Author's Note: The idea for this story was somewhat derived from Axolotl's Emma and Dee-Dee From Upstairs, which I suggest reading.

It was lunchtime at Livingston High. The halls started clearing in anticipation of the daily procession about to take place. The procession did not disappoint.
    The procession consisted of five individuals. Four of the individuals — all females — differed from day to day. The fifth, however — male in gender — stayed the same. His name was Stanley Ashkoff.
    Stanley was relatively new to Livingston High, his family moving in the area a little over a month ago. However, in that month, Stanley had made both a name and a reputation for himself. He was a living legend at Livingston. The ladies man to end all ladies men.
    Of course, Stanley didn't look like a living legend. And he certainly didn't look like the ladies man to end all ladies men. Short — barely five feet tall — and ugly — acne and Stanley were synonymous — he seemed incapable of obtaining the attention of any female.
    Well, Stanley didn't have the attention of any female — he had the attention of four females. This alone was enough to give him a reputation among the high school set. When all four of the females were six-foot tall amazons possessing supermodel looks and headlining stripper bodies, you raised him to a level of Hugh Hefner. When he paraded around four different women — still possessed of the aforementioned height, beauty, and physical endowments — on a daily basis, well, if that didn't qualify for living legendship, then what did?
    The four females accompanying Stanley didn't go to Livingston High. Some said they came from other high schools. Most said they came from another planet. Regardless, every day around lunchtime, four of them came to Livingston High.
    They flanked Stanley, forming a box with him in the center. This was the standard modus operandi. It never changed. The only things that changed were the four females.
    Two of the females were Stanley's security detail. The SSD as he called them. They walked in front of him, doing their best to look like members of the President's Secret Service, but failing nonetheless.
    It wasn't their fault. It was their looks.
    The SSD had the suits. They had the shades. They had the height. They had everything the President's Secret Service did, except firearms, which weren't allowed on school grounds. However, with the muscles possessed by Stanley's security detail — visible every time their arms flexed — who needed guns?
    The SSD was good at its job. A surprising fact since the members changed every day. Still, Stanley bet they could give the President's boys a run for their money. But that would never happen. There was no way the First Lady, the U.S. Government, and the American voting populace was going to let the President's personal bodyguards be females. Especially, if the females were all gorgeous and big-titted. Fortunately, Stanley didn't have that problem.
    The President's loss is my gain, he thought as he continued his walk behind the SSD.
    Behind Stanley walked the other two members of his party: His Nurses. A little shorter than the SSD, the Nurses usually had bigger tits. Dressed in the white uniforms of their namesakes, but with much shorter skirts, each Nurse carried a handbag consisting of Stanley's equipment. Their blonde hair — all the Nurses regardless of race had blonde hair — framed a face that always smiled. Stanley would have it no other way.
    As the procession headed in the direction of their destination, most students and faculty had the good sense to stand on the sideline, out of the five's way. But there was always an exception. Today's exception was Brian Greenleaf, who wasn't watching where he was going.
    Brian was walking backwards, heading towards his locker, when his left arm struck something firm and unyielding, yet amazingly soft. Fascinated by this strange substance, Brian continued testing it with his arm. Without turning around, he felt the substance like a blind man: rubbing it, caressing it, and kneading it.
    "Are you enjoying yourself?" asked a harsh feminine voice.
    "Well, now that you mention it," Brian began, lost in the tactile sensations of the strange substance, "I am enjoying myself."
    "Good, because you won't be enjoying this."
    Hearing those words, Brian suddenly found his left arm — the one engaged mere moments ago in rubbing, caressing, and kneading — grabbed and forced behind his back.
    "Ow! That hurts," he said.
    "Good," said the harsh feminine voice he heard earlier. "Then I'm doing it right."
    Brian didn't know what was happening to him. It was all a blur. One moment, he was standing; the next he was slammed to the floor. Attempting a look at the individual assaulting him only got his head rammed repeatedly into the floor of the school. Unconsciousness for Brian soon followed.
    After that, no one else got in the way of the procession.
    The five continued their forward trek with one exception. One of the Nurses left her place behind Stanley. She went to Brian and bent over. If Brian were conscious, he would have witnessed some Grand Canyon-size cleavage. Since he wasn't he missed the view. Fortunately (or not), enough guys on the sidelines saw this sight to relay it to Brian later in all its glorious details.
    The Nurse looked at Brian, studying his injuries. Making her prognosis, she got the necessary tools ... from the voluminous cups of her bra. The surrounding spectators went wild.
    They watched the Nurse's hand, dainty despite her above-average height, reach into the top of her uniform. For a moment, the hand was lost to them, swallowed up by the immensity of her cleavage and surrounding breast-flesh. Her elbow — the only part of her arm still visible to the spectators — moved in a series of spastic gestures. It was as if some erotic game of tug-of-war was occurring between the Nurse and her tits.
    Finally, the Nurse was victorious. Her hands, returning from the top of her uniform, were visible again. They bought with them a vial of antiseptic cream, some surgical sponges, and bandages.
    Some of the spectators were disappointed that the Nurse got all of her supplies in a single undertaking. They would have preferred her going in and out of her bra and cleavage as many times as possible. This disappointment proved short-lived, however, once the Nurse went to work.
    She was all over Brian's body. This meant her tits were all over his body as well. As she examined him from head to toe, the Nurse had to stop repeatedly. Her breasts, developing a definite dislike of her blouse and bra, made a visible appearance with every move she made. The spectators, witnessing every one of these visible appearances, prayed that the Nurses' movements would never stop.
    Although the Nurse's movements continued for an extended period, unfortunately for the spectators, that period wasn't forever. The Nurse completed her treatment of Brian. Leaving him on the road to recovery, she soon rejoined her place in the procession.
    The destination of the procession, much like the four females in it, changed every day. No one but Stanley ever knew this information. It was the biggest secret at Livingston High: What room would Stanley and his four females be going to today, and what would they do once they were inside it? This mystery occupied the minds of everyone on the Livingston High campus.
    Today's destination was the third floor girls' restroom on the right side of the building. Stanley relayed this information to today's members of the SSD mere moments before they started their journey. But now thanks to Brian Greenleaf bumping into a SSD and getting his ass whipped, they were running late. Stanley hated being late. It was so unprofessional.
    However, they reached their destination. Finally. Only one more thing to do.
    "Secure the premises," Stanley ordered his SSD.
    With a nod to Stanley, the two females entered the restroom. They scanned outside the stalls. Good, it was all clear. They looked at the stalls: all three of them. The first one, the one closest to the room's window, they ignored. The other two received their full attention. Someone was occupying one of them. This was unacceptable.
    The SSD closest to the stall door knocked on it and said: "You have to leave the stall. Now!"
    The voice waited a beat, as if thinking how to phrase the proper response, and said: "I'm not finished yet."
    "Ma'am, either get finished or be finished."
    "'Get finished or be finished'? What does that mean?" the voice in the stall asked, bewildered.
    "It means this."
    With those words, the stall's occupant witnessed the door being yanked open. She had locked it and, up to the moment of the door being flung open, was pretty confident in the secureness of her situation. Her attitude of confidence changed when she saw how easily her locked door opened. She now had an attitude of fear.
    "What — what's going on?" she asked in a state of panic.
    She didn't receive an audible response. Instead, she watched a giantess enter her stall. It was a tight fit. But suddenly, the stall's occupant found herself looking up at a beautiful amazon dressed in a business suit that would have looked perfect on her father.
    The amazon, once inside the stall, treated the female occupant like a baby. She lifted the squirming form off the toilet, and held the occupant's body away from her own. She treated the embarrassed girl, her panties dangling around her ankles, like she was wearing a dirty diaper.
    Her SSD partner, watching her remove the girl from the stall, gave her a wide berth. At least as wide a berth as two six-foot-plus girls could give each other. She didn't want that anywhere near her. She hated weak-ass women; they made it tougher for the rest of the gender.
    However, this one was getting just what she deserved, the SSD member thought.
    Her partner signaled her to open the restroom door. She did it. She then watched her partner, still carrying Miss Panties-Around-The-Ankles, walk to the restroom's opening. With a mighty heave from the SSD, the girl shot skyward.
    She landed with a splat. Her ass, uncovered by clothing, was visible to all. It was not a pretty sight.
    "Ladies, we've talked about this," Stanley said to his SSD members. "Before tossing them, make sure they're done wiping."
    The SSD members could only lower their heads in disgust. Stanley was right, they knew better. Tossing before wiping was sloppy and amateurish. It was also gross.
    Meanwhile, the victim of the SSD's "tossing before wiping" was trying to salvage what little dignity she could. She tried to get her panties from her ankles to her ass as quickly as possible. She succeeded and was instantly told, by the neighboring spectators, that she needed toilet paper.
    She tried to ignore the chants of "Wipe that ass" coming her way. She couldn't. Her only options were crying and running away. She did both.
    Stanley, watching the speedy departure of the crying girl, sighed. Stuff like this was always happening. However "Good help was hard to find" and "You couldn't make an omelet without breaking some eggs".
    Quoting clichéd sayings was one way Stanley rationalized the often-brutal behavior of his SSD members. Allowing their female victims to partake of his services was another. Seeing the image of the SSD victim in his head, Stanley mentally scheduled some time for her. She was a candidate: someone who could definitely benefit from Stanley's unique service.
    Speaking of candidates, he thought, turning to his nearest SSD member. "Is the room clear?" he suddenly asked her.
    "As far as we know," she said. "We ignored the first stall — the one closest to the window".
    "Good," replied Stanley. "You followed orders."
    "We try to," the SSD said, a tone of sarcasm creeping in her voice.
    "Oh, like you did when you evicted that girl without allowing her to wipe her ass," Stanley said bluntly. He saw the hurt look on the SSD's face and smiled. Every now and then, a member of his security detail got uppity. He had no problem putting them back in their place. In fact, he took pleasure in it.
    "Sir, I ... I didn't mean to..." the chagrined amazon began.
    "We don't have time for that," Stanley said, cutting her off. "I need you and your partner to take your positions outside the door. I have work to do."
    The members of Stanley's security detail did as he commanded. They always did as he commanded. They obeyed his orders whether they wanted to or not. A fact guaranteed by Stanley's power.
    Yes, Stanley Ashkoff had power. Real power. All the females around him knew about his power. And upon knowing it, they learned to fear it.
    Stanley, however, had an appointment with someone who didn't know about his power ... yet. She should be hiding in the first stall of the restroom, the one closest to the window. That is if she followed Stanley's instructions. Sometimes, they didn't. This one did.
    "Ah, Matilda," Stanley said, opening the stall's door and seeing his client. "Sorry for the delay."
    Matilda was sitting on the closed lid of the stall's toilet. Her knees drawn to her chest and her head resting on her knees made her look like a human ball. One that couldn't stop shaking.
    "Matilda, you can leave the stall now," Stanley said to her.
    Matilda didn't answer. Instead, she continued shaking and, Stanley couldn't believe his eyes, shrinking.
    Shrinking?
    Stanley, attempting to clear his vision, blinked his eyes. Okay, he thought, it was an optical illusion. Matilda was not shrinking. Although, the way she slumped over, continuing to form her human ball, sure made it seem like she was.
    "Clients," he mumbled under his breath. "Why do I always get the weirdoes?"
    Stanley knew the answer to his question: His clientele consisted of women with the lowest self-esteem on the planet. That fact made them ripe for the unique service he supplied. It made them willing to pay almost any price he asked of them. Unfortunately, it also led to weird-scenes like watching a girl sitting on the closed lid of a toilet form herself into a ball.
    "Nurses," Stanley, losing his patience, called to the two females behind him. "Get the client."
    Stanley, stepping aside, watched the Nurses approach the stall. They tried to enter the stall simultaneously. Stanley smiled as their massive bosoms collided barring either Nurse from entering the stall. Ah, if only Nature supplied the "boing" sound like they do in cheesy B-movies, he thought, then that collision would have been perfect. Oh, well.
    The Nurses looked at each other, smiles still permanently fixed on their faces. They each apologized for not letting the other one go in first. They then directed the other into entering the stall. They agreed on this workable solution and ... proceeded to bump bosoms again.
    Stanley sighed. Once was funny. Twice was somewhat predictable and borderline annoying. He wasn't going to let them go for a third time.
    "Look, you on the right..."
    "Janice."
    "Whatever. Like I give a fuck about your name," Stanley said annoyed. "You go in first, okay?"
    "Okay," Nurse Janice said, entering the stall.
    "And you..."
    "Florence."
    "I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!" Stanley yelled. "Just move your ass out of the way. Nurse 'I-gotta-tell-you-my-name-is-Janice-even-though-you-trained-and-hired-me' should be able to handle the human ball by herself."
    Nurse Florence moved her ass out of the way as ordered. Her permanent smile was losing a little bit of its permanence.
    Stanley was right about Nurse Janice being able to handle Matilda by herself. Although not as strong as SSD members, Stanley's Nurses weren't weaklings by any means. Nurse Janice lifted the girl, exited the stall, then dropped Matilda on the floor.
    "Oops," Nurse Janice said in an innocent tone of voice. Although her voice proclaimed her innocence, the look she shot her partner said otherwise.
    Nurse Florence, catching the look and the actions of her partner, gave a slight nod of her head. She understood Nurse Janice perfectly. They were trained professionals. They were Nurses, not moving men. It was in their best interest that Stanley didn't forget the former and start treating them like the latter.
    "Clumsy cow, what are you doing? You don't go around dropping clients." Stanley, witnessing Matilda's dropping, yelled at Nurse Janice. "Do me a favor. Alright? Stick to medicine."
    "As you wish, sir," Nurse Janice said, again shooting Nurse Florence a secret smile.
    Stanley didn't catch the look passing between his Nurses, his attention was on his client, Matilda. The fall, knocking her out of the ball she was forming, allowed Stanley his first good look at the girl. She was client material, all right, and definitely a candidate for Stanley's service.
    Matilda was clad in a lot of hot and heavy clothing, perfect for winter-like weather. However, the weather outside was still summer. Stanley could feel himself burning up just looking at her.
    "Remove her clothes," he instructed his nurses.
    The Nurses approaching Matilda came close to bumping bosoms, when Stanley stopped them.
    "Uh, look Nurse Janice, you remove the clothing above the waist. Nurse Florence, you remove the clothing below the waist. And if your tits so much as look like they're going to make contact, I'll fire your asses so quick it'll make your heads spin. Okay?"
    The Nurses didn't respond, they were too busy planning Matilda's clothes removal.
    "Hurry up," Stanley yelled.
    The Nurses froze. He doesn't want our tits to touch, but he wants us to hurry up, they thought. How are we supposed to manage that?
    "Just get her clothes off!" Stanley screamed, as if reading the Nurses' thoughts.
    The Nurses began stripping Matilda. Nurse Janice worked above the waist, while Nurse Florence worked below the waist. It was just like Stanley commanded. The Nurses were doing so well that their tits weren't even close to bumping each other. The only problem, however, was the Nurses' work pace. It was a pace that could only be described as super-slow-mo. Stanley blinked in disbelief.
    "When did this become a fucking John Woo action scene?" he screamed, thinking the only thing missing in the restroom were the birds that were the director's trademark.
    "Get out of the way," he said to the Nurses, shooing them away. "I got it."
    Stanley couldn't believe this bizarro situation. How did things get to this point? When did it happen? Was it when the SSD threw the girl out of the restroom without letting her wipe her ass? Was it employing those boob-bumping bimbos he called Nurses? Was it finding Matilda sitting ball-like in a bathroom stall? When did things get so out of control?
    These were the questions going through Stanley's mind as he removed Matilda's clothes. And that was another thing. Since when did Stanley have to remove the clothes of the client? He was the frigging boss, for Christ's sake.
    Nevertheless, Stanley was removing Matilda's clothes. Layer after layer of clothing. As he removed an article of clothing, Stanley threw it in a pile on the floor. The increasing height of the pile made Stanley wonder just how many clothes Matilda was wearing.
    Stanley looked to his Nurses to see if they were laughing at his expense. This whole situation reeked of being an episode of Candid Camera. However, the Nurses seemed just as confused by Matilda's abundance of clothing as Stanley. All they could do was shrug in response.
    Stanley was about to give up on servicing Matilda when he saw something white. Could it be the white of undergarments, he wondered.
    Increasing the speed with which he stripped Matilda confirmed the white was the white of undergarments. Finally, thought Stanley.
    A moment later, Matilda was sitting in front of Stanley wearing nothing but her bra and panties. Realizing this fact, Matilda was no longer a passive ball. Becoming active, the girl tried to cover up her nearly nude-like appearance.
    Why bother? Stanley thought, giving the girl a once-over. You don't have anything worth covering.
    This was true. Matilda didn't have any curves. Both hips and tits were non-existent on her physical frame. Her bra and panties seemed to be covering more air than flesh.
    "Don't look at me," she said to Stanley. "I need my clothes. I need to be covered up."
    "Why, Matilda?" Stanley asked her. "Why do you need to be covered up?"
    "Look at me," she said, pointing to herself. She temporarily removed her hands from their covering duties, returning them quickly once Stanley had his look.
    "Yes, what's the problem?"
    "I'm ... I'm hideous."
    "So," Stanley said without thinking. Catching the look of horror on Matilda's face, he realized he made a mistake. "I mean, no you're not."
    "You're just saying that."
    "And..."
    The look of horror was back on Matilda's face. However, this time, Stanley wasn't excusing himself or his response.
    "Look, Matilda, you're not beautiful," Stanley began. "You're a homely chick who obviously never heard of makeup. You have the body of a little boy. And your clothes ... you not only wear the wrong ones, but you wear far too many of them."
    Of course, Matilda started crying.
    Stanley expected her to cry. At some point, most of his clients did. He didn't particularly like to see females cry, but, at the same time, he didn't like to spend all day in a restroom either.
    Stanley, looking at his watch, allowed three minutes to pass. Three minutes seem to be the average crying time amongst his clientele. He figured it was time to speak to Matilda, but decided, just to be on the safe side, to allow her two more minutes.
    Two minutes later, he said: "Okay, Matilda, that's enough."
    "What?" she asked, the extra two minutes seeming to do her some good.
    "I said that's enough."
    "But ... but ... but..." Matilda started, sounding like she was about to cry again.
    "No buts," Stanley said. "Do you want my service or not?"
    "But..."
    "Yes or no, Matilda," Stanley said. "We've wasted enough time. Do you want my service or not?"
    Matilda thought for a moment, then confidently she said to Stanley: "Yes, Mr. Ashkoff, I'd like your service."
    "Good," Stanley said with a smile. He would have hated wasting all this time on Matilda just to receive a negative response.
    "Yes, Mr. Ashkoff, I'd like your service," a smiling Matilda repeated.
    "Well, as soon as you pay me, I'll gladly begin the service."
    Instantly the smile on Matilda's face disappeared.
    Witnessing this, Stanley asked her: "Is there a problem?"
    "Well, Mr. Ashkoff..."
    "Yes?"
    "Well, I have your money."
    "That's good to hear."
    "But that ... that other thing..."
    "What about the other thing?" Stanley asked; not liking the direction of Matilda's conversation.
    "Well, is it necessary?"
    "Of course it's necessary," Stanley said in a raised voice.
    "But why?"
    "Look, Matilda, we talked about this in your initial consultation," Stanley began. "The payments of my services come in two parts: One part's monetary and the second part's physical."
    "And I don't have a problem with the monetary part," Matilda said.
    "I don't see how you possibly could have a problem with the monetary part," Stanley said, becoming defensive. "No one provides my service at such rock-bottom prices. No one."
    "I know that, Stanley..."
    "What?"
    "Mr. Ashkoff. I mean, I know that, Mr. Ashkoff."
    "Then what's the fucking problem?"
    Matilda hesitated, then finally said: "No problem, Mr. Ashkoff. There's no problem at all."
    "Good," Stanley said coldly. "Pay Nurse Florence."
    Nurse Florence left Nurse Janice and walked towards Matilda. Seeing how her height and protruding bustline frightened the girl, she tried brightening her permanent smile. It didn't work. The closer she got to Matilda, the more frightened the girl seemed to get. Oh well, Nurse Florence thought, I best make this quick.
    Matilda was shaking in fear. Walking towards her was a giant woman in white possessing the most massive bosom she had ever seen in her life. The woman, for some reason, was smiling. Matilda wondered why. Was this woman planning on doing her harm?
    "Money, please," Nurse Florence said.
    Matilda didn't respond. Nurse Florence saw that the girl was staring at her. She didn't have to make any guesses where exactly Matilda was staring. She, like everyone else encountered by Nurse Florence, was staring at her tits.
    Nurse Florence knew she shouldn't, but she decided to have some fun with Matilda. She grabbed her cleavage-revealing top and acted as if modesty compelled her suddenly to cover up. It was an act, of course, since the more Nurse Florence tried to cover up the more tit-flesh she revealed.
    Matilda continued staring.
    Nurse Florence started shaking her tits. Beginning with a slow side-to-side movement that seemed almost accidental in nature. Soon, however, the slow movement became a rapid sloshing similar to being on a ship stuck in stormy weather.
    Matilda looked hypnotized.
    "Ahem," Stanley coughed loudly. "Florence, could you stop with the titty show and get on with it."
    "Sorry, Boss," Nurse Florence said without looking at Stanley. She imagined the look on his face and decided it was something she could do without seeing.
    She again asked Matilda for her money and again received no response. Oh, well, she thought, I guess I'm going to have to just take the money from her.
    Nurse Florence looked at the skinny girl dressed in nothing but a bra and panties and wondered where she kept her money. Matilda didn't have a purse, so that left only two places where the money could be. On either Matilda's person or somewhere in that pile of clothes she was wearing. Nurse Florence looked Matilda over and not noticing any visible bulges (or nonexistent bulges for that matter) concluded that the money had to be among Matilda's discarded clothes.
    "Damn," Nurse Florence muttered under her breath, "I'm going to have to bend over."
    Nurse Florence approached the pile of clothes. She walked around them, trying to form a plan of attack. She edged forward. She edged back. It looked like she was doing the Hokey-Pokey. Finally, she lowered herself ... and fell face-forward in the pile of clothes.
    Nurse Janice, unable to control herself, let out a loud burst of laughter.
    Stanley was about to criticize the Nurse's unprofessionalism, but decided it wasn't worth it. What would be the point? This was easily the worst business experience he had ever had in his life. Criticizing would just make the worst worse. Was that even possible?
    Nurse Florence, looking like she was doing a push-up, tried to extricate herself from Matilda's clothes. It was like watching someone struggle in quicksand. Every time Florence looked like she was out of the clothes, they pulled her back in.
    Stanley, closing his eyes, started clicking the heels of his tennis shoes together. "There's no place like home," he started saying over and over again. Hey, it worked for Dorothy.
    Suddenly a female voice outside the bathroom interrupted his Oz-like mantra by saying: "Why can't I use this bathroom?"
    Stanley groaned knowing what would happen next. His ability in prognostication didn't disappoint as he heard one of his SSD say:
    "Beat it, bitch, before I kick your ass."
    "Look I'm not trying to start any trouble, I just have to use the bathroom," the female voice said.
    "Kick her ass," Stanley heard the other SSD say just before the noise started.
    Stanley heard banging, clanging, moaning, and groaning outside the restroom door and sighed. Was good help really that hard to get?
    When the noise stopped, Stanley heard the female voice — weak and faint — say: "I think I'll go use another bathroom. That is if my kidneys are still working."
    Stanley sighed, returning his attention back to Nurse Florence. She was sitting on the floor cross-legged, apparently winning her battle with the quicksand-like pile of clothing. Stanley watched her remove pieces of Matilda clothing from the pile, inspect them, and then place them in another pile of her own construction.
    Stanley found two things amazing about this whole process. The first was how organized Nurse Florence was as she searched through Matilda's clothing. It was actually — dare he say it — professional looking. The second thing that caught his eye was that Nurse Florence was somehow searching the clothes without bending over. How was she doing that, he wondered.
    Nurse Florence completed her search of Matilda's clothing. She hadn't found a single dollar bill amidst the pile. She looked at Stanley with a shrug, as if saying "Now what?"
    "Check her," Stanley said. "The money has to be on her."
    Nurse Florence, again, looked Matilda over. She still did not see any visible bulges (or nonexistent bulges for that matter). However, she had her orders. If Stanley wanted her to search Matilda, then she'd search Matilda.
    She went over to Matilda and stuck both her hands in the girl's panties.
    "What are you doing?" Stanley sputtered.
    "I'm looking for the money," Nurse Florence answered in a calm voice.
    "In her underwear?" Stanley asked. "Do you really think she would keep her money in her underwear?"
    "That's what I'm trying to find out."
    Stanley was going to say something, but he found biting his tongue a more apropos response. He watched Nurse Florence's hands as they fiddled around in Matilda's panties. She was working front to back, and judging from the ear-splitting squeal made by Matilda had suddenly struck pay dirt. Only it wasn't money.
    "Boy, she sure is wet," Nurse Florence said.
    "Oooooooooh," Matilda said, her body shivering.
    "And the smell," Nurse Florence said, removing her right hand and bringing it to her nose, "is unbelievable. You just have to smell it."
    Nurse Florence was talking to Stanley, but it was Nurse Janice accepting the invitation. She took two steps toward her sister Nurse and stopped. Stanley was talking to her.
    "Where do you think you're going, Janice?" he asked.
    "Uh, I was ... I was going to help Nurse Florence."
    "Janice," Stanley said, playing the role of a father who's caught his daughter in an obvious lie.
    "Okay," Janice said. "I wanted a sniff of Florence's fingers."
    "That's all you had to say, Janice. Go ahead and have your smell."
    Stanley usually played the hard ass. He was good at it and enjoyed it. However, when it came to the fetishes of his employees, he was incredibly tolerant. Not always understanding — he couldn't get how some people got off on farts and smelling girl juice — but at least he tolerated it. It was good for morale.
    Nurse Janice literally skipping over to Nurse Florence and Matilda proved this last point. She looked like a schoolgirl playing at recess. That is if the schoolgirl stood about six feet tall and had a bust-line that a headlining stripper would envy.
    Nurse Janice approached Nurse Florence's raised fingers. They were wet with Matilda's girl juice. Nurse Janice started to lower her head and instantly stopped. She had her first whiff of Matilda.
    "Boy, that's strong," she said. "You weren't lying, Florence, it smells unbelievable."
    "You just got a whiff, Janice," Nurse Florence said. "Bring your face to my finger and get a real smell."
    Nurse Janice did as Florence suggested. She inhaled deeply throwing her chest out. Stanley liked it when that happened. It was like some sort of breast-expansion process or something: watching an incredibly endowed female getting bigger. Of course, Stanley knew that breast expansion didn't really happen by having a female take a deep breath and throw out her chest. No, real breast expansion required...
    A staggering Nurse Janice interrupted Stanley's thoughts. Apparently, the smell of Matilda's girl juice was too much for the Nurse. She came close to passing out on the floor. Fortunately, Nurse Florence was there to catch and steady her.
    "Take her outside," Stanley said to Nurse Florence. "Let her get some air."
    Nurse Florence nodded her head and did as Stanley commanded.
    After his Nurses left the restroom, Stanley had a clear view of Matilda. He blinked his eyes to make sure they were giving him an accurate view of his client. They were. Stanley watched Matilda continue what Nurse Florence had started. Matilda was fingering herself with wild abandon.
    "Uh, Matilda," Stanley said, trying to interrupt her finger-fuck-fest.
    "This feels so good," Matilda was saying. "How come I never did this before?"
    "Matilda," Stanley repeated.
    "All the time I've wasted by myself ... all the time I spent studying and reading," Matilda continued, not hearing a word Stanley was saying. "All that wasted time that could have been spent doing this."
    "Matilda," Stanley yelled, "You need to..."
    Again, activity outside the restroom interrupted Stanley. This time the conversation went something like this:
    "Ooooh, check out the babe in the Nurse's outfit."
    "Look, she's not feeling well. I suggest you and your friends move along," one of Stanley's SSD said.
    "She looks all right to me."
    This comment got a round of laughter. Judging by the timbre of the laughing, Stanley knew it was a group of guys.
    "Look, she's not feeling well and we're not in the mood," the other SSD said. "We suggest you guys move on, okay?"
    "What if we don't want to move on?"
    "Then my partner and I will have to move you."
    "I'd like to see you do that."
    "Okay," the SSD member said. Stanley expected the next sound to be that of the guys getting their asses kicked, but it wasn't. Instead, he heard Nurse Florence.
    "You're not going to beat up those guys, are you?" she asked.
    "Yeah, we're going to beat up those guys."
    "Well, as a trained medic and follower of the Hippocratic oath, I can't just stand around and watch you and your partner beat up on those guys."
    The SSD thought for a moment, then said: "Well, why don't you take your ass back in the restroom then. That way you want have to watch anything."
    "Okay," Nurse Florence said in a girlish voice. "Take care of Nurse Janice, okay?"
    "No problem," the SSD member said with a smile. " We'll take care of Nurse Janice as soon as we're done taking care of these loudmouths."
    Then Stanley heard the expected sounds of SSD-administered violence: the banging, clanging, moaning, and groaning outside the restroom door. Since this was the third or fourth time today that someone got their ass kicked by his SSD, Stanley found he was starting to become used to the whole experience. It wasn't professional, of course; not by any means. Yet, somehow it just felt right.
    Nurse Florence entered the restroom and went back to searching Matilda. Since the client was still engaged in her finger fucking, she made the decision to work the rear. Withdrawing some surgical gloves from her bra-cups, Nurse Florence quickly went to work.
    She started by cupping Matilda's scrawny ass.
    "What are you doing?" Stanley asked her.
    "I'm searching for the money," she answered.
    "On her ass?"
    "Yeah."
    "You find anything?"
    "No, but then I've just started the search."
    Stanley was going to ask Florence how many people she knew that had money taped to their ass. Then he restrained himself. The Nurse may actually know some people going around with money taped to their asses. Hell, for all he knew, Florence went around with money taped to her ass.
    Nurse Florence completed her exterior search of Matilda's ass. She did not find any money.
    "Time to go inside," she announced loudly.
    Florence inserted one of her gloved hands inside Matilda, causing the girl to jump a foot up in the air.
    "Bitch, what the fuck you doing?" Matilda yelled.
    "Uh, I ... I was looking for the money that you were suppose to pay Stan ... uh, I mean the Boss."
    "And you thought the money would be up my ass?"
    "Well, uh, yeah."
    "Well it's not, okay?"
    Matilda removed her hand from her panties. It was wet, dripping with her juices. Without making any effort to dry the hand, she reached under her bra and pulled out a handful of bills.
    "Here's the fucking money," she said to Nurse Florence, "I keep money in my bra like most women. Why didn't you search there?"
    "Well, I had planned on searching your bra. But since I didn't see any bulges in your bra, I didn't..."
    "You didn't see any bulges in my bra," Matilda yelled, standing up. "Why you big-titted cow ... I oughta put my foot up your..."
    "Matilda, calm down," Stanley said, coming between Matilda and Nurse Florence. He had his hands on Matilda and was doing his best to restrain her physically. Her bony frame, surprisingly strong, was really testing the limits of Stanley's barely five-foot physique.
    "Nurse Florence, is the money correct?" Stanley asked over his shoulder.
    "Well, it's kind of tough to count the money with the bills all sticking together."
    "Oh, heifer, so my money ain't good enough," Matilda yelled.
    "It looks like it's all here, Boss."
    "Good," Stanley said to Florence. "Now take the money and go outside. I'm sure the SSD has a lot of bodies out there requiring medical attention."
    "Oh, goodie," Nurse Florence said. "I just love healing people."
    "Bitch," Matilda said, watching the buxom Nurse exit the restroom.
    "She's gone, Matilda," Stanley said. "You can calm down."
    "But where does she get off sticking her hand up my ass?"
    "You have to forgive Nurse Florence. She was merely doing what I instructed her to do."
    "You told her to stick her hand up my ass?"
    "Well, not in so many words. But I had to have your money."
    "Well, okay," Matilda said, becoming calmer. "I can understand you needing your money. Business is business. But that didn't give her a right to talk about bulges not being in my bra."
    "Matilda, come on."
    "Come on, what?" she asked.
    "You know there aren't any bulges in your bra. If there were you wouldn't be needing my special service."
    Matilda started to protest; then she stopped. What Stanley said was true. Every single word of it was true. She didn't have any tits and yet she wanted them so bad. She wanted them so bad that she was willing to do anything.
    "Anything," Stanley said as if reading her mind. "For big tits, bigger than anything you could ever imagine, I know you would be willing to do anything.
    "Yes," Matilda said in a squeak.
    "Now you've already paid the first part of my services. You've paid a lot of money."
    "Yes."
    "Are you willing to pay the second part, Matilda?" Stanley knew this was the key moment. "Now or never" time. Whatever Matilda said next would determine whether this was a successful operation or a total failure.
    She said yes.
    "Good, Stanley," said with a warm smile. "Then you know what you have to do."
    Matilda, looking Stanley in the eyes, had a questioning look on her face. Stanley merely nodded his head in response.
    Matilda took a deep breath and then lowered herself to her knees. Deciding on her course of action, she no longer looked at Stanley's face. She focused all of her attention on the crotch of Stanley's pants. It was here that Matilda would provide the second of Stanley's payments: the physical one.
    Stanley was wearing button fly jeans. He watched Matilda reach for the first button. Her hands were shaking. This was normal to Stanley. All of his clients were nervous when they first started, but at some point, the nervousness always disappeared.
    Matilda was proving Stanley's assessment to be true. She embraced her actions, becoming increasingly committed to what she was going to do. With each button, her hands steadied. They became surer and more confident in their movements.
    Matilda, after unbuttoning Stanley's jeans, pulled them down to his ankle. She didn't ease them down nervously. Instead, she yanked them down in one swift motion. She was no longer nervous. In fact, she looked forward to seeing what Stanley's jeans were covering.
    Actually, what the jeans revealed was rather disappointing. Stanley wasn't the most endowed male at Livingston High. He was — to be honest — below average in the manhood department. However, Matilda didn't know that. She, like most of Stanley's clients, was no expert in sexual matters. To her eyes, Stanley was Big John Holmes reborn.
    "It ... it looks so big," she said, seeing the tent in Stanley's one-size-too-small underwear.
    "I know," Stanley said confidently.
    "Uh, I ... I don't know if I'll be able to ... to..."
    "Sure you will, Matilda. Just go for it."
    "Are you sure?"
    "I'm positive. Just go for it."
    "Okay," Matilda said, going for it.
    She reached for Stanley's underwear. Grabbing the outside band, she prepared to pull them down the same way she did Stanley's jeans.
    "Ah, ah, ah," Stanley said, chiding her. "Do it slow."
    Matilda nodded her head as she started to ease Stanley's underwear off. Her movements — a slow rolling motion — reminded her of peeling an orange. She continued until the underwear, like Stanley's jeans, were down by his ankles.
    His cock — that's what she heard the other girls (the more popular ones) call it — was right in line with her face. This was her first real look at Stanley's or any other boy's cock. She stared at it. It was kind of like the diagrams of what she saw in sex-ed. class and yet it wasn't. For one thing, it looked smaller. It looked a whole lot smaller. And shouldn't it be thicker?
    Stanley noticed the hesitation on Matilda's part. There was no way he was going to let her stop now. "Don't look at it, bitch, suck it!"
    Did he just call me a bitch, Matilda thought, grabbing Stanley's dick ... hard.
    "Ease up, Matilda, ease up," Stanley yelled in a high-pitched voice.
    "Oh, sorry," Matilda said, loosening her grip and thinking: That'll teach you to call me a bitch.
    Stanley wasn't stupid. He knew Matilda did what she did on purpose. If she were one of his employees, he would've had her flogged or something. However, since she wasn't he decided to apologize. Besides, he was really looking forward to having Matilda's lips on his cock.
    "Matilda," he began.
    "Yes."
    "Uh, I'm sorry for calling you a bitch," he said in a quick mumble.
    "Could you repeat that, Stanley, I couldn't make out what you were saying."
    Stanley looked over his shoulders. He made sure neither his Nurses nor SSD were in the room. Through gritted teeth, Stanley said: "I said 'I'm sorry for calling you a bitch'."
    "Oh, you're just saying that."
    "No, Matilda, I'm really sorry."
    "No, you're just saying that 'cause you want me to suck you off."
    "Of course I'm just saying that so you can suck me off. I'm a guy, for Christ's sake," Stanley yelled.
    Stanley knew he shouldn't have said those words. They were unbecoming to someone of his stature. Words like that, if heard by the wrong people, could result in a lifetime of embarrassment. And Stanley knew the wrong people had heard him. He just knew it.
    Sure enough when Stanley looked over his shoulder, he saw the heads of both Nurses and both SSD members. All four had big mega-smiles on their faces. Oh, the humanity.
    "What the fuck you smiling at?" Stanley said.
    "Well, we just wanted you to know that if she won't suck you off, we'll do it," one of the SSD members said.
    "Yeah, we'd do it gladly," said the other SSD.
    "After all you are a guy..." Nurse Janice began.
    "For Christ's sake!" finished Nurse Florence, closing the door behind her and her laughing comrades.
    Those bitches, Stanley thought, I'll take care of them. I'll make them pay and pay and pay and...
    Matilda's hand was on his dick.
    "I never knew there were so many people who wanted to suck your dick," she said, referring to the Nurses and SSD.
    Matilda was being sarcastic with her comment, but Stanley didn't notice. He heard what sounded like sincere praise and admiration and replied: "Yes, women find my dick irresistible. There's a waiting list, you know?"
    "There is?" Matilda asked in disbelief.
    "Yes, there is," Stanley said, confusing Matilda's disbelief for amazement.
    Matilda felt the beginning of the belly laugh to end all belly laughs. It was starting small and getting bigger. She tried stopping it. She tried thinking the most serious thoughts she could imagined. She thought about the Holocaust. She thought about the starving kids of Ethiopia. However, it was no use, Stanley was just too funny.
    She couldn't laugh, though. Laughing would crush Stanley and Matilda needed him uncrushed. She needed him to give her tits. The biggest tits she could imagine. But the belly laugh was coming. It was coming quick. Matilda had to stop it. She had to...
    Matilda put her mouth on Stanley's dick just as the laughter spewed forth from her system. At first, she was worried that Stanley heard her. He didn't. He did, however, feel the laughter, but just thought it was part of Matilda's fellatio technique.
    "Matilda," he said, "Where did you learn how to do that?"
    Matilda didn't answer. Stanley's dick was in her mouth. She thought about removing Stanley's organ from her mouth and answering him, but a feared outbreak of laughter stopped that from happening.
    Sucking on Stanley's flesh rod caused Matilda to wonder about her performance. How did she rate? Not having much experience in giving blow-jobs, she wasn't 100 % sure if she was doing it right. She wondered if Stanley would mind telling her.
    Continuing her Stanley sucking, Matilda looked upward. She saw Stanley, with his eyes closed, moaning and twitching. What does that mean, Matilda wondered? Is he enjoying himself? Am I causing him pain?
    "Stanley," Matilda said, taking his dick out of her mouth, "am I doing a good job?"
    "Matilda, what — what are you talking about?" Stanley sputtered.
    "Do I suck good dick?"
    "Yes, hell yeah, Matilda, you suck good dick."
    "Well, you see I don't have much experience at dick-sucking, and I was just wondering how well I was doing. I mean, it's not like they teach dick-sucking at school. I mean, I'm on my knees sucking and you're not exactly giving me any feedback, so how am I to..."
    "Matilda," Stanley interrupted, "I'll say it again. You suck good dick. Believe me, if you weren't, I would be the first to tell you."
    "Well, I didn't know and you weren't giving..."
    "Matilda, take my word for it, you suck good dick."
    "Okay," Matilda said with a smile, preparing to go back to her Stanley-approved sucking.
    "And Matilda?"
    "Yes, Stanley."
    "Don't ever — and I mean ever — stop sucking a guy's cock just so you can ask him a question. Guys really — and I mean really — hate that sort of thing, okay?"
    "Okay." Matilda said, an embarrassed look on her face.
    "Now, could you, you know, go back to doing..." Stanley said, pointing at his dick.
    Matilda replied by re-inserting Stanley's dick in her mouth.
    In moments, Stanley was again moaning and twitching. Matilda's technique was that good. She started by kissing the head of Stanley's dick. A little peck here and a little peck there. Soon, working up to something full and hard-pressured that involved some of Matilda's tongue.
    Matilda worked her tongue with the skill of an amphibian. In and out of her mouth, it darted with an inhuman speed. Sometimes it would barely graze the head of Stanley's dick making him wonder if her tongue touched him or not. Other times, Stanley felt a fluttering sensation that left no doubt about tongue contact.
    Where did she learn this stuff? Stanley wondered, when his brain allowed such questions.
    If asked, Matilda would have told Stanley that all she knew she learned from books. She loved to read. It was something she enjoyed doing in her free time. And, not being one of the popular girls in school, Matilda had lots of free time. Oh, the books she's read.
    Stanley wasn't much of a book reader. His business and female employees took up most of his time. However, any book that could teach Matilda's techniques was definitely one worth owning. The stuff she was doing to his dick was incredible.
    Stanley's entire dick was in Matilda's mouth. He would never guess nor say that was possible because of the below-average size of his penis. No, he rationalized that Matilda was a mistress of the art of sword swallowing. That was the only way Stanley could explain what Matilda was doing with her teeth.
    Matilda's teeth scraped Stanley's balls. They didn't do it in a painful way. Well, sometimes they did. Usually, however, they would gently touch the underside of his genitals. The resulting feeling of Matilda's hard teeth making contact with Stanley's soft flesh was like an electrical surge down there. It was as if every nerve in Stanley's body was being stimulated at the same time.
    Stanley tried to fight the sensation. He really did. He felt the longer he fought it, the longer it would continue ... and he really, really wanted it to continue.
    However, it was a losing battle. Matilda's skills were just too potent. She gave Stanley a teeth scrape, followed by some industrial vacuum cleaner-like sucking. The resulting force was so great that when Stanley came, his dick squirted cum like Mount Vesuvius.
    Matilda, without batting an eye, stepped forward and caught the airborne jism in her mouth without spilling a single drop. Stanley would have been impressed, had he seen it. Unfortunately, he didn't. Matilda's sucking was so great that now he needed some blood to circulate in his brain.
    "Hmm, just like the book said," Matilda said, commenting on Stanley's present condition. "And speaking of books..."
    Matilda walked over to the pile of clothes and started searching them. The least the bitch could've done was folded my clothes, she thought, still angry at Nurse Florence for violating her ass. Matilda folded her clothes in a neat pile, soon finding what she was looking for ... a book.
    Based on her readings, she knew that Stanley would be out for awhile. Matilda hated wasting time. To her way of thinking, sitting around waiting for Stanley to regain consciousness would have been a big waste of time. Fortunately, she always had a book with her. "Might as well get in a chapter or two," she said, opening her book.
    Stanley woke up three chapters later.
    "Where am I?" he asked, sounding like a movie cliché.
    Matilda didn't answer, instead she put her book back amidst her clothes. She knew that Stanley would be back to normal in a moment, and saw no point in stating that. She was ready for business now. Stanley's particular brand of business. She had made both of her payments: financial and physical. It was time to get this show on the road.
    Stanley stood up shaking his head. Memories of what Matilda did to him slowly flooded his brain. Did all that really happen, he wondered. Suddenly, as if to answer his thought, he felt shivers run through his body. That was enough proof for him. It happened all right.
    "Matilda," he began, "How did you do..."
    "No questions," Matilda said, holding out her right hand, palm forward, in Stanley's direction.
    "But..." Stanley started.
    "We have a deal, Mr. Ashkoff. I've made my payments. Now it's time for you to provide your service."
    Stanley listened to Matilda's words and tone of voice. Was she commanding him? If so, she was very different from the nearly catatonic nerdette he had found earlier in the bathroom stall. What happened to her? How did the balance of power shift? When did Matilda get so ... so confident?
    "I'm sorry, Matilda," Stanley began, his mind thinking on the fly, "but I'm not going to be able to service you today."
    "Why not?"
    "Well, this session has just taken too long. I'm sorry but I have to reschedule your service for another time."
    "And when is 'another time' supposed to happen?" Matilda asked through gritted teeth.
    "Oh, about a month or so. Maybe less, if someone cancels. That does happen you know."
    "Like hell. I'm not waiting a month or so. You're doing the service now."
    "But, Matilda," Stanley said in his most apologetic voice, "I just don't have the time."
    "So, you're reneging on a deal."
    "Pardon?"
    "You heard me. Stanley Ashkoff is reneging on a deal."
    "Well, I wouldn't say..."
    "I'd say it. You take my money. You have me give you a blow-job — one that knocks you unconscious, I might add — and then you have the nerve to not give me the agreed upon service. It sure sounds like you're reneging on a deal to me."
    "But Matilda, you don't understand," Stanley said.
    "You're right I don't understand. So, what if I ask your Nurses and security out there ... maybe, they'll understand."
    "You wouldn't."
    "Or, I can tell every person I run into what type of businessman Stanley Ashkoff really is. You know the kind of dishonest, deceitful, and immoral son-of-a-bitch who would make a girl give him a blow-job and then not deliver on his promises."
    Stanley felt like killing Matilda. Where did that bitch get off talking to him like that? He couldn't answer that question or any other. Rage made his brain feel like it was literally on fire. His hands raised themselves into a shape perfect for choking. That'll work, choking the bitch.
    Stanley prepared to charge Matilda and choke her. Then, like magic, the impulse to do so disappeared. It wasn't necessary, he suddenly realized. He didn't have to kill Matilda to get his revenge. All he had to do was give her exactly what she wanted.
    Stanley lowered his hands to his side. The look on Matilda's face showed she wasn't even aware of the potential threat to her life. Good, thought Stanley, a smile forming on his face. He wanted Matilda to think she held all the cards. That she was the one running things. Time would show her the real King Shit. And his name was Stanley Ashkoff.
    "You're right, Matilda," Stanley said with a smile. "A deal is a deal."
    "I know I'm right," Matilda said, playing the ungracious winner.
    "Uh, yeah. Well, let's get this show on the road."
    "That's what I've been saying," Matilda snapped.
    Stanley didn't respond. He wanted to. Boy, did he want to respond, but he didn't. Instead, he looked at Matilda and loudly clapped his hands. Instantly, his Nurses entered the restroom.
    Actually, "instantly" was a tad inaccurate. The Nurses tried squeezing simultaneously into the restroom's door. An act made impossible by their enormous bosoms. Stanley, fearing something like that was going to happen, decided not to look at the restroom door. He kept his eyes permanently on Matilda.
    Matilda knew Stanley was staring at her. How could she not? It made her feel uncomfortable. People didn't usually look at her, let alone stare at her. However, Stanley was not only staring at her, he was smiling at her. She wanted to know why. What reason did he have to smile? Matilda didn't have an answer to her question and that was making her nervous. So nervous that she almost cancelled this procedure. Then she saw Stanley's Nurses.
    "You clapped, Boss," they simultaneously said to Stanley.
    "Yes, Nurses, it's time," Stanley replied. "Please prepare for the operation."
    Matilda witnessed an immediate shift in the Nurses' manner. One moment, they were giddy and goofy; the next, they were consummate professionals.
    Around their shoulders, they each carried a white handbag with a red cross in its center. Matilda watched the Nurses construct a metal table, withdrawing the necessary components from their bags. Then she watched the Nurses cover the table with a variety of medical tools, sponges, and the like.
    "Uh, I thought the Nurses always retrieved their medical supplies from the cups of their bras," Matilda said, saying the first thing that came to her mind.
    "No," Stanley replied, "they only do that for minor scrapes and bruises. For surgery, they use their bags."
    "Surgery?" Matilda asked Stanley, as if she never heard the word used before.
    "Yes, surgery," he replied calmly.
    "No one said anything about surgery."
    "They shouldn't have to, Matilda," Stanley said. "But if I didn't rely on surgery, then how do you suppose I make your tits bigger?"
    Matilda thought about Stanley's question. Her mind boggled. This was exactly what Stanley wanted to happen. He wanted Matilda to be distracted. He wanted her worrying about Stanley — who she just pissed off royally — operating on her. That way she wouldn't see his hands.
    The moment his Nurses caught Matilda's eyes with their table-building routine, Stanley started rubbing his hands together. Slow at first, he increased the speed of the rubbing until his hands were literally smoking from the friction. Of course, he wasn't going to let Matilda see his hands smoking.
    Matilda turned towards Stanley. Although she was looking at him, it was obvious from her disoriented state that she wasn't seeing him. The surgery to come still occupied her mind. "You can't do surgery on me," she yelled.
    "Why can't I?"
    "I've done my research. Your patients are up and about in one day. There's no way they can have surgery and do that."
    "Hmm," Stanley thought as if hearing all this for the first time. He continued rubbing his smoking hands, keeping them out of Matilda's field of vision. That's true, my patients are up and about in one day."
    "Well, you can't do surgery and have that happen."
    "Correction, Matilda, you can't do traditional surgery and have that happen."
    "Traditional surgery?" Matilda asked confused. "What other kind is there?"
    "This," Stanley said, thrusting the palm of his hand in the direction of Matilda's forehead.
    The second his hand made contact with Matilda, she was rendered unconscious. She closed her eyes and fell backwards. Fortunately for her, Stanley's Nurses were behind her. They caught Matilda and lowered her gently to the ground.
    "Janice, put up that fake shit," he commanded, directing his Nurse to the table of medical equipment. "Florence, get the real supplies."
    Florence went to her handbag and retrieved a bottle of massaging oil and a pair of scissors. Although she had plenty in her bra cups, she also withdrew some sponges and towels. These were the real supplies Stanley needed for his operation.
    She approached Stanley. Her enormous physique created a shadow around her employer letting him know she was behind him. He didn't even have to turn around.
    "Scissors," Stanley said, extending his hand behind him.
    Nurse Florence placed the scissors in Stanley's hands as if she were an Olympic track runner passing a baton. The exchange was that smooth and quick. It impressed Stanley. After the events of the day, he was glad to see some professional examples of the Nurses' training. It eased some of his doubts. Not all of them, but it did ease some.
    Stanley used scissors at the start of every operation he could. It was a tradition comparable to a ribbon-cutting ceremony. Only Stanley didn't cut ribbons. He cut bra-straps.
    Every now and then, Stanley serviced a client who didn't wear a bra. This of course marred the festivities. But what could he do about it: Business was business. Fortunately, Matilda was wearing a bra. Although, glancing at her nonexistent figure, he still couldn't come up with a reason why.
    Stanley felt the butterflies in his stomach. He didn't know why. He was a professional, performing hundreds of these procedures in the past. However, like the veteran entertainer, who still got nervous before a performance, Stanley just accepted the butterflies as a necessary part of his job. He raised the scissors to the center of Matilda's front-loading bra. His hand was shaking. Willing the hand to stop, Stanley took a deep breath and...
    Snap! He cut the strap.
    ShowTime, he thought.
    Nurse Florence removed the cut remains of Matilda's bra. Stanley liked cutting them; he left touching them to his Nurses.
    "Lube her," he commanded.
    Nurse Janice, through putting away the "fake shit", entered the operation. Using the bottle of massaging oil obtained by Nurse Florence, she squirted a large liquid pool on Matilda's chest.
    Stanley placed his hands across Matilda's nipples. The intense heat of his hands made the liquid instantly dissipate.
    "Lube her again," he yelled.
    Nurse Janice did as commanded. Supplying another pool of oil, she watched as it too dissipated. "It's not working," she said.
    "What do you mean it's not working?" Stanley asked her.
    "The oil isn't strong enough."
    "Well, get me something stronger."
    "We need something stronger," Nurse Janice yelled over her shoulder.
    It wasn't necessary. Nurse Florence overheard the conversation between Stanley and Nurse Janice. How could she not, the restroom wasn't that big. Before Janice could get her request out, Nurse Florence was behind her with the something stronger ... lotion.
    She had two tubes of it. She passed one to Nurse Janice, who quickly squirted it on Matilda's chest.
    Janice watched as the thick white substance quickly covered Matilda's emaciated form. She tried to squeeze out every drop of the lotion. She had to. If Stanley's hands were able to dissipate the lotion, then all was lost. The operation would be termed a failure.
    Stanley raised his hands skyward. He knew the stakes as well as his Nurses did. He had to do this procedure. Not for Matilda's sake, he could give a fuck about her, but for his reputation. His reputation was a solid 100% success rate. This meant Stanley Ashkoff had never lost a patient. He wasn't going to start losing them today.
    "Clear," he yelled, bringing both of his hands down on Matilda.
    Stanley's hands settled into the abundant lotion with an audible splat. Smoke rose from the meeting of flesh and cream. For a moment, the lotion looked like it too would dissipate. Fortunately, it didn't.
    "Success," Stanley announced to his Nurses, who exhaled their breaths in a sign of relief. They had accomplished Step One of the procedure.
    Stanley's lotion-covered hands rested on Matilda's chest. Slowly, he moved them in small circles. This was Step Two of the procedure. The absorption stage.
    Stanley worked the lotion into Matilda's skin. He did this in a manner more thorough than any imagined. The combination of his skilled rubbing, expert knowledge, and smoking hands ensured the lotion would penetrate every pore of Matilda's flesh.
    "More lotion," Stanley said to his Nurses.
    "Pardon?" they asked together.
    "You heard me. I need more lotion."
    The Nurses were visibly uncomfortable. This wasn't normal. According to the Nurses' Manual, the client received one coat of oil, no more and no less. In some cases — some very rare cases — the client received lotion. The amount never changed, though; it was always one coat.
    Well, Matilda received lotion. Okay, that made her a very rare case. They could understand that. They could not understand, however, giving her another coat of lotion. That was practicing medicine irresponsibly and the Nurses would not stand for it. Obligation compelled them to voice their disapproval of Stanley Ashkoff's methods.
    They just couldn't decide who should voice their disapproval first.
    "Ladies, I'm waiting," Stanley said to them without turning his back.
    The Nurses were shooting each other looks. Saying "You should go first" without opening their mouths. Responding "No, you should go first" just as silently.
    "Give me some fucking lotion," Stanley barked at them.
    "Uh, Boss..." Nurse Janice began, looking shamefully at her cowardly partner, Florence.
    "Yeah, what? I know you're not going to tell me you ran out of lotion. A fresh shipment of the stuff came in yesterday."
    "No, we have lotion."
    "Then how come I don't have lotion?"
    "Well, Boss, Nurse Florence and I," Nurse Janice said, receiving a nasty look from her partner in nursing, "we don't approve of your using two coats of lotion."
    "Oh, you don't approve" Stanley said, his teeth grinding together.
    "Two coats of lotion is too much," Nurse Florence said. She was already in the mix thanks to Janice; she might as well speak her mind. "According to the Nurses' Manual, Page 22, Section 1, Paragraph..."
    "How dare you quote the Nurses' Manual to me," Stanley roared. "I know what it says. I wrote it, remember?"
    "But..." Nurse Florence tried to interject.
    "Stupid bitch trying to tell me something I know better than her," mumbled Stanley.
    "But sir," Nurse Janice said, getting Stanley's attention. "If you know two coats of lotion is too much why are you doing it?"
    "Are you questioning me, Janice?"
    "No, sir."
    "What about you, Florence?"
    "No, sir. I would never question you."
    "Good," Stanley said wickedly. "I'm so glad you two aren't questioning me. We know what happens to those who question me, don't we?"
    "Yes, yes, we know," the two Nurses babbled in unison.
    "Good. Now even though it's none of your fucking business, I'm going to tell you why I want the extra lotion, okay?"
    "Okay," the Nurses said.
    "We know what happens to those who question me, right?"
    The Nurses nodded their heads, which meant nothing to Stanley. The females who worked for him often nodded their heads just out of habit. It came from Stanley being right even when he wasn't right. However, the fear that passed on the Nurses' face ... now that was a real sign of understanding. It told him they knew what happened all right.
    "Well, I'm not going to do that to the client," Stanley said to his Nurses. "Instead, I'm going to do the exact opposite. Understand?"
    The Nurses understood and surprisingly seemed to approve of what Stanley planned on doing to Matilda.
    "Sir, do you think two coats of lotion is going to work?" Nurse Janice asked him.
    "Pardon?"
    "Well, your hands have cooled down," she said.
    "Yes?"
    "Won't you have to heat them up again?" Nurse Florence asked.
    "Yes, I suppose I will," a smiling Stanley said. He saw where his Nurses were going with this.
    "That first coat of lotion is pretty much useless now," Nurse Janice said.
    "Yes, it is," agreed Stanley. "I guess I'll have to start all over again."
    "Well, we have plenty of lotion, so you can start over as much as you want."
    Stanley heard Nurse Florence's words with a smile. "You can start over as much as you want". It was an intriguing idea. His mind painted the picture of how Matilda would look then. It was an interesting picture — not a very practical one — but an interesting picture nonetheless. Still, Stanley was a professional. He could not let emotions, however strong, rule his decisions. With a sigh, he said to his Nurses: "No, three coats of lotion should be enough."
    This decision didn't make the Nurses happy. They started pouting.
    "Now, Nurses," Stanley said, rubbing his hands at a feverish pitch, "there's no need to start pouting and frowning. Believe me, when I'm done with the client, you will love the results."
    "Really?" asked the Nurses.
    "Really."
    The Nurses, with lotion bottles in hand, watched the hands of their Boss. They saw the first sign of smoke. Stanley saw it too and increased the rate of rubbing, causing the smoke to grow stronger. When the smoke got as strong as it was going to get, Stanley stopped.
    "Let the lubing begin," he suddenly announced.
    Nurse Janice went to Matilda and squirted the first of the additional coats of lotion.
    Stanley, immersing his hands in the lotion, made quick work of the substance. Making some small circles with his hands, he noticed the lotion was absorbed instantly into Matilda's skin.
    "Next coat of lotion," he yelled.
    Nurse Florence did her part and squirted Matilda. Then she quickly moved out of the way. It was Stanley's show now. The Nurses were incidental. At this point, watching was all they could do.
    Stanley wasn't thinking about his Nurses. He focused his attention solely on Matilda's chest. He worked the third coat of lotion into her flesh. Unlike the previous coats, this one wasn't absorbing nearly as fast. He wasn't worried, though. The whole oil-lotion thing was optional. It helped the process by softening up the skin tissue, but wasn't really necessary.
    He was what was necessary. His skill, touch, and experience made all of this possible. His magic touch if you will. That was his big secret and he protected it as if his life depended on it. To Stanley, his life did depend on it.
    He derived his life — his money, his power, his fame, and his women — from his magic touch. He knew that if he ever lost it or someone discovered how to fashion a magic touch of their own, all he had would be gone. Thus, when the need arose, Stanley lied to protect his secret. He was lying now.
    He knew his Nurses thought the oil — the lotion, whatever — was the secret. He encouraged this misinformation. It protected his real secret. It protected his magic touch. The fact that Stanley liked rubbing lubricants into female's chests was incidental. He had a secret to protect.
    Matilda's skin finally absorbed the third coat. Good, thought Stanley, now the real fun can start.
    Stanley placed his index fingers on the tips of Matilda's nipples. He rubbed them in a nice, slow, gentle fashion. He wanted them engorged to their maximum length.
    "Nice and slow," he whispered, admiring his handiwork.
    Matilda's nipples soon extended a little over a half-inch in length. Was this her maximum length? Stanley wasn't sure, so he continued his rubbing. Moments later, he concluded that a half-inch was it.
    Stanley compared Matilda's nipples to others he saw in his past. It was something he did, the more he did this kind of work. They were neither the biggest nor the smallest in his recollections. They were about average size nipples, but on Matilda's nonexistent chest, they seemed huge. They also seemed thick ... and suckable. Matilda's nipples begged to be sucked. So, Stanley obliged them.
    He tried scooping her nipples to his face, but Matilda lacked the necessary breast flesh. Stanley had to force his face into her sternum and start his licking. He started licking her right nipple, flicking it with his tongue. Slowly, he would move in and bring the nipple into his mouth. He would suck the nipple, then release it. He would catch the nipple with his teeth, giving it a slight bite. He would repeat these actions — repeatedly — until the thought occurred to him that Matilda had not one, but two nipples. He would then switch over to the left nipple and start the whole process again.
    Stanley loved this part of his job. His Nurses, however, were bored. They saw this scenario more times than they count. They used to do their nails around this point in the procedure, but then Stanley started complaining about the fumes. Fortunately, technology came to their aid.
    "Did you pack the Playstation 2?" Nurse Florence asked Nurse Janice.
    "I sure did. You set up the table and I'll get it out of my bag."
    "You think we should ask the SSD if they want to play?" Florence asked out of kindness. She really hoped Janice said no.
    "Those sore losers," Janice said, bringing an even bigger permanent smile to Florence's face. "They can keep their asses outside. I'm sure they'll find someone else to beat up today."
    "You're right," Florence replied, excusing Janice's use of the A-word. She wanted the SSD to stay outside just as much as anyone. Of course, if they beat up someone else, wouldn't the Nurses be obligated to assist the victim?
    "You worry too much, Florence," Janice replied when the other Nurse voiced her thoughts. "Let's play some PS2 while lover-boy over there relives his glory days as a breastfeeder."
    Stanley overheard this last comment by Janice. He also heard the resulting laughter. He almost stopped sucking Matilda's nipples ... almost. He continued his sucking, but those bitches and their big mouths ruined the experience for him. He stopped a lot sooner than he normally would. Let them play their Playstation, I'll take care of them later, he thought.
    Matilda's eyes started fluttering. It looked like she was starting to wake up. Stanley placed his palm on her forehead again, insuring she didn't wake up just yet. He knew he needed to get back to work. Usually, one "Palm of Sleepiness" was all a client needed. Matilda received two.
    "Time to get back to work," he said, gazing at Matilda's chest.
    "You need us, Boss?" Nurse Janice asked, yelling over the synthesized sounds coming from the gaming unit.
    "No, no, no," Stanley said, forcing the anger out of his voice. "You two play your video game."
    "Okay."
    "Bitches," Stanley mumbled. He couldn't wait to punish those two. But, he had to be patient. First things first. He would see to Matilda, then his Nurses.
    Matilda's chest looked a little fuller. The coats of lotion puffed out her skin slightly. With her engorged nipples, she now possessed miniscule breasts. Stanley knew that short of surgery — which Matilda couldn't afford — it would be impossible for her to get even miniscule breasts. Herbs, creams, and all that quackery were bullshit.
    Stanley wanted to punish Matilda. He hadn't forgotten the way she treated him. He thought seriously about leaving her with her miniscule breasts. It would satisfy the nature of their deal: Matilda would have bigger breasts, she just wouldn't have the breasts of her dream. Oh, that would torture her all right.
    Stanley prepared to signal his Nurses that the procedure had ended. He raised his hands. He started to clap the first part of the "procedure ended" sequence. Then, he stopped. Images of his first plan of vengeance ran through his mind. Stanley liked these images. No, Stanley loved these images. Fuck leaving her with miniscule tits, he thought, let's stick to the original plan.
    Stanley lowered his hands — that were about to clap the "procedure ended" sequence — and placed them on Matilda's miniscule tits. He tried raising them to his mouth. They were still too small for that. Stanley bought his face to Matilda's tits and gave them both a good nipple licking. Just to make up for those bitch Nurses interrupting his pleasure.
    Nipple licking over, Stanley went back to work. He started rubbing Matilda's breasts. Caressing and kneading them until his fingers knew their texture inside and out. It was like a pizza chef working his bread dough: familiarity lead to mastery. The more Stanley worked Matilda's breasts, the better he and his fingers knew them.
    What the fingers knew, the fingers controlled. That was the heart of the technique taught to Stanley by his Master. That was the secret of the Magic Touch.
    When it came to females, Stanley was a Master of the Magic Touch. Once his fingers knew their skin, Stanley could make any changes imaginable. Bigger, smaller, firmer, flatter — you name it — and to a female, Stanley could do it. The fact that he charged them money and other things to "do it" was just business in Stanley's mind.
    Of course, there was a Magic Touch Technique for guys, but Stanley wasn't interested in that. His Master insisted on him learning the technique, but once Stanley discovered he couldn't use it on himself, he figured why bother? He was not going to go around enlarging other guys' dicks. Hell, no! There wasn't enough money in the world for Stanley Ashkoff to do that.
    He worked exclusively on insecure flat-chested females like Matilda. He had a talent for seeking them out and offering them his service. In the early days of his business, he serviced other types of females, but always returned to the Matildas of the world. His reasoning was simple and threefold: First, they wanted enormous breasts more than anything on the planet. Second, they were willing to pay any price to get those breasts. Third, they usually knew how to respect their betters. Respect was very important in this type of business. This Matilda bitch obviously didn't know that, but Stanley would show her. Boy, would he show her.
    He grabbed Matilda's miniscule breasts and squeezed them. He released them, then squeezed again. He did this several times. Each squeeze added fullness to Matilda's chest.
    "Hmm, not bad," Stanley said, admiring his handiwork. "Now, let's stretch them out some."
    Stanley palmed Matilda's much fuller mounds. Tit-flesh escaped through his small hands. Stanley, using the aureoles of Matilda's tits as a guide, started pulling outward from the center of her chest. He would pull and release. Pull and release. Occasionally, he would pull too much and mess up the sphere-like shape he was going for. When this would happen, he'd return to squeezing and releasing Matilda's tits, trying to obtain the right amount of fullness.
    It was an art. Shaping and growing a client's breasts wasn't something you just did. It took skill and patience. Moreover, since no two females had exactly the same type of breasts, there was no blueprint to follow. Stanley's mental visions were the only things guiding him. Unfortunately, they weren't guiding him on this operation.
    Usually, Stanley's visions were the perfect breasts for his clients. It was an incontrovertible fact. As blasphemous as it sounds, Stanley and his skills outdid the Master's handiwork. His results were usually bigger — make that much bigger — than the Master's norm, but perfection was still the final verdict. If Matilda remained the quiet weirdo sitting on the toilet seat, she, too, would've received perfection. But since she opened her mouth...
    Matilda's breasts were huge now. They were also awe-inspiring. Stanley's squeezing and tugging had transformed her nonexistent nubs into magnificent mounds. Stanley's Nurses, who caught a glimpse of Matilda's new size between video game sessions, judged them perfect in every way. Thus, they thought, the procedure neared its completion. However, it wasn't, Stanley was just getting started.
    "What's he doing, Janice?" asked Nurse Florence.
    "Teaching that bitch a lesson, remember?"
    "Oh, yeah, that's right," Nurse Florence said, her attention turning back to the video game. "She's getting super-sized."
    Stanley started rubbing his hands again. He rubbed them so hard that a visible flame appeared. For a moment, Stanley just stared at his flaming palms. Not out of any fear of painful skin damage, since the Magic Touch Technique protected him from that sort of thing. He just found the crackling fire so amazing.
    Eventually, the flames died out. His hands, like white pieces of charcoal in a barbecue grill, radiated heat you could feel from a distance. Stanley had never known his hands to get this hot. He could only imagine what the intense heat of his hands combined with his Magic Touch would do to Matilda. But why imagine it, he thought, when in moments I'll actually be doing it.
    Again, Stanley raised his hands skyward. He paused for a moment, looking at the new Matilda. She possessed perfection. Stanley performed some of his best work on her tits. He sighed, knowing he was about to mar his artistry, and sank his hands into Matilda's magnificent mounds.
    Matilda reacted like prodded cattle. The moment Stanley's hands made contact with her tits, it was as if a million volts of electricity bombarded her. She jerked awake, screaming.
    It was a blood-curdling scream, something worthy of a horror movie heroine. Blood left the Nurses' faces when they heard it. For a moment, they thought Stanley was killing her.
    "Shut up," Stanley yelled, trying to silence Matilda with his Palm of Sleepiness. But it wasn't working.
    Stanley was shocked. The Palm of Sleepiness always worked. It was part of his Magic Touch Technique. He wondered what was different this time. The heat of his hands, adrenaline in Matilda's system, he didn't know.
    "I said, shut up bitch," he yelled, still trying his palm. However, it was no use, Matilda wasn't going back to sleep. And to make matters work, she was still screaming.
    The Nurses couldn't take it anymore. Things had gotten serious. This wasn't the friendly revenge on a client they imagined. The client was crying. This couldn't go on any longer. They were Nurses, for Christ's sake. They couldn't let Stanley continue doing what he was doing. Boss or no boss, they had to stop him.
    Nurse Florence was the first to react. She charged Stanley. Unfortunately, she telegraphed her attack. Between her screams of "Boss, stop" and her heavy-footed approach, Stanley had ample time to defend himself. He turned and saw Florence's rapidly approaching shadow, did some quick calculations, and then extended his hand in her direction. Stanley's gesture, although simple, was enough to send Florence sprawling towards the ground.
    Florence hit the ground hard tit-first. "Oooh, my titties," she cried, fighting back the pain.
    Nurse Janice noticed what happened to Florence. She willed herself not to charge Stanley, although that's exactly what she wanted to do. This operation required stealth. She tiptoed towards Stanley. She tried to make her steps as quiet as possible. She was right behind him when...
    Stanley turned around and thrust his hands inside Janice's blouse. His hands found her tits instantly. Checking their neuromuscular memory, the hands wondered if they knew this particular pair. They did.
    Since Stanley was the one who gave Janice her tits, his hands possessed a nearly photographic recollection of them. They could do whatever Stanley willed them to do. Stanley willed them to make Janice's tits larger.
    Janice tried pulling away from Stanley and his hands, but she couldn't. His hands wouldn't let go. They seemed permanently affixed to her skin. She could feel them pulling and tugging her tits, increasing the weight of her already massive breasts. "Please Boss, don't," she screamed, imagining a life of chronic back pain. "I'm sorry."
    "Cross me, will you?" Stanley said. "Don't you know, I own you bitches."
    "Yes, Boss, I know it."
    "Then why did you and four-on-the-floor Florence over there try to attack me?" he asked, stopping his manipulation of Janice's tits for the moment.
    Janice was overjoyed for this reprieve. She stretched her back in relief. Her mind tried to come up with a satisfactory answer to Stanley's question. It couldn't. Fortunately, it didn't have to.
    "Oh, so you and Florence attacked me for the fun of it," he said.
    "No, Boss, we would never..."
    "Shut up," he yelled, preparing to re-start his Magic Touch Technique.
    Matilda interrupted him.
    It took her awhile to overcome the searing pain of Stanley's hands. She just knew he burned her flesh. He didn't, but the pain felt so real. It was like that scene in the movie, Dune. Some space nun or something was testing the protagonist, Paul Atreides. She made him stick his hand in a box that burned the skin off while she held a poisonous needle to his throat. Matilda wasn't enjoying the movie and ultimately turned it off, but the words Paul used in the movie somehow came to her defense when she needed them.
    "I must not fear," she said. "Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me."
    Later, Matilda would wonder how that Dune quote got in her head. Nevertheless, when she needed it, she was glad it was there. It more than anything helped her overcome the pain of Stanley's touch. However, that was just step one. Step two was getting off the floor.
    Matilda was no longer her formerly flat-chested self. She had tits now. Massive mammaries, feeling like they weighed a ton, were now hers. And she couldn't overcome them. She would repeatedly struggle upward only to fall back on her back.
    She wanted to quit. She almost did quit. Then she saw what Stanley was doing to Janice. That gave her all the strength she needed.
    Matilda exerted herself more physically than she ever did in her entire life. She did the sit-up to end all sit-ups. It worked; her back was off the floor. She choked back any noise that might alert Stanley. This had to be a surprise attack. She placed both palms on the floor, concentrating all her energy into them. She mentally counted to three. On the final step of her countdown, Matilda propelled herself off the floor with a might heave.
    Success, she thought, standing up for the first time since Stanley used his Magic Touch on her. She fought to maintain her balance, not wanting to end up on the floor again. She watched Stanley as he titty-tangoed with Janice, playing with the Nurses' tits to his heart's content. The sight made Matilda's blood boil. She had to stop Stanley.
    Matilda chose her moment carefully. She wanted Stanley completely distracted before she launched her attack, knowing this was a one-chance situation. Her fate depended on her success. The Nurses' fate, especially Janice's, depended on her success as well. Matilda knew the longer she delayed acting, the more time Stanley had to torture the Nurse. She had to act now.
    Matilda charged Stanley, surprising him with a sneak attack. The momentum of her breasts colliding with his back was such that she fell on top of the sprawling Stanley. Overpowering him with her newly grown endowments, she successfully pinned him.
    "Are you all right?" she asked, turning her attention to Janice.
    Janice couldn't speak. The fear bought on by Stanley's attack rendered her speechless.
    "It's okay, Janice," Matilda said, trying to reassure the shaking Nurse. "It's over now."
    "No, bitch," Matilda suddenly heard Stanley yell behind her, "It's never over."
    Matilda turned slowly and saw a smirking Stanley. He was rubbing his hands together.
    "How did ... how did you..."
    "How did I escape?" Stanley asked smugly.
    "Yeah," Matilda said, "How did you escape. I had you pinned under my tits."
    "Oh, Matilda, you still don't get it. I own you now. Did you really think you could trap me with your tits when I was the one who gave them to you?"
    Matilda looked down at her tits. There was so much flesh that all she could see was their tops. She started exploring them with her hands. "They seem all right to me," she said.
    "How the hell would you know if they're all right? You just got those tits, remember?"
    "Uh, well..."
    "But you're right, Matilda," Stanley said. "Your tits are fine. I didn't have to destroy them to escape, although the thought did cross my mind. All I had to do was change their density a little and squeeze out."
    "You can do that?" a surprised Matilda asked.
    "Matilda, I can do anything." This was the start of Stanley at his most verbose. He began rattling off his abilities like a James Bond villain revealing every detail of his plan to take over the world. Without knowing it, he was doing exactly what Matilda wanted him to do.
    She waited for his litany to begin, then suddenly attacked him. She swung her tits in his direction, hoping to clobber his ass. Stanley, however, ducked.
    "Oh, you want to scrap," he said, assuming a boxing position — a bad boxing position. His guard left him so open that anyone was capable of eating him for dinner. Nevertheless, Stanley thought he was the greatest boxer alive. "I've been doing Tae-Bo, Matilda. Prepare to get your ass..."
    Matilda attacked Stanley again. This time she struck pay dirt. The results weren't what she imagined, though.
    "I'm blind," Stanley screamed. "Your nipple caught me in my eye. I'm blind. I'm blind."
    A compassionate Matilda responded quickly to the injured Stanley. She rushed to him only to hear:
    "Psych. I was only fooling, bitch."
    Stanley, taking advantage of Matilda's kindness, launched into a series of blows that might have looked impressive on a boxer's speed bag — providing someone who knew what they were doing was doing the punching.
    "Yeah, bitch, how do you like them apples," he smugly said to Matilda.
    "Apples? Don't you mean melons," Matilda said with a smile. Stanley's punching wasn't bothering her at all. "And as for your foreplay, Stanley? I like it fine. Most guys don't offer anywhere near the level of tit-stimulation that you do."
    Stanley heard Matilda's laughter. That was bad. Then he heard his Nurses laughing as well. That was unforgivable. "Arrrghh," he screamed, flying in a blind rage.
    Matilda heard the scream, but was unprepared for what followed.
    "Laugh at me, will you?" Stanley said, grabbing hold of Matilda's tits. Instantly, it felt like Matilda was carrying around two sacks of dried cement. She collapsed to the ground instantly.
    One down, two to go, Stanley thought, scanning the room. He didn't want any sneak attacks from his Nurses. He saw Janice first. The Nurse looked catatonic. Between Stanley altering her breasts earlier and watching him down Matilda with one touch, she no longer had any fight in her.
    Stanley felt his heart go out to her. He was feeling — dared he say it — mercy for one of his employees. That was unforgivable. Now was not the time to show weakness. "Janice, go outside," he ordered the Nurse, more for his benefit than hers. "Now."
    Janice was slow to react, so Stanley repeated himself. Soon she got the message and slowly started towards the room's exit.
    Stanley quickly turned his attention to his other Nurse, Florence. It was a wise thing to do. Florence held her fists high over her head as if she was going to bonk Stanley on the head.
    "Et tu, Florence?" he asked her.
    "No, no Boss," Florence replied, not really knowing what Stanley meant by "Et tu". However, she wanted to go on record as apologizing to her employer. She didn't want the concrete-tit treatment any more than Matilda did. "This isn't what it looks like."
    "Well, Florence, it looks to me like you were going to attack me from behind and bonk me on the head."
    "Okay, Boss, it is what it looked like."
    "Oh, Florence, I do so like your honest nature. Too bad, it's going to get you punished."
    "No, Boss, no," she wailed. "Not the concrete tits."
    "Oh, I don't have to give you concrete tits to punish you, Florence. I can just super-size them to the size of our little client here," he said, gesturing to Matilda. "You wouldn't like to carry those around, would you?"
    Florence looked at Matilda's tits. Then she saw Janice, unaccustomed to her new tits, finally exit the restroom. Janice and her use to be the same size, but now Janice made Florence look flat. Florence glanced down at her own chest, then looked at Stanley and said: "Well, Boss, since you're offering, I wouldn't mind..."
    "You're not getting shit," Stanley said, cutting her off. He saw Florence compare her tits to Matilda's and Janice's. There was no way he was going to reward her after she tried to attack him. "In fact, you're lucky I don't take away the tits you got."
    "But, Boss, you're the one that made the offer" Florence said, her hands covering her tits. She didn't want Stanley coming anywhere near her tits after his "take away the tits you got" comment.
    "You disgust me, get out of here," Stanley said, pointing to the exit door. "I'll deal with you later."
    Florence walked to the door like a death-row inmate walking to the chair. Her slow steps seemed to weigh a ton. Her arched back made it seem like she was carrying the world on her shoulders.
    Stanley wasn't going for her act. "Florence, when you get outside, have the SSD punish you and Janice, okay?"
    "Okay," Florence said cheerfully, making a 180-degree turn in temperament. She was now running to the door.
    "I forbid you to enjoy your punishment," Stanley yelled after her. "You hear me, Florence. I want you and Janice to suffer."
    "Okay, Boss, I'll suffer," Florence said, closing the bathroom door behind her. However, Stanley didn't think she would.
    "If you want something done right, you got to do it yourself," he sighed.
    "What about me?" Matilda asked, her breasts pinning her to the floor.
    "What about you?"
    "You're not going to just leave me here, are you?"
    "Well, you know the thought did cross my mind," Stanley lied. Actually, the idea of leaving Matilda stuck in a bathroom never crossed his mind. He thought about it for a moment. As an idea, it had its merits. But, no. Leaving Matilda stuck in a bathroom would be a waste of his talents and skills.
    Besides, in the near future, he would probably use the room for another client. Servicing one client, while another one was pinned to the floor by her tits just wasn't good business, Stanley concluded.
    "No, Matilda, I have other plans for you," Stanley said.
    "Other plans?"
    "Yes, initially, you were going to be a Nurse," Stanley said. "I was going to give you the right brand of hair dye and make you a blonde. I was going to give you your class schedule. Maybe, buddy you up with Janice or Florence out there ... you know the whole bit."
    "But?"
    "But that's not going to happen anymore."
    "Well, what's going to happen then."
    "I'm going to open up a new division in my company and make you the head of it."
    "You're going to open up a new division and make me the head of it?"
    "That's what I said."
    "What are you talking about?" Matilda asked bewildered.
    "Matilda, I've had a lot of women suck my dick, but none of them sucked me off the way you did."
    "Thanks ... I guess."
    "I'm being serious. Your skills in fellatio are extraordinary. You're in a class of your own that's light-years from anything I've experienced."
    "Again, thanks, but what does my 'dick-sucking skills' have to do with a new division in your company?"
    "I want you to be a teacher," Stanley said as if he was offering Matilda the job of CEO of Microsoft.
    "A teacher? What kind of teacher?"
    "Why, a sex teacher, of course."
    "What?"
    "My new division will supply sexual training to my present and future employees. It may even teach the public — at cost, of course — but that'll come much later. You, and anyone else I find with comparable skills in sex, will teach what you know."
    "But I don't know anything," Matilda screamed in exasperation.
    "Oh, come on, Matilda," Stanley said, laughing along to Matilda's supposed joke, "you don't expect me to believe you learned how to suck dick like that from reading a book."
    "I did learn how to suck dick like that from reading a book."
    Stanley was losing his sense of humor. "Look," he said, "I'm not negotiating with you. You're going to be a sex teacher and that's final."
    "You can't make me teach and that's final," Matilda said, determined to go out fighting.
    Stanley sighed. He couldn't understand Matilda at all. Here he was holding all the cards, and she still wanted to challenge him.
    "Matilda, if I leave, how are you going to get off the floor?" he asked calmly.
    "I'm sure someone will come along."
    "Not if I post 24-hours of Stanley's Security Detail coverage," Stanley replied. "All I have to do is order my SSD's to stop anyone from entering this restroom and that's that. No one will be coming to your restroom."
    "You can't do that."
    "Has anyone been using this restroom since we've been here?"
    Matilda thought for a moment. Stanley was right. The restroom was surprisingly free of other people. She thought about the two girls — one already inside the restroom, the other trying to get in — getting beat up by Stanley's SSD's and shuddered. She'd be trapped in this room forever or until she died. "Okay, I'll do it," she suddenly screamed.
    "I knew you would," Stanley said. He heard the desperation in her voice and knew his words had accomplished the desired effect.
    Matilda waited a moment. Stanley wasn't moving her way. Finally, she said: "Uh, aren't you forgetting something?"
    "What am I forgetting?"
    "I'm still pinned to the floor."
    "And?"
    "How am I going to work for you if I can't get off the floor?"
    "Well, actually, I thought of making this your office. I could send your students in here and..."
    "Stanley," she screamed.
    "Excuse me," Stanley said, sounding quite offended.
    "Stanley? Stanley Ashkoff?"
    "I'm sorry, Matilda, but that name is off-limits to you," he said coldly.
    "What?" she asked in disbelief.
    "You work for me now. Start addressing me as Sir, Boss, Lord, Master..."
    "You're kidding, Stanley."
    "What?"
    "Boss," Matilda said in defeat. The cold tile of the floor was starting to get to her.
    "Good, now that we know where we stand, I'll help you stand," Stanley said jokingly. He was so happy with his little joke that for the next minute he laughed nonstop.
    Matilda wanted to cuss Stanley Ashkoff out, but decided biting her tongue was the better course of action.
    Stanley placed a hand on Matilda's back and another one on her left breast. "I'm going to do two things to you, Matilda," he said. "I'm going to lessen the density of your breasts so that they don't feel like bags of concrete. And, I'm also going to strengthen your back so you're able to move around better."
    "Couldn't you lessen the density and, instead of messing around with my back, just reduce the size of my breasts?"
    "Are you questioning me?" Stanley asked.
    "No, Sta ... uh, I mean Boss. I would never question you."
    "Make her smaller, yeah right," Stanley mumbled. "She pays me money, sucks my dick, and then wants me to make her smaller. The nerve of some people."
    Matilda ignored Stanley's — her new boss's — mumbling. To do otherwise, would piss her off to the point she would do something she would later regret. It was obvious who was holding the cards and it wasn't her.
    Stanley did as planned. Matilda was finally able to stand.
    "Don't try anything," Stanley said, "I don't have to touch you to affect your breasts."
    Stanley was lying of course, and Matilda felt as much. There were plenty of times in their struggles where not touching Matilda would have been the best strategy. Why didn't Stanley affect her from a distance then? Of course, Matilda wasn't 100% sure that Stanley was lying. But she definitely wasn't going to risk being pinned to the floor again. It just wasn't worth it.
    "I'm not going to try anything, Boss," she said.
    "Good," Stanley said, handing her a piece of paper.
    "What's this?" Matilda asked.
    "Your orientation schedule."
    "What?"
    "You know the usual stuff: salary, benefits, paperwork ... gotta keep the government happy."
    "What about uniforms?" Matilda asked, emphasizing her nudity.
    "Yeah, I supply uniforms," Stanley said with a sigh, thinking about the increased uniform costs in his budget. "But you pay your own dry cleaning."
    "Uh, can I get one of those uniforms now?" Matilda asked.
    "No."
    "Why not?"
    "You haven't been through orientation yet. You can't get your uniforms until you've completed orientation. Everyone knows that."
    "But Sta ... uh, Boss," Matilda said, working hard to stay calm. "What am I going to wear home?"
    "How about your clothes," Stanley said, pointing to the pile of clothing on the floor. "There's enough of them, you know."
    "I can't wear them."
    "Why not?" Stanley asked, being his most clueless.
    "Boss, look at me."
    Stanley did as Matilda asked. He looked at his handiwork and liked what he saw. Then the feeling passed. Stanley hadn't measured Matilda's tits. Usually, around this time, he would pull out a humongous tape measure made out of the finest silk money could buy. He would direct his Nurses to hold up the massive mams of his client. Then he would fumble around with the tape measure — the clients loved that — as if he was a tit-measuring novice. Eventually, he would get the tape measure around his client's endowments.
    "Eventually" for Stanley sometimes took an entire hour. He loved examining his work that much. As he positioned the tape measure, he let his hands touch the client as much as possible. Why not, he thought. Once I grow their tits, they belong to me anyway.
That was all the justification Stanley needed to tweak their nipples, caress their backs, pat their asses, and rub his clothed crotch against them.
    Stanley got many jollies from harassing his post-procedure clients that way. Knowing someone would let you do whatever you wanted just because they were afraid of losing their newly grown tits was the ultimate high. A close second was seeing the quantitative figures of his handiwork spelled out via his silk tape measure.
    Sure, it was gratuitous. Hell, it was even unnecessary. Stanley, using his Magic Touch Technique, knew exactly how big his client's breasts were after he serviced them. Take Matilda, for example. Stanley knew she had a 126" bustline now. He also knew, without doing any mental calculations on his part, that after her orientation he would have to supply her with a 32P4 bra. But, damn it, it wasn't the same.
    Those bitches, Stanley thought, referencing his Nurses, ruined my measuring moment.
    "Boss," Matilda yelled, gaining his attention.
    "What?"
    "What am I going to wear?"
    "Your clothes."
    "They don't fit anymore."
    "Well, what do you want me to do about it?"
    "Boss, I can't walk around school naked.
    "Boss," Matilda whined.
    Oh, hell, no, Stanley thought. He wasn't going to listen to that any longer than he had to. He hated whiny bitches.
    "You want something to wear?" He asked Matilda. "Well, I'll get you something to wear."
    Stanley went to the paper towel dispenser in the restroom. This was one of those models with the metal crank handle, one of those where the towels were a single sheet until you separated them. Stanley cranked so many towels that it looked like he was trying to empty the dispenser. He whistled while he did this. The tune was "Whistle While You Work."
    Soon Stanley stopped both whistling and cranking. He gathered up the paper towels and walked over to Matilda. "You're going to wear this," he said.
    "What are you talking about ... uh, Boss?"
    "I said, 'You're going to wear this'."
    "How?"
    "Do I have to do everything for you bitches?" a frustrated Stanley asked. "Watch and learn."
    Stanley dropped the towels by Matilda's feet. He went to a neighboring sink and wetted his hands. Returning to Matilda, he rubbed the excess liquid on her torso. Gathering up the towels, Stanley started wrapping her mummy-style.
    "I can't go out like this," Matilda said, once Stanley completed his task.
    "I don't see why you can't. I've covered your tits. I've covered your bush. What's the problem?"
    "I'm wearing freaking paper towels." Matilda screamed.
    "Look, you," Stanley said, locking eyes with his newest employee. "You wanted tits, I gave you tits. You wanted clothes, so I covered you up. I don't see how you have anything to complain about."
    "But, Stanley."
    Ooops, she said the wrong thing. The look on Stanley's face — which wasn't very nice to start with — had turned evil. He looked like he was going to kill her.
    "Get the fuck outta here," he said, accenting each of the words. "Now."
    Matilda did as commanded. She wasn't going to back-talk him this time. She valued her life too much for that.
    The moment Matilda exited the restroom in her paper-towel outfit, Stanley's Nurses and SSD's started laughing at her. To them, she was the funniest thing on the planet. Even after she left their line of sight — which should have ended the comedic moment--they continued laughing. It was as if they couldn't stop laughing.
    Stanley could — and did — stop their laughing.
    "Shut the fuck up," he said, sticking his head outside the restroom. "SSD's, I'll deal with you later. Nurses get your asses in here."
    Janice and Florence entered the restroom. It took Janice a lot longer than Florence to enter due to her increased endowments. They were both in the restroom, however, and they did it without bumping bosoms. Slapstick didn't seem appropriate at the moment.
    After the Nurses entered the restroom, they expected their boss to say something. He didn't. All he did was stare them down.
    Eventually, the silent treatment got the best of them and Janice said: "Boss..."
    "I told you to shut the fuck up," Stanley said, cutting the Nurse off.
    Stanley continued staring the Nurses down. When one tried to avoid his eyesight, he would command them to look at him. This went on for quite awhile. Finally, Stanley asked his Nurses: "Nurses, do you remember when the client and I were talking about her giving me a blow-job."
    Both Nurses nodded their heads.
    "Do you remember what I said?" Stanley asked.
    Janice shook her head no, but Florence said: "You said: 'Of course, I'm just saying that so you can suck me off. I'm a guy, for Christ's sake'."
    Stanley could see how proud Florence was for remembering his earlier quote. She reminded him of a little grade-schooler happy to say their one and only line in a school play. "That's right, Florence," he said with a smile.
    Janice was shocked. She remembered what he said as well as Florence, but was too afraid to say it aloud. She just knew he would punish who ever spoke those words.
    "And do you remember what you, Janice, and my SSD's out there said?" he asked Florence.
    "Oh, yeah," she laughed. "It was so funny. We each said a part of it. We said if the client wouldn't suck you off, we would do it gladly. After all, you're a guy, aren't you?"
    "Good, Florence," Stanley said, unzipping his pants. "You remembered every word."
    "Thanks, boss." Florence replied happily. She didn't notice the unzipping of Stanley's pants. Janice, however, did.
    "No, thank you, Florence. It's not every day that my dick gets sucked by two Nurses and two SSD's."
    "Pardon me, Boss," a confused Florence said.
    "You said you would do it gladly, remember?"
    Florence looked to Janice for support, but all the other Nurse could do was shrug her shoulders.
    "I don't have all day, Florence. Janice and the SSD's have to have their turns as well."
    Stanley watched his Nurse as she walked towards him. Her bountiful bosom bouncing with each step she took. She was going to be the first. The first of four consecutive blow-jobs. Thinking of this, Stanley was reminded of his reputation at Livingston High. The ladies man to end all ladies men. And he owed it all to his Magic Touch.
    "When you got it..."
    Nurse Florence placed her mouth around his dick.
    "...You got it."
    "Did you say something, Boss?" Florence asked, interrupting Stanley's blow-job.
    "Yeah, the same thing I told the client: 'Don't ever — and I mean ever — stop sucking a guy's cock just so you can ask him a question. Guys really — and I mean really — hate that sort of thing, okay?'"
    "Okay" Florence said, returning to her dick sucking.
    After that, Stanley didn't have a care in the world.

The End