A Ton of Fun

The breast cancer vaccine Sarah had been injected with came with its side effects; a fact she’d been made well aware of before signing the liability waiver. The genetically-engineered drug worked by inducing a mild case of macromastia in the patient, a condition which was believed to protect the female body against ever developing the cancer, but which also resulted in a degree of unavoidable breast growth. This side-effect had drawn criticism from the medical establishment, feminists, and the media, who at first accused the scientists behind the study of lying to test subjects and of trying to hoodwink the Food and Drug Administration into approving a “breast growth drug” under the guise of a cancer vaccine.

A year after Sarah’s breasts had finally stopped their out-of-control growth the cure was finally proven safe and effective to the satisfaction of the medical establishment and by the FDA. The Efema System™, as it had been branded, was made available worldwide. No woman would ever need fear the dread disease again.

There were still the notorious side-effects to the controversial vaccine, even in its current 100% safe formulation. By the end of the accelerated eight week growth cycle a woman could ‘officially’ expect to experience breast growth of one to two cup sizes. Unofficially it was not uncommon for women to experience growth of three cup sizes, in some cases more. For a few of the early test subjects who’d been given a preliminary version of the virus during human trials, the changes they experienced were life-changing, to put it mildly. Sarah Sutton was what you might call one of the unfortunate ones. It was now two years since the treatment had been introduced to the public. Four since Sarah first signed on for the preliminary study. The world now seemed—to anyone with eyes to see—to be a happier, healthier, and sexier place as a result. And growing more so as the months went by.

A Ton of Fun

Dean Sutton stood at the reception counter of the gym, welcoming the late-morning members as they straggled in, swiping their cards across the scanner, bidding them a good workout. At this hour it was mostly folks who didn’t have jobs to go to, primarily stay-at-home mothers and the elderly. He glanced over at the long row of occupied treadmills and marveled at the assortment of mostly retirees. The women were varied in terms of relative fitness. Many were overweight and had lost their shape years ago. Some of the oldest ladies were in no condition for anything more than a brisk walking pace. But each woman bore something in common, something that seemed to put a certain unmistakable bounce in her step and a friendly smile on her face. Each of them, it was clear to Dean, had been vaccinated. Tall, short, young, old, heavy, thin; virtually every woman in America, it seemed, had by now embraced the once controversial new breast cancer vaccine (and its attendant side effects) as… Normal.

Most had by now had their shots and completed the eight week vaccination cycle. The row of ladies Dean cast his apprising gaze at this morning were no exception. The lines in the their faces, the flabby arms and their grey hair showed their age, but the plump youthful breasts that stood tall and firm inside their workout shirts told another story.

It was coming up on two years since the FDA approved the drug for widespread use. At first available only from a qualified physician, Efema™ was now being administered at select retail pharmacies, without a prescription or even a blood test. The conventional wisdom was to eventually immunize every woman in America. So making the vaccine widely available was considered a good, even a necessary thing. A triumph of medical science. That’s how it was sold and that’s how it was coming to be thought of, even by those stalwart women who still considered the incidental breast growth to be a drawback. Some still insisted, even as the number of new incidents of breast cancer fell off sharply, that Efema was a conspiracy by ‘big pharma’ to create a nation of big-titted bimbos.

Men by and large weren’t complaining about anything other than the occasional sore neck as they struggled, happily, to keep up with a world that was changing all around them. It wasn’t so difficult to remember a time, it seemed like only yesterday, when a nice pair of double Ds could turn a man’s head, when an occasional flash of cleavage could distract or tease or suggest something about the character of the woman who was willing expose herself. By now, thanks to the Efema System, a double D was more or less commonplace. Dean knew just from listening to the news that most retailers had begun to discontinue A and B cup brassieres as standing stock. A C cup was the smallest bra there would be any demand for at this point. Even Victoria’s Secret, notorious for neglecting the special needs of the well-endowed woman in the past, was rolling with the changes and had updated their size range which now started at a 30” C and went all the way up to a 40” GG. They even offered a new and expanded line of fashionable and functional sports bras which he overheard the women at his gym raving about frequently.

The glass doors of the entrance opened. A woman with large dark sunglasses entered the lobby, her familiar voice echoing off the walls. She waved happily at Dean, her black gym bag slung across her body.

Dean cringed a little at the sight of his own mother making her way across the carpet, her large gravity-defying F cups filling her tight zippered leopard print spandex workout shirt to capacity. This was Brenda Sutton’s usual workout time. Dean was expecting her, but for some reason he always felt unprepared for the sight of his own mother endowed as she now was with such large tits.

“Mrs. Sutton, how are you today?” Dean asked with mock formality, placing the palms of his large hands flat on the reception counter.

She tilted her sunglasses up and peered down her nose at the little scanner, passing her card across it until it chirped its approval. Dean noticed his mom was sporting a new French manicure, fake nails nearly an inch long with square tips painted gold. “Do you like them?” She stroked at the smooth bare skin of her upper chest alluringly, pulling lightly at the collar of her spandex top with the flair of a practiced hand model.

“Nice,” was all Dean could say in response. Mrs. Sutton removed her sunglasses, folded them and tucked them into her roomy gym bag and posed herself against the long counter, directing her gaze back towards the front door.

“Where’s your father anyhow. I swear I lose track of that man if I take my eyes of him for two seconds.”

The morning sun poured into the empty lobby and bounced off her bare neck as she tousled her long golden-colored hair. The doors opened again, it was Dean’s father bringing up the rear. The newly retired John Sutton stepped aside to let a couple Asian twentysomethings squeeze by, two young women who jiggled and giggled loudly, recently augmented with decidedly large melon breasts that looked all out of proportion their tiny childlike bodies. Neither of them seemed to mind.

As if on cue both Sutton men discretely tugged at their sweatpants to adjust the ever-present erections they were concealing. This didn’t escape Brenda’s notice but she didn’t make anything of it. The three all stood by quietly while the young ladies swiped their cards then made off toward the locker rooms together, poking each other and nodding enthusiastically. One of them glanced back at Brenda who smiled and pulled her shoulders back, proud of her zaftig figure.

“Come on honey, stop dillydallying.” She winked at Dean and tapped her clattering nails on the countertop. His dad fumbled with his own card as he swiped the scanner. Dean suspected that retirement was no picnic for his father, as Brenda had him in the gym daily. And if the stories were true (that over 90% of women who took the Efema vaccine also experienced a heightened libido) he was probably getting a thorough workout at home as well.

“Alright, wish us luck” his dad mumbled wearily as he hoisted his gym bag onto his shoulders and pulled Brenda away from the counter.

He watched as his parents made their way toward the locker rooms. They both looked great for their age; tan and fit. His dad had dropped almost thirty pounds in the past year since he started going to the gym. The Suttons had just gotten back from two weeks in Hawaii and were planning a trip to Greece in a couple months. Somehow they seemed ten years younger, Dean thought happily. His shift would be over at noon. His parents often timed their workouts to coincide with his schedule so they could eat lunch together when he got off work. He looked at the clock on the wall and hoped he might be able to slip out before they were finished.

Just then the phone in his pocket vibrated with an incoming text message. It was his wife Sarah, as was indicated by that familiar photo. The one he’d taken of her before that trip to Miami.

He’d been meaning to update her contact picture on his phone. Mostly because she hated it. It was a painful reminder of the first time she’d reluctantly allowed Dean to take some lingerie photos of her. She remembered the day well because it was the day her 34” J cup bras arrived by FedEx. The photos were meant to be for Dean’s eyes only as he prepared to leaved town for a big fitness conference. He wound up showing them around and… well, that was only the start of a breach of trust that nearly put an end to the couple’s engagement. It was only out of laziness that he hadn’t gotten around to updating the photo. But at the same time, he kind of treasured that image of her. The look on her flushed face, sweetly shy, so happy but still embarrassed by her own surprising and decidedly excessive breast growth. Gorgeous. Of course she was destined to grow even larger. He now had lots of pictures of her and her incredible 34” K’s. But gone was the shy girl. That innocent look in her eyes. When Sarah acted demure or embarrassed by her pulchritude these days it was just that, an act.

He knew what the ‘emergency’ was. There was a photo attached of her standing in the bathroom mirror with the phone in front of her face, the flash glaring in the reflection of her incredible body dressed in nothing by her panties and her favorite white satin bra. He’d bought it for her not a month ago. It cost more than three times what most of her special-ordered bras cost, but its spacious cups contained and shaped her unruly globes of flesh like two beautiful silk parachutes.

He could tell even from the blurry phone pic that it was showing signs of wear and tear.

Dean let out a frustrated sigh. This wasn’t the first time Sarah had conveniently texted him an hour before his shift was done, asking him to take off early. In fact it was becoming an annoying habit. He was the manager on the morning shift and she knew that one of the other trainers could take over his last hour at the front desk. He walked the floor to find out who was available.

Tawny Herschbeck had worked there almost as long as Dean but was by choice just a part-timer. She could use the extra hours, he thought. She’d been flat as a board until six months ago when she finally started to ‘sprout.’ Now she stood erect, her double Ds high and firm atop her tight athletic frame. “No problem hon. I’ll be done in five minutes and can finish out your shift.” She looked Dean up and down and smiled knowingly, placing her palm against his meaty pectoral and patting him. Meanwhile her appointment, a decidedly out-of-shape and out-of-breath man in his late fifties, finished a grueling set of squats for her.

As Dean turned to head back to the front Tawny snapped teasingly, “Gotta get home to the little wife?”

Dean forced a smile of recognition and nodded. He didn’t appreciate his assistant’s overly-familiar tone. He was the boss. It wasn’t her place to infer, or imply, or question why he needed to leave early. Everyone knew about Sarah. She was an ‘early adopter’. She rarely came around the gym but she visited often enough that her almost cartoonishly-large rack was legendary. Though Dean was not one to talk about such matters at work, it was rumored the boss’s wife was horny constantly as a result of the experimental version Efema she had been given.

As Dean made his way through the bodies working out around the expansive gym he was assaulted with the everyday sight of tee shirts stretched taut, of smiling women pleased with the new toys this wonderful breast cancer cure had blessed them with. Despite himself, his eyes were drawn to each woman as she strained and stretched and thrust herself at the young well-muscled stud. He obligingly smiled back and said his friendly hellos to the women and the men, and said his goodbyes to his mom and dad as he texted Sarah, letting her know he’d be home ‘shortly.’

Dean was almost to his car when a text came back from Sarah. He tapped on that familiar sweet-faced profile pic. The screen faded to a message window that said “GOOD. CU SOON!!” and with it a blurry closeup shot of Sarah puckering up to kiss him, those familiar dark circles under her tired eyes, face shiny with sweat, hair a mess.

Olivia Manning looked over the counter at Dean’s hand with disapproving pucker. “Is that it?”

“Dean, I’m sorry. You’re fired.” She held out her palm and he placed the card in it. She tucked it into a pocket in her binder and snapped it shut decisively.

“Honey, you were warned. By me. TWICE.” She held up two fingers to show how many ‘twice’ was.

“What the fuck. That’s it? Just like that. After six years? No discussion?”

“That’s it I’m afraid.” She was smiling. She seemed to enjoy this. “So, why don’t you just go back home to that… wife of yours. That seems to be where you want to be, isn’t it?” She glanced down at his pants that were still smeared with dried cum, rolling her eyes and laughing dismissively at the sight of his visible bulge. Even in its current flaccid state it looked like he had stuffed a zucchini inside his pants.

“We can handle things here, if you want to just leave…” Olivia said one last time, flaring her eyes at Dean.

“You’re being a real bitch, Olivia. You know that?” Dean said in his defense.

“Fuck me? Fuck you. Fuck all of you.” He stood his ground even as he began to tremble with anger. It was not his style. To lose his cool. Especially not with a woman like this. But did Olivia count as a woman. He stared at her tiny tits with contempt. He didn’t deserved to be fired like this.

“Okay, I think we’re finished here.” Olivia said with a huge smile on her face that made him seethe. He’d crossed the line, big time. “Buh bye.” Dean turned his head toward the door, threw his muscular arms in the air and turned to walk away. “Fucking dykes” he muttered to himself, loud enough the his words resounded and could be heard clearly by Olivia and Tawny.

“Have a nice day!” Olivia shouted gleefully at his back as he passed through the front door for the last time.

On the long walk back to his car his thoughts raced inside his head. What the hell had just happened? He’d never been fired from a job in his life. But he had allowed it to happen. It was his fault, he admitted to himself. He sat in his car for the longest time, rolling the whole thing over in his head. What would he do now? What would he tell Sarah? What would he tell his parents? He was making just enough to pay the mortgage on the little house that his dad had paid the down payment on. It had been their wedding present. He had a little cash saved but barely enough to make those payments for longer than a few months. He looked himself in the eyes in the rear view mirror.

“Fuck!” he punched the ceiling and drove his feet into the floor, pushing back violently against his seat.

Sarah’s contact pic appeared on the screen, smiling innocently at him. A face that didn’t have a care in the world.

He was appalled by the fact that his cock was stiffening inside his pants. Sarah had him trained at the point. Too well-trained. He grabbed at it and pushed it aside sternly, giving it a quick stroke that only made his loins pulse with more life.

Just then someone appeared outside the driver’s side window. It was Carlos, one of his daytimers who ran the laundry. Head towel boy. Dean liked Carlos a lot. One of the many people he realized he was going to miss, friends he wouldn’t get an opportunity to say goodbye to.

“Ms. Manning wanted me to give this to you.” The young man said with an embarrassed apologetic tone.

It was a plastic bag with the meager contents of his desk: a couple fitness magazines, a spare pair of gym shorts, and in the bottom a little framed photo of Sarah he had all but forgotten about.

“Thanks, Carlos…” Before he could say anything more to the young man was gone, without even saying goodbye.

He took out the photo and looked at it. He used to have it on his desk, when he’d first got his own desk as a trainer four years ago. It was before he had a smartphone full of photos. Taken before Sarah had volunteered for that study.

He used to love that photo of her. She was wearing a white tank top, and very tan. Her hair was cropped short. She looked like a kid, he thought. Though she was in her late-20s in the picture, she looked like a different person altogether. Her eyes so big and bright. If she’d been taller she could have been a model. Her figure though, was so… so non-existant! He could barely remember a time when Sarah looked like that.

It had barely been an hour since he left her. Long enough for her to get herself off at least twice.

By the time he got back to the house with burritos from a nearby taco truck (in Carlos’ honor, he thought dejectedly at the time) Sarah was fully dressed in jeans and a tee shirt and sitting on the couch flipping channels. When she saw him come through the door and saw the bag in his hands she jumped to her feet, her big boobies jouncing inside her shirt. She skipped over to him, kissed him on the cheek and took the bag from his hands.

She put the bag on the coffee table and pulled out her burrito, pealed back the wrapping and tore into it with gusto.

Dean’s stomach was churning, partly from nerves and partly because he was hungry also. He decided he’d tell Sarah about getting fired… later. He took out his burrito and dug in.

Sarah leaned over the coffee table while she ate but still managed to dribble red sauce on her tee shirt. A common occurrence. She brushed it off with a paper napkin, leaving an orange stain. She rolled her eyes and continued eating.

Sarah poked the remote control with the long French manicured nail of her pinky finger and distractedly flipped through the channels. At 3 o’clock in the afternoon the pickings were slim. Dean looked from his burrito over to his wife who took another big bite, seemingly in no great hurry for his answer. She’d paused on The Ellen Degeneres Show. America’s favorite lesbian was dancing up and down the aisles in her usual chinos and sneakers, her grey cardigan sweater stretched over what looked to Dean like a pair of D cup breasts.

“Look at her. She finally got vaccinated.” Sarah said with a loud guffaw before taking a drink of her soda. “She looks better.” She decided, turning the volume up a couple notches. “Don’tcha think?”

Obviously she assumed he had put out his little fire, Dean realized. She didn’t suspect he’d actually been fired. Of course. Why would she?

As Sarah sat there laughing and eating, burrito in one hand and large soda in the other, her breasts nearly resting in her lap, Dean weighed weather or not to tell her now or wait until… later.

Another bit of her burrito tumbled onto her shirt and rolled off onto the floor in front of Sarah’s feet, leaving behind a trail of red sauce and rice. She put her lunch down on the table and leaned over slightly to pick her food up off the carpet, pressing her left boob into her burrito in the process.

“Well fuck me anyhow!” Sarah blurted out, jumping to her feet. Her shirt was covered in red sauce and rice, the remainder of her burrito half squashed. Without missing a beat she pealed her soiled tee shirt off and strode into the kitchen and dropped it into the kitchen sink with the dirty dishes. Unfazed she stomped back into the living room dressed in her black brassiere, pulled the curtains closed and took her seat on the couch. She picked her smushed burrito up off the table and continued eating as if nothing happened.

Dean sipped his soda and looked back toward the TV. A commercial for the Efema System. This one directed at the average thirtysomething professional. Two attractive affluent women of average build playing tennis. Game point and match. The two walk off the court together and towel off.

TRACY: “No, Kell. Not yet. The last thing I need is for THESE to get any bigger. What about you?”

Kelly smiles and tosses her towel across the back of a park bench and stands erect, her chest thrust out.

KELLY: “Well, I don’t know about that. They’re A LITTLE BIT bigger, don’t you think?

Kelly smiles to herself and bends over her tennis bag, placing her racket inside, flashing cleavage to the camera. Tracy shakes her head and throws her towel down in frustration.

KELLY: “Ha! No Trace. The virus runs its course in just eight weeks. What you see is what you get.”

Tracy hold her hands out in front of her own double Ds, indicated the two and three cups of growth some… many… women on the Efema System experience.

Tracy furrows her brow, looking down at her own chest. Kelly puts her hand around her friend’s waist and pulls her two her side. The pair’s chests are lined up tit to tit.

Tracy pulls a zipped sweatshirt around her and zips it up the front. She nods her head in agreement.

FEMALE VOICEOVER: “If you or someone close to you hasn’t tried The Efema System, talk to your doctor or pharmacist. One eight week cycle is all you need. THE EFEMA SYSTEM… WE’VE FOUND THE CURE. NOW IT’S UP TO YOU.”

Sarah swallowed the last bite of her lunch and wiped her mouth with a napkin. She gazed at the tube, her eyes showing she was lost in thoughts provoked by the commercial. She took a loud slurp of her soda until it was empty. She shook her cup of ice loudly, the upper shelf of her exposed breasts quivering like so much Jell-O.

“These women who grew up with large breasts, always standing out in the crowd. They’re the ones who won’t get their shots. I swear. They’re still walking around with their shoulders hunched and complaining about a sore back. Hello! The whole world has big boobs now, Tracy. Get OVER yourself already.” Sarah crumpled the taco truck bag unsympathetically and sat back on the couch, her bare tummy pooching out slightly.

She was right. The women who’d been naturally well-endowed before were notoriously reluctant to get the shot. The world had changed, for sure. A woman with a double D chest, or even a double E could blend in easily at this point. The ones who started out with nothing for the most part found the extra breast growth a wonderful life enhancement and boost to their self-esteem. A fun adventure. But a woman who grew up self-conscious of her large bosom—as was common with many women a D cup or larger—always worried about attracting the wrong kind of attention, or being thought of as a bimbo; the fact that the world had changed around them did nothing to remove their ingrained trepidations and ‘body issues’.

And Kelly’s sunny testimonial to the contrary, larger-busted women were by no means immune to Efema’s effects. One cup size or less was definitely the exception to the rule. Two to three cup sizes of growth was considered the norm. And while no one was at risk of the seven cup sizes of growth that Sarah had been made to endure, some women experienced four or more jumps in size, even on the new accelerated eight week formula.

Tracy and her kind needed to be vaccinated against breast cancer. That was the bottom line. But she had good reason to doubt she’d be as ‘lucky’ as her friend Kelly.

“A natural-born double D will probably wind up an F or a G cup. Or larger. But so what?!” Sarah asked hypothetically. “Tracy’s a big crybaby if you ask me. So what if she winds up a G cup. Or an H cup for that matter? Walk a mile in my K cups, honey. Then lets talk.”

A car pulled up outside and two car doors slammed shut. Dean jumped up and peeked out the closed curtains. “It’s my mom and dad.” They were making one of their notorious unannounced pop-in visits.

Sarah got up and padded into the back bedroom to get a clean shirt. She could hear John and Brenda at the front door while she was still standing there in her bra staring at her closet. She grabbed a button up top, snaked her arms into its short sleeves and made quick work of the buttons, though pulling a shirt together across the apex of her bust was always a careful consideration. Her buttons were always coming loose and needed to be sewn back on all the time. She checked herself in the full length mirror, applying a quick dash of lipstick to help distract from dark circles under her eyes.

“Where’s that Sarah?” she could hear Brenda asking loudly from the living room.

“Right here.” Sarah said as she emerged from the bedroom looking more put-together than Dean could remember seeing her in almost a week.

Brenda extended her arms to her daughter in law and embraced her and kissed her on the mouth. Sarah suppressed a tiny orgasm, tensing her loins. John and Dean looked on dumbly as their wives pressed their boobs into each other and held the embrace.

“How’ve you been? We haven’t seen you in weeks.” Brenda asked cheerfully, aware probably of the little thrill she’d just given Sarah. She held her daughter-in-law at arms length but grasped her hands, interlocking fingers with hers, not letting go. As always, Mrs. Sutton helped herself to a lingering apprising view of her Sarah’s incredible 34 Ks.

“Brenda!” John Sutton shouted, admonishing his characteristically rude wife.

“I know! I know!” Sarah admitted she did look tired. She confessed she’d been sleeping terribly lately.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I could use a good night’s sleep.” Sarah blushed, ashamed slightly at being forced to talk about her sex life in front of Dean’s parents.

The Sutton’s knew full well what she meant by that comment. They could all see the bags under Sarah’s eyes, and the general fatigue that seemed to settle around her narrow shoulders.

She did look like she’d lost weight, mainly in her face. Her once plump cheeks and soft chin looked harder these days. Were it not for the enormous tits bursting the seams of her tiny top one would say she looked malnourished. To make matters worse her hair was dirty and getting longer and at the moment was not particularly fetching.

“Well you look beautiful” Brenda concluded, shaking Sarah’s hand in hers until her thin arms bounced against the sides of her boobs.

“Oh, we were just in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop by. After we missed out on lunch this morning.” Brenda gave a sideways glance at John and elbowed Dean as she passed by and walked toward the kitchen. She knew about Dean and Sarah’s frequent mid-day trists. It was Sarah that had told her about them.

“They don’t mind you taking off early of a morning?” John asked, taking a seat on the couch.

Sarah overhead John’s comment as she helped Dean’s mother find something to drink. Brenda spied the food-stained tee shirt in the sink but said nothing.

“So yeah, what ever happened with Olivia today? You never told me.” Sarah voice rang out from the kitchen.

It occurred to Dean just now that his mom and dad would be coming in to the gym for their regular workouts. They’d wonder what was up when he wasn’t there. He’d have to tell them eventually. But he wasn’t ready to tell the family he’d lost his job.

“Oh, yeah. She wanted to straighten some stuff out with the schedule. We’re overstaffed. Not enough hours for all these new trainers.”

“Oh you know the usual. Everyone wants more hours. Most of these positions are part-time.”

Dean expected the usual standing invite to let his mom and dad take him and Sarah out for supper, but when it came time for them to leave Brenda announced she had a friend she needed to go visit.

“Your father’s dropping me off at Noreen Tate’s house. You remember her.”

“Oh, she lived down the street when you were a kid. She used to babysit you. Anyhow, she divorced her husband last year so she’s been going through a hard time.”

“Yeah. She got vaccinated, you know. And, well, her breasts… she went from a B cup triple D just like that. Just pffft! And then, well six months later she filed for divorce.”

“Then she… well, she got vaccinated again awhile back.” Brenda said with an expression of practiced disapproval.

At $700 a shot Femgard was too expensive for such casual abuse. Twice that much on the streets. And besides no legitimate doctor would allow a patient to do this. The induced macromastia was designed to work safely only once. It was rumored to work a second time, though whether or not it worked safely was unknown. 99.9% of women were satisfied with just the once though. This was the first time Sarah had ever heard of anyone she knew getting a second vaccination. The thought of it made her stomach turn a little.

“Poor Noreen. Her beautiful triple Ds grew into triple Gs, or whatever you call them. Hell, I guess she’s a double H cup, or an I cup… or whatever.” Brenda threw her well-manicured hands in the air.

“She’s okay. I guess.” Brenda glanced at Sarah’s tits and paused, staring openly.

Brenda scowled at him. “Anyhow. She’s in quite a state, so I’m just going by to cheer her up a little.” John and Dean directed their attention to the TV channels flipping by as Dean pushed the channel up button repeatedly. Brenda grabbed her purse and pulled it over her shoulder. “Sarah, I wish Noreen could meet you. You should come with me. I bet together we could cheer her up.”

“John? …JOHN!” Brenda kicked the couch, getting her husband’s attention. “Give me your keys.”

“What? Where you going?” John asked stupidly as he handed over the keys to his Lexus.

Dean looked up at Sarah. She smiled down at him from behind her cantilevered chest. “Huh? Oh, sure, I guess so.”

“I won’t be gone long.” She hugged his head to her body, smushing her left boob against his face.

“Sure. That’s fine.” Dean answered back, a little surprised Sarah was so ready to run out. Neither she or her mother were usually so spontaneous like this, though they’d been known to have the occasional ‘girl’s lunch date’ together.

He couldn’t remember this Noreen, but if his mom said she’d been his babysitter he believed her. Sarah kissed him on top of the head and followed Brenda out the front door, leaving Dean and his dad alone with the TV.

“Ben, could you do that in the bedroom?” Noreen asked her friend, who obliged, picking up the whole mess and transferring it and himself immediately to another room.

“Have a seat Brenda.” Noreen pulled out one of the chairs and shook Sarah’s hand and said how nice it was to finally meet her then disappeared into her kitchen without pausing to ogle Sarah’s chest. The ladies sat at the glass table and could hear the clanging of wine glasses in the next room. “Red or white?”

“Sarah, honey? Red or white?” Noreen asked as she handed Brenda a glass of wine. “Oh, white I guess. Thank you.”

“This won’t take too long.” Brenda assured Sarah as she sipped at her wine.

Noreen returned with a glass for Sarah and placed the opened bottle down on the glass table with a loud crack.

“Oops.” She held up her index finger begging their pardon as she continued a phone conversation she was in the middle of when the two had arrived. The tall woman paced the expensively-furnished living room with her hands on her hips, speaking at full volume into her Bluetooth headset. She turned her back to the dining room and ran her hands up and down her body. Sarah could see she was cupping her breasts repeatedly, smoothing her hands over the tight knit sleeveless pullover she was wearing.

“Yes. Twelve hundred. Yes. Okay great. Yes, each. Cash. Okay, I’ll see you then sweetie.”

She turned and faced Brenda and Sarah, extending her arms out in a dramatic flourish.

“Noreen, look at you.” Brenda said. Her friend swiveled at the waist and thrust her chest out.

“I know, right? And look at you! You look incredible.” Noreen complimented her old friend. “Too bad they didn’t have this stuff when we were younger, huh?”

For women of a certain age, i.e. anyone older than 29, Efema was a kind of rejuvenating miracle. The rapid breast growth it caused worked faster than the skin could be stretched by gravity, leaving a woman’s breast firmer, almost gravity-defying.

“And you…” Noreen touched Sarah’s hair, stroking it, admiring the cleavage that was bulging out of the top of her blouse. “…Brenda says you’re a 34 K?”

“Yeeaah.” Sarah answered with a cute roll of the eyes. She sipped at her wine and glanced over to end of the large glass table where sat a brick of small white boxes wrapped in plastic.

“Incredible. Good for you.” Noreen stared at Sarah’s tits, no doubt the largest she’d seen, especially on such a small woman.

Brenda opened her purse and pulled out her wallet, removing a brown envelope containing a stack of crisp one hundred dollar bills. Noreen reached over her friend for the stack of boxes. She punctured the plastic wrap with her thumbnail and split it down the side, prying loose two of the small white packages.

Sarah recognized the familiar pink Efema markings, and the soft pink figure eight ribbon logo.

Brenda counted out fresh bills with her gold-tipped fingers. “Two thousand.” She riffled through them with ease, counting to herself under her breath. “Four hundred. Twenty four hundred.” She handed the money to Noreen who thanked her, folded the stack of bills in half, and slipped them into her hip pocket.

Sarah’s stomach churned. She was a ball of nerves. Her crotch was gushing and it was all she could do to keep from coming, hard, right there at the table.

She watched Noreen’s hands as she tore the end off one of the cardboard boxes, inserted two fingers and pulled out an inner plastic box that contained a single syringe and a paper insert. She tossed the paper insert aside and put the syringe to her teeth, tearing the cellophane rapper and spitting the wrap onto the floor. She removed the syringe and twisted the cap off the tip, removing the needle and screwing it into place. Brenda looked on, sipping at her wine.

“Sweetie, let’s do you first.” Noreen said, coming at Sarah with the needle held aloft, reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Sarah’s stomach did flip flops. Brenda could see Sarah’s nervousness on her face.

Sarah nodded enthusiastically and bit her lip. Brenda smiled and beamed with love.

Noreen swabbed Sarah’s arm with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol and inserted the needle into her vein. She peered through her glasses at her hands as her thumb pressed on the syringe, delivering the twelve hundred dollar dose of black market Efema to her friend’s daughter-in-law. She withdrew the needle, swabbed the injection site and gave Sarah the cotton ball to hold in the crook of her arm.

“Keep some pressure on that for a few minute sweetie.” She smiled at Sarah and lingered for a moment, gazing into the nervous young woman’s eyes. Then she winked and bit her lip playfully, turning on her heel to face her friend.

Noreen repeated the process. Ripping open another thousand dollar box, dumping out its contents, assembling the syringe, swabbing her friend and sticking her with it. Brenda inhaled sharply. “Here goes nothing.” Noreen mused as she slowly depressed the plunger, administering Brenda’s dose.

Brenda Sutton exhaled when Noreen removed the needle from her arm. She looked over at her daughter-in-law and smiled, her face showing vulnerability. She wasn’t sure this wasn’t completely foolish. Possibly even a huge mistake. And maybe it was wrong to encourage Sarah the way she had, after everything she knew the poor girl had been through. But Noreen had convinced them both that it was perfectly safe. That soon it would be legal, according to her, for doctor’s to administer a second or even a third cycle to women who wanted it and could afford it. Brenda had her doubts, of course. Noreen Tate was not the most rational or practical person in the world, that much was for sure. But she had worked as a pharmaceutical rep for years and her inside source was probably reliable, Brenda figured.

Sarah didn’t know what to believe. Her life was already ‘ruined’ (as she often joked), though she didn’t really think of it that way. She was unable to work. That much was true. In fact, though it embarrassed her to admit it, she was unable at this point to do much of anything besides see to the needs of her oversexed body. And while part of her looked back with a pang of regret, that part was growing smaller all the time. Sarah had admitted to Brenda, after the ordeal of her arrest and conviction finally died down and was forgotten, that she actually loved it. Loved her life. Loved her huge tits, the constant sexual buzz, and especially her love life with Dean which had never been better. Brenda once confided in Sarah, wanting to make sure she knew that John was well-endowed also, same as Dean. Both women were avowed and shameless ‘cockhounds for life’ and now, somehow, they’d reached a comfort level with themselves and with each other where they could share this openly. Both women loved what Efema had done to them. Done for them, rather. And both women, it was agreed, missed growing larger. Missed the sensation and the thrill, no matter how perverse or ‘wrong’ it might be, of her tits getting bigger and bigger, her libido growing stronger.

Sarah thought she saw her mother-in-law shudder across the table. She knew the tell-tale sign of a little secret orgasm in mixed company.

Noreen disappeared into the back room where her pot dealing young friend was holed up. She reappeared less than a minute later, a joint in hand.

“I know you don’t want any of this, do you?” She held the lit joint out to Brenda and blue a cloud of blue smoke into the living room.

“I better not.” Sarah said politely. “We should probably be getting back…”

Brenda snapped her purse shut and dabbed at her arm one last time. Noreen held out her hand and took the used cotton balls from her customers.

“Eight weeks and done.” Brenda kept reminding Sarah whenever they spoke from that day forward.

Sarah’s stomach never recovered. The nerves she’d felt that day at that condo, the doubt she felt about it all. To say it nagged at her is an understatement. But “Eight weeks and done” her mother-in-law kept saying, assuring her that this would be nothing like the year long ordeal Sarah had gone through before.

How big would Sarah’s already huge tits get, though? Even Brenda wondered, guiltily. Surely it would destroy what was left of her cute figure. She’d look ridiculous, probably. She was already pushing the limit of what you could call sexy. The thought of those things growing bigger turned Brenda on. They were already the biggest tits she knew of, especially on a thin woman. There were some unshapely overweight gals whose busts rivaled Sarah’s. And she’d seen a few women on television who were out there, reporting four and five jumps in cup size on The Efema System. But a 34 K was considered ‘out there’ in anyone’s book. No one at the mall stocked brassieres in that size. Yet.

By the weekend Sarah’s phone was ringing with calls from Dean’s mom. She’d started to feel it. Her boobs were tingling and ‘swollen’, she said. Especially her nipples felt ‘wonderful’. That familiar sensation, of the drug working, was back. She was giddy with excitement.

“The best twelve hundred dollars I ever spent” she assured Sarah over the phone. She sounded like a giddy schoolgirl.

Sarah was still nervous about the whole thing, and felt bad for letting Brenda spend so much of her own money on her. Again.

Dean was still leaving the house in the mornings, trying to keep up the appearance that he still had a job to go to. He’d made the rounds at other gyms but no one was hiring. Even though he couldn’t afford it he bought a membership at a run down gym not far from his old gym. With all the free time on his hands at least he could catch up on his workouts. The last couple years working as a manager had really cut into his workouts to the point where he was just doing light maintenance. He threw himself into weight training like he hadn’t in years and in no time was feeling the benefits. His already well-developed athletic body responded to his new regimen. After a couple weeks of getting his pump on and keeping it on he was literally seeing a difference. His arms and legs were bulging and his pecs were exploding. It felt great, he realized. He hadn’t had the time or energy to focus on himself like this in a long time. Though it didn’t relieve his depression, it took his mind off things for a couple hours a day. He was self-medicating, he reasoned. He even bought a few hits of speed from some dude in the locker room, to give him a cheap jolt of extra energy during his workouts.

The hours at the gym were his way of dealing (or not dealing) with his predicament. He knew that. But for the time being he didn’t care.

Two weeks after her clandestine trip to Noreen’s Sarah finally felt the change come over her. She awoke one more to feel her breasts were tingling. Her flesh, in fact, was positively crawling. Her nipples were aflame and felt wonderful, like they hadn’t felt since the first time she’d gone on the drug.

“WHERE R U?” she texted Dean throughout the afternoon. It was well past the time he usually came home. After spending another morning in bed frigging herself she managed to get up and shower and get herself dressed. Hoping maybe to go somewhere. Get out of the house. Her clothes felt… tight!

Standing next to the living room window gazing out, waiting for her husband, she absent-mindedly grabbed at her nipples through her layers of clothing and gave them an affectionate squeeze. She could practically feel the heat rising from her body. Her bra felt like it was strangling her. The shoulder straps were cutting into her. She looked down at herself. Her boobs were so big already, it was impossible to tell just by looking if they were any bigger. She cupped her hands beneath them and hefted them appraisingly. They were already heavy. Were they heavier? She hugged them to her body, squashing them. They spread out beyond her hands. Her splayed fingers sunk down into the soft flesh. Nothing new. She walked over to the hallway mirror and looked at her self for the longest time, unable, it seemed, to tell a damn thing. The flower print on the front of her light blue tee shirt looked stretched out and distorted, but all her printed tees looked that way.

Just then she heard Dean’s car pull into the driveway. Her pussy flooded with anticipation. Dean’s motor revved loudly a few times before he killed the engine. She heard him slam his car door loudly, so loud she wondered what he was angry about. When the front door flew open and he burst into the living room Sarah was almost afraid. His face was sweaty and flushed red.

Dean’s eyes searched the room almost frantically. She’d never seen him like this. But she’d never seen him on speed. Dean couldn’t admit it to her, but his heart was literally racing. Sarah put her hand on his bicep and gave it a gentle squeeze. It felt huge to her. She squeezed it firmly and Dean instinctively flexed the muscle. It was as big as a grapefruit and hard as a rock!

She put her other hand on him and smoothed it across his broad chest. “Where’ve you been? I missed you.” She felt his meaty arms encircle her as she collapsed against him, pressing her burning breasts into his well-muscled stomach.

“I was just working out is all. I uh… I stayed after work and worked out.”

“You’ve been working out for three hours?” She grabbed his glutes in her hands and squeezed. “Seems to be paying off honey, you feel huge.”

His cock was stiff and tenting the front of his sweatpants. Sarah could feel it pressed against her. She wanted to tear off her shirt and bra and jump on him.

Dean pulled off his sweatpants and kicked them across the room then removed his briefs.

Dean picked her up in his arms and carried into the bedroom and dropped her on the bed, which was still unmade from the hours she’d spent rolling around in it that day. He peeled his shirt off in one swift motion. Sarah could hear some of the cotton muscle shirt’s seams tearing as he stretched it and practically ripped it from his body. Before Sarah could remove her shirt and bra or even so much as make herself comfortable Dean had jerked her shorts off and was proceeding to mount her.

Her sopping wet cunt was ready for him though, as he slid into her with relative ease.

Dean pushed into his wife, the swollen head of his huge member coming quickly up against her cervix before he could get half way in. Sarah’s breaths came short, catching in the back of her throat as Dean treated her more roughly than she was accustomed to. She hiked her ass up slightly and rotated her hips, trying to accommodate the invader and negotiate Dean’s thrusts and avoid getting pounded too hard. Dean was driving ahead, slamming his cock deeper.

Dean’s heart was pounding. The sight of his huge-titted wife on her back, the way she liked to be, where she always seemed to be, her tee shirt stretched across her big boobs that looked bigger than he could ever remember them… it was driving him wild. He pressed down on her, with all his weight.

“OUCH! Ow… ow.. that’s too hard. AAAGHHHH…” Sarah felt the full length and girth of Dean’s enormous cock fill her in one swift motion. Dean grunted like mule as he proceeded to pump his hips, stroking his painfully large dick in and out of Sarah as she slowly adjusted to it. Tears were streaming from her eyes as her body responded in kind, her pussy relaxing and stretching out to make room for the sudden visitor. She could feel herself getting hot. Her bra was smothering her. She had difficulty catching her breaths.

She felt tiny beneath Dean. His body was hotter than hers. Sweat poured from him. His big muscles bulged as he flexed and grunted and humped her tiny frame as if possessed.

“Yeah…” was all he said by way of a reply, before increasing his speed. Suddenly Sarah felt like she was being hammered by a piston. Dean’s body slammed her, his cock pounding her inside like she could not remember ever being pounded. She fought to keep up with him, hanging on for dear life. Her breasts, though tightly bound inside her bra, and still clothed in her tee shirt, were leaping on her chest wildly. Dean looked down at them, bouncing up and down. The sight of it drove him over the edge.

“GHAAAAA!!!” He shouted his release. Sarah could feel his hot cum blast her insides. The huge cock moved more easily now inside her as Dean dumped his load. Within seconds it was squirting out around the base of his cock and escaping out onto the bed sheets, soaking the spot wear Sarah lay.

“Jesus!” He exclaimed as he pulled out abruptly and squeezed the last remaining globs of white cum from his cock. Though he was nearly spent he gripped his cock tightly and the long thin jets of sperm sailed through the air, landing on Sarah’s tee shirt. He squeezed harder until another great clot of cum erupted forth, glancing off Sarah’s chest and landing on her chin.

Sarah had yet to get off but for once she didn’t care. She scrambled into an upright position and lifted her tee shirt up over her head. Half-soaked through with a combination of Dean’s cum and her own sweat it seemed to cling to her big tits and put up a fight coming off but she managed to wriggle free of it. Her bra was still cutting into her, causing her flushed red tits to swell up around the cups. She reached behind her back and fumbled with her hooks and with some effort was free of the thing. She shrugged it off and let it fall next to her.

Dean stood in the middle of the bedroom catching his breath, stark naked, hands on his knees, staring down at Sarah. Her big tits were red and swollen and seemed to come to rest in her lap. He sat down on the bed next to her. The mattress springs groaned under his weight. He took one her turgid nipples between his thumb and forefinger and tugged on it. Sarah’s body surged from the sensation of her sensitive nipples, producing an electric current of pleasure that traveled to her clit where it exploded and made her jump. He proceeded to maul Sarah’s unwieldy tits mercilessly, hefting them in his strong hands, mashing them together, sending Sarah reeling helplessly from the sensations. Once again tears streamed from her eyes as she thought ruefully of the secret she kept from her lover. The terrible secret of the stupid thing she had done to herself, again. As her lover manhandled her ridiculous breasts, shaking them, squeezing them, she looked down at herself in that moment and realized. Her tits had grown. It was obvious now. They were huge. It felt like they came up to her shoulders, and escaped under her arms, down around her sides, and when he let go of them they fell into her lap heavily, their nipples located… somewhere, wherever he decided to push or pull them. The tits they were attached to were simply immense.

“Honey, I need to go pee.” She pulled away from Dean’s ministrations for a moment and excused herself. She had to go see what she looked like.

In the short walk to the bathroom she could feel the difference. The undersides of her unsupported tits brushed against a spot on her stomach lower than she was accustomed to, for starters. And the motion of them, the gravity of them, felt off. Felt strange.

She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. One look in the mirror confirmed what she expected. The Efema was working. Boy was it working!

Sarah was quite used to looking in the mirror and seeing a little woman with two overly-large pornographically-large disproportionately-large tits staring back at her. But suddenly, finally, she could see the change. She drew her arms together for emphasis and her boobs swelled outward and covered her arms, bulging out and around. Her nipples still pointed up and out, but… they appeared to be further apart, and lower. She leaned over the sink to look at her bloodshot eyes and felt the cold counter top as her tits came to rest on it and spread out on its surface more than she expected. Her right tit almost fell down into the sink.

Her mouth was dry. She’d only had the injection a couple weeks ago, and already she’d grown at least a cup size. Her mind reeled.

She tried to wrap a towel around her body but was unable to fasten it in a way that would cover her tits. The best she could do was just hold it in front of herself. She smoothed her hands down over her body and relished the sweet feeling of all that pillowy soft flesh. She palmed her huge nipples and hugged herself. So wonderful. Why had she allowed Mrs. Sutton to talk her into this? What had she done?

She dropped the towel and walked back into the bedroom, stark naked, her heavy breasts leading the way.

Dean was laying on the bed, a rumpled sheet covering his loins. He eyed her as she entered the room.

“I need to tell you something.” Sarah said. Her shoulders went slack with defeat as she searched for the words. Her big tits had nearly ruined their life once. She was already a burden to Dean in so many ways.

Sarah looked down at herself. She couldn’t see her toes for the expanse of naked tit that blocked her view. She looked at him helplessly. How could she have been so stupid?

Sarah’s stomach turned over. How could Brenda have told Dean before she was ready to tell him herself? She had confided to her that she was afraid to tell him herself, but she never asked her to do if for her! But thankfully she did tell him. What’s done is done. She felt relieved.

“Come here.” He waved her over. Sarah climbed onto the bed, her pendulous swinging tits dragging across his thighs and coming to rest on his stomach. Dean took one of her teats in hand and tugged on it, licking his lips. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat.

“My mom told me all about it the other day. She said you wanted to tell me yourself though.” He twirled Sarah’s thick nipple in his fingers. Sarah’s body seized up and shook from the sensation of a little nipple orgasm exploding in her chest, making her pussy squirt her watery cum between her naked thighs.

Dean took her other nipple and pinched down hard on its thick rubbery stalk. Again Sarah’s body seized up and shook from as her other breast exploded with pleasure. Again her pussy sprayed, soaking the bed.

“Hopefully you won’t grow like last time, huh?” Dean put his hands to the sides of Sarah’s sprawling tits and squeezed them together repeatedly like an accordion, making them undulate wildly. Sarah couldn’t believe how good it felt.

He continued shaking Sarah’s tits like only he could, making them undulate, marveling at the motion of them.

“Yeah, that’s what she said.” He put his hands under them and bounced them, feeling their weight. They overwhelmed even his capable hands, so heavy and unwieldy. Sarah climbed up on her hands and knees and let her udders hang down for Dean to play with. They hung down well below her elbows, filling the space between her and him.

“You still like them, don’t you? You like my big tits, right?” She leaned forward as Dean guided one of her thick nipples to his mouth. He latched down on it and sucked, hard. Simultaneously she felt his huge cock brushing against her ass, ready for another round. She eased herself back onto it and sat down, impaling herself on Dean’s wonderful cock. “Oh god… it’s like heaven. You feel so goood.”

“K cup tits not big enough for you, ay Sarah?” he thought to himself as he pressed more weight than ever, more even than during his days as an athlete. His heart pounded like a hammer and veins jumped and surged and pumped blood to his bulging muscles. “Hope you’re enjoying your staycation, honey.” That’s what she liked to call it. Her life as a layabout, sitting around the house masturbating all the time. Maybe it was juvenile, maybe it was Sarah, but Dean actually wanted to get big. Not just stronger, but bigger. Bigger than he ever thought he wanted to get in the past. It took his mind off his problems.

What would his parents say when they finally figured out he wasn’t working? Dean rolled the thought over and over in his mind as the days and weeks went by. The handful of speed he bought off that dude was gone as of that afternoon and he was glad for it. It boosted his workout performance, but it made his heart work way too hard. He hated the stuff.

And what was his mother thinking? A woman her age should be satisfied to leave well enough alone. She’d need a custom bra before this was all over, he thought to himself. It made his cock hard just thinking about it, and he hated that fact. A mom shouldn’t give her son wood, ever! She told him that she had his dad on Cialis now, so he could keep that big old cock of his hard all weekend.

In the locker room that day Dean measured out his BulkUp™ protein powder into his juice bottle, shook it up and choked it down.

Dean wiped his mouth and looked over at whoever was talking to him. He didn’t recognize the guy.

“James… Oh yeah. Sure. How you doin?” Dean eyed the guy at the locker next to him in disbelief. Last time he’d seen him was over a year ago when he worked briefly at Dean’s old gym. He was a scraggley little know-it-all asshole back then and he hated him. Someone Olivia had practically forced him to hire. A real fuckup. He eventually quit before Dean got around to firing him.

Dean looked again at Phelps as he pulled out his street clothes and slipped out of his workout garb. The guy had really built himself up. He looked like he could compete and win with that body. Dean was impressed.

“Yeah. I just use it after workouts, you know.” Dean was quickly getting annoyed.

“What do you use?” Dean asked. Clearly the kid used something. No one got where this guy was in that short of a time with out ‘using’ something.

Phelps looked around the corner to see if anyone was around. This gym was never busy, especially at this time of day. The locker room was empty. He pulled out a small black vinyl bag from his gym bag and unzipped it. Inside was a plastic syringe and some cotton balls. He pulled the bag apart and gave Dean a peek at the illicit contraband.

“Diox… It’s slang for ‘two dicks’, supposedly. It’s a virility thing, I guess. It’s like it boosts your testosterone, but it DOESN’T boost your testosterone. It changes how you convert your testosterone. Maximizes. I don’t know exactly how it works, buddy. I just know, one shot of this, and you’re good for a long time.”

“Good in bed too. Good good.” Phelps made a fist and held it up, showing Dean how Diox 10 would make his cock.

Dean thought the whole thing sounded too weird to be true. He’d tried steroids once when he was starting out, and that was a disaster. He managed to quit before his ‘bitch tits’ got too out of control. He had zero interest in steroids. This kid was probably just selling steroids. He could tell a bullshit artist when he saw one. But if it was steroids… one dose wouldn’t do any thing.”

Dean thought about his situation. His money running out. His wife’s foolish decision to let his crazy mother buy her a second dose of Efema. His rich father going along with the whole thing, popping boner pills. And now this punk shows up, looking incredible, like he’s ready to compete professionally. Though Dean knew better he found himself reaching for his wallet for forty dollars. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.” It was probably just steroids. One dose wouldn’t kill him.

“Smart move. You won’t regret it. Believe me.” Phelps pocketed the money, whipped the plastic-wrapped syringe out of the vinyl case, tore the wrapper off with his teeth, spit the corner onto the floor, twirled the tiny cap off and screwed the needle on with impressive speed and gave the injector a little squirt.

Dean looked over his shoulder. No one was around. No one cared. He gave Phelps his arm and let the little bastard shoot him up. Phelps was practiced and careful with the needle and seemed to hit Dean’s vein with no trouble at all. The kid removed the needle, leaving behind a tiny droplet of blood.

“You’re good to go. You might feel a little queasy tonight. But don’t worry. That’s normal.”Phelps zipped up and left the locker room before Dean knew what hit him.

Dean finished getting dressed and went back to his car. As soon as he was inside his car the nausea hit him. Worse than he expected. He started up the car and headed for home.

Half way home his nausea got worse. Thinking he might puke he pulled over into a gas station parking lot and opened his door. After heaving a few times without puking, he decided it was just nerves and continued home.

Sarah flung herself at him, nearly knocking him down with her boobs. Dean staggered slightly and held her at bay.

“That place?? Well you should lay down then.” She escorted his hulking frame toward the couch and made him sit down.

Sarah fawned over her sick husband and prepared herself for a long night. Dean lay there moaning and groaning well into the evening, even ran into the bathroom a couple times, feeling like he might throw up. But he never did.

After fucking Sarah at sun up until she seemed sated, Dean dressed himself as usual, as if he was leaving for work. She kissed him goodbye and told him to call her if he felt he was getting sick again.

After stopping at Starbucks for some caffeine Dean would go directly to the gym and hit the weights. As he pulled into the parking lot at Starbucks though he saw an odd sight. It was Phelps. Or it looked like Phelps. He was wearing sunglasses, baggy jeans and an oversized football jersey that came down to his knees, like some douchebag b boy type. And Olivia Manning was standing next to him talking to him. And they were laughing. The two hugged each other then parted company. Olivia got in her SUV and drove off while Phelps walked across the street and turned the corner and disappeared from view. Was Phelps working at his old gym now? That didn’t make any sense.

Fuck him. Dean climbed out of his car and went in to get his coffee, confused by what he’d just seen.

Standing in line was none other than Tawny Herschbeck. The sight of her made him sick. She was focused on texting and didn’t see him until she turned around with her order in hand.

“Oh god! Hi Dean. How are you?” She asked with a look of genuine surprise on her face.

The barista asked for Dean’s order, interrupting their exchange. In the time it took for Dean to place his order Tawny was moving toward the door, saying she had to hurry up and get to work but it was nice seeing him.

That day at the gym Dean would hit the weights harder than ever, he thought. The nausea of the night before was completely gone, replaced now with renewed contempt for his former employer, which mingled with his ongoing despair, which was all countered nicely by the fact that his little wife was hornier than ever, and getting moreso with every passing day.

He loaded up the incline press with his usual warm up weight, climbed on, and worked through his first set of reps. By the end of his second set of reps his arms were shaking and his heart was thumping, not with a surge of strength but with fatigue.

He didn’t make it through his third set of warm up reps, deciding to return the bar shakily to its cradle before he dropped it on himself.

He removed a bit of the weight and climbed back on the bench and finished his warm up at a more manageable pace.

He completed his circuit that day, but in his weakened state he found he was unable to handle his usual weight.

“Thanks a lot asshole” he kept thinking to himself, wondering what Phelps had shot him up with.

The next day was the same thing. He was unable to bench his usual weight but he completed his workout as usual.

The fourth day he had recovered his full strength and resumed his normal routine.

By the following week he was actually seeing results! The incline press especially was paying off in spades as his pecs were looking huge.

Sarah even commented on it that night during their lovemaking as she squeezed his powerful chest and remarked how big he was getting. Dean proudly flexed his grapefruit-sized bicep and made it jump.

“Those extra workouts you’ve been putting in are really paying off honey.”

Sarah was surely happy to see she wasn’t the only one around the house who was getting bigger, he thought to himself. The image of Phelps and Olivia chatting it up in the parking lot of Starbucks still preyed on his mind… but the image of a shirtless Phelps in the locker room that day… the remarkable transformation that kid had pulled off with that Diox 10 shit… that’s what kept running through Dean’s mind as he dedicated more of his mornings and afternoons to his workouts.

By the end of the following week Dean was impressed with whatever it was Phelps had sold him. Best forty bucks he’d ever spent. Maybe it was steroids, maybe it was snake oil, but his erections were lasting longer and damn if his chest wasn’t huge. He stood in the mirror at the gym with two 80 lb dumbbells, doing his curls, focusing on his biceps, but all the while distracted by his pecs. He’d always had a well-developed chest, but now it really stood out and projected. The muscles themselves were quite a bit larger and when he flexed them they bulged and cleaved together like some of the overbuilt competitive body builders he’d always been awed and a little disgusted by. He straightened his posture and continued his curls, staring at his chest. It was a great turn-on, he realized as his cock surged with blood. Even his nipples were standing out through his thick sweatshirt, their points actually tenting the fabric slightly.

His erection was persistent that particular morning and soon he decided to cut his workout short and head straight home to Sarah. Surely she’d be pleased to see him.

When he arrived back home his mom’s Lexus was parked in front. He walked through the door in his sweats, his muscled arms hanging at his sides, not expecting to see what he saw. There, standing in the middle of his living room, was his mother. By now she sported an eye-popping and shirt-straining pair of 36 GG tits (as the whole world was well aware.) She looked like a retired porn star! She was hooking his wife into one of a small assortment of new bras that were strews across the sofa, the FedEx box they arrived in torn open and laying on the floor.

“That’s the L cup, dear. That seems to be a good fit. Maybe a little snug.”

Sarah twirled for Dean, modeling her new heavy-duty custom made bra for him. Brenda bent over and picked up one of the other bras and held it up by the straps. It looked like some kind of sexy parachute. Much bigger than the bra Sarah had on.

It was week four since Sarah and his mom had undergone the Efema treatment at Noreen’s apartment. Before it was all over and done with, they all realized, she be filling that parachute with her out-of-control tits.

Sarah moved her arms about, unself-conscious to be half naked in front of Dean and his mother together. Her tits were simply giant now, she thought proudly, yet the new bra held them aloft. They practically defied gravity. As she walked over to kiss Dean she could feel how the bra itself altered her center of gravity to a point somewhere a few inches in front of her. She walked with her shoulders a bit further back than usual to compensate.

Dean put his arms around Sarah. Her jutting breasts collided with his chest and the two were still a couple feet from being close enough to kiss!

Dean pulled Sarah to him, squashing her chest and his until they achieved lip lock. He held her there in his tight embrace, her tits swelling up like an enormous batch of bread dough rising up to her shoulders. Sarah pounded lightly at his chest and pushed back.

Dean looked at the photo. It was bad enough Sarah was half naked but his erection was clearly showing. “Mom. NO. Delete that.”

“Oh you old prude. Fine. Have it your way.” Brenda packed up and left, leaving Dean and Sarah alone.

Sarah pulled on her tee shirt, stretching it over her voluminous chest. The shirt stopped just shy of covering her mid-drift and she continually had to tug at it to keep it from creeping up on her.

As much as that thought appealed to her, dressed in her brand new bra and fully clothed for the first time all day, she told Dean she wanted him to shower and get dressed. She got him to agree, after some teasing of his erection through the thick fabric of his dirty sweatpants, that they needed to get out of the house.

After soaping up and washing his hair Dean moved on to his persistent erection. There was a time when Dean would masturbate his oversized dick pretty much daily. Sometimes twice a day. Or more. But ever since Sarah’s transformation there was simply no need. She needed every erection of his that he could muster. Even in the privacy of his daily showers Dean had come to enjoy the ‘down time’.

But right now his cock was pulsing and craving release. He instinctively gripped it and stroked its mighty length under the hot spray until soon, within a minute or so, he was blasting the walls of the shower with a surprising, even by his standards, amount cum. He could literally feel it pooling up around his feet as the water hit it and broke it up and sent it finally down the drain.

He turned the hot water on high, loving the feel of the almost scalding heat on his skin. Especially on his chest the water felt so nice, massaging his overworked muscles like tiny hot needles. By the time he climbed out the small bathroom was filled with steam, the mirrors fogged over.

He dried off his big body and stepped into a pair of clean underwear. He wiped the mirror dry with his towel and looked at his reflection. His skin of his hairless chest was red from the scalding water and his nipples looked swollen, almost puffy. He pushed on them with the tips of his fingers. They felt stiff. They felt good. He flexed his body and posed in the mirror. His chest looked incredible, he thought. How could he get those kinds of results in such a short time, he wondered.

It was true he was doing more weight than ever, and it was true he was spending more hours at the gym than ever. But this was ridiculous. Clearly the Diox was for real.

Instead he petted his muscular chest and flexed and felt his enlarged pectorals. They practically overwhelmed his palms and the area around his nipples was extremely sensitive and puffed up. He turned at the waist and looked at his profile. His chest stuck out in front, like a meaty shelf. His nipples and the area around them were visibly swollen and sagged slightly in the front. His mind thought back to the one time he dallied in steroids. The ‘bitch tits’. He pinched his nipples and massaged them lightly. His cock surged. He pulled on his nips, letting them snap back. Was it steroids that kid had sold him?

He cupped his breasts and felt them. They were a real hand full, and despite his flexing they actually felt… soft.

He flexed his arms, his stomach, his entire upper body. He looked really good, he thought. Though now he was distracted by the sight of his newly developed chest. Despite its impressive size and shape it actually looked soft, he realized. He bounced on his heels slightly and was appalled by the sight of his tits jiggling on his chest.

His brow furrowed. Again he cupped his chest with his hands. This time he didn’t flex, he just squeezed and felt his chest up. It was still a handful and still quite soft. Like a pair of woman’s tits.

Just then Sarah walked in on him. He removed his hands from his self and stepped away from the mirror so Sarah could pass by. She stopped picked up Dean’s towel and tossed it into the hamper.

The small bathroom was too small for the two of them. Dean put on some deodorant and brushed his teeth while Sarah, gathered up the dirty laundry from the floor. She caught his reflection in the mirror and the sight of his chest.

She snaked her skinny arms up under Dean’s from behind and placed her hands on his chest.

“You’re huge! Watch out you’re gonna wide up as big as me.” She joked. Dean laughed it off but he grew uncomfortable when Sarah’s hands lingered on his chest, squeezing it, massaging it.

“Okay, that’s enough.” He said. As he bent over slightly to spit out his toothpaste his chest seemed to fall forward into her hands, feeling very much like two female breasts.

Sarah pulled her hands away. She looked at Dean in the mirror, her eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and his chest.

“Come on, get dressed. Let’s go.” She said, patting him on his shoulder and leaving to put the load of laundry in the washing machine.

Dean pulled on his white tee shirt and inspected himself in the mirror one last time before leaving the bathroom. Again he flexed. Again he tried to admire his powerful chest. But when he relaxed he was troubled by the sight of his nipples tenting the fabric of his tight shirt.

At the restaurant that night Sarah seemed happier than usual. It was the first time in a long time they’d actually gone out somewhere decent to eat. It felt like a date. She looked incredible in her new bra and she felt incredible. For the first time in weeks she felt she’d done the right thing. Looking around the restaurant that night she was gratified to see more than a few women sporting some really big titties. ‘Big’ was definitely in the GG range, a few women looked to be even larger than that.

The days of women dressing their figures down seemed all but over now. Modesty was a thing of the past. It seemed there was security in numbers. Now that all women were busty to some degree, now that every woman had a ‘rack’, it obviated whatever need there once was for a woman with big boobs to be careful with how she presented and carried herself in public. The fact that The Efema System was first and foremost the miracle cure for breast cancer was cause enough for womankind not just to enjoy but to celebrate their breasts. But it also was a license to emotionally embrace what was perhaps there to begin with; i.e. a natural love and honest admiration for the voluptuous female form. Now every woman could enjoy the feeling of being voluptuous, could have the body that men’s dreams were made of, but without any of the shame or embarrassment that once might have come along with it. They could have their cake and eat it too. As a result Sarah noticed more and more that women—all women—seemed to walk with new confidence, shoulders back, their heads held high, not afraid to jiggle a little (or a lot) if their bodies were prone to do so.

Of course she was the only L cup ‘freak’ in the restaurant that evening. But there was no reason to feel strange or out of place.

“What’s the matter honey?” Sarah asked Dean, who was acting weird, staring at his plate. He’d been unusually quiet and moody all evening but she ignored it. Until now.

A waitress came by the table and refilled their water glasses. Dean paid her no mind but Sarah couldn’t help but admire the sweet-faced young girl’s breasts. She looked huge but she looked beautiful.

The girl paused for a moment and smiled, “How is everything tonight? Can I get you anything?”

Dean barely looked up from his food. But Sarah smiled warmly and admiringly at the waitress. “Everything’s great. Thank you.”

“I’m a G cup but… well, I’m not finished yet. I don’t think. I don’t know.” The girl shrugged her shoulders and turned her palms up to say “Who knows? Que sera sera.”

Dean looked up finally and sat upright in his chair, taking a sip of his ice water.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.” Sarah replied. Then she lowered her voice slightly. “I love them, actually.”

“Good for you.” she whispered, patting Sarah lightly on her shoulder before leaving the couple alone to finish their meal.

Dean pushed his chair back and stood up. “I need to go to the rest room. I’ll be right back.”

Dean escaped to the men’s room near the back of the restaurant, stepped into a stall and locked the door behind him. He unfastened his pants, released his stiff cock and sat down on the commode.

His cock felt like it was going to explode in his hand, its veins swollen, its head bulbous and almost purple. His balls hurt. He stroked himself mindlessly as he could feel his entire body heat up. Sweat formed on his brow and trickled down his face as he urgently stroked his oversized erection in the privacy of the bathroom stall. His chest felt like it had when he stepped out of the shower an hour ago, still burning hot. His white tee shirt felt tight in the chest.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, his dick erupted. He attempted to ejaculate into the toilet bowel, rising up onto one foot and angling it to one side. His load was one of the biggest he’d ever seen and just seemed to keep coming and coming, some of it landing on the floor and on his shoes, most of it glopping against the side of the porcelain and splashing into the water. Even when he was done, or so he thought, his cock kept erupting involuntarily with erratic spurts of thick white jiz. Each of his waning little blasts was more than the average guy might expect to produce on his best day.

He stood up and attempted to pull his pants up, but his cock kept leaking cum. He squeezed it and milked it, shuddering from a few aftershocks that actually made him feel weak in the knees before finally it was over and he was able to get his meat back in his pants. By the time he could get to the sink to wash his hands he could see a large dark spot on the front of his jeans where his cock was still leaking cum inside his pants. He pulled his shirt tail out and attempted to hide the stain.

He checked himself in the mirror. He looked huge. He hunched his shoulders slightly to diminish the projection of his chest, but his nipples still showed through the fabric.

Dean and Sarah finished their meal in quiet, hardly speaking a word to each other.

When they got back to the car Sarah confronted him. “What’s wrong honey. Obviously something’s wrong.” She caressed his cheek, the moonlight shining into the car, falling across her cleavage. “You’ve barely said two words all evening.”

Dean looked down at her, his anxiety mounting. He opened his mouth but no words came. Sarah attempted to pull her jean jacket around herself, not wanting to flaunt her tits at him. “Did I do something? Are you upset?” She sat back in her seat, again attempting unsuccessfully to pull her undersized jean jacket around herself. She turned from Dean and looked out the car window, across the half-empty parking lot.

Sarah bounced in her seat, landing next to him, her boobs driving into his side.

She kissed him on the mouth, first gingerly, then more passionately as Dean’s tongue and hers entwined. His hand moved to her breast and gave it a squeeze, prompting Sarah to move closer to him, as close and she could get between her big man and the steering wheel. She put her hand to his crotch and could feel his cock swollen, huge.

“Take me home and make love to me.” Sarah cooed in his ear. She put her hand to his chest and gave it a light pat. Dean removed her hand and kissed her again. Sarah grabbed at his erection through his pants, it was snaking part way down his pants leg and seemed uncomfortable. She could feel herself getting wet.

Dean unzipped his pants and hauled out his cumbersome dick. Sarah looked around the parking lot to see who might be nearby. “Baby, let’s take it home. Okay?” She put her hand to his exposed member and petted it tentatively.

“You can’t? What do you mean you can’t? Come on baby, let’s put it away and go home. Then I’ll fuck you all night. I promise.”

Dean proceeded to squirm free of his jeans until they were down around his knees, his cock sprang free, rising up in the moonlight. He fished out his swollen aching balls which he’d just drained in the restaurant men’s room. He rolled them in his hands, giving them some room between his legs. They felt… bigger. He proceeded to stroke his cock, without regard for who might be around to see.

Sarah responded to the sight and smell of her lover’s body, feeling the familiar flutter in her chest, and the moistening of her crotch. She reached down and encircled his swollen cock. So big. She cupped his balls in her tiny hands. They felt hot to the touch, and really big! She gave them a light squeeze and Dean jumped, almost as if in pain.

Sarah obligingly gathered her hair in one hand and tossed it over one shoulder as she reluctantly permitted Dean to guide her mouth to his sock. In the darkness of the restaurant parking lot she kissed and sucked at the head of her husband’s cock, improving her position inside the car until she could lower herself over it and take it all the way.

“Oh god. OH GOD SARAH…” Dean stiffened his legs and pushed back into the car seat.

Sarah expelled his slick member and put both hands to it and started stroking it and squeezing it. She was surprised how helpless he seemed, and how soon he came to the brink of blowing his load. The whole situation was turning her on like never before. Her loins seized up and rocked her with a tiny orgasm that went unnoticed by Dean. After less than a couple minutes he was breathing in heavy rattling gasps and tensing his body.

Sarah pumped his cock with her hands. Dean again put his hand on her head and coaxed her mouth over his throbbing member. She took the bulbous head in her mouth as she felt it swell in size.

With that Dean erupted again, for the second time in less than thirty minutes. Sarah struggled to swallow the load that Dean produced. The hot salty blasts came fast and furious and she sucked and gulped and swallowed for all she was worth until finally she couldn’t keep up. Her mouth filled to overflowing until her cheeks puffed out and finally Dean’s cock head came out with a ‘pop’. A mouthful of thick white cum spewed out, coating Sarah’s chin and falling directly into her cleavage. Again her pussy convulsed in orgasm all by itself. The sensation rocked her body and increased the heat in the cramped vehicle. Dean’s prick continued to spurt even without stimulation, shooting straight into the air, some of the larger ropes of cum reached the ceiling. Dean encircled the base of his cock and gripped it tightly. Not to staunch the flow but to force it out. A blast shot straight up and made a sound as it hit the fabric headliner of his Jeep then dripped back down, landing on his bare thighs. Dean seemed pleased, relieved. Sarah looked up overhead to see the mess he was making of his car. She grabbed his cock and trapped it against his chest and squeezed it one-handed. Dean smiled down at himself as his cock continued, to their astonishment, spurting more and more cum, soaking the front of his white tee shirt, some of it even made it onto his face, until finally it stopped spurting. And even then the opening at the tip of the out-of-control monster seemed to just yawn and ooze his abundant sperm, more and more, until the ooze was reduced to a trickle, and the trickle reduced to a clear fluid that just leaked out.

A man and a woman walked in the front of the car and peered in through the windshield to see Sarah ministering to her husband, but not that they could see what had just happened. Sarah pushed Dean’s cock down into his lap, but it seemed resistant and not ready yet to go completely soft.

“Umm… I don’t know. They… they look even bigger than they did a minute ago. Unless I’m losing my mind.”

Dean covered himself, crossing his hands over his chest, cupping his ‘breasts’ with his palms. Each was a handful, and hot to the touch. He could feel his pulse through the skin. Then, mortified by what was happening, he felt it. With each beat of his heart. His breasts were swelling in his hands!

He jerked his hands away and let the soft mounds come to rest on his chest. Both of them stared, partly in horror but also in wonder.

Dean stood up straight, pulling his shoulders back. The two breasts in the mirror surged forward, their nipples standing erect. He imagined he could actually see them growing before his eyes. His flesh tingled and burned. It felt like tiny needles inside. His balls ached terribly.

His nipples were swollen and erect, their tips nearly the size of Sarah’s. The area around them was puffed up and shiny and darkening. Dean touched them with his fingers, tentatively pinching them. It felt embarrassingly feminine, to be touching himself this way, almost more embarrassing than the breasts themselves.

When he pinched himself his limp cock surged of its own accord, another glob of clear pre-cum dripping from its tip. It felt good.

“Wait right there.” Sarah said as she suddenly dashed from the bathroom. She was rummaging around in the bedroom, leaving Dean alone with his reflection. In less than a minute she returned, and in her hands a little bra.

It was one of her old C cup bras. Why she was saving it he did not know. He almost cried when she lifted it up in front of one of his tits and positioned its cup into place.

He put it back on, his chest still burning. He pulled it down and appraised his reflection, he hunched his shoulders, unhunched them, relaxed, flexed. No matter what he did the breasts inside his shirt showed, pushing out the fabric of his shirt, capped off embarrassingly by two prominent nipples.

Dean rationalized it to Sarah, explaining how he’d stopped lifting. That he was ‘going soft’. That it was ‘nothing to worry about’. Though the two C cup breasts inside his shirt were more of an oddity somehow than even her enormous teats, Sarah smiled and accepted Dean’s explanation.

Dean Sutton sat in his Jeep in the parking lot outside his old employer watching the members straggle in schlepping their gym bags and themselves to their morning workouts.

He’d been sitting there for over an hour with the engine running. Same as the day before. He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected to find. Phelps was the person he was looking for. He’d tried looking for him at the other gym. He even asked around for him, but no one had ever heard of him.

Dean was wearing three layers of clothing in an attempt to hide the soft mounds on his chest. Two tee shirts and a zippered hoodie were proving too hot on that warm summer day. He cranked up the AC to full blast. The unsightly ‘manboobs’ inside his shirt were impossible to hide, and they jiggled around quite a bit. If these were manboobs they were the biggest softest manboobs he’d ever seen. And the cold air blowing on them was causing his nipples to show plainly.

As he sat there watching the entrance his hands reached inside his hoodie and idly prodded and squeezed at his soft chest, pinching his sensitive nips through his layers of clothing.

Then he saw them. Tawny Herschfelt and Phelps. Yes! Walking out together. He sat up straight in his seat. Should he confront them? They were walking in his direction. He debated whether or not to get out of the car and say something, but before he could make up his mind there they were, walking right up to his car and knocking on his window.

“Hey buddy. What’re you doing there?” Phelps said through the glass. He was dressed in the same douchebag b boy street clothes. Dean rolled down his window.

“What did you say?” Phelps pushed past Tawny and got up in Dean’s window.

Dean unfastened his seat belt and removed it from the valley between his two breasts.

“You got something you’d like to say to me why don’t you get out of the car?”

“Fuck if I know.” Phelps answered, redirecting his stare at Dean’s chest. He licked his lips and smirked at Dean. “What are you doing hanging around in parking lots buddy? You know, you don’t work here no more.”

Dean stepped toward Phelps and raised a hand to his shoulder. Phelps smacked it away. “Don’t touch me, faggot.”

“Can you come out here? Yeah… Dean Sutton’s out here in the parking lot again. Huh? Yeah. Okay.” She turned and jogged back in the direction of the building until Dean was unable to hear what else she was saying.

“What are you going to do, buddy? Are you gonna hit me? Huh?” Phelps stood his ground in front of Dean, partially blocking his view of the building. Before Tawny could reach the front door Olivia came out to join her. Tawny was pointing at him. Olivia seemed to be explaining something to Tawny, trying to calm her down.

“What’s with the sweatshirt, buddy? Isn’t it kind of hot out for a sweatshirt?”

Dean unzipped his hoodie and stuck his chest out accusatorily. Phelps burst out laughing. Dean lunged at him but before he could lay a hand on the guy Phelps grabbed Dean’s arm, swung him around 180° and twisted the limb painfully behind Dean’s back. Dean cried out in pain as Olivia sprinted across the parking lot to where they were.

Dean tried to break free of Phelps’ grip. In the struggle Phelps grabbed Dean’s sweatshirt by its hood and stripped it from his body. Dean staggered backwards, his chest bouncing visibly inside his shirt.

This time it was Phelps who wanted to lunge at Dean, but before he could Olivia arrived on the scene and held him back.

Dean sneered at Olivia and Phelps, jerking his twisted layers of clothing back into order.

Phelps was circling the area behind Olivia, laughing at the sky, slapping his knee.

“Efema, my dear. You’ve been cured of ever getting breast cancer. Just like that bimbo wife of yours.” She smiled sweetly at Dean. He saw red. His eyes flared as it dawned on him what ‘Diox 10’ actually was. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to jump on Olivia and knock the smile off her face. Before he could take a step toward her Phelps intervened, stiff-arming Dean in the chest, driving him backward into his vehicle.

“Don’t you touch her, asshole.” Phelps had his forearm up against Dean’s neck. With all his strength Dean couldn’t get the kid off him. Dean noticed finally that Phelps was covered with zits and acne scars. Steroids, no doubt. Olivia walked up behind Phelps and looked over his shoulder at Dean pinned against his own car. His soft chest was jiggling visibly inside his shirt as he struggled to get free.

“Yeah, he needs a bra!” Phelps chimed in, his face mere inches from Dean’s.

“Why are you doing this?” Dean asked, sickened by his situation and by the smell of Phelps’ bad breath.

“What did I ever do to you anyhow? And fuck you too, JAMES. You piece of shit. You’re lucky I don’t kick your little douchebag ass.”

With that Phelps hauled off and punched Dean in the stomach with everything he had. Dean Sutton doubled over as all the air left his lungs. He rose up and took a blind roundhouse swing at Phelps but missed by a couple feet, spinning himself around and landing flat on his ass between the cars.

Olivia gave him a swift kick to his swollen balls. He saw stars as he curled up in the fetal position, gasping for air.

Tawny was running across the parking lot toward Dean now. Phelps ran to intercept her. Dean could hear her crying.

“As soon as you can I want you to get up, get back in your car, and leave. And don’t come back. If you do I’m calling the cops.”

He couldn’t bear to tell Sarah what had happened. What Phelps had actually given him. About hanging out at the gym, spying on his former co-workers, ignoring her texts as he sat alone in his car feeling himself up. Getting beaten up in the parking lot. Hell, he couldn’t even tell her he was unemployed.

Desperate for a loan, money running out, he strapped down his chest with some Ace bandages and dragged himself over to his parents’ house one afternoon to tell them finally about losing his job. Oddly enough the truth of the matter, that he’d been fired for skipping out early to go home to ‘take care’ of Sarah, was acceptable and deemed totally understandable to the Suttons. Though Brenda didn’t understand why he hadn’t told Sarah yet, John sympathized with his son and assured him they would help with his mortgage payments until Dean found another job.

When he got home he came clean with Sarah too. She was surprised but as soon as she heard the Suttons would be taking care of the house payment she seemed satisfied that they’d be okay.

He decided, while he was coming clean with her, to go ahead and tell Sarah about the ‘Diox 10’. About getting tricked by Phelps. About what it really was. Efema. The whole story. As stupid as he felt about falling for Phelps’ lie, he decided the humiliation of the whole situation would be enough to garner her sympathy. She was mad at him for being so foolish, but she was hardly in a position to judge someone for taking risks with their body. Maybe the damage was done. He could camouflage his body well enough. Heck maybe he could ‘work it off’ at the gym. If worse came to worse he could get reduction surgery, he assured her (and himself.)

The night he confessed to Sarah what he’d done he actually broke down and cried for the first time in his adult life.

Sarah held Dean to her enormous bosom like a little child and assured him everything would be alright. Dean sobbed like a girl that night, the stress and anxiety that had been building in him over the past month overwhelmed him. The couple sat up in bed into the wee hours watching TV and just cuddling until, eventually, despite not being in the mood per se, Sarah could feel herself getting turned on, first by the racy late night talk shows, which got her juices flowing, then, as it got into the wee hours, an unexpected spontaneous orgasm triggered by a weird commercial for a local milk donation clinic.

She squirmed beneath Dean’s weight as her orgasm faded. Soon thereafter she was moaning softly, trying half-heartedly to suppress her urge to be fucked proper.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re not in the mood right now…” Sarah lifted Dean’s face up off her chest and kissed him. He returned the gesture by massaging her left tit with his hand, sending her reeling. “That feels nice” she informed him. She turned at the waist and swung her large chest around, inviting Dean to feel her up fully.

He obliged, massaging her pliant tits with his hands, grabbing at them, jiggling them, pushing them together in routine fashion. Then it came time for Sarah to dip her hand inside her bra and pull back the spacious cup, hauling her naked breast out. Dean put his lips to her nipple and commenced to sucking. Sarah purred as the beautiful sensation of Dean’s mouth at her teat sent her reeling. Soon Sarah was reaching for his tool. The sleeping giant was tucked away inside his sweatpants, flaccid, limp.

She hauled it out and tugged at it, squeezing it at its base while Dean continued sucking at her tit. It remained limp in her hands. She massaged his balls gently with her fingers. His cock seemed to swell. She took it in hand and attempted to stroke it, but it was still too soft for penetration.

For the first time he could ever remember he didn’t have instant hardwood at his disposal. He let go of his dick and returned to Sarah’s incredible tits. She grabbed him by the back of his head and pulled him into her, playfully pretending to smother him in her abundant perfumed flesh. Still Dean’s member lay limp between his legs. Sarah was becoming frustrated. Growing impatient she began pawing at her pussy, fingering her clit. Her juices were really flowing now and she ached to be penetrated.

Dean fingered her, inserting most of his hand in her stretched-out pussy. Her cunt was drenched. He put his wet hand back on his cock and pulled on it. Hoping for something.

Sarah put her hand on the back of his head again and this time guided him down between her legs. This was something Dean had been known to do, but it was rare that the occasion ever called for it. He licked and sucked and nuzzled and lapped at Sarah’s swampy pussy for as long as it took her to get off. And when she did it was like a torrent. Dean’s jaw was sore by the end of it. He drifted off to sleep sometime around 3AM to the faint sound of the TV, and of Sarah, mewling softly while she fingered herself next to him.

She was lying next to him in bed, staring with a confused and worried expression at his chest. He sat bolt upright in bed and looked down at himself.

“My GOD! What’s happening to you?!” The look on her face was one of shock and disbelief.

Dean’s hands flew to his chest and the two pudgy mounds that had taken up residence there. Somehow overnight his ‘manboobs’ had experienced a little growth spurt. They were filling his hands. And then some! These were no mere manboobs. No one would ever buy that explanation ever again.

He squeezed them and mashed them against his chest. He tried in vain to flatten them but they were going nowhere. They were soft, pliable and squeezed out in all directions.

“How can this be happening?!” Sarah asked, dumbfounded, recoiling even as she studied Dean more closely, gawking at the two… things on his chest. The look on her face suggested she was as mortified as he was by what she saw.

Dean touched his chest gingerly, patting it lightly as if it were on fire and he was attempting to put it out.

Dean jumped up out of the bed and stomped off to the bathroom, holding his chest in his hands.

“Phelps you son of bitch. You fucking son of a bitch.” He said to his reflection, trying to muster some remnant his fleeting manhood.

He removed his hands and let his breasts fall. He looked at them, still not believing his own eyes. They were soft, teardrop-shaped… and they felt ‘full’. The broad chiseled musculature of his chest was gone now, replaced by two beautiful round pillowy female breasts that sagged slightly. His nipples were large, surrounded by brown areola, and projected out in front of him. He reached out and touched them, squeezing them between his thumb and forefinger, the way he’d done with Sarah’s a thousand times before.

His pounding heart pumped blood into his cock. In no time his erection was climbing up and pushing at his waistband. He pulled down his underwear and kicked them off. The person in the mirror was only just barely recognizable. He took his cock in one hand and one of his nipples in the other and began masturbating himself. His cock head was swollen and leaking. He smeared his pre-cum up and down the length of his shaft and stroked himself.

He dropped what he was doing and returned to her. She saw him, saw his red erection, his womanly breasts. It was all too much. She erupted into heaving sobs, her tears streaming down her face and falling onto her chest. Her fingers manipulated a small vibrator she had previously inserted into her pussy. She looked down at her own exaggerated hypersexual form and back at her husband with a look of confusion and remorse. A powerful orgasm erupted in her pussy, attacking her in her moment of vulnerability, giving her a full body jolt that made her pound the bed with her fists and groan in ecstasy.

Dean rushed over to her side. She pulled the vibrator from her snatch and dropped it onto the floor and flung herself into Dean’s arms. The two kissed. Dean’s tears came now and mingled with Sarah’s as her tongue forced its way into his mouth. The two kissed passionately, lost in the moment, fighting for air until their sobs eventually ceased. Sarah reclined backward against the pillows, emotionally spent but physically willing and able. She pulled Dean toward her, encouraging him to enter her with his erection. She seemed relieved to see it was back, after the previous night’s poor performance.

Dean entered her gently, easing his cock into Sarah’s well-lubricated pussy. The two began to pump their hips in unison. Immediately Dean’s breasts joined the rhythm and began a bouncing motion as they hung freely from his chest. His nipples brushed against the fabric of Sarah’s bra. It felt strangely wonderful.

Sarah struggled to unfasten her big bra and twisted and strained her tiny body until she was free of the thing. Her unencumbered tits wobbled like Jell-O, spreading out and covering her upper body. Sarah drove her fists into the sides of her fun bags, pushing them together. Dean mimicked this move with his own breasts, driving the heel of his palms into the sides of his soft girlish chest, appalled but enthralled at the sight of his own cleavage. He let himself fall down on top of his wife with all his weight, letting his breasts collide with his wife’s. Sarah’s face was overcome with a look of detatched calm. She closed her eyes and blocked out the troubling sight of her hermaphroditic lover fucking her.

Dean almost missed it except for her gentle cooing. Sarah came quickly, mere moments after he’d begun fucking her. When she was finished she opened her eyes and ceased her gyrations. Her face showed her satisfaction, and also an odd calm that came over her. Sarah looked up at Dean with a serious glint in her eye, indicating she’d had enough. Dean pulled out of her, his hips still moving involuntarily. He took his reddened cock in his hand and pumped himself.

Sarah said nothing, only watched and waited. She wasn’t in the mood for one of his sticky cum baths right now, but she would take it. Deans breasts jiggled unnaturally as he rapidly and slavishly pumped his dick until, soon, his body seized up and he climaxed.

“Oh God. OH GOD. Oh God.” His eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned as he milked his cock. Cum squirted from his dick, landing on the underside of Sarah’s big tits. She scooped it up as best as she could, smearing it into her skin. The look on Dean’s face was one of pure bliss. Sarah noted that Dean was producing much less sperm than usual. Something much more like the load of a normal man, which was to say, not much. Not compared with what she was used to.

Dean continued to wrangle with his big cock, even after he was done ejaculating. A second climax, albeit less intense and without issue, took him by surprise. His eyes flew open and he looked down at himself, in disbelief, looking between the two dangling breasts on his chest at the beautiful erection in his hands.

“Oh JESUS. OH FUCK.” His body convulsed and his breasts shook as he strangled his cock in his hand, pumping it harder and faster until a third aftershock hit him. “GAAAAHHHHHH…..” Again, nothing came of it. Just pure sensation that emanated throughout his entire body.

With that he collapsed on the bed beside his wife. His cock remained stiff and he continued to stroke it, but his balls were emptied.

Dean and Sarah laid together in silence. Sarah idly fingered herself, her breasts spread out and pinning her to the bed. The weight of them comforted her. But she was just passing the time. Dean lay next to her, his cock limp and laying between his legs, his chest heaving, his tender nipples reaching toward the ceiling.

The sun was setting outside and the room was getting dark. They’d stayed in bed all day.

All of the sudden Dean began to cry again. Sarah heard his sniffles but didn’t move from her spot. She just closed her eyes and drove her fingers into her wet snatch, losing herself in her own pleasure. Is this how it would be from now on? She reached over and opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out her largest rubber dildo. The black one was her favorite. It was as big as Dean. She spread her legs and dipped it inside her, rotating her hips until the thing was almost buried to the hilt.

Dean’s sobs grew louder but she ignored them. He grasped his cock but it was soft and limp. Sarah began moaning, her pleasure intensifying. Dean turned onto his side, his chubby tits stacked on top of one another. He choked back his tears and reached over and put his hand on Sarah’s, helping guide the rubber dong in and out of her. Sarah smiled and removed her hand and let Dean take over.

He moved the plastic toy in and out of his wife while she took her fun bag in her two small hands and massaged them with a practiced expert touch.

“Oh? I should have you work on me.” Liz said, supporting her lower back with her hands, pushing her chest out. Her eyes strayed over to Dean. She scanned him from head to toe, taking a quick inventory.

Liz’s expression went from confused to bemused in the time it took her to connect all the dots.

She looked back at Sarah, her eyes feasting on Sarah’s beachball-sized tits, then darting back to Dean’s jacket that was straining against his voluminous chest. She let out an audible chuckle, not believing her eyes.

“I’ve known Dean here since he was a kid, haven’t I?” Grossman said dismissively, redirecting all his attention to Sarah. “So when did you dye your hair? Didn’t you used to be a blond?” Sarah explained that brunette was her natural color. She complimented Liz’s bleached blond hair and confessed she missed being a blond. This was news to Dean, but was the least of his concerns at the moment.

Liz’s eyes kept wandering over to Dean in a way that made him more and more uncomfortable as the seconds went by.

“Buying some new sheets I see?” Grossman commented on the contents of Sarah’s shopping cart. “Oh, yeah. We desperately need new bed sheets. Heck we need a whole new mattress, actually.”

“Is that right?” Grossman replied with a raised eyebrow and a sidelong glance to his wife.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. It was no secret that these were needful things these days, not just for the likes of Sarah and Dean. It was safe to assume Liz had been ‘vaccinated’ (judging from appearances) and that she and her husband ‘knew what it was like’.

“I was sorry to hear you had to close up shop.” Grossman said by way of changing the subject. It was the height of rudeness, Dean thought, to bring up Sarah’s arrest. But he had the courtesy not to get into the sad details of it there in public. Grossman proceeded to make more chit chat, directing all his comments to Sarah and Liz, pretty much treating Dean like he was invisible.

If only Liz could have done the same. As Grossman went out of his way to engage her in a conversation with Sarah she had a grin on her face that said she was profoundly amused. He remembered how she laughed her head off when he showed everyone pictures of Sarah that night they all partied in his hotel room. She seemed to be laughing at both of them now. It appeared to Dean like she might say something at any time, like she was burning to say something about the night the two of them kissed. How he’d practically thrown himself at her in a drunken state, even though he was engaged at the time to the very woman she was now talking to. Dean remembered with sickening clarity the laughs she and the other women had passing around his phone and going through all his sexy photos of his big-titted fiancé.

The room was spinning now. He couldn’t hear what the three of them were saying. Liz’s eyes met Dean’s even as she chatted politely with Sarah. He felt like she was reading his mind. She looked down again, staring cruelly at his chest, raised her eyebrows and shook her head subtly in amused disbelief. He turned his back pretending to look at something else.

“Okay, I’ll do that. It was great seeing you.” Sarah hugged Grossman, pressing her blimps into him without a thought. “And so nice meeting you” Sarah said to Liz as Dean pulled her away from the pair.

She was practically running to keep up, her boobs jouncing heavily inside her shirt, as Dean pushed the big red shopping cart in the direction of the checkouts.

“Yeah, she wants to get together. Isn’t that nice?” Sarah said in all innocence. “I love her blond hair. I think maybe I’ll bleach mine again. It’s been awhile. What do you think?”

Dean looked over his shoulder to see Grossman and Liz watching him and laughing to themselves as he scurried from the store, his own boobs bouncing like never before, wife in tow.

If he never saw those two again it’d be too soon.

# # # # #

Sarah sat atop her husband late one Wednesday evening, naked except for the enormous purple satin bra that contained her tits. The bra was a birthday present from her mother-in-law. Purple was not her best color but the fit was so perfect. At the moment it was her favorite. Her legs straddled Dean’s smooth thighs, pinning him to the bed. Her pale thin arms disappeared beneath the large overhand of her tits where her hands grappled with the remnants of her husband’s once majestic cock.

She arched her back and thrust her chest in his face, brushing the apex of her heavy tits back and forth against her lover’s sad face.

“Do you like my titties? Huh? Does my man like his wife’s big M cups in his face like this?” She playfully knocked Dean back and forth where he sat with using nothing but her chest.

“Am I big enough for you?”

It was intended to get a rise out of him.

Either a smile, or, preferably an erection.

Both were hard to come by these days.

Sarah looked around the room, at her still unfamiliar new surroundings. John Sutton’s recent death by a sudden heart attack had come as a shock to the whole family. He was only 66. Brenda Sutton had been inconsolable in the wake of his passing, but was already bouncing back it seemed.

John had left her enough to live comfortably on, but not nearly as much as she had expected. With Dean’s ‘situation’ unimproved it was decided he and Sarah would sell their little house and move into his parents’ large place in the suburbs.

Dean was spared of having to ever explain his condition to his father. His mother didn’t understand at first, how it was even possible. At first she kept demanding that he go see a doctor, an idea that Dean rejected outright. Eventually Brenda and Sarah both found a way to accept what had happened to Dean, even if he could not. His mother seemed to actually be fascinated by the whole thing.

Sarah pulled on Dean’s fleshy cock, squeezing it in her fingers, manipulating it every way she could think of in hopes of getting her lover hard. This was for his emotional benefit more than it was for her sexual gratification. She brushed her fingertips across his loose sac, pushing at the mushy remnant of his balls. Dean’s entire apparatus was like so much withered wrinkled fruit.

He was still known to get it up now and then. Otherwise she wouldn’t have bothered trying. But the hard-ons were few and far between. Sarah knew what it would probably take to make it happen, but she didn’t want to suck on his tits. Not just yet. She knew that he liked it. Poor thing. His hard-ons were proof of that! But she also knew that he was still embarrassed, mortified, by what had happened to him.

She needed to be fucked, though.

And she knew he needed it too.

Sarah reached out and grasped Dean’s nipples through the spandex of his new 38 D bra. As she pinched them she felt the life flow back into her lover’s limp dick. That bra looked tight, she thought. Its cups at capacity. He needed a 38 double D. Maybe an E. If only he’d let her measure him.

As she toyed with his nips through the bra, she could feel his cock getting harder.

“Here honey, let’s take that off.” Sarah leaned forward, smothering Dean momentarily in her cleavage as she reached around and unclasped his bra. He protested as she slipped it from his shoulders and flung it aside. She bent down, her tits filling his lap, and lifted his tits to her mouth, sucking his nipples.

Dean’s cock stiffened. It was no more than five inches now, if that. A shadow of its former self. But it would suffice. Sarah sat down on it, grinding her womanly hips against Dean’s, mashing her swollen clit against the base of his cock. He slipped out of her. She readjusted her body and reinserted Dean’s spongy erection into her pussy. Ignoring the tears welling up in his eyes, intent on taking advantage of his momentary arousal she immediately began rocking on top of Dean, the force and tempo of her thrusts intended to maximize the sensation that could be derived from his smaller cock. Aside from the pressure against her clit as it made contact with his pubis, Sarah could barely feel Dean inside her. She made no mention of this. He was fully aware of how loose Sarah’s pussy was, or rather, how inadequate his cock was.

Though he’d been against it, Sarah went ahead and hooked up with Liz one afternoon and had her dark hair bleached platinum blond. The look suited her, her realized. It broke his heart. She looked so beautiful. So incredibly sexy. Sexier than ever, he thought, even as she struggled and strained to get some satisfaction from his body. When the tears fell from Dean’s eyes Sarah closed her eyes and concentrated on the work at hand.

Before he could begin his blubbering she came.

For Sarah it was nothing like it had been in the past. It was more tender. Comfortable. Not as passionate. When she relaxed her body on top of him he began his crying. As much as she hated this new habit of his, something about his anguish, (maybe it was just the sound of crying, like that of an infant) produced a delightful flutter in her chest like she hadn’t felt since she first felt the effects of the Efema. In fact she kind of liked the feeling. Not that she liked her husband breaking down and weaping every time she tried to fuck him. She wished he could stop. For his sake. But the tremendous maternal instinct (if that’s what it was that radiated from her breasts, seemingly triggered by the sound of his crying) was almost as good as sex. In fact the stimulation to her breasts during these moments of profound closeness and vulnerability between them was incredible. Sarah couldn’t find words to describe the sensation to Dean. Besides, when she talked about such things now it always made Dean uncomfortable about his own breasts, and she didn’t want to do that.

She reached around and unfastened her purple bra. When the last hook was undone its satin cups went slack around her heavy tits, allowing them to escape from their beautiful confinement. The purple bra hung uselessly from her shoulders, sitting crumpled atop her girls. She could feel their pull at her neck and shoulders as their dead weight came to rest.

She squirmed free of her bra and let it slide down her arm onto the bed. Dean sniffled beneath her, trying gain his composure. Sarah put her hands to the sides of her mams and pushed them together, guiding her thick nipple to Dean’s mouth.

“Suck me.”

Dean his eyes and sucked Sarah’s big nipple into his mouth.

“Oh, Dee… sweetie, that feels so good. Oh my.”

The feeling brought both of them closer. Sarah felt the fluttering in her chest rise to the level of a buzzing. Her body felt electrified by the suction her husband was applying to her tit, and she encouraged ‘Dee’ to suck harder.

Soon the tears dried up and he went to work on Sarah, nursing hungrily at her great boobs. Sarah was almost giddy. After a minute or so Dean tasted something sweet. He removed Sarah’s nipple from his mouth. There were droplets of milk forming at the tips of her nipples!

“Honey, have you seen this?”

Sarah looked down at the milk dribbling from her nipples. She’d seen it before but had ignored it mostly. She wiped her nipple with her palm, smearing the milk across her skin. Dean pinched the nipple and milk squirted from it. He put his mouth to it again and sucked the milk from Sarah’s tit.

Sarah’s breathing grew labored and she shuddered from the sensation of Dean nursing at her breast. Suddenly she decided it was enough. This was not something she wanted to make a habit of. She pushed Dean away and squeezed the milk from her nipple. It flowed freely, more than she’d ever seen it do before. She wiped her hand back and forth across the nipple, hoping it would stop. The pressure behind her nipple seemed if anything to be increasing. Sarah ignored it. She picked her bra up off the floor and put it back on, fastening it behind her, pulling its straps up over her shoulders, then one by one hoisting her breasts into its cups, adjusting herself inside the supporting shaping garment until she was comfortable again. Her right breast leaked inside her bra, staining the purple fabric.

She looked down at Dean curled up on the bed. He was staring at the pillow. He looked confused. He looked sickly. In recent weeks his appetite had virtually disappeared and he’d begun to lose weight. His once muscular body had softened, losing its former definition as well as mass as it withered along with his cock. Apparently the effects of Efema on men extended beyond mere breast growth and heightening of libido. It seemed to be thoroughly feminizing him all over.

She sat down on the bed next to him, her weight causing a creek in the old bed springs. Dean’s form bounced next to her, his breasts wavering subtly on his chest. He was in one of his quiet moods and just layed there, staring at his pillow. Sarah put her hand on his knee and gave it a squeeze.

“Honey, I don’t want you to worry.”

“Worry about what?”

“Whatever. I know this thing has been hard on you. It’s been hard on us both.”

Dean pouted and grabbed at his pillow, punching it in futility.

Sarah’s hand fluttered to his poor cock, which was shriveled and appeared to have retreated into his body ‘like a frightened turtle’, to borrow the Seinfeld line.

His sac appeared all but empty. She felt for his balls and realized what Dean surely already knew, they too had retreated into his body. Possibly for good. The whole area between Dean’s legs, apart from his cock head, was nothing but a lot of loose skin.

He brushed her hand away, but she persisted with her quiet examination, pushing at the remnants of his former member, poking and prodding at the silky soft skin. When she stroked the nub of his head Dean jumped.

“Don’t! That’s sensitive.”

“Oh, Dee… stop it.”

“Well, it is. And don’t call me Dee.”

She placed her palm against his crotch and massaged his soft cock until he relented and relaxed his body, spreading his legs.

Without removing her hand from his crotch, Sarah leaned down and put her mouth to his breast and nibbled on his stiff nipple. Dean moaned in pleasure, reaching up and caressing the side of her breast which was many times larger than his.

The head of Dean’s cock leaked precum. The more she sucked and squeezed at his tits, the more relaxed his body seemed. When she pinched and squeezed, his cock leaked more until the whole area was wet. She smeared his moisture around until his pubic hair glistened, plying at and playing with his loose skin until, quite without intending to do so, Sarah could feel her finger penetrate into Dean’s body, into the small opening where his wasted testicles had ascended.

Dean’s eyes flew open at the strange feeling of Sarah’s finger penetrating him.

She immediately withdrew and resumed sucking him and rubbing his nub. Dean lay back and let Sarah play with him like that for a long time. She could sense a change in him as he seemed comfortable finally with allowing her to play with the disfigured genitals. The once proud tool that Efema had all but destroyed. Eventually he came, hard. The sensation permeated Dean’s entire body. He felt himself melting into the bed as Sarah smiled and leaned in to kiss him tenderly. He reached down to his crotch meaning to squeeze out what felt like a load he had yet to release. His hand grabbed at his noodley appendage, stroking it, rubbing its head. But it was spent like no cock had ever been spent.

Sarah left the dimly-lit room, announcing that she was hungry, having skipped supper once again. She left her husband there to fiddle with himself.

She returned with a plate of microwave grilled cheese and potato chips. Hardly a feast but enough to satisfy her. Dean refused to take a bite and instead curled up beneath the sheets pouting. She sat at the little computer desk across their bedroom and scarfed down her food while she poked around on the internet. It was rare these days for her to take an interest in TV or anything outside of her sexual thrills, and when she did surf the internet she was either looking at porn (to Dean’s utter dismay) or shopping for clothes.

When she was done eating she licked her fingers clean and picked up a vibrator that happened to be sitting right next to her on the desk. As its motor buzzed noisily to life, Dean sighed. Reaching for the TV remote he turned their little bedroom TV on and flicked through the channels, turning up the volume loud enough to drown out Sarah’s moans and sighs.

Sarah glanced over at the TV, her face scrunched up with disapproval at the distraction.

Dean turned the TV off.

Looking over at Sarah working herself toward her umpteenth orgasm of the day he sat up in bed, pulling the sheets up and gathering them in front of his chest. Looking around the room at the mess of empty glasses and dirty plates from previous bedroom meals and midnight snacks he huffed his disapproval to himself (and to Sarah, who paid him no mind.)

Though it was late he decided to get up and pick up the messy room. He pulled on a tight tee shirt and a pair of shorts. His bra remained on the floor where Sarah had tossed it. With an arm load of dishes and a handful of laundry he left her to her self-gratification and headed downstairs.

Mother was sitting on the couch in the downstairs living room, watching TV beneath a big blanket. She too was surrounded by dirty dishes and discarded items of clothing, which he proceeded to collect from around the room. His mother’s knees were tenting the blanket that covered her and he was sure she was fingerfucking herself beneath it. She paid neither him nor the television any mind.

Dean went into the kitchen, loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and put a load of laundry in the washing machine, including the shirt he was wearing which he discovered had a chocolate ice cream stain on the chest. He pulled on a terry cloth bathrobe that was hanging in the laundry room and tied it off around his middle.

Not wanting to go back upstairs just yet, he opted for the living room. He sat in his dad’s old easy chair, cuddling his breasts inside the warm bathrobe, and started flipping the channels.

“Oh, honey… you watch whatever you wanna watch. I’m just…”

His mother’s eyes fluttered and rolled back in her head as she seemed to lose her train of thought.

Dean flipped around until he landed on Charlie Rose. The talk show host’s round wooden table was lined with women. The interviewer was wearing a huge dumb smile on his pink face as his guests were laughing their heads off about something.

“So, you don’t worry…” he asked them, twinkling eyes heavily-lidded, mustering all the journalistic gravitas he could, “…about the ramifications. Your critics point to a coming breakdown of the family. The fabric of society…”

“Whoa. Slow down.”

A blond-haired woman in dark tinted glasses at the far end of the table cut him off mid-sentence. She was dressed in a navy blue suit jacket that was open in the front, exposing her alabaster white cleavage and a black camisole.

“Charlie, first of all; what critics? I don’t see any critics when I turn on the TV.”

The woman’s name appeared onscreen; Dr. Janice Grier, Nobel Prize-winning creator of The Efema System.

The panel erupted into more laughter. The woman silenced their giggles as she held her slender index finger up in front of her. Her hand was covered in huge diamonds, Dean noticed.

“Number one. And number two… Charlie…” She pulled her jacket open and thrust out her chest. “…what do you see when I do this?”

The visibly uncomfortable old man glanced into the camera briefly then looked back at his guest.

“Honestly? I see… a pair of very beautiful but very large breasts.”

His guest smirked and arched one eyebrow.

“Yes, you see a pair of large breasts but…”

The panel all interrupted her at once but again she quieted them. “…I’m sorry but this is important. When I see a pair of large breasts, Charlie… whether they’re my own, or any of these lovely women, or any woman I see on the street… and I think this is true of most women… what I see, honestly, is the face behind the breasts. The SMILING face. And it’s the face of wellness. Of health and well-being.”

“Yesss, buuut…”

“These breasts,” she put her hands to the sides of her breasts and pushed them together slightly, sexily, without concern over any damage to her credibility “…these big breasts are emblematic of The New Age. Plain and simple. They are a reminder that we have beaten cancer, Charlie. CANCER. A reminder that women are free of that fear, you see. And that is a very liberating thing. And something I am very proud of.”

“As a scientist.”

“As a scientist and as a WOMAN.’

She rapped her knuckle on the wooden table and jerked her jacket closed in front of her.

“I want you to weigh in on this.” The host turned to the middle-aged woman next to him. Her breasts were considerably smaller than the first woman. Not much bigger than Dean’s.

“Well, what can I say? It’s a miracle, Charlie.”

“Because…”

“Look, when I was growing up we never dreamed anything like this was possible.”

The woman’s name flashed on the screen. Stevie Hayes, entertainer.

“When I was growing up, Charlie… if you’d have told me that some day there’d be a drug that could change me from a man into a woman…”

“How big are your breasts, sweetie?” One of the other women interrupted. Hayes slapped her lightly on the shoulder and continued.

“…and it’s not just about breasts, Charlie. Hormones can grow breasts. I’m talking about a biological chromosomal transformation from a man into a woman.”

“That’s Steve Hayes?” Brenda was aghast, recognizing him now as a semi-obscure actor from a TV series from her childhood. Dean sat up in his chair and took notice, as did his mother who, judging from her rosy complexion and her upright position on the couch was back from la la land.

“None of this pre-op or post-op ordeal. Because, to be honest I don’t think I would have ever gone through with this were it not for Efema.”

“We should remind our viewers that this is all still illegal in the United States. You had to travel to…”

“Thailand.”

“Did you consider yourself transgender?”

“NO. Not even close. Well…”

“Well, yes. I guess I can admit that now. I wouldn’t have admitted it then though, believe me.”

“Charlie…” Doctor Grier interjected. “…you’re conflating sex with gender now, which are two completely separate things. Most cross-dressers are heterosexual, don’t you know that?”

“No Charlie, I wasn’t gay in the least. I was married for many years and have two grown kids. Never was attracted to men. Loved women. Still do.”

“Well, that’s part of the miracle of this drug. And something I could never have fully prepared myself for, I guess. But… and like I said, I was never attracted to men. Never once.”

“Now… I guess you could say I’m attracted to men.” She laughed at herself, clearly embarrassed to be getting now into the nitty gritty of how Efema had changed her life fundamentally, forced to explain that she now had a boyfriend.

“I think this is the part that a lot of people don’t understand” the host directed his question back to the doctor. “He says… I’m sorry… SHE says… that… it was never about sexual preference. As a cross-dresser. But that gender…”

“In my case a change of gender did affect my sexual preference.” The actress clarified.

“So what do you tell a cross-dresser… or I guess a transgendered male-to-female who is looking to transition?”

“Don’t get me wrong. Many cross-dressers and pre-op TG women are what you would think of as gay. They already are sexually-oriented to be attracted to men. Others, like Stevie, are completely heterosexual.”

“In either case, you’re right. There’s no guarantee that after being vaccinated and transitioning like Stevie has that the person won’t wind up changing teams, as it were.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m still a little confused. Did you have apprehensions…” the interviewer asked Stevie.

“I was terrified. I couldn’t imagine being attracted to a guy. I was pretty confident I’d wind up a lesbian, I guess. Or hopeful? Ultimately I decided I didn’t care.”

“Well, that’s not the right word. There’s a big fear of the unknown that goes along with this, at least going in. I never gave any serious thought to a sex change before this. It may sound silly, but I was content to just dress up in women’s clothing occasionally. But this is different you see. To become a real biological woman…”

“What is it about this drug… that was designed to cure cancer, and just so happens to make a woman’s breasts grow in size… how is it that it can cause a man to change genders? Or do we even know why it does what it does.”

“Charlie, of course we know. Or at least we think we know. See, the genetically-engineered virus that causes this macromastia condition in a woman, in an abbreviated form of course… the virus itself was created using modified DNA from female subjects who suffered from the condition. From congenital macromastia. So to an extent the Efema vaccine is proliferating this genetic code every time the drug is administered.”

“When it’s given to a man, what we think is happening is that the female DNA in the virus is… it’s like the male body has nothing like it, no defense against it. It cannot assimilate the DNA so a chromosomal change takes place and in many cases the virus runs riot and the effects can be dramatic.”

“And what ABOUT women we hear about who have supposedly taken the vaccine twice?” he posed the question to the entire panel.

“Nothing wrong with that. In my opinion. If a woman wants to do that she should be allowed.” An incredibly huge-chested woman in the middle replied. She looked like she was probably a stripper and that she was in all likelihood speaking from experience.

“Define considerable.” Another woman quipped. Again they burst out laughing.

“Persistent Sexual Arousal Disorder is a myth.” Dr. Grier said unequivocally. Even as she said this Dean thought he saw on her face the telltale signs of a woman fighting off spontaneous orgasm, right there on live television. While the interviewer pressed the doctor on the controversy surrounding the PSAD diagnosis, citing a recent study by the American Medical Association that concluded the diagnosis may have some validity, the woman’s face contorted and she chewed on her lip and clenched her teeth until finally she breathed a long heavy sigh.

“At the end of the day………… women who are vaccinated know the risks, and the rewards. I would venture to guess that the woman who undergoes a second cycle knows even better than she did the first time what the rewards are.”

“But is she in a position, intellectually… to effectively weigh the costs versus the benefits.”

“Well I would take issue with the term ‘intellectually’… mentally we are all quite capable of deciding what’s best for ourselves.”

“You all agree with that I assume” the host asked his panel, serving them a softball question to which they all replied in the affirmative.

“Efema does not impair one’s judgment, contrary to popular belief.” She leaned back in her chair looking slightly agitated, bracing herself against the table’s edge with both hands. The woman next to her put a reassuring hand on top of Doctor Grier’s, only to have the doctor withdraw, putting both hands down beneath the table out of sight of the cameras.

“The average bra size of the American woman has gone from a B cup five years ago to a D cup and is thought to be climbing” he peered over the tops of his reading glasses at the row of women.

“My wife used to be a D cup now she’s an F.” he said with a crooked smile.

“When do you foresee Efema being approved for, shall we say, cosmetic use?”

“Soon… and we haven’t announced this yet… I guess I’m announcing it here tonight. By the end of this year Charlie a woman will be able to get revaccinated legally here in America. With a doctor’s consent. And that doctor will help her do the math, if you will, to help determine if she’s a candidate.”

Dean looked over at his mother. Her attention was on the TV, but he could see her hand moving beneath her blanket.

“No, please don’t.” Dean protested.

She ignored him and proceeded to remove her mother-in-law’s brassiere from her husband. When she pulled it from his body two beautiful breasts settled on his chest and hung down. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of them, so round and heavy. They were pendulous, with brown areola that were larger than she remembered. Larger than her own!

“Are you my husband?” She joked.

She grabbed the elastic waistband of his panties and pulled them down, sliding them down over his hips until they were around his knees. In his crotch his pubic hair made a large bush that all but covered whatever was still there.

She reached out with her palm face up and dipped her fingers into the hairy patch between his legs. His pubes were damp. She felt for the head of his cock, finding it where she expected a woman’s clit to be. It was shrunken to the size of a fingertip and about an inch long. She pressed on it with her thumb and Dean went weak, resting his hand on her shoulder. Beneath his nub was just an awful lot of loose skin, but not as much as there had been the night before. Sarah probed at it with her fingernails. It was all wet, like a well-lubricated pussy. Dean’s balls were gone for good, she realized, never to be seen again. She inserted a finger into his folds and was surprised to feel no resistance as she probed inside his body. The tiny opening where the boy’s testicles descended from many years ago was now not so tiny.

Dean stood silently, yielding completely to his wife’s examination of his body.

She expected him to be crying by now, but he wasn’t.

Sarah put her mouth on a nipple and sucked on it. She never sucked another woman’s breast before. (At least not since she was a baby.) Fingering the nascent pussy and sucking on two full-blown titties didn’t feel all that strange, she decided.

“I think we’re going to have to come up with a different name for you, dear.”

“I know…”

“I think Dee is pretty name.”

“I guess so.”

Sarah inserted her middle finger as far as it would go, well past her knuckle. She held it in place and massaged the swollen ‘clit’ with her thumb until her hand was wet with a clear liquid.

“We make a fine pair, don’t we?” She asked.

Her lover’s face was flushed. The rosy hue spread from his cheeks, down his neck and onto his chest, which was emanating a great heat. A heat Sarah was well acquainted with.

# # # # #

The first time Sarah had been given the Efema vaccine during the clinical trial it was weeks before she noticed anything at all. She remembered looking down at her C cups after a month and doubting if the stuff would ever do anything at all for her.

Boy, did it!

The second time she took the virus with her mother-in-law was the same thing. It was a couple weeks before anything happened, whereas Brenda reported that she was feeling the changes after only a couple days.

This time Sarah felt the drug go to work much quicker. For the first twenty four hours she felt nothing. But by the afternoon on the second day she felt it; that familiar tingling in her breasts, a delightful needling sensation, like her flesh was crawling, and heightened sensitivity in her nipples. At first she thought she must have been imagining things. That it was simply ‘wishful thinking’ (despite the fact that she was actually dreading what was to come.)

But it wasn’t her imagination. The Efema was already going to work. The morning of the third day she felt like she was struggling more than usual to get out of bed. Her breasts were incredibly tender, firm and swollen, the skin red, almost hot to the touch. In the bottom drawer of her dresser she found a brand new N cup brassiere that her free-spending mother-in-law had custom made for her before they knew how big her tits might get. She’d hung onto it, thinking she might need it some day, though she never came close to filling it, even during her periods when she felt bloated the thing just swam on her.

When she removed her sleeping bra it left marks on her skin where it had been cutting into her all night long. It was wet with perspiration. She tossed it into the hamper and decided to give the N cup a try.

Holding the white spandex brassiere in front of her, it looked like a wrinkly sailboat. She snaked the band around her ribcage and fastened the row of seven hooks in the front, then rotated it around until the enormous cups were in the front, hanging down in front of her thighs, just two shapeless pieces of fabric. She dipped her hands into the padded shoulder straps and hoisted them up over her narrow shoulders. Her breasts resisted all attempts to guide them into the spacious cups but using two hands on each she managed, dropping first her left, then her right breast into position. With just a little tugging on the shoulder straps the great jiggling masses assumed the shape of the bra, with minimal extra effort on her part. The N cups felt wonderful. Roomy, nicely-fitted, and very supportive. “That’s not so bad.” She said aloud, trying to convince herself that it was only ‘a little bit extra’. Thanks to the new bra the dead weight of her super-sized boobies was now distributed differently, most of it transferring to her shoulders. She could feel the added strain up and down her back as she stood up straight, but with a little bit of correction to her posture she managed against all probability to carry the weight.

She could hear the shower in the bathroom down the hall and decided to go surprise Dean.

She took a few steps across her bedroom and her great buoyant titties weighed her down such that she could feel the strain in her skinny legs down the backs of her thighs and into her heels. Her bare feet thudded now against the carpeted floor. She found her center of gravity to be well in front of her. When she passed through the bedroom door into the hall her nipples scraped against the doorframe.

The bathroom door was ajar and the shower still going. She stepped into the steamy bathroom and pulled the shower curtain back to give her lover a surprise. But it was Sarah who got the surprise. Standing there naked was her mother-in-law, back against the tile shower stall in the middle of fingerfucking herself.

When she saw Sarah she practically slipped and fell.

“Jesus Christ, Sarah, I’M IN HERE. Do you mind?” The woman was covered in soap, her hair wet and matted, boobs hanging down to her navel, glistening and wet.

It was the first time Sarah had ever seen Brenda naked. Her body looked… great.

“I’m so sorry! I thought you were Dean.”

“Get out!” She jerked the shower curtain closed and muttered a string of obscenities to herself.

Sarah crashed painfully into the doorframe when she turned to leave the bathroom, setting off a wave of dull radiating pain mixed with pleasure throughout the huge mass of her chest.

She made for the stairs, holding fast to the banister as she and her tits slowly descended to the downstairs living room. With each step down gravity and the weight of her chest put extra strain on the padded shoulder straps of her bra, pitching her forward. By the time she reached the last few steps she was building momentum and nearly fell forward onto the landing. When she got to the bottom she stopped herself and turned her body with deliberate effort negotiating her tits around the jutting column that supported the banister.

The living room was empty except for the TV which was tuned to The View.

Sarah could hear the washing machine running and went to the laundry room to see if Dean was in there. Again, going from the dining room into the kitchen her chest scraped against the door frame. She turned to inspect the doorway, not believing that her tits could be too big to fit through a door. When she turned her body her chest accidentally brushed against a nearby countertop, sweeping a bunch of junk mail onto the floor with a loud splat and knocking over the paper towel dispenser. She went down to pick up the mail but her boobs met with her thighs and impeded her movement. She bent her knees and leaned over sideways and felt around blindly (the considerable weight of her breasts shifting and pulling her off balance) until she recovered the scattered junk mail from the floor and tossed down on the counter.

“This is ridiculous.” She said to herself, correcting her posture until again she had command of her top-heavy load.

“Honey, are you in there?” She pulled back the sliding door to the nearby laundry room and found Dean just standing in front of the dryer dressed in a worn out tee grey tee shirt and a pair of his old sweatpants that were much too tight in the seat. He was leaning into the dryer, just staring at the wall in front of him.

Sarah stood outside the laundry room, supporting herself against the doorway. Her chest spanned the opening and entered the tiny room well ahead of her. “Sweetie?” She reached out and put her hand on Dean’s shoulder to draw his attention. His chest was heaving and he was breathing heavy. He’d been holding his crotch against the warm vibrating clothes dryer, pleasuring himself. He batted his eyes and licked his lips. “Oh. Sarah. I didn’t see you” he said in a soft breathless voice.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh! Yeah I’m fine” he chirped musically, tossing a pile of clean socks into a nearby clothes basket.

“Well? …Do you notice anything different about me?”

Sarah took a step into the little laundry room until it seemed like her enormous boobs were taking up all the available space. Dean remained distracted, his thoughts still somewhere else. When he turned to look at her his eyes nearly jumped out of his head.

“My god, Sarah.”

“I know, after just three days, huh?”

His eyes roamed the expanse of his wife’s intimidatingly large tits as they advanced toward him. Though she was almost a foot shorter than him, her body dwarfed his. In fact Sarah’s tits dwarfed her. “Dee? Honey, are you alright?” She moved in closer. He took two steps back until his plush backside was up against the wall. He put a hand to Sarah’s chest and pushed back but he couldn’t move her from the spot. Sarah smiled and pushed forward, intent on initiating some kind of sexual contact. Dean’s claustrophobia seized him as the two fleshy dirigibles cornered him and the laundry basket. He panicked, grabbed the basket and just squeezed by Sarah, escaping into the adjacent kitchen, leaving her alone in the laundry room.

He turned and looked toward the hallway leading to the laundry room. Sarah’s tits were visible in the hall before she even appeared in the doorway.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

How as she even standing upright?

She was pouting, her feelings no doubt hurt by his recoiling from her. Laundry basket in hand Dean turned away from Sarah and went into the living room.

“Why do you keep walking away from me?” She asked, not willing to let his brush-off go unnoticed. Reaching into the laundry basket she pulled out a white tee shirt of hers and shook it out to put it on over her head.

Dean’s eyes went to her massive chest again, then back to his laundry folding. He didn’t answer. Sarah pulled on the XL tee shirt, stretching it out and over her body with surprising ease. The scooped neck shirt was pulled taut across the apex of her tits, seemingly to the tearing point. Her exposed cleavage looked every bit like the bare bottom of a rather large lady as it swelled up out of her tight clothing. Some of the elasticity around the bottom of the relatively new shirt was still intact and hugged her waist, though her midriff was exposed.

“Well???” Sarah fluffed her blond mane and stood with her hands on her hips, her ridiculous body pointed accusatorily at Dean. He hung his head and continued folding laundry. As she pulled on a pair of jeans she noticed finally; he was wearing makeup! Not much, just a little mascara and some rouge. He’d done a poor job of it, too.

“Sweetie?” She pulled the laundry from Dean’s hands and sat down next to him on the sofa, swelling her chest in front of him, hoping to force a reaction. Dean started to cry. Sarah rolled her eyes, squaring herself against her over-emotional shemale partner. “Come on… what’s the matter with you? Stop crying.” She smudged the tears across Dean’s mascara-streaked cheeks. His sobs intensified.

“Why are you crying like this! It’s not as if you’re the one who…”

“Sarah… I…” Sarah slipped on a pair of platform-heeled sandals and pulled out a compact from her purse and applied a little makeup of her own.

“What. You what.”

Dean tried to stifle his own crying, attempting to gather his wits.

“I found some blood.”

Sarah snapped her compact shut and flung it into her bag and snapped it shut.

“You found some what?”

“Blood… down there.”

Sarah looked confused, then amused slightly as her expression softened into one of sympathy.

“You mean?”

“I think I’m having a period.” Dean looked like he’d just been informed the world was ending. “Oh honey.” Sarah put her arm around Dean and pulled him into her and hugged him. Her boobs made intimacy virtually impossible but she held him tight. Dean collapsed against her, resting his face on her exposed cleavage.

“I borrowed one of your tampons that I found in the bathroom.”

“Those aren’t mine, they’re your mother’s” she informed him with a bemused grin and a raised eyebrow.

Brenda came down the stairs, dressed in a bath robe and with a towel wrapped around her head. She ignored them as she made her way in haste through the living room and into the kitchen.

“I’m meeting Liz for coffee this morning. Do you want to come?”

Dean’s stomach sank. Did she know what she was asking him? Sarah stood up and grabbed her purse and keys. In her heels she was taller by a good two inches. Her breasts loomed ominously above him, her face hidden from his view.

“I think it’d do you good to get out of the house and hang out with us girls.”

She knew what his answer would be but she asked him anyway.

Brenda leaned her head into the living room and interrupted. “I need you today, dear. Remember? The painters are coming this afternoon to give us an estimate on painting the house, and I don’t know anything about that stuff.”

Dean didn’t know anything about it either, Sarah thought. But it probably made him feel good that someone still saw him as ‘the man around the house’. The house was peeling badly and was long-overdue to be painted. Also there was a leak in the roof and water had begun to come in through the ceiling in the upstairs bathroom. With Dean’s father gone there was no one left to see to the upkeep of the property.

But that was Brenda’s problem to deal with.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.

“Okay, well then. I’ll call you later I guess.” She stood up, her powerful bust rising up in front of his face until it towered over him. He felt helpless as she headed for the door. He jumped up and followed her out onto the front stoop. He seemed to want her to stay, and was surprised frankly that she was so motivated to go out.

“I need to get out of this house.” She informed him as she put on her sunglasses.

The day was coming soon (when and if her tits got even bigger) when she might not be able to get out whenever she felt like it. He knew this and so did she. He stood there in his sweat pants and tee shirt, feeling the warm breeze on his own breasts, wishing they could get away. Sarah leaned forward and gave him an air kiss and discretely fondled one of his breasts. Dean brushed her hand away and blushed, looking up and down the street to see who might have noticed.

Sarah just giggled and walked away, her severely top-heavy form perched atop a tiny pair of wedge-heels as she wobbled toward the Lexus.

# # # # #

Sarah had no business driving now. With the car seat positioned close enough that her feet could reach the gas pedal her breasts were jammed into the steering wheel. If she moved the seat back far enough that her breasts cleared the wheel, her feet couldn’t reach the pedals. She compromised and made the adjustment until she could just reach the pedals with her platform heels and her breasts permitted her to operate the wheel. She made it downtown without incident, proud of the small triumph she managed all on her own. Of course parallel parking the car was almost impossible for her, but she always had difficulty with that maneuver anyhow.

During the short walk to meet Liz she drew the stares of everyone on the street, men, women and children. For the first time, even surrounded by other large-breasted women, Sarah appreciated how much she stood out like a sore thumb. People’s attitudes had changed enough that strangers didn’t laugh or make snide comments, and at her exaggerated size it seemed men were either reluctant or flat out too intimidated to approach her, which was fine with Sarah. Sarah tried to just enjoy being out, on busy downtown streets on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

Her platform heels compounded the new difficulty she had just walking a straight line. They required an extra bit of concentration and the wooden heel caused her big tits to shake and shimmy. A mother with two small children, and breasts that had to be in the H cup range, looked at Sarah as she passed them by. She covered her mouth, trying to mask her shock. One of the children pointed at Sarah and said, “Mommy look at how big that lady’s boobies are!”

Sarah held her chin up and walked on, pretending to ignore the child’s remark and laughs that it elicited from people nearby.

When she turned the corner and could see the new Hot Zone a half a block away she breathed a small sigh of relief. The Hot Zone had the biggest selection of erotic clothing and toys in the city and she was well-acquainted with the staff. She hadn’t been shopping there in months and it was her first visit to their new expanded location.

The new store was huge and looked more like Old Navy than the cramped, slightly sleezy store she was used to. When she passed through the entrance of the brightly-lit new store the average cup size of womankind seemed to scale up from a double D to a G. Now she was surrounded by more well-endowed women who were all there shopping for dildos, or something racier than what could be found at Victoria’s Secret. Even among these women though, Sarah attracted attention.

The store was crowded and doing a brisk business. There was a small cafe in the back and even a book store that sold porn and erotic literature and a selection of videos. Women of all ages, shapes and sizes were filling their wire baskets, many with their boyfriends or husbands in tow. Sarah found Liz in the back of the store browsing the lingerie racks. From a distance she didn’t look any different to Sarah’s eyes, but it had only been a few days. When Liz saw Sarah the look on her face was not much different than the look she’d seen on Dean’s face earlier that morning. Her eyes flared and looked like they might jump out of their sockets.

“Oh. My. God. Sarah…”

“I know. I know.”

“You’re huge! I mean… huger than you were!?”

“I know.”

“Already! Girl… it’s only been three days.”

“I know. I know.” Sarah stood and let Liz get a good look at her. She arched her back and transferred a bit of the weight higher up on her body. Her lower back ached and her feet were already sore from walking just a few blocks.

Even though the store was famous for stocking larger sizes than anywhere else in town, their largest bras topped out at a K cup. And those were decorative sequined stripper bras that were not designed for comfort but strictly for show.

But that’s not why Sarah wanted to come here. She was shopping for a new dildo, hoping to find something different that what she already had. Something to spice things up a little. While Liz tried on bras in the back, Sarah browsed the aisle of toys, wire basket slung over her arm. She found lots of dildos like the ones she had at home. She looked at a couple but was disappointed that she couldn’t find anything bigger than what she had until finally she saw it. At the end of the aisle; Mother’s Helper it was called. It was flesh colored and realistically-sculpted to look like a real penis. But it was larger than any human penis, more like what you might find on a mule.

“20 Inches of What A Woman Craves… Satisfaction Guaranteed… Batteries Not Included”

Sarah blushed at the sight of it, at the feel of it in her hands. So heavy. It was bigger than anything any woman could hope to get much practical use out of, but something about the sight of it made Sarah feel she just had to have it. It had a Presence. The ridiculous thing seemed to radiate sexual energy. She put it in her basket and smiled at the way it hung out over the edge.

“Have you tried our new suction cups?”

A zealous sales girl came up behind her. Sarah turned to face her, colliding into a rack of rubber dicks, knocking half of them onto the floor.

“Oh I’m sorry. I need to watch where I’m going.” She stood there all but helpless, her skinny arms held up in front looked like tiny useless T Rex arms. “Don’t worry about it.” The cheerful young woman kneeled down in front of her and gathered up the dicks and replaced them on the shelf one by one.

The helpful girl proceeded to pull out a box from a low shelf and handed it to Sarah. “You’ll love these.”

Sarah held the little clear plastic clamshell box up in front of her face.

“Supernips. The suction you want, the suction you need.”

“They are basically just rubber cups. The longer you leave them on, the more the suction increases… they…”

Sarah opened the box and removed one of the cups and looked at it.

“These aren’t large enough.” The clear rubber cup was a tiny bit smaller than a shot glass. “Do you have any bigger?”

Liz walked up and took an apprising look inside Sarah’s shopping basket.

“Well the only thing I have bigger are the pump kits. Those start at $200.”

“Oh, well that’s too much money. Thank you anyways.”

“Can you show us?” Liz said, asking the girl to take them to the pump kits.

“Let me buy this for you.” Liz said after the girl retrieved the expensive pump kit from behind the counter. The large box contained an electric air compressor and an assortment of hard plastic nipple cups of various sizes, even a couple that Sarah figured would work with her oversized nips. It also came with a few large domes designed to fit over the entire breast, though neither of those would be of any use to her. “In fact give me this.” Liz took Sarah’s shopping basket from her hands, insisting on putting her purchase on Tom’s credit card. “That money we gave you isn’t for toys. It’s for clothes.” Sarah looked at the diamond bracelet dangling from Liz’s wrist and reminded herself that the Grossman’s could afford it.

“Thank you!”

Sarah decided she’d let Liz pick up the tab. Her eyes wandered the wall behind the counter, looking at the menagerie of toys and clothes.

“Do you want the reservoirs today? Those are forty dollars extra.” The sales girl asked Liz as she took her gold card, trying to shake her down for more money. “I’m sorry. The reservoirs?” “For lactating mothers. They’re part of the kit.” “Sure, throw them in there. And these too.” She gave the girl her own basket containing assorted colors of brassieres for herself.

While the clerk rang up Liz’s purchases Sarah turned around. Her tits bumped into a man who was standing a couple feet behind them, knocking him backward.

“Oh, excuse me.”

“Excuse me.” He looked Sarah up and down shook his head, impressed.

Sarah tried to move out of his way.

“Pardon me for saying so but you have an amazing body.”

“Oh, thank you. I guess.”

“I mean no disrespect. Do you have a photographer?”

“What? A photographer? No.”

The man pulled out a business card.

“I’m not looking for a photographer.”

“That’s what they all say. We would pay a thousand dollars a session, for the first session.’ Sarah took the card. “And for subsequent sessions we usually want to negotiate an exclusive contract. Especially with, well, with someone like yourself. I just know that…”

Sarah held the card up in front her face. “Z Grade?”

I’m Zach. Grayson. He offered Sarah his hand. She shook his hand and thanked him and said she’d think about it. Liz handed Sarah her bags and took her by the arm, leading her away from the man and towards the exit.

“BIMBO! SLUT!”

When Sarah and Liz came out of The Hot Zone they and everyone else in the vicinity were confronted by a small group of what looked like scruffy short-haired dykes with clipboards. They were dressed in matching black tee shirts printed with the phrase NO MORE TITS. They were protesting The Hot Zone store and collecting signatures for an initiative to ban the use of Efema as a breast growth drug. Though judging from their well-developed chests, they had all undergone the vaccine. One of the girls spat on Sarah. A glob of disgusting phlegm hit her right on her left tit.

“Watch it, asshole.” Liz said as she pushed past the chesty friend of the spitter.

“Whore!”

“Come on, Sarah. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

A third girl followed them, hurling insults from behind. Liz told her to shut her mouth and leave them alone. The girl challenged Liz to make her shut up.

“Listen, bitch. You better leave us alone or I’ll call the cops.”

“Hey Tits, are those titties big enough for you?” The girl taunted Sarah.

Sarah was speechless as she stood there on the sidewalk, strangers passing by gawking at her with her big Hot Zone shopping bags, one of which had a lifelike penis peeking out of the top.

“Well, blondie? How many doses of TIT JUICE have you had, huh?? Fuuuck!”

The lanky short-haired girl sneered at Sarah. Her tits were only a double D but bounced around quite a bit as the girl taunted her and Liz.

“Come on, Sarah. Let’s go already.” Liz wiped the spit from Sarah’s shirt with her sleeve, grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her away.

“Hey Tits, can I feel your tits, Tits??”

Double D stepped up and gave one of Sarah’s breasts and playful slap. Sarah’s face turned red. Liz went to shove the girl and the girl swung her clipboard, hitting Liz’s hand. Sarah reacted by staggering backwards in her platform sandals, losing her balance. The inertia of her tits sent her scrambling in whatever direction they wanted to go, back and further back, sending Sarah in reverse faster than her feet could keep up, throwing her off her high heels and crashing into a parked car. Liz rushed to her side. Out of the gathering crowd of onlookers she was the only one who offered to help the poor woman to her feet. Sarah was on all fours at one point, her heavy breasts seeming intent on coming to a full rest on the pavement. With some effort she was back on her feet though and regaining her balance.

“Hahahahaha! Tits fell over! Nice job Tits!”

“Are you okay sweetie?”

Sarah said nothing, only walked on. Double D followed them for half a block, taunting them from twenty feet away. The two walked away at an increasingly brisk pace in the direction of Sarah’s car. Sarah’s breasts were positively galloping inside her bra. She thought she could hear her stitches tearing. The straps strained and tugged at her shoulders, pulling her forward the faster she walked. Soon, through no fault of her own, she pitched forward and stumbled. Tripping over her own feet she fell forward onto the pavement, landing with a loud splat as her bags went flying. Double D had given up finally and was circling back to rejoin her friends. Liz helped Sarah to her feet once again. There was blood on her left knee from where she came down on the cement.

“Oh my god, are you okay? You’re hurt. Your knee is bleeding.” Liz looked around, smoothing Sarah’s tousled hair down. Sarah was overcome with fear and feelings of helplessness. How had it come to this? Who were those women? Why did they attack her like that? Her face was still flushed and she felt hot. The embarrassment of falling down made her want to cry. She felt humiliated, but she held it together.

“Let me drive you home, honey.”

“No, I’ll be alright.”

“Let me carry your bags at least.”

Sarah hoisted her purse onto her right shoulder then held out her hands. She could carry her own bags. Liz handed her the Hot Zone bags, the head of the twenty inch dildo emerging from the torn white tissue paper it had been wrapped in.

No longer being chased, Sarah walked at a slow almost geriatric pace, her full attention focused on maintaining balance. Even walking slowly and purposively she felt her tired body was barely up to the task of carrying her tits much further as they pulled her, inexorably forward, toward her car, toward home.

She thanked Liz, who helped her back into the old Lexus. Liz noticed that the car was covered in road filth as it hadn’t been washed in over a year. Sarah was greatly relieved as the weight she’d been carrying for the last hour with nothing but her back muscles was now at rest in her lap. They agreed to get together again ‘soon’ then Liz went on her way. Sarah fumbled with her keys, feeling for the ignition. Her hands were shaking. She felt weak all over. She dropped the keys on the floor next to her feet where they were beyond her easy reach. She moved her seat back and leaned down, feeling around blindly until she had the keys. She jammed the key in the ignition and put her foot to the gas pedal, except she couldn’t reach the pedal. She moved the seat forward again until her breasts were pushing against the steering wheel. She turned the ignition, pressed the gas with her toe and the engine roared to life.

The pain of embarrassment was subsiding now, replaced by the physical pain of the abrasion on her knee, and the soreness up and down her back and neck. The heat rising from her chest and the redness in her cheeks remained, and would persist to some degree or another until the eight week cycle was completed. The Efema in Sarah’s system (the macromastia virus that was tweaking her DNA, incorporating more and more of the genetic markers of an unknown woman, or women, who had donated their genetic material to the developers, women who had suffered from full-blown cases of congenital macromastia) was at this very moment inducing a new wave of growth throughout her massive breasts. And though it was already hampering her mobility it had only begun to go to work. The unnaturally overdeveloped network of hundreds upon hundreds of ducts and lobules and adipose tissue that made up Sarah Sutton’s huge breasts had already begun to change, had already begun to replicate and proliferate and would continue to do so (just as before but now on a larger scale and with greater viral ferocity), bifurcating and branching out in all directions as growth gained momentum, feeding on Sarah, taking what it needed, using whatever calories and nutrition she could provide, blossoming into brand new blooming clusters of soft, healthy, cancer-proof breast tissue, like so much jelly that would have to fight for space inside Sarah’s crowded little body, ultimately forcing her skin to stretch and grow to accommodate her expanding quivering pleasure-giving mass.

When she pulled out of her parking space Sarah accidentally honked her horn with her boobs. When she turned sharply to correct and stay in her lane the steering wheel caught and the car veered into the next lane, causing another car to lay on its horn and swerve to avoid hitting her. She took one busy downtown corner too sharply and drove up over the curb, nearly destroying the car’s suspension. Sarah drove back to the suburbs as cautiously and as carefully as she had walked herself that last block to her car, like a frightened old woman, worried that she might lose control of the vehicle at any moment.

# # # # #

Sarah returned home to find a note on the living room coffee table.

“Sarah — Mother and I have gone to Bangkok. She thinks I can be cured there, but I don’t know. She insists we try. I know this is sudden and I am so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. Please don’t worry. Everything will be okay. I will call you. love, ‘Dee’.”

Sarah dropped the piece of paper on the chair with no more thought to its import than if it had simply said "went out, be back soon." Should she cry? Should she be angry? At the time she was mostly just glad to have the house to her self. She lugged her shopping bags upstairs to her bedroom and flung herself down on the bed and started to massage her poor breasts. The fact that Dean and his mother had left the country, leaving her with no visible means of support, kept distracting her. Daring her to make sense of it. She tried to put it out of her mind but she couldn't. There was no cure for what had happened to Dean. She knew that. Brenda should know that too, but she was in denial. Maybe she just wanted to get away. Maybe she wanted to take Dean away from her, to hurt her, to punish her for ruining their lives. It was shitty of her to just leave Sarah there alone like that, without any notice. How long had Dean been aware of this little trip? Did he really want to see some shady Thai doctor? She didn’t care, she told herself. She hugged her chest, her hands flying now over the surface of her boobs. They felt bigger than ever. They were bigger than ever. Wonderful! Why did that thought appeal to her? Was she losing her mind? She felt for her fat nipples. They were so far from her body, swimming on a sea of creamy white flesh, though they were the center of her world, still, more than ever. She tugged on them and was rewarded with a warm all-encompassing flood of sensation that electrified her entire body, even her weary mind. Her pussy was practically leaking but she didn’t care. She could feel the wet spot forming beneath her on the bed. She reached for Mother’s Helper, tore the white paper off of it and fumbled for it’s on switch. The powerful vibrator was quiet inside the thick rubber phallus, humming in a dull murmuring tone that she found soothing in itself. Pleasant.

She flopped back onto the bed and spread her legs wide, positioning the oversized toy dick in front of her gaping pussy with both hands. The head was a large as a navel orange and stretched her wide as she forced it into her. She never felt anything so large. It felt great.

Of course at twenty inches it was practically taller than she was. There was no way she’d ever fit it all inside her. But she would have fun trying over the days and weeks ahead, she thought to herself.

With Dean and Brenda gone and the house all to herself, Sarah would spend untold hours in bed, without a care in the world, wrestling with that rechargeable dildo around the clock, sometimes falling asleep with it inside her.

By the next week her brand new N cup bra was losing the struggle to contain her burgeoning tits. She ordered larger bras. More than half of the thousand Liz had given her went to MadameGozonga.com to purchase a custom-made 34O cup and a 34P cup. She was reduced to going without a bra in the meantime, spending her days and nights in her bath robe, tits hanging down to her skinny waist, nearly brushing the tops of her thighs now. It was incredible. She lived off of Domino’s Pizza home delivery, devouring food as her appetite kicked into overdrive. Moving about the house was no problem without a bra, she found. She could manage. But no way was she about to go out into to public in that condition. By the time her order arrived at the end of the third week she had surpassed an O cup (luckily Madame Gozonga would accept returns!) The P cup bra did fit her, though the band felt loose. It appeared she had lost weight everywhere except in her boobs. When she looked at her face in the mirror she looked gaunt, tired. Her arms and legs were as thin as a child’s. Even her tush looked smaller. Her hip bones were sticking sharply out. She was required to fasten the 34 inch band around herself using the tightest set of hooks, and even then it felt a bit loose. As she remembered being pleasantly surprised at how the N cup shaped and lifted and supported her breasts when she tried it on for the first time, so now was she pleasantly surprised, amazed even, at how the utilitarian parachute-like P cups clung to her gigantic tits and held them aloft as if by force of magic.

The huge underwire cups extended up practically into her arm pits, collecting even the pillowy flesh that now grew around her sides and bulged unaccountably up into her pits. And though the bra left more than enough cleavage exposed (to help ventilate), the cups covered her in the front more than her old brassiere, containing all the jiggling titty that was advancing up almost to her shoulder blades now. Again her new center of gravity, while wearing a supportive bra, was well in front of her, further out than she had become accustomed to. No matter how she held herself and pitched her shoulders back it felt as though her breasts simply outweighed her, wanting to pull her forward constantly. Sarah, at her diminished weakened stature, was simply an insufficient counterweight to the breasts she found herself attached to. All she could do was flex her upper back muscles and pull against them with her narrow shoulders. The sturdy bra did the rest. As soon as she relaxed her shoulders though, or slouched forward even a tiny bit, gravity would take over, tipping her forward.

So while she was still quite able to get around, Sarah Sutton spent more and more time in a seated position. Eating, stroking herself, watching TV, sleeping.

The last time she drove the car it was to the mall to find a pair of high platform heels that might help her reach the pedals. The trip was a success. The five inch platform clogs she found permitted her to reach the pedals, just barely, with the driver’s seat moved all the way back. But still her breasts impeded her motions and made steering practically impossible. She vowed to stop trying. She would go on foot or (seeing as how her suburban neighborhood made a car a necessity, as the nearest supermarket was over a mile away) simply take a cab. Or get Liz to driver her. But after she misplaced her phone charger (and since the telephone company had disconnected the Sutton’s service) she was unable to contact her friend or call herself a taxi.

By week five her money was running out.

She was starving to death and needed groceries. And besides that she desperately needed to get out of the house. The day she received her Madame Gozonga in the mail she decided she would just try to walk her 32 Q tits the nearest supermarket.

They knew her there, she reasoned, as she scooted sideways out the front door of the house. They might not treat her too badly if she showed up in her condition. She hoped. Too lazy (or perhaps unable) to tie the laces on a pair of sneakers, she decided to just slip on her new five inch clogs, her most recent fashion purchase. Though she felt like she was teetering atop the high platform heels, she felt ‘prettier’ being taller, less like a rotund mass of tits. More statuesque. She put the her last fifty dollars in her hip pocket and hit the sidewalk.

The suburban streets were mostly devoid of people or cars on a weekday afternoon. Some blocks didn’t even have sidewalks, forcing her to walk in the street. A few vehicles passed by, slowing down to look at the spectacle of little Sarah wobbling down the street, two zeppelin-like boobs floating out in front of her, long blond hair blowing in the breeze. One couple pulled up alongside her, rolled down their window and snapped a photo before driving on.

By the end of the first quarter mile the extra large tee shirt she wore was streaked with sweat, and her back and feet were hurting. But she soldiered on, fighting her breasts every step of the way. Half way there she paused and sat on a stone wall, her boobs resting in her lap. When she’d rested enough to regain her strength she continued on.

Finally she reached the store.

Walking in the front door felt like she was in a dream. It had been over three weeks since she’d been anywhere. Navigating the wide aisles of the store was a breeze. The shopping cart proved convenient as she rested her tits on the child seat. Other shoppers gave her a wide berth when they saw her coming. Sure, they stared at her like she had Siamese twins growing out of her belly, but she just smiled and filled her cart with items.

The only difficult part of her trip to the store was getting through the checkout. Even standing sideways, her tits were brushing against the impulse racks and brushing against magazines, knocking her items over on the belt, bumping into the card scanner. The male checkout clerk avoided looking at her completely, though the other customers helped themselves to long lascivious views.

“That’ll be $82.50”

Sarah pulled out her sweaty wad of money, lifted it up in front of her face and counted it out with her little T Rex hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I only have fifty. I’m going to have to put some things back. We can put back the laundry detergent I guess.”

She strained to see around her tits at the items on the belt, trying to decide what else to put back. She looked dazed and confused. Customers in line behind her rolled their eyes and looked for another checkout line they could move to. At this point the store manager introduced himself and told the clerk to just put her bags in the cart and offered to make up the $32.50 out of his own pocket.

Sarah’s tired sweaty face was thin and smudged with makeup. Her hair was tangled. Her clothes were stained with sweat and filth. She fell all over herself thanking him for his kindness. He asked her if she needed help to her car. She informed him she was on foot. He offered to personally drive her home, as did the bag boy. She accepted the manager’s kind offer, assuring him it was only a few blocks from the store.

Never mind driving a car, at this point Sarah barely managed to fit into a passenger’s seat, a realization that mortified her as she could feel the store manager watching her out of the corner of her eye, looking on with compassion as she fidgeted in the car seat, trying to keep her boobs off the dash.

She didn’t bother with the seat belt and he didn’t make mention of it.

“You’re so nice to do this for me. I can’t tell you.”

The car smelled of sex, as Sarah’s sloppy vagina was now in a constant engorged state and soaking her panties. She barely noticed at this point, but the store manager couldn’t help but be affected by the strong odor of sexual arousal, mixed with sweat and a tiny hint of good old fashioned ‘body odor’.

His cock was stiff inside his lightweight slacks, but he didn’t worry that she might see it. By way of breaking the ice, Sarah acknowledged that her big breasts made life difficult for her… but she didn’t go into detail about her situation.

The stranger thought that from the looks of her she may need medical attention, though he didn’t lead on. Instead he related the story of his wife and daughters, and how Efema had changed their lives.

“My wife, if you don’t mind me saying so, she was kind of on the busty side before this whole thing. A little heavy set. She was a 40” E, for years. Then she got vaccinated and a couple months later, boom; now she’s a 40” J. Our daughter just turned eighteen and she’s a G cup.”

“Oh, that sounds nice.” Sarah said. “It sounds like you have a nice family. Your wife sounds very sexy.”

The stranger looked at her, his face twisted up with confusion.

“Turn left up here at the light.” Sarah directed him toward her street.

“My husband was surprised…” Sarah’s mind drifted. Did she really want to recount everything she’d done to herself. When she thought of Dean’s ‘surprise’ what she thought of was the changes that had happened to him. She definitely didn’t want to get into that.

“Do you have any kids?” The manager asked.

“No. No kids. Maybe some day though.”

“My name is Jim by the way. Jim Able.” He offered her his right hand.

Sarah introduced herself and reached up with her left hand and awkwardly grasped it.

“Nice to meet you, Jim. You’re so sweet to do this.”

He looked at Sarah, his eyes sinking into her cavernous cleavage. Sarah avoided looking at him and just sat silently, gazing ahead out the windshield, all too painfully aware of how impossible it must be for even a decent gentleman like this one to resist leering at the spectacle of her fantastic tits.

The car swerved slightly, crossing the center line.

“Whoa, whoa. Here’s my turn.” She pointed.

Jim jerked the wheel at the intersection and took the suburban corner doing twenty miles per hour. Sarah’s body was tossed against the passenger side door, her breasts brushing against the dashboard.

“Sorry about that.” Jim said.

Sarah giggled. “That’s okay.”

The red sun was going down behind the rows of identical houses. Jim turned on his headlights.

“It’s the next to the last house on the right.”

The block was twice as long as a normal city block. By the time he reached the end of it his eyes had once again wandered to Sarah’s tits. The smell of her was getting to him.

“STOP! This is it!”

Though he was going quite slowly Jim slammed on his breaks and pulled his car to the curb. Again the physics of the swerving car and the inertia of Sarah’s heavy tits combined to pull her from her seat, this time flying across into Jim. Her chest collided with the strange man, the steering column and the dashboard. Her head hit the rear viewer mirror and bent it sideways.

“I’m so sorry I you okay?” Jim asked as he rearranged the mirror.

The impact was minor but for the drama of Sarah’s embarrassingly large tits filling the front seat like two living airbags.

He helped her out of the car and retrieved her grocery bags from the back seat and escorted Sarah to her front door.

“Wait, I know this house. This is John and Brenda Sutton’s house. You live here?”

“They’re my in-laws.”

“Are you married to Dean Sutton?”

“Yeah… do you know him?”

“Well, not really. But I know the family. Nice people.”

He was saddened to hear that her father-in-law had recently passed away from a sudden heart attack. He offered her his sympathies. Sarah unlocked the front door and led the way into the house, just barely managing to get her body through the door. Jim followed close behind. Looking around the house he was stunned by the condition of the place. It looked like no one had cleaned or picked up or washed a dish for months. And it was true, prior to Brenda and Dean leaving town, prior even to John’s passing the once grand home had been severely neglected. And in the past few weeks since Sarah had been left alone it had gone from bad to worse.

The smell of sex that had so overwhelmed him in the car now hit Jim with five times the force. He helped Sarah put her groceries away in the kitchen, appalled to find the cupboards virtually empty.

Sarah tore open a bag of cookies and devoured three or four in the time it took him to stash the groceries away.

“Well, that’s about it then.” He said, folding the grocery bags and leaving them on the kitchen island next to Sarah’s cookies.

“Can I ask you a favor, Jim?” Sarah asked, her mouth full of much-needed empty calories. She smiled at him and batted her eyelashes.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Well, it’s a weird request.”

“Oh?”

“It’s embarrassing, but… I seem to have lost my phone charger somewhere around here. I have looked all over for it but I can’t find it.” She glanced down at her breasts which were spread across the granite countertop like an obscene centerpiece. Then she looked back up at him, hoping he’d somehow understand why she was unable to find something like that.

“Well, sure. I guess I could help you find your charger. Where do you think it might be?”

She licked her lips and rolled her eyes as if she were trying to think of where the charger might be, while in truth she had no idea whatsoever where it might be. She had already looked all over for the thing, to the best of her limited abilities.

“I keep it in my bedroom, usually.” She informed him. It was the truth. That’s where she had expected to find it, to no avail. Jim agreed to help her look there.

Sarah led him up the stairs, still in her five inch clogs. She gripped the handrail tightly as she clomped up the steps, pulling her body up one step at a time. The kindly supermarket manager followed her, checking out her disappointingly skinny tush, thinking of his loving wife and daughter waiting at home.

The smell, of Sarah’s sex, grew stronger when they reached the top of the stairs and practically knocked him over when he stood in the door of the woman’s bedroom.

“Excuse the mess.” Sarah tossed a blanket over her toys and pushed some old pizza boxes onto the floor. She kicked off her clogs and sat on the corner of the bed, which creaked loudly under her weight. Jim stood by the door, looking around the room, not seeing a phone charger anywhere. Sarah’s clothes were strewn all over the place. There were dirty dishes on the nightstand. Drawers were left hanging open. The closet was overflowing into the room. And on the dresser a contraption that even Jim recognized as a breast pump.

“I usually keep it right there on the dresser. I never move it.”

“Maybe it fell down behind?”

“Oh, do you think so?”

Jim went over to the dresser and pulled it a few inches from the wall. There on the floor by the baseboard among the inches of dust and lint was the little black phone charger, still plugged in, sitting in a tangle with a discarded brassiere. “I’ll need to pull this out to get to it.” He lifted the dresser and pulled it out from the wall until he was able to wedge his body behind it and reach down for the charger. He pulled the bra out too.

“Oh my god you found it!” Sarah squealed as he handed it to her.

She took the bra from his hand and a wry smirk contorted her face. She looked at the tag. 34F. One of Dean’s mother’s bras. She threw it into the corner. She handed him her tiny phone and asked him to plug it in for her, which he did obligingly.

“Alright then.” Jim turned his upper body toward the door, even as his feet remained fixed to the spot. “I guess I’ll be going.”

“I’m sorry about the mess in here.” Again she apologized for the condition of the bedroom, as if the entire house wasn’t a trash-strewn mess, and forgetting that she’d already excused the condition of the room when they walked in. “I really need to do some house cleaning.” Sarah’s pale thin face had softened somewhat and was gaining some color. Her eyes twinkled and her pussy twitched. She rubbed her knees against each other, feeling her wet lips slide together. She looked around the room, waiting for some response from the slightly overweight plain-looking store manager who’d been so kind to her.

“Look, I really gotta be going.”

Sarah jumped up, now five inches shorter, she looked up at the stranger who wasn’t much taller than her, even in her bare feet. “Can I walk you out to your car?” She put her hand on Jim’s arm and stroked it. “No, that’s okay. I can see myself out.”

Sarah stepped closer to him, letting her breasts brush against his body.

“Oh, excuse me.” She said, releasing his arm.

“I’m sorry” he said, looking away, seeing the unkempt bed, its stained crumpled sheets. The smell was coming from there. Sarah reached out and touched his hair, letting her fingers caress his chubby ear lobe. She felt a flutter in her chest. She felt powerfully drawn to him. She grasped the lobe lightly and gave it a gentle tug as his thoughts drifted, even as his gaze remained fixed on the unclean bed. He felt Sarah again push her body up against his. She hadn’t been fucked by a man in longer than she could remember and now she was burning with desire. He’d never so much as looked at another woman since he married his wife, let alone lust after one. He was a god-fearing church-going family man, honest, hard-working, faithful. He also knew what Efema had done to his wife, how her sex drive had gone through the roof. How she ‘needed’ sex, more than he thought was possible for a woman!

“Jim?” she let her fingers stroke the back of his neck. He turned to her and looked her in the eyes. The immensity of her chest filling the space between them, he managed, just barely, to maintain eye contact. Her face was flushed pink. He shook his head, “I shouldn’t be here.” She reached up and placed another hand on the back of his neck, and, without saying a word, pulled him to her.

He didn’t resist, though her breasts prevented the two from getting close enough to embrace each other.

Sarah pulled the stranger to her, driving her body into his until finally he craned his neck forward and leaned in for a kiss. Sarah tilted her head up and stretched forward until her lips found his. She didn’t even find the man attractive, and on some level felt bad for his poor wife, but more than that she desperately wanted him to touch her, to make love to her. She was starved for contact.

Sarah’s mouth tasted like dry chocolate chip cookies, which, fortunate for Jim Able, masked the bad breath from days of having not brushed her teeth. His five o’clock shadow scraped against Sarah’s soft skin and somehow she relished the course beard scratching her face. It was the feeling of a man. Her hands felt his flabby upper arms and fell to his wrists and finally to his hands. She squeezed his hands tightly and felt the passion in his kiss build. Next she took his hands and put them to her chest. Jim’s cock stiffened and tented his pants as his hands roamed the surface of Sarah’s chest. Her body felt hot to the touch. Her smell wafted up and infiltrated his nostrils, attacking him, weakening his resolved.

“Are you going to fuck me?”

The man groped her great tits, feeling them up with a tentative touch, amazed at their dimensions, not believing his own eyes. Sarah’s hands joined his, grabbing her nipples through her clothing giving them a firm expert squeeze. She leaked milk inside her bra. She then reached down and urgently unbuttoned her jeans.

Jim pulled back, seeing what she was doing.

“Please fuck me.” Her chest heaved as her breathing growing labored. Jim Able noticed a large wet milk stain forming down the front of her shirt. Sarah fumbled with her jeans, in a hurry to get them off, not wanting this man to leave.

Jim could smell her raw sex as she began to remove her clothes. He took a couple steps back, toward the door. She scrambled over to him and grabbed him by his left arm with both hands.

“Don’t leave me. Stay.” She put her face to him and inhaled his cheap cologne.

“I have to leave. I can’t. I’m sorry I just can’t.” He practically dragged her across the room. Sarah released him and chased him out into the hall, calling after him, begging him to stay and make love to her.

“You can fuck my big titties. They’re so big and soft.”

Her pants were open and her body was burning. She threw herself at him, grabbing him at the shoulders and pushing her tits into him. This only drove him toward the stairs. As he turned to get away he stumbled, tripping over his own feet, catching his balance on the hand railing at the top of the stairs. Sarah lost her grip on him and felt to the floor, her left tit rebounding painfully off her boney knee. She scrambled to her feet, pants falling down, boobs all a-jumble, as the man descended the stairs as quickly as his feet would carry him.

“Come back. Please don’t go!” She took the stairs faster than she ever had, not wanting to lose this opportunity. Her heavy tits pulled her along. She missed the last six steps, falling the rest of the way on her rump until she caught herself on the landing, just in time for Jim to escape out the front door. By the time she made it to the front steps his car was pulling away.

# # # # #

Sarah slammed the door behind her and stomped off into the kitchen and grabbed the bag of Chips A’Hoys and went back upstairs to her bedroom. She’d been on the verge of tears as Jim Able drove away, fleeing the scene, hauling his ass back home to his loving wife and daughter. But she was too horny to waste time or energy crying about a missed opportunity. She ascended the stairs she had just flown down, pulling her weight up the steps with what little strength she had left.

She hadn’t spent so long wearing so many clothes in days.

Maybe weeks. She’d begun to lose track of time.

She was only dressed in jeans and a tee shirt but they felt like a prison. She ripped her jeans off and kicked them across the bedroom. Her tee shirt, filthy and drenched with sweat and milk put up a fight as she peeled it off. She flung it on the floor. The elasticity of the damp shapeless XXL tee shirt was destroyed from being stretched over Sarah’s ballooning 32 Q tits. In fact all of her clothes were in this condition. She would need new clothes. Soon.

But she didn’t care about that now.

The heat emanating from her body was making Sarah light-headed. The arousal she’d felt building at the mere presence of the strange man, who she’d somehow managed to get into her bedroom but who’d abandoned her abruptly, in her hour of need, left her desperate to get off. She reached behind her back and, through no small effort, unfastened the row of eight hooks. Her huge boobs dropped out the bottom of her bra, leaving the massive garment crumpled and misshapen as it hung uselessly from her shoulders.

Sarah’s unsupported tits hung straight down, brushing against the tops of her thighs, though they still stood out. Her nipples occupied a space well in front of her and were positioned a couple feet apart from each other. The dead weight no longer pulled her forward but it did weigh her down. She collapsed onto the bed and hauled her tits up into her lap, kneading her wonderful nipples mercilessly until droplets of milk formed at their tips.

She came. Hard. Instantly.

As soon as her tits were naked and she was able to touch herself her body let go with a release of orgasmic energy that curled her toes and made her scalp, fingers, every part of her body tingle with insane pleasure. The spontaneous climax pulsed and rocked her as she lay sprawled across the bed, hitting her with wave after wave of delicious pure sensation that left her soaked in sweat and her own juices until, after ten or fifteen minutes, it died down and finally she felt some peace, pinned beneath the weight of her own tits, soaking wet bed linens beneath her.

When she caught her breath she reached over for the bag of cookies and scarfed down a couple handfuls. She clamored over to the twisted blanket where her toys lay in a pile, munching away on the dry cookies, reached in and pulled out Mother’s Helper. The sight of it, the feel of it, the presence of it thrilled her. She spread her legs and put it to her soaking wet pussy and inserted it. Her body went slack and accepted the monster, and she shoved it deeper until it was over half way submerged, then she turned it on.

“Oh GOD. OH, FUCK, ME.”

She drove the thing into herself and pulled it out and drove it back in, over and over. She couldn’t get enough of it. Her body was on fire, slick with perspiration. Her long blond hair was matted and greasy and stuck to her skin. Though she could hardly see around her amazing tits she had a tight grip on Mother’s Helper and plowed herself with it. Desperately she fought against the weight of her out-of-control tits rolling around on top of her as her hands and hips worked to control the rubber dick, fucking herself harder and with more pure desire than she’d ever felt, even with Dean. She pushed the thing into her until it hit bottom, then she pushed harder.

Her orgasm was slow, painfully slow in coming. But when it did she was ready for it. She could sense it as it slowly gathered strength. She braced herself against the onslaught, feeling it was imminent. But it didn’t come. It kept building. And building. Again and again she felt it was about to crest and rock her body and again and again it kept building and there was no release. Sarah’s poor body grew weak from the great effort, her skinny arms working the huge dildo, her ravaged pussy stretched and sore from the abuse. She was burning up from the heat and thought she might pass out. She touched her swollen clit. The formerly tiny nub was permanently engorged to the size of a grape and almost too sensitive to touch. She rubbed it with her thumb and instantly her climax exploded. She saw stars.

“!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Her eyes flew open, as did her mouth. The breath of life itself fled from her lungs and her hips jumped up off the bed, sending her boobs crashing into her face, smothering her.

It was better, magnitudes better, than anything Jim might have been able to muster.

She worked the dildo, turning it, wiggling it slightly as it vibrated away inside her driving her to new heights of ecstasy. Eventually she just lay there writhing away as her orgasm continued to ravish her, taking on a life of its own, like some wonderful pleasure-giving electroshock therapy. Better than anything she could ever have imagined. She was absolutely right to take those shots, she thought in that moment. Surely no woman had ever felt anything like this before. The feeling was worth any price she’d have to pay. She would give anything to stay in that moment forever. No thought to her situation, the house, the leaky roof, her lack of money or friends. She was addicted. As the orgasm continued unabated, Sarah dissolved into writhing fits of laughter. Writhing turned into spasmodic jerking. Jerking turned into feeble crawling. Crawling turned into collapsing again, going completely limp as, incredibly, her orgasm just went on, and on, and on. All the while her tits, her incredible massive tits seemed to be tingling like never before. The burning feeling turned to the familiar needling sensation, but a thousand times more intense and pervasive than in the past. The things pulsed and her flesh crawled with each pulse. Her nipples seemed to be hardwired to her clit and the voltage was so great her mind literally went blank. Her pussy gushed precious body fluid until finally, without noticing, Mother’s Helper was expelled, squeezed from Sarah’s love canal and sent rolling across the bed onto the floor where it landed with a thud. Sarah lay on her back, clutching at her sprawling flesh as it continued to sing. She reached out for her nipples and squeezed them. Thin streams of milk shot from them in long arcs, landing on the carpet. She pulled hard, releasing more milk, causing her nipples to trigger another orgasm. (Or was it the same one?) Again she saw stars as the force of her nipplegasm shook her like a leaf. At some point she found herself on her stomach, or atop her tits, rather. Rolling on top of them. They were incredibly swollen and firm, needing badly to be milked. Her skin felt tight… it felt wonderful.

The relentless orgasm continued well beyond the point when Sarah realized she was ready for it to stop. Though exhausted and begging for relief so she could just drift off asleep, Sarah’s body kept cumming. Like a sneeze that wouldn’t stop, only it was sexual climax. Sustained sexual climax. After an hour or two she finally broke into tears, then sobs, not knowing whether she was feeling pleasure or was simply numb.

Just when she thought she was reaching a still point where her breathing calmed down and the sensation seemed to be subsiding she would lie perfectly still and pray that it was over. Her mind drifted to the thought of the breast pump on her dresser, and how wonderful it would feel to milk herself and relieve the pressure that had built up in her rock hard tits. Then it would start all over again, stronger than before. Her bed was sopping wet from all the fluid she had lost. Her mouth was parched and dry. Eventually even her tears dried up. As the clock passed midnight and she lay there in the dark the assault continued, as if it had a mind of its own, some purpose. She wondered if she might die. Though she tried to resist and wanted nothing but for it all to stop, her nipples ached to be touched, to be squeezed, pulled, sucked. Against her own better judgment she reached for them, and reached for them. They were almost beyond her reach! She gathered up the mass of flesh until her engorged nips were again within her grasp. She squeezed them hard and was rewarded with the spray of her own milk. She aimed the spray at her mouth but was rewarded with only a few drops as the rest missed the target. Fireworks went off again, like a terrible seizure. She cursed herself and her body and, ultimately, the drug that had done this to her. It felt wonderful, but even so she wanted nothing but for it to stop. Eventually, well past 4AM, Sarah blacked out. When she was awoken around 6AM, after less than two hours of sleep, her body was still throbbing, her firm breasts were still burning, tingling, her flesh still crawling. Her pussy was still sopping wet and twitching. She felt nauseous. Her empty stomach was in knots. She lay on her side, in the fetal position, hugging her flesh. Her boobs were actually hurting. From lack of food or water and out of sheer physical and mental exhaustion she passed out again before sun up. She didn’t wake up again, mercifully, until after noon the next day.

The curtains were drawn, as they always were.

The first thing she thought, before she even opened her eyes, was that she needed water.

And food!

She opened her eyes and, shocking as it was, the sight of her breasts did not surprise her. She was flat on her back, beneath them. Their weight was tremendous. They rose up in front of her eyes like a sheer wall of flesh and sprawled out to her left and to her right, covering her arms. She pushed against the bed with her arms, attempting to lift her head from the pillow, but she was pinned to the spot!

In a panic she began thrashing beneath her tits, trying get free or at least roll them off of her. She managed finally to free one arm with which she could push against the warm mass, shoving it out of her way. She managed to push it off and over atop its twin. The errant blob of flesh rolled away and onto the other tit which it promptly rolled off of until it reached the edge of the bed, pulling Sarah up from where she lay. Soon the other tit went the way of the first, taking her with it, off the bed and onto the floor.

Sarah tried not to freak out, but the sight of the two gigantic mounds of flesh spread across the floor, and her attached helplessly to them, unable to move, scared her. Her lips were cracked and dry. Her mouth was parched from thirst and she was weak from hunger. She needed to get to the bag of cookies that were still on the nightstand. She tried to get a foot onto the floor between the bed and the dresser so she could stand or get some leverage but when she moved her leg off the bed the left breast (which was still perched partially atop the right breast) gained its freedom and gravity pulled it forward until both tits were flat on the floor and Sarah was pulled down on top of them. She felt like she was laying on top of two beached whales.

Delirious with thirst and hunger, her body withered and weak, Sarah erupted in laughter, which quickly threatened to turn into sobbing. She resisted the urge. She didn’t want to lose it. She reached out and grabbed the dresser and pulled herself forward until she was able to get her feet onto the floor next to the bed, then, with a concerted effort, she pushed off the dresser. It seemed like her tits were still heavier than she was able to lift, in her weakened condition. She was on her feet, but bent at the waist, hands resting on the dresser. She pushed off and pulled with her back muscles with everything she had and was relieved to see the sprawling bean bag-sized mounds of flesh obeyed her will until finally they left the floor and assumed their position, hanging as dead weight from her upper body reaching half way down her skinny thighs.

For a moment she just stood there, braced against the dresser, not wanting to be pulled back down onto the floor. She could see the bag of cookies on the other side of the bed. She could also see the battery charger, and her phone, charged for the first time in days. Against all reason or common sense she smiled at her predicament. When she did take a first tentative step, the weight of her boob laying against her thigh meant she was unable to walk without pushing against that weight with her knee. But she took that first step, then a second, then a third, until soon she was on the other side of the room and stuffing her face with Chips A’Hoys. She finished the bag straight away. The flour filled her stomach and the sugar gave her a jolt of much-needed energy.

Laughing at the sight of herself in the full-length mirror as she lurched around the bedroom (her freakishly large though still beautiful breasts getting kicked and shimmying with each lumbering step like jelly filled trash bags) Sarah made her way for the closet. On the shelf was a box from Madame Gazonga. She reached up and pulled it down, tossing the lid back into the closet behind her shoes. In the box were a couple of white bras. Big ones.

She tried to remember what she ordered but her brain wasn’t working. She had to look at the tags to refresh her memory.

32” S

32”T

The extra wide padded straps were no different than the bra she’d been wearing. The band was wider though, and was more like a corset in the back, tall and reinforced with vertical steel bands. The row of twelve hooks would be a feat to accomplish, she thought to herself.

She held the smaller of the two bras up in front of her, dangling it from its shoulder straps, letting it fall in front of her body. She couldn’t guess, even looking at herself in the mirror, if it would ever fit. The thing looked big enough for a sports car, but the big dumb tits that now obscured her entire body looked like they might never fit in a bra again.

Madame Gazonga was a miracle worker though. Sarah already knew this.

Somehow, powered only by Chips A’Hoy, Sarah managed through trial and error to get the 32" T on then haul the Two errant, and insanely heavy, Tits into their cups. It took quite a bit of extra jostling and jerking and jumping around in front of the mirror before the two tits were in their proper position and working with the bra to assume their proper shape. But when she was into the thing she was once again amazed at what the bra was able to accomplish. She was leaning back against the dresser and bracing herself to help carry the weight, but the steel-reinforced corset band really did a marvelous job of distributing the load, and the reinforced contoured underwire and patented Gazongamesh Memory Mesh built-in half cup accomplished the improbable feat of shaping Sarah’s breasts into a beautiful and natural shape and holding them aloft.

The apex of her bust, while wearing the bra, extended beyond her reach. Her tits projected easily two feet out in front of her. If she had an itch to scratch, an over- (or under-) stimulated nipple for example, she would have to rub it against something. Or get someone to take care of that for her. She couldn’t reach her nipples.

The expanse of her tits was much wider than she was. Her breasts were literally growing out of her arm pits and down the sides of her body, creeping around now almost to her back! The fold beneath her breast was now below the rib cage. She was initially repulsed by this but quickly made peace with it. (What choice did she have?) The underwire of the bra hugged her flat tummy and wended its way around her sides and all the way up under her arms. Though her two breasts projected dramatically out in front of her they also projected out to her sides much more so than she ever expected. With her shoulders pulled back and her arms down at her sides she could not see her arms from the wrists up. To reach anything in front of her with her hands required that Sarah lift her arm and reach over and around her tits. Or simply stand sideways and not bother reaching for things in front of her. In either case, from this point forward Sarah would find her boobs to be more in her way than ever before, more of a burden to her freedom of movement than she ever bargained for. She could expect to be bumping into them with her arms frequently and likewise could expect the rest of her world to be bumping into them, unavoidably.

She admired herself in the mirror for almost a half hour. Finally she desperately wanted to feel her nipples which, even through the sturdy Memory Mesh built-in half cups were showing plainly. They were bigger. She reached for her lovelies and laughed to herself when she realized that she literally could not reach her own nipples. It made her feel a new kind of helpless that she had never thought of. This realization turned Sarah on, oddly enough.

She grabbed her phone and noticed she had messages, hoping that Dean had called by now. There were lots of messages. But they were all from Liz, wanting to know how she was. Wanting to let Sarah know her breasts were finally growing. Wanting her to know what a ‘turn on’ it was. Wanting to let her know her breasts had stopped growing and were now a G cup. Tom couldn’t keep his hands off her. She sounded quite happy, and relieved when it all seemed to be over with, and she was concerned that Sarah had not called her back. Liz called a few times and just hung up without leaving a message.

The tone of the last message from Liz Grossman was entirely different though. She was leaving Tom, and she sounded afraid. “He keeps talking about wanting me to take another vaccine, Sarah, as soon as possible. I just don’t want to, these things are big enough already. I don’t know… it’s like… he just seems different all of the sudden. I don’t trust him. I’ve tried to talk him out of it but it’s like he’s changed. He keeps calling me Tits, now. Saying ‘it’s only a matter of time’… I think he thinks it’s all a funny joke.” There was a long silence on the phone with just Liz breathing. Sarah thought she sounded like she was crying, or maybe getting off. “Last night he said he wished I was more like you. I told him he was an asshole. Then he wouldn’t fuck me when I wanted him too. I practically begged him to give it to me. He said I was just after his money, that I just used him to get bigger tits, and to prove that I loved him I should go along with whatever he wants. I told him he was crazy. He called me a selfish whore. So… then I slapped him and he shoved me. And… well, that’s when I left. I didn’t want to wait around for him to start hitting me, you know. So anyhow. I’m leaving town, honey. I’m going back east to stay with my parents for awhile I guess. Hope I can see you before I leave. Call me. I don’t even know where you live.”

Sarah looked at her phone. The message was from over a week ago!

She called her friend who was already half way across the country. How she needed a friend right now. The two talked only briefly. Liz sounded uncharacteristically depressed, almost medicated. She didn’t sound like herself and the call ended abruptly with her telling Sarah to take care of herself and to not worry, that “everything happens for a reason.” But the whole exchange felt hollow and distant. She was clearly preoccupied with her own problems, Sarah thought.

After hauling herself back upstairs, bag of potato chips in hand, Sarah sat on the edge of her bed and turned on the bedroom TV. The screen was blank. She flipped around. Every channel was just a bright blue blank screen. She turned on her computer and tried to log on to the internet, but there was no connection. The cable had been turned off. The room was lonely and quiet. Outside it started to rain. Large water droplets tapped against the bedroom window. After looking through the pile of bills sitting on the floor inside the front door she would later discover that the cable bill, like the phone bill before it, had not been paid in months. It was one of many things Brenda had let fall by the wayside. Sarah sat looking at herself in the mirror, wondering when or if Dean and his mother would be coming back from Thailand.

A thunderclap outside startled her from her brief reverie. The summer storm picked up and pelted the roof over her head. Down the hall she could hear the pat pat pat of water leaking from the ceiling and falling down on the tile floor.

The electric breast pump on her dresser was useless now.

She thought of the photographer she’d met that day at The Hot Zone and that thousand dollar offer. Why had she thrown his business card away?

She spread her legs and looked at her gaping pussy in the mirror on the wall across the room. Her clit was engorged and standing out from between her swollen lips. She stroked it with her thumb and blood surged into her loins. The world outside faded away. Sarah picked up Mother’s Helper from the pile of clothing on the floor and turned it on.

# # # # #

Sarah was woken from a nap one afternoon to the sound of a loud crash. Someone was downstairs! In the kitchen! She sat upright in bed. Still in her bra from the night before, she pushed herself up against the headboard and listened.

Was it Dean? Had her husband finally decided to come home?

“Grab it. Let’s get out of here.”

Sarah heard two male voices. It was definitely not Dean. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her bedroom door was standing wide open. She needed to go close the door and lock it! Her T cups were overflowing now. Madame Gazonga engineering or not, her immense tits pinned her legs to the bed. But with some effort she just managed to swing her feet around onto the floor and pulled herself up. Puffy flesh swelled up out of the huge cups and jiggled wildly as she staggered under the weight she now carried. She had to lean back until she was practically looking at the ceiling, then step blindly forward, balancing the load, just to move about the room. Before she could reach the door knob her tits hit the door and slammed it shut. She quickly locked the door then put her ear up to it, listening to the ruckus downstairs. She grabbed her cell phone and stuck it down into her cleavage. Who were these men? How did they get in? She prayed they didn’t hear her.

There were footfalls from the kitchen to the living room and some muffled voices. It sounded like there were three of them! After a few minutes all was silent. She waited for a long time, her heart racing, waiting to be sure the coast was clear. Finally she squeezed herself through the door and ventured out into the hall, her tits leading the way as she approached the top of the stairs. She used to be able to see down into the living room from the top of the stairs but now her body obstructed her view. She leaned down, one hand on the railing, and peered around the corner. The front door was standing open and the afternoon sun was streaming in showing every bit of filth on the living room carpet. She could see the dirty footprints left behind by the intruders. As she carefully descended the stairs she was aghast at the sight of the ransacked living room. The television was gone. Drawers and cabinets were open. The Sutton’s belongings, what was left of them, were strewn everywhere.

She should have called 911 but instead she called Tom. The only ‘friend’ she had. Sarah had been alone for weeks and needed to talk to somebody. The home invasion made her realize how vulnerable and alone she was.

Grossman was surprised to hear from Sarah but assured her she’d done the right thing by calling him. He jumped in his SUV and raced over to the Sutton’s house.

Though Tom had driven poor Liz away from him, Sarah remembered what he said; that he wished Liz were more like Sarah. Against her better judgment she felt somehow flattered by that comment, and actually looked forward to seeing him as she put on jeans and a men’s XXL tee shirt she’d found in a box of “fat clothes” in the back of Brenda and John’s bedroom closet. It was the only thing she could fit into and it was stretched to the tearing point.

By the time Tom arrived she was less concerned about the stolen TV and more concerned about making herself look presentable to her old friend, applying a little bit of eye liner from some makeup she found in Brenda’s downstairs bathroom. Maybe he’d been an asshole to Liz or maybe not. She couldn’t be sure. Sarah reminded herself that Tom Grossman had paid for her wonderful tits and even gave her money at a time when Dean was fixing to abandon her, leaving the country with his mother. Her heart practically fluttered at the thought that he was rushing to her rescue. Before he even arrived her pussy was weeping with anticipation.

“Oh, Tom. I’m so glad you’re here!” Sarah said out loud when she saw his car coming down the street. When Grossman came up the walk in front of the Sutton’s home he looked around at the tall grass, which hadn’t been mowed all summer and was slumped over in great heaps. He looked at the paint peeling off the house, clumps of dead leaves piled up in the gutters. He couldn’t believe how horrible the place looked. Likewise he couldn’t believe how Sarah looked. He made no effort to avoid staring directly at her tits as she stood on the front stoop in jeans and a red tee shirt that appeared to be stretched beyond its limits. She looked cartoonish, her tiny childlike body standing behind two great blimps, larger than any breasts ever. Though he was as much of a ‘breast man’ as the next guy, Sarah Sutton wasn’t exactly what he would consider sexy. Not any more. She was disfigured. Horribly so. “I paid for those,” he thought to himself with a certain depraved sense of ironic self-satisfaction, trying to find something appealing about her.

Sarah flung herself at him when he got close enough, lurching toward him, guiding her huge tits, knocking him back on is heels as she attempted to hug her friend. He couldn’t believe she was actually smiling. Was she actually happy to be handicapped with two such mutant-sized tits??

She couldn’t even walk straight!

Sarah welcomed Tom into the home and did her best to offer him something to drink (water) and make him feel comfortable. Her attempt at being gracious was as pathetic as her attempt to appear graceful. Her tits would have been the elephant in any room, outrageous, impossible to ignore and clearly they made it impossible for her to move or relax or reach anything without considerable difficulty. She was literally disabled by her tits.

She showed him where the TV had been stolen and all the drawers and cupboards were thrown about. He offered to help her put the kitchen and living room back together and she swooned at his generosity. Tom set about putting the downstairs in order, even going so far as to wash some of the dirty dishes that had piled up everywhere. By the time he gave up on the daunting task of actually cleaning the house he was beginning to break a sweat. Finally he announced that he was ‘done.’

“Thank you so much for coming over.” Sarah said, stroking Tom’s shirt sleeve. The place was still such a mess he didn’t really want to sit down but he took a seat on one of the dusty living room chairs.

“What are friends for, right?” he said, wiping his brow with his palm.

Sarah blushed slightly. She bent down and kissed him on his cheek. She ran her thin fingers through his hair. Sarah wasn’t capable of being around a man without wanting to touch him and be close to him.

“I haven’t seen you in so long. I never even got to thank you for… Oh… and… I was sorry to hear about you and Liz. So sad.”

She softened her expression into a childish round-eyed pout intended to convey her sympathy. Tom looked at her, suspicious of what Liz must have told her. The girl’s eyes looked sunken and hollow, with permanent dark circles that a quick dab of makeup could not conceal. Even her cheeks looked boney from malnutrition. Nothing like the Sarah Sutton he remembered.

“Yes, well. About that… I don’t know what to say. She decided she didn’t want be with me any more and I wasn’t about to stop her from leaving. It’s too bad, I guess.” He didn’t get into the thousands of dollars his former wife had withdrawn from their account before she left town without warning. Fucking bitch.

Tom sniffed the air, trying to figure out what the smell was. In fact it was Sarah’s upstairs bedroom, and the overpowering reek of her unwashed bedding, and the mattress itself that were both saturated with the smell of her sex. Combined with the dilapidated condition of the house, and what he knew had happened to that idiot Dean, he just had to shake his head in wonder at what Efema was capable of doing. His mind wandered. He regretted not getting Liz to take her shot. How he wanted to see that gold-digger with tits so big she could barely move. Now more than ever. He looked at Sarah’s exposed cleavage bulging out of the stretched-out neck hole of her ugly tee shirt. Sarah straightened up and allowed him an even better view.

“The vaccination really did a number on me, huh?”

She seemed so pleased with herself. How could she be? Tom blinked his eyes and smiled. “I guess it did. Are you…”

“Am I what?”

“Are you… gee, are you happy like this?”

Sarah took his hand and put in on her left tit. Tom and obligingly smoothed his hand across the surface of John Sutton’s old tee shirt. Sarah smiled and turned at the waist, swinging her right tit into view. “Very happy.” Tom put a second hand to her chest and squeezed her two boobs together as she seemed to be inviting him to do. His hands were nearly three feet apart. This was freakish. This was not what he’d wanted for Liz, he realized. Now that he was face-to-face with it he realized she had been right refuse him. Sarah was stupidly offering herself up to him, the big tits he helped pay for. He deserved to feel them up. Sarah just stood there and smiled a contented—even grateful—smile as Tom went ahead and squeezed her two fat tits. Tits that wanted to be squeezed, tits that wanted to be massaged, vigorously, tits that wanted to be handled by a man.

“You like this, don’t you?” Tom asked as his hands continued to manipulate the enormous breasts. “Mmmm, they like it.” She answered, pushing herself toward him.

Tom pushed back, not willing to let the two blimps knock him out of his chair.

“They like it?”

“Yes, they do. It’s like they have a mind of their own sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?”

“Well, all of the time, I guess. It’s weird. I know they are probably too big. I mean, I can barely get through the door, you know? And I can’t walk very far before I need to sit down, so I’m pretty much house bound. But they’re just… I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. It’s been amazing, it’s.. it’s…” Sarah rambled on relating to Tom how ‘wonderful’ it was what had happened. Assuring him that it was ‘such a trip’ and ‘totally amazing.’ Clearly she’d taken things too far. The expression on Tom’s face was almost one of pity. Or disbelief. “I would do it again”, she said boldly and in proud defiance of all reason. It seemed important to that he be convinced that she had no regrets. She even said she’d ‘love it’, boasting that she’d ‘love’ to ‘see how big they’d get’… though that all seemed like outright bullshit to him. Clearly she’d lost her mind, he thought as he half-listened to her chatter on. The girl was in denial like no one he’d ever seen. He couldn’t believe her when she talked about an orgasm that lasted for hours. How was that even possible? She wasn’t making any sense. Before she could get around to mentioning her milk he felt for her nipple through her clothes. At first he couldn’t find it, then he wondered how he could have missed it. It was stiff and as thick as his thumb. When he rubbed it Sarah swooned.

“That feels good, huh?”

“Oh, I just had a little orgasm” Sarah giggled.

He’d barely touched her. She was tousling her matted blond hair. Her dark roots were inches long now and she looked awful. “Do it again.” Again he rubbed her thick nipple and again Sarah swooned, seeming to buckle at the knees. Again she giggled. “It’s so so great. Oh my god!” Her sunken face lit up with ecstasy, like a worn out drug addict.

She regained her footing and waggled her hips, shaking her immense tits in his face, encouraging him to do it again. Tom took both nipples in his grasp and gave them a pinch. Sarah cried out with joy and dropped down onto his lap, coming down with all her weight and force in one fell swoop. She was a tiny little thing, barely 5’ 2” and (were it not for her tits) she would have been all of ninety pounds. But with the added weight of her bloated breasts she practically crushed Tom. His cock was bent uncomfortably inside his pants and pained him as she squirmed around on top of him, all tits.

“Do you think I’m sexy like this? Do you like my titties?”

Tom nuzzled her flesh and she pulled his head into her cleavage as she sat atop him. Her breasts were simply too big, to call them ‘sexy’. They were unreal. Aesthetically they were completely out of proportion. Sarah Sutton’s figure, which he’d once found incredibly sexy, was destroyed. She was practically skeletal everywhere else, except for the two threateningly large flesh balloons that dominated her frame and looked like they might be trying to swallow her (and him) up. The only shape she had was the shape her bra gave her.

She stood up, taking his hand in hers. She pulled him up from where he sat and led him into Brenda Sutton’s downstairs bedroom. It was the only room in the house that was still nice. Tom chewed his lower lip and watched as she climbed onto the king sized bed and arched her back, posing for him like a common whore.

“I bet you’ve never seen tits like this before. Do you like my tits?”

She pulled off her tee shirt, stripping down to her bra.

“I love my tits.”

Tom was taken aback at the sight of the wonder-working garment that harnessed all that jiggling flesh and held it out and shaped it so impressively. He pulled off his pants and hauled out his cock. Sarah practically salivated at the sight of it. She wanted to grab it and take charge but Tom pushed her over onto the bed until she was lying on her back, her beloved grand Tetons stacked up on top of her, pinning her to the spot. Her skinny arms and legs thrashed around on the bed as Tom climbed up and removed her panties. She was wet and ready, Tom was not surprised to discover. In fact loose and sloppy would have been a more apt description. Too much so, he realized as he slipped into her with virtually no resistance. Mother’s Helper and the effects of Efema had combined to stretch Sarah’s elastic pussy out to the point that no man would ever satisfy her again. Tom pounded away at her, distracted by the sound of her juices squirting and squishing loudly. He grabbed one of her nipples through her bra and gave it a squeeze. Her milk let down, soaking her brassiere until a large wet spot showed plainly through the fabric. Sarah seemed oblivious to this fact. He wiped the stuff off onto the bed spread. Her hips were gyrating wildly as she tried to feel something, attempting to grind against his hips as he made contact with hers. She needed something bigger. More than once Tom’s sizeable cock lost its purchase on Sarah’s sloppy snatch, slipping out and bouncing off her inner thigh. After a few minutes of this futile banging Sarah reached down and twiddled her grotesquely-swollen clit a couple times with her fingertips, and erupted instantly in a powerful orgasm that sent her hurtling into the headboard.

Before he could even get off, and while most women would be lounging around in a post-coital daze, content to just cuddle, Sarah surprised Grossman by abruptly asking him for money.

“Hey, do you think I could borrow… I don’t know… like, a thousand dollars?”

He couldn’t even see her face, only her big brassiere. She was caressing her tits lovingly, aware now of the pressure building inside them. She needed to be milked.

“Or whatever. Anything would help. Just enough to get me by until the Suttons get home.”

Tom’s hard-on went soft.

“Just like Liz,” he thought “using him for his money.” And what about when the Suttons got home. Would she be paying him back then? Or just living off of them, like the sexual parasite she was.

“Mmm, lover??” She asked sweetly, as if Tom were her husband. As if he owed her.

“Just a second.”

Tom climbed off the bed and gathered his pants off the floor. He pulled his wallet out of his hip pocket and counted out a few hundred bucks and laid it on the bed next to Sarah’s hand. She felt blindly as she grabbed the money and held it up to her face, looking to see how much it was.

“Three hundred?”

“That’s all the cash I have on me, my dear.”

“Oh…” She sounded disappointed back there beyond the mountain range of her $2,400 tits, even a little miffed as she slapped the money down on the corner of her mother-in-law’s nightstand. Then she felt a little stinging in her thigh.

“Ow! What was that?” She rubbed the spot blindly with her hand. At first thinking it was an insect. Not suspecting for a moment what it actually was. Grossman held up the syringe where Sarah could see. Sarah looked at the needle with a confused expression, not guessing what had just happened.

“What’s that?”

“What do you think it is, dummy?” He held up the white and pink box where she could see it. Sarah’s empty stomach did a flip flop as she realized what had just happened.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no no no… no you didn’t. Did you?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What? NO! NOOO!!! HOW COULD YOU?”

“Sarah, you yourself said you wanted it.”

“What?”

“You said you’d love it. That you’d love to see how big they’d get.” He said the word ‘they’ with contempt as he directed his attention to the two great heaps of milk-laden flesh weighing Sarah down. He pinched her left nipple firmly, starting her milk flowing. “Looks like your destined to be a real producer there Elsie, maybe you can get a job as a wet nurse.” The dark spots on the front of her bra were spreading out as milk leaked from her nipples. She could feel the wetness spreading down the underside of her tits. Sarah moved to get up, kicking her legs, trying to push herself up off the bed. Tom grabbed her little foot with one hand and pulled her straight leg out. Her tits lolled up into her face. He just laughed as he put his pants back on and walked out, leaving Sarah there struggling to get up off the bed.

“Don’t get up, Sarah.” He said as he left the room. “And if you hear from Liz you can just thank her for this.” He sat the spent syringe on the dresser where Sarah could see it.

He was at the front door by the time Sarah even made it to her feet. She was naked except for her bra the last time Tom saw her, trying unsuccessfully to get herself through the door frame, calling out for him to wait.

# # # # #

Sarah had the good sense to stock up on groceries, spending all of that $300 on food and batteries and leaving nothing for the bra she would need in eight weeks’ time. She would simply have to make her already overtaxed T cup last as long as she could, then she’d have to improvise. Did Madame Gazonga make anything bigger than what she had? She’d need a Z cup before this was all over, she thought to herself.

She tried calling Liz but kept getting a recording saying that the number was no longer in service. Sarah was truly alone now, and left to the hands of fate.

She relocated herself to Brenda’s downstairs bedroom, which was only a few feet from the kitchen and the downstairs toilet.

Mother’s Helper was her only friend and kept her well-occupied as the hours and days passed by. Like last time, the Efema virus went to work fast. It seemed the bigger her tits got the faster and more intense were the effects of the vaccine.

By the third day she could feel it coming on. Big time.

She tried to resist the urge to get off when the tingling started in her tits, for fear of the all-night orgasm that nearly killed her the last time. She hoped that if she could manage the effects this way, not giving in to temptation that would enflame and intensify the growth, that maybe the growth would be minimal. This was her hope.

On the first Saturday after Tom’s visit there was a knock at the door. It was a neighbor who was offering to cut her lawn. He didn’t look very happy about it. Clearly he was offering a hand not out of the goodness of his heart but out of contempt for the Sutton’s and the shameful condition of their property. In fact he told her that it was his wife who was making him do this. Sarah met him at the door in the same XXL tee she wore to greet Tom after the break in. She had modified it with a pair of kitchen scissors into a sort of makeshift tank top. It was barely sufficient to covering her nakedness but it was the only thing she had left. The neighbor man did his best not to laugh in her face when she appeared at the door. She gave him credit for holding it together as good as he did, and in the end she appreciated his charity.

Later that day the man’s wife came to the door, wanting to let Sarah know that she had better just leave her man alone. Practically threatening her.

The next day there was a knock at the door. Again it was the neighbors, this time they were together and dressed in their church clothes. The woman wanted to offer Sarah her apology, even though she was scarcely able to hide the visceral disgust she felt toward Sarah’s body. Sarah felt sorry for the woman, she was practically flat-chested, barely a double D. The husband was cute, Sarah thought. He offered to help her mow her lawn again when it needed it. They left her a tray of homemade brownies, which Sarah consumed in one sitting.

That afternoon, the kindness of the cute husband on her addled mind, Sarah retreated to Brenda’s bedroom with Mother’s Helper, intent on getting herself off thoroughly. She’d been fighting a losing battle the last twenty four hours and she was overdue. How she longed for the loving of a real man. Ached for it. But after the all-too-brief and useless fucking she’d had from Tom, she knew that the massive dildo (combined with the thought of her kind neighbor hard at work in her yard) would be more effective.

By the time the sun was setting that evening Sarah was in the throes of passion as she fucked the huge toy schlong for all it was worth. Her body was burning up and her milky tits were buzzing. It was useless to fight it, so she threw her shoulder against the wheel and braced herself for what was to come, pumping herself and humping away madly. Like the time before, she would orgasm with an intensity and length that nature never intended, that her poor neurology was not designed to endure, relentless in its onslaught, merciless, mind-numbing. By 3AM she was praying for it to end as she clutched and pawed desperately at her naked pliant flesh. Eventually she passed out from the intense pleasure, only to be reawaken by it as it continued and grew more intense in the early hours of the following Monday. Not wanting to wind up on the floor, she maneuvered herself onto her knees, her breasts arranged on the bed in front of her. She could collapse forward onto them when she grew too weak to sit up, otherwise she could access her entrance from behind, or simply sit down on the device as it rutted her and vibrated the hours away. She didn’t want to milk herself onto the bed, but still her nipples leaked unbidden, weeping milk, soaking the sheets. Her breasts were growing, gradually, steadily, almost imperceptibly. Sarah couldn’t see them growing larger but she could feel them as they drew energy and mass from her weakened body. Her skin was stretched tight and was almost shiny as it failed to keep pace with the growth. Her frail limbs came to be in the way of her growing breasts as the proliferating flesh now crept completely around her sides, almost reaching around to her back, looking for room to grow, swelling out in all directions. The crease beneath each breast was nearly down to her waist by now. Incredible.

By Monday afternoon she needed food. Unfortunately she didn’t have the foresight to relocate her meager pantry to her bedside. Sarah was forced to get herself up off the bed and into the kitchen for a bite to eat. Carefully, and with some concerted effort, Sarah swung her legs off the side of the bed and got her feet to touch the floor. Though her tits were immense and heavy beyond belief, her stretched skin permitted her to move a few feet to the side of the bed before the two anchors gave any resistance. Then it was necessary for Sarah to pull the breasts along with her until they dropped off the bed onto the floor in front of her. If she reared her shoulders back and stood erect their weight settled on her knees. That, combined with their mass, made walking nigh impossible. In fact she had an easier time moving sideways, or backwards, than she had moving forward. They were simply in the way of her forward movement. Without an engineered bra for support (if such a thing existed in her current size) she was reduced to lugging or dragging her leaking tits with her into the kitchen.

She managed to get her items into the bedroom and stashed on the dresser, realizing that soon she may not be able to move the few feet distance from the bedroom the kitchen.

By the end of the week, with food running out and finally unable to move her great breasts from where they lay, Sarah was confined to her bed. This realization both terrified and excited Sarah. She had never dreamed it would come to this, but she realized that on some level she had always been titillated by the notion of her breasts growing ‘out of control’, and at this point she painfully aware that this had come to pass. Eventually she was reduced to drinking her own milk.

When her phone rang for the first time in months it nearly scared Sarah to death.

She looked at the caller ID, expecting Liz.

It was… Dean? At long last!

She wondered if she was hallucinating.

She answered it on the first ring.

“My love. My husband where are you? Where have you been??”

Her eyes filled with tears even as her pussy flooded at the sound of Dean’s voice. She wedged her hand down beneath her tit so she could reach her snatch, which she fingered while she talked on the phone.

“Sarah. Oh, thank god you’re still there.”

“Oh, you sound great! I’ve missed you. I wondered if you were ever coming back.”

“I’m back. I’m at the airport. I’ll be home soon.”

“My titties are getting so big now. So so big…”

“I’ll be there soon babe.”

Sarah came suddenly. She nearly dropped the phone.

In less than an hour she heard her long lost lover come in the back door and set his bags down in the kitchen.

“Sarah?!? Where are you?!”

“I’m in here!”

Then he appeared in the doorway of the bedroom.

It was Dean!

The man she married! He’d been cured! But how?

“My love. What happened to you? Oh my god…” she cried out at the sight of him.

“What happened to me? What happened to you?”

Her breasts covered much of the bed, and practically all of her. Her nipples were like two pink faucets, leaking onto the bed.

He walked over to Sarah’s bedside and leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Sarah melted at his touch, her pussy drooled uncontrollably beneath her, soaking the mattress.

“You look fantastic honey. You’re cured.”

Dean sat down next to her on the bed and explained to her about the clinic in Bangkok that his mother had found. They had perfected a virus similar to the Efema vaccine. It was a genetically-engineered ‘potency vaccine’ that could ‘refine’ male DNA by rewriting it with a donor template. It was believed that it could undo what the Efema had done to him. He was on the brink of committing suicide (having become fully female and finding himself overwhelmingly attracted to men) and so agreed to try the treatment.

“That’s wonderful.”

The potency vaccine was nothing more than a perversion of the Efema breast cancer cure. Using the same science it would grow a man’s penis, boost his ability to build lean muscle, increase his sperm count, and a host of other ‘male enhancements’. Dean went on to explain that his mother had ‘fallen in love’ with one of the male nurses at the clinic and was staying behind to be with him. He showed Sarah a photo on his phone of her mother-in-law in the arms of a smiling muscular brown skinned man with crooked teeth who looked to be in his late thirties. Brenda’s skin was tanned. Her breasts looked larger, much larger than Sarah remembered.

Dean took Sarah’s small hand in his and gave it a squeeze. She could practically feel his strength flow into her. He was restored completely. Gone were the breasts, the plump backside, the womanly hips. He had regained his muscular physique, and then some.

She gazed into his eyes, noticing that they were now aquamarine blue. And his skin was incredibly tan. In fact his pigment had been changed, permanently, as had his eye color. It was part of the south pacific ‘gene template’, he explained, which was merged virally with his original genetic matrix while overwriting the ‘female code’ he’d been infected with. Though he looked for the most part like the man Sarah fell in love with… he was in fact a new version of that person.

“I’m so sorry I ever left you… the way I did…” he said tenderly as he unfastened his jeans.

“Don’t be sorry my love. I understand why you had to do it.”

Her heart fluttered at the revelation of her husband’s member as he pulled it out. It was just as she remembered it, long, thick, heavy. Beautiful.

“You’re still a shower.” She said, admiring the still flaccid organ.

“Except now I’m a grower, too. Watch.”

Dean took his cock in his hand and stroked it once or twice. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath sharply into his lungs, then let it out slowly. Sarah’s eyes widened at the sight of Dean’s penis growing longer and thicker in his capable hands. She wanted to touch it but her breast was in the way.

Dean continued to pump his cock, urging blood flow into his thickening shaft. Sarah licked her lips as she noticed veins rise up on the surface, which grew darker, almost silken. Soon his erection was at full size, possibly larger. It looked to be nearly a foot long.

“Oh, Dean…” Sarah was wriggling on the bed next to him.

Dean scooped up his balls in his right hand and massaged them, gripping his shaft tightly with his left. The purple head swelled up until it was the size of a large plum. Again he drew a deep breath, gripping the base of his cock, then exhaled.

“What are you doing? She asked. “Oh my god!”

His cock swelled larger in his hands, growing thicker and longer with each pulse of his beating heart.

Sarah scrambled to her knees, shoving and pawing at her tits and pulling them to her, desperate to make love to her man.

Dean redoubled his efforts and his cock grew larger still, swelling and lengthening, growing longer and taller until it nearly reached his chin, its head as large as an apple.

Sarah fell all over herself getting to it, taking the impossibly huge cock in her two small hands and stroking it lovingly if a bit frantically.

“Sweetie. You’re so big now. Like me.” She sounded like a baby.

Dean couldn’t help but recognize how physically and emotionally spent his poor wife was. Never mind the fact that her breasts were now well down to her knees, and lactating. In her present condition she might never walk again, he thought, as he watched her struggle to move with the two flesh anchors that had engulfed her torso and weighed her down. But it didn’t stop her from showering him with affection. Indeed she seemed hungry for his affection, possibly more so than the square meal she was in desperate need of.

Dean stood up and circled the bed. Sarah whimpered as his cock slipped out of her weak grasp. He climbed back on at the foot of the bed, smoothing his hands up his wife’s emaciated legs. The twin mounds that buried her were far too much for one hand, but in Dean’s two hands they could be pushed aside, uncovering Sarah’s wet snatch. He’d been looking forward to this… ever since his plane landed.

Dean had not wanted for willing sex partners during his last few weeks in Bangkok. Ever since his manhood had been restored he’d been fucking any woman who would have him. It was all he wanted to do. His magical new cock seemed to have a hold on him, guiding his every thought. Few (none) could handle his new size, not even his depraved oversexed mother. (Though she tried. More than once.) Truth be told, he might have just stayed in Thailand if he’d found his match there. The thought of getting on a plane and flying all the way back to America just seemed like such an inconvenience. But now that he was here he knew he’d done the right thing. He moved his fist-sized head into position at Sarah’s opening and pushed it in.

Sarah cried out as he knelt before her and inserted his enormous cock into her. He was every bit as large as Mother’s Helper, she thought. Except this was much better. Perfect in fact.

Dean was astonished that he was able to fit the entire length of his monsterous cock into his little wife. In fact it was met with no resistance at all. How was that even possible? Sarah was nigh impaled, yet she urged him to fuck her harder, her frail sex-starved body moving to maximize the pleasure his much larger and much stronger body delivered, gratifying herself, seeming to enjoy a series of powerful orgasms before Dean was even close.

Quickly his climax approached, swelling his cock inside her, enough that Sarah felt it and was alarmed by the sudden tightness inside her stretched-out snatch. She actually yelped in pain, something she had done in months, maybe years.

Dean pulled out just as he was about the blow, stroking his long pole with both hands until his cock erupted, vomiting up a thick white rope of cum. He aimed his mighty cock at Sarah, laying the first stream of his jism down across the expanse of her left tit until it flew up and painted her pillow and headboard in one long continuous arc. The second blast flew past her head and landed on the wall with a splut. The third blasted her snatch and inner thighs until she was dripping with his potent seed. Again and again his cock spurted his insane load until he was spent and Sarah was quite literally covered in cum. The bed was ruined. He collapsed atop of her breasts, feeling for her nipples. Sarah wriggled beneath him, slippery with cum but kissing his salty skin lovingly. Dean squeezed her nipple, it felt like a cow’s teat.

She groaned with pleasure as her spent lover tugged on first one nipple, then both. With each squeeze Dean was rewarded with a spurt of milk, issuing from her nipple in a thin stream. He moved in front of her nipple and sucked it into his mouth. The pressure built behind her nipple. Sarah could feel her milk letting down. She pushed on her breasts to encourage the flow and soon Dean felt the milk blasting the inside of his mouth.

“Mmmmm… My god that feels so wonderful. So so gooood” she said.

He swallowed the hot sweet nectar from Sarah’s tits, sucking and drinking from her until he couldn’t take any more.

“I can’t even tell you how good that feels.” Sarah was in a state of bliss.

All told he probably drank a gallon of milk from Sarah’s tap, possibly more.

“You like that, huh?” Dean cuddled up next to Sarah’s body, his spent cock buried next to her soft breast.

“Yes. It’s wonderful. I feel like… I can’t describe it. I feel like I’m high or something.”

“Did we… urrp… get it all out?” Dean covered his mouth from his belch. His breath smelled of milk. His belly was distended. Sarah giggled and batted her eyelashes at him. The pressure in her tits was diminished, but still her nipples ached. She could feel that there was more milk. She begged Dean to ‘finish the job’, directing her teat back toward his face.

When Sarah playfully suggested that this (emptying her milk-laden breasts) could be his job, Dean responded like Grossman had. He suggested Sarah find a job as a wet nurse.

Was the idea really so ridiculous?

Dean would speak with the Madame Gazonga people the next day. With the help of one of their sizing consultants he was able to determine that Sarah needed one of their new made-to-order Belgian Holestein nursing bras, size 30”Z. The bra was priced at $650 but was guaranteed against tearing, breaking and was the best of its kind.

He had some credit left on his credit cards so, in the interest of Sarah’s freedom, he purchased it.

Three days later Sarah was in the thing. The steel-reinforced corset went from the small of her back up to her shoulder blades. Even the shoulder straps were reinforced and padded and were four inches wide at the shoulder, narrowing to a little over an inch where they attached to the ‘cup’. The contoured cups were constructed of a silky nylon mesh and tailored to shape and support even the largest breasts, giving them a ‘natural’ look, while allowing access to the nipple through a U-shaped opening that unzipped like the fly on a pair of slacks. Which meant that the wearer’s tits wouldn’t just hang down to her knees (as nature would have them) but instead project out from her body.

Sarah’s ‘rack’ was a cantilevered wonder of science. She was actually able to stand and walk! And for women of Sarah’s rare circus-freak proportions they even offered tee shirts and blouses that were cut to fit. The final bill was closer to a thousand dollars, but at least Sarah was now free to leave the house and had a few changes of clothing.

# # # # #

“Take a seat Mrs. Sutton, Mr. Lakenvelder will be with you shortly.”

Dean pulled out the chair for Sarah to take her seat. They had looked into a couple of local milk donation clinics, in hopes that Sarah’s milk could be put to use, maybe even earn her a few dollars. More than that it was hoped that such a facility would have the pumping equipment that a woman of Sarah’s size required. Though Dean enjoyed nursing her during sex, it was clear that the volume of milk Sarah was producing (and would produce more of, now that she was getting proper stimulation) was too much for one man. A few days after his return, thanks to Dean’s valiant efforts, Sarah’s breasts were producing more milk than the two of them could express. And she was feeling it. The pressure behind her nipples was uncomfortable to say the least. It was urgent now that they find a solution.

The milk banks all turned them away. They took one look at Sarah—going so far as to examine her distended nipples—and told the Suttons that they simply didn’t have the capability with their conventional breast pumps. What Sarah needed was a dairy pump, the kind used on cattle.

So it was recommended they visit Lakenvelder Farms, a small family-run dairy just outside of the city.

The place wasn’t what either of them expected. The office was clean as any doctor’s office. Dean looked at the certificates on the wall, almost as if he were sitting in a doctor’s waiting room. Sarah sat motionless, looking absent-mindedly at her boobs.

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Sutton… I’m sorry to make you wait.”

A man in a white lab coat entered the room and shook Dean’s hand and urged Sarah not to get up. Lakenvelder immediately sized up the woman seated across from his desk. His office had never felt so small before.

“I understand you’d like to donate some milk.” Lakenvelder smiled warmly.

Dean could tell right away that the man was sympathetic to their needs and that they could trust him. They had to.

“First I should put your mind at ease. You are not the first woman we’ve had in here. Over the past year there have been…” he counted in his head, trying to recollect just how many lactating Efema damsels in distress he had helped. “…gee, I guess there have been seven or eight. Women like you. Well, maybe not exactly like you.”

Sarah was the largest by far.

Her breasts were many times larger than any dairy cow he had on his lot. How her little body supplied enough nourishment to fuel them was beyond comprehension.

“We have set up a private milking room here in the main building. We use all new equipment, nothing that has been used in the yard. Very clean. I think you’ll be quite comfortable.”

Sarah could feel the pressure building behind her nipples. They were erect and showing plainly through her Belgian Holstein. Just talking about being comfortable was making matters worse. Though she held it back as best as she could, she began to leak.

Sarah signed the liability release forms as they were handed to her then Lakenvelder led the two of them out of his office, down a short hallway and into a nearby room that looked like it might previously have been a kitchen or employee break room. In the middle of the brightly-lit room was a vinyl upholstered table. Next to it was The Apparatus which consisted of a large electric pump, two rubber hoses attached to two heavy duty clear tubes about an inch in diameter and approximately eight inches long, and a large stainless steel ‘tank’ for collecting the milk, which would later be pasteurized by Lakenvelder and resold as baby formula.

“Step up here please, Sarah. And go ahead and remove your blouse.” Lakenvelder directed Sarah onto the upholstered table while he proceeded to turn on the pump and inspect the clear tubes, wiping them with two sanitary wipes, then dabbing a bit of petroleum jelly around the rims. Sarah felt nervous, but Dean was fascinated by the set up.

“Shall we unzip?” Dean began to undo the nursing flap of his wife’s bra.

“Oh, no. You’ll want to remove the bra.”

Dean circled around behind Sarah and began unfastening the hooks of her corset. With each unfastened clasp Sarah felt her flesh drop bit by bit as gravity spurred its descent from its artificially-lofty position out in front of her body to her lap, then onto the table.

Lakenvelder got into position at the end of the table, a tube in each hand. “Now, Sarah, you’re going to want to get up here near the end of the table, so that…”

Sarah crawled on all fours across the table, dragging her breasts beneath her. At the end was an upholstered support where Sarah’s hands could get a grip. Dean unfastened the last couple of hooks and both men goggled at the sight of the industrial-strength bra dropping its payload of the two biggest tits any woman ever had. The two bags of flesh flopped down over the edge of the table in front of Lakenvelder, who pulled his stainless steel collecting tank out of the way. Sarah’s breasts hung down to just inches from the floor! The weight strained Sarah’s narrow shoulders, threatening to pull her off the table. She stiffened her skinny arms against the support and arched her back.

“That’s just fine. Now, we’ll turn on the pump.” Lakenvelder tripped a switch on the back of the pump and the room was filled with a humming and a chunka chunka chunka sound as the motorized air compressor went to work. He placed his palms over the clear tubes, testing the suction. They sucked onto his hand like a powerful vacuum cleaner, then released, then sucked onto him again, then released.

“Are you ready?” Dean asked his wife. She looked at him sheepishly, her eyes betraying trepidation mixed with anticipation.

She nodded.

Lakenvelder placed a tube up to Sarah’s left nipple. Instantly it was sucked into the tube. The greasy rubber seal around the edge of the tube maintained the suction, holding the device in place. The pump began its suck-release-suck-release action and Lakenvelder removed his hand. The tube just hung on, going to work on Sarah’s huge nipple.

He repeated this with the right nipple. And just like that Sarah was hooked up to the dairy pump. The chunka chunka chunka was replaced by a quieter thuck thuck thuck. The unsupported clear tubes jumped and danced around at the end of Sarah’s tits as the powerful rhythmic sucking action went to work. Sarah couldn’t see, but Dean watched closely as her nipples were drawn into the tubes, bloating up until they were half-filling the open space.

Sarah’s face contorted into a pained expression.

“Are you okay Mrs. Sutton?” Lakenvelder asked.