffled protests Sarah grinded her wet snatch against Dean’s poor mouth until his tongue finally went to work. It didn’t take long before an incredible orgasm racked Sarah’s body. She flexed her legs like a vice around Dean’s head, wringing out the last remnant of her anger as she came on his face.

When she was finished she and her two big boobs climbed off and crawled under the sheets without even saying goodnight. Besides, it was nearly morning.

To say Sarah was “insatiable” now in the bedroom seemed like an understatement. Over the course of his first weekend home Dean would learn that even though the hypnotic suggestion had been lifted and Sarah was free of it, somehow her burgeoning tits had still managed to affect her mind. Or, more likely, her libido.

Throughout the day Sarah seemed more or less her old self, though it was hard not to see her now as a big pair of tits. Especially with that head full of blonde hair. Her cute face was the only part that reminded him of the girl he asked to marry him. The rest of the package looked like a porn star. Maybe she felt like one now. It was hard to get her dressed and out of the house. Not until Monday morning when they both were forced to return to work did Sarah seem willing, and surprisingly eager, to leave the apartment.

Over the next month Dean would continue to be made to feel like he was still making up for what happened in Miami. Sarah demanded everything of him, especially of his cock. Though he knew she enjoyed it as much as him, their lovemaking sometimes had a “punishing” aspect too it. No matter how admirably he performed in bed, Sarah would always leave him feeling he was the one that petered out, like she was still wanting for more. It was like she was determined to wear her big strong man out. Literally. No matter how long or hard they’d go at it, it never seemed to quite be enough for her. Whether this was some new head game of hers he couldn’t be sure. Sometimes their lovemaking would take on an ugly vibe, like it wasn’t lovemaking but purely routine sexual gratificaiton. Sarah quickly gave up caring whether Dean or anyone thought he breasts were too big. Especially in the bedroom she seemed more than comfortable with her body, and seemed to take special pleasure in playing rough with Dean, slapping him around playfully with her tits. But he sensed she felt less than pretty. Now that her breasts were so pornographically large Sarah avoided the bathroom scale. She still had her flat tummy, but her weight was climbing. His compliments about how “sexy” she looked must have had more of a ring of truth to her than when he simply told her she looked “pretty.” She would always disagree and say “I don’t feel pretty.” But she never argued when he told her she looked sexy. Maybe it was because of this that Sarah decided to go back to her regular hair color. The day she came home with her dark brown shoulder-length hair Dean could see it in her eyes; she felt pretty.

“I was feeling like such a bimbo with all that blonde” she told him. From the neck up she looked, and seemed, like the old Sarah. From the neck down though, it was still a whole new ball game.

The referrals from John came to an end. All those older men stopped coming to Sarah for massage. Maybe word was getting around that her massage practice wasn’t entirely on the up and up. Or maybe their wives wouldn’t allow it. But Sarah didn’t miss the business. She was still booked solid, primarily guys, mostly one-timers, except for a dozen or so regulars who could afford her new prices.

She never got around to telling Dean about her “happy ending” massages. After all, she still did the occasional normal massage. But she preferred the other kind.

One day in May she got a call on her cell phone from Mrs. Sutton. She wanted to speak with Sarah about something important, and could she come downtown some day and buy her lunch.

Sarah didn’t know what to think. It stood to reason that Brenda Sutton had heard through the grapevine of her husband’s friends that Sarah had been providing the occasional “extra service” as part of her massage practice. She could make real trouble for Sarah if that was the case. Sarah replayed the message. Something in the tone of her voice; Sarah hadn’t heard Mrs. Sutton talk to her like that since her and Dean were first dating. “It would be really nice to see my future daughter-in-law. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages, and it’s not right. Please call me when you get a chance.”

With her guard up, Sarah decided she’d call Mrs. Sutton back. Besides, Dean would hear about it if she didn’t and that’d cause a situation anyhow.

Brenda wouldn’t go into it on the phone, but there was something important she wanted to talk to Sarah about. They agreed to meet the next day at a sandwich shop a couple blocks from Sarah’s office.

When Sarah walked into the sandwich shop she saw Mrs. Sutton before Mrs. Sutton saw her. Dean’s mother hadn’t seen Sarah in a few months, since long before her last “growth spurt.” What would she think? Sarah didn’t care anymore, she reminded herself.

Brenda Sutton was barely was able to conceal her astonishment at the sight of her son’s chesty fiancé when she sat down next to her. The metal ice cream parlor chair was uncomfortable and its feet caught on the broken tile floor when Sarah scooted her chair in, causing her boobs to collide with the little round table, nearly knocking over the water glasses.

Sarah was on guard at first, not knowing what to expect from the meeting. Brenda smiled warmly and said it was great to see her. Then, after the waitress took the women’s orders, the older woman sat there speechless, eyeing Sarah’s chest.

“I had another little growth spurt.” Sarah said dryly with squinted eyes as she sucked on the straw of her Diet Coke.

“I can see that” Brenda said under her breath, careful not to sound too shocked or disapproving.

Brenda put her hand over her mouth, staring now at Sarah’s chest, the immensity of it sinking in. Remember her figure, less than a year ago, when she’d been a nice C cup. What a nice shape she had. Brenda Sutton had never seen breasts as big as the ones Sarah now had. She felt pity for the poor girl. Sarah thought she saw a tear in the woman’s eye. Before it could fall Mrs. Sutton took a napkin and wiped it away.

Their sandwiches arrived. Sarah sat back while her food was placed in front of her breasts. The waitress looked at Sarah like she was on fire.

“Will there be anything else?” she directed her question to the older woman.

Brenda glanced at Sarah’s cleavage, then looked away, directing her gaze out a nearby window.

Sarah contorted her face, taking another drink of her soda, pausing while Mrs. Sutton made herself clear.

“You know I didn’t approve when you… when you volunteered for that… for the cure? I probably said some things I shouldn’t have said. And I really want to apologize to you. I was being stupid. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“The thing is…” she leaned over and lowered her voice “…the thing is, well…”

Sarah noticed Mrs. Sutton was blushing as she bit her lip and looked around the restaurant nervously.

Before she could finish her sentence Sarah looked at the woman’s tits. The little denim jacket she was wearing barely concealed what should have been obvious to Sarah when she walked in and saw her sitting there: Dean’s mother had big boobs!

“I saw Dr. Broom too” she said, opening her jacket a little so Sarah could see the results.

“I figured why not? I’m not getting any younger, and, well… I did some reading. They’re saying now that this cure is the real thing. I felt stupid not going down there and getting the shot.”

The woman took a sip of her tea, her eyebrows raised, her defenses down. Sarah reached over and pulled back at the jean jacket. She needed another look. She tried to remember what Mrs. Sutton looked like before. She’d never paid any attention, really.

“They tell you one or two cup sizes at the most, but I don’t think they know. They can’t predict.”

“What size? I mean…” Sarah lowered her voice to a whisper. “What size were you before? If I can ask.”

Sarah tried to think back to the four or five days she spent as a DD. That would be the ideal size, she thought to herself now, realizing how busty Mrs. Sutton looked. Even though she was “only” a DD.

She asked Sarah how she was coping with her breasts. Was it difficult? Did she have any regrets? Brenda had talked to a number of women who’d volunteered for the study and none had experience the kind of growth Sarah had experienced.

Most of them were reporting more than the expected one or two cup sizes, many as much as three or four cup sizes. But only a rare few had grown eight full cup sizes, as Sarah had done.

Brenda talked to Sarah now like an old girlfriend, confiding in her that her breasts felt “rejuvenated” by the treatment. Because they had developed so quickly they were firm and high “firmer than when I was a teenager, if you can believe that.”

Sarah blushed as her future mother-in-law talked about her breasts to her in the crowded restaurant.

“And I don’t have to tell you” she lowered her voice conspiratorially “things have livened up in the bedroom.”

Sarah practically spit out her Diet Coke.

Mrs. Sutton leaned in close and whispered, “I’m so horny now. I’ve never been so horny in all my life. Have you noticed this?”

Sarah assured her that she had noticed it.

“I never gave much thought to it. Never really wished my boobs were bigger than they were. But now that they are…” she righted herself in her chair, thrusting her chest out, “…well, you know. Now that I’ve got big boobs… I kinda like it. Ha ha!”

__________________

By Sarah and Dean’s wedding day that August, Brenda Sutton had blossomed to a pleasingly full 36” F. In most of the photos from the wedding reception Brenda can be seen hanging out of her dress, her sexy cleavage on proud display, her husband John by her side, a broad smile plastered on his face.

That winter, 60 Minutes ran a feature story on the breast cancer vaccine that cleared the air on the whole controversy. The FDA was said to be prepared to approve the drug. The cure had been proven 100% effective. The scientists conducting the study admitted that the breast growth that was a side-effect of the vaccine, as well as an increase in libido, were variable from patient to patient. But they had found a way to make the anti-virus more effective, so that the induced macromastia would be brought to a halt immediately, at the end of the twelve week gestation period. The one to two cup size indication would be officially adjusted to one to three cup sizes, with the caveat “actual results may vary.” The following year the vaccine was approved by the FDA and women around the country began lining up to get their boob shots.