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How I got my colossal breasts I was always pleased with my physique and my small B cup breasts stood proud, firm and perky on top of my chest. I lived in a town where plastic surgery was as common as a hair trim and I resisted. I resisted as long as I could... I took great pride in the fact that I was one of the few who didn't sport implants. It was only logical that if I ever crossed over I would go to the other extreme, but that was not going to happen, or so I thought. You see, secretly I was in love with expanding breasts but due to my conservative background and European descent, I was in total denial. I was a closet case pervert. Never me, never directly, never say never... I would not touch my perfect boobs, could not. Every year I would have a weakening moment, toy with the idea, even go so far as to make an appointment with a plastic surgeon, but I always backed out. ���� I looked good. I was happy, or at least content. ���� I met Scott at the gym. He was an interesting character, and the look in his eyes reminded me of a cat who ate a canary. I could imagine the yellow feathers stuck to his whiskers. Why I bothered to befriend this individual is still something my therapist and I are working on. But we did become good friends and eventually he spilled his guts about his addiction to implants. When he first mentioned BE I thought it was bizarre. I didn't get it for the longest time. And as I started to get it, I slowly developed an eye for the breast. The end of last century had all been about looking "natural" and going with a conservative size. The breasts of a decade ago were loose and small; the ones of our times defied gravity and young women everywhere were daring to go bigger. The large C was slowly turning into an arrogant D. Demented plastic surgeons and perverted boyfriends were finally bringing main stream the marginal and underground subculture of the porn industry. ���� It was only a natural progression that one day I would toy with the idea of getting bigger breasts. The thought was not a new one but it certainly was a most repressed fantasy. ���� Scott warned me against going too small. In fact, those were the first words out of his mouth when I shared my plans of getting implants. After all, this was his field of expertise but I did suspect he lacked the necessary objectivity. ���� The first thing I did in my quest for fulfillment was to purchase a D cup bra. I filled it with rice and paraded around my home wearing tight, stretchy shirts. At first I thought D would be too big. For an entire day my fake breasts got in the way of my activities and I wondered how anyone could adjust to such a drastic change. Was this what I really wanted? Since I was very petite everywhere else I looked out of proportion. Every time I walked passed the mirror I threw a glance at the freak staring back at me. I couldn't do that to my body. Nobody would ever take me seriously again. That night I removed the bra expecting to feel good about my natural curves but something strange had happened. I felt oddly naked, I felt as if something was missing. For the next week I repeated the experience and by that Friday I was filling up a DD, this time using water balloons to get the full effect. ���� I called Scott and left him a funny message. I wasn't expecting to see him too soon but that afternoon, as I sat in front of my computer there was a knock on the door. He came in with a strange look on his face, an expression I had never seen before and without a warning he pushed me against the wall, pinning my arms up with one hand and reaching for his crotch with the other. I was intimidated and relatively scared, especially when he pulled out his massive erection and began to stroke himself, but he didn't do anything else and after a while I just relaxed and allowed him to pleasure himself while he kept staring at the dramatic difference between my bust and my waist. - Oh my God, this is so hot! he exclaimed as he ejaculated shamelessly, messing up my striped sports bra in the process. ���� When it was over he stared at me apologetically and let go of my arms which were beginning to hurt a little. �- That was intense, I said for lack of anything else to say. I had always found him attractive but now I realized something else was going on between us. ���� And the next day Scott came over again bearing gifts. He had purchased a DDD cup bra and politely asked me to indulge him. At first I found the experience a little humiliating, putting on a ridiculously large bra so that this guy could jerk off staring at my curves, and then I realized I was getting turned on. I had a strange power over him whenever I put on that bra. And power is addictive. Pleasing him gave me a strange power I started to crave. ���� Two weeks later I had an appointment with a plastic surgeon who shall remain nameless. The guy was a moron. When I mentioned I was looking into going big he attempted to dissuade me. Even as I tried on different sizes of implants he continued to downsize me and I left his office a little disappointed. ���� The next two appointments were equally disappointing. I had decided I could go big. DD maybe even DDD but none of these doctors would humor me. �- You are too small for a DDD cup. Your skin would not stretch to accommodate 800CC. It is not possible, said one of them and I actually got angry and left his office in a rage. I went home and put on my DDD bra, feeling more like myself. My new self. The self I really wanted and was finally coming to terms with.� I stuffed myself into one of my regular shirts, loving the bulges and the shadows, no longer feeling like a freak but rather like a�� powerful, sexy woman. I wanted to go big. My thoughts and feelings on the matter had changed drastically and the only person who actually understood me now was Scott. I called him and told him about my bad experience. �- I have a doctor for you, he said. If you really want to go that big, I can help you. �- Why were you holding out on me? I asked. You had a doctor all this time! �- This is a big change. It has to be your idea, your decision. You know my feelings on the subject. If you let me decide, I'll blow you up to a HH. ���� The doctor he was talking about was out of town. It took us several hours to get there and we had to stop twice on the way and� masturbate because I was wearing my favorite bra and the effect it had on both of us was unexpected continuous. ���� The consultation went extremely well. Dr. Brown and Scott knew each other quite well and when he heard my request he didn't frown, he didn't back off... He actually smiled. After the consultation during which we decided to stretch me in order to accommodate 900CC, he handed me a jar of cream and advised me to start using it in order to facilitate the surgery and prepare the skin for the trauma. For weeks I massaged my breasts diligently with this ointment and awaited with excitement the day the implants would become part of me. Dr. Brown warned me that the skin would be stretched to its limits and that the implants would be hard and shiny. That's what I wanted. He also told me we would have to go over the muscle. I didn't have a problem with that. I wanted the fake look. I wanted to see the implant swell under my skin. ���� I isolated, refused to share my plans with any of my friends for fear of being dissuaded or judged and wore that cursed DDD bra day and night. ���� When the countdown was finally over and I was ready to go under the scalpel, I had a moment of lucidity. What was I doing? In a� moment of panic, I almost backed out, suddenly loving my small breasts, fearing the pain and the humiliation that would come. ���� I was laying in the waiting room, sedated and trembling, doubting myself and my sanity.� Scott sat by my side holding my hand. He could tell I was scared and had a concerned look on his face. - My friends will abandon me, my boss will fire me. What am I doing? I can't go through with this. - You'll be fine, said my friend. You'll be the hottest girl in town, don't you know that? - Scott, please, don't let me do this. I... I can't! I don't want to. You have to get me out of here. The Valium they had given me was already working and I was beginning to fade. My complaints were faint as they prepared me for anesthesia. I felt like a rag doll with no will and no power to fight. - Scott, please no, I whispered. We mad eye contact and he squeezed my hand. �- Yes. Too late now. He had that strange look on his face. And that's the last thing I remember. ���� Coming out of anesthesia was the easy part. As I regained consciousness I was aware of the incredible pain in my chest and I could feel the weight of the saline pressing on my lungs. I looked down and realized with horror that two watermelons were rising from my chest. Nothing had prepared me for this, not even that stupid DDD bra I had been playing with. I was far larger than anything I had anticipated and I began to cry horrified. My skin was like a balloon, white and shiny, glowing like plastic and the pain was unbearable. I didn't want anyone to see me like this. I was humiliated! How could I have done such an abusive thing to my own body? Where were my perfect little boobs? What were these unnatural bulges pushing the sheets up? And what on earth would I be able to wear when the time came for me to actually put clothes on? ���� When Scott came in I started to cry. �- Look at me! I look like a circus act! I said, tears streaming down my face. This is terrible, oh my God, what have I done? Why did you let me do this? ���� He stood there staring at me. He was towering above the bed and he extended a gentle hand, wishing he could touch me. - Don't! I protested, fearing the pain. He was surprisingly gentle. He slowly let his index slide over my cleavage and travel all the way to the bulge under my arm. I heard his breath quicken and strangely enough, my fears dissipated. He poked slowly but even that caused me to whimper in pain. - You look beautiful. It was all he could say. He reached inside his pants and I could see his hand moving up and down. ���� Recovery was a bitch. I couldn't do anything at all and was grateful for my friend who came in several times a day to nurse me back to health and get a glimpse of my new breasts. He was thrilled and his enthusiasm was contagious. ���� I was a new person. Nothing seemed the same. My huge breasts got in the way all the time and even taking a shower became a totally outrageous experience. I wasn't used to looking down at two large breasts. I couldn't see my feet! I had to look around my bust to see my tummy. ���� When I was finally able to function we went clothes shopping and I never had so much fun in my entire life. Everything was too small, too tight, I was bulging out of everything and couldn't help but complain a little as everyone stared at us. - I'll never find anything that would fit me. Never! Scott thought it was funny. - Try this on! he said, volunteering a buttoned up shirt that looked too small. He even helped me fasten the buttons which looked ready to pop. This was turning him on. My new breasts pushed forward with arrogance and he couldn't help but cup them and marvel at their hardness. The power I had over him was intoxicating and I wore the tightest bras I could find to make my boobs look even bigger. - Do you like them? I would ask, teasing him. Are my breast large and hard? - Yes! - Do you want to touch them? Do you want to feel how hard they are? - Yes! Yes I do! We would play these crazy games all the time. - Maybe I'll go even bigger... - Oh God, don't tease me like that... ���� Of course the jealous women at the office went crazy when I finally went back to work. My boss asked me into his office and once the door was closed he gave me an admiring look. - You look great! he said. But you know, you're going to have to dress them down or those vipers will never give you peace. - What do you think Bob? Do you want me to dress them down? He was a little embarrassed by my attitude. This was the new me. - Bob, I think I'm going to dress them up. These breasts don't go. ���� I left him there, convinced he would jerk off once the door was closed behind me. And from that day on, I wore the tightest push-up bra I could find, parading into the building every morning all shadows and valleys. ���� After several months I noticed that the skin was beginning to work with the implants. It wasn't as tight and I missed that feeling of discomfort. I wanted more. I wanted bigger. I told Scott I was finally ready to do it again and I thought he would faint. - Yes! Oh yes, make them bigger! Make them bigger for me! ���� I went to see Dr. Brown again. Much to my surprise and delight, he informed me that he had used expandable implants. - Professional instinct. Women who usually go as big as you always end up going bigger and bigger. And again, the good Doctor humored me, pumping another 200CC into my expanding chest. ���� This was three years ago. Since, I have had three additional surgeries and am now a very large 1800CC. Because of my small size, my breasts look even larger. They are very much in the way and I can't even drive like a normal person. Even as I sit here in front of my computer, I have to adjust myself so that my arms can reach the key board. It's not as easy to type, since my elbows are being pushed out by my stiff, painful implants. But the discomfort is worth every moment of every day. I quit my day job. They made it impossible for me there. But that's fine. Scott found me a great job working for the BE community and even if he is my only friend, I know I have lots of fans out there who love me. For them I am willing to go even bigger. When the time is right and I am ready, Dr. Brown promised me he could stretch my skin to fit 2000CC. I can't wait! I love my gargantuan chest, I love the faint pain I feel as the implants are stretching the skin under my arms and most of all I love the feel of my implants when I attempt to squeeze them and they refuse to move. I can't sleep on my side any longer. I find breathing is harder if I am on my back. But it's all worth it because now I finally feel like I am coming home. ���� And thank God for Scott. Without him I would have a hard time doing those regular things, like washing and dressing. He moved in with me and is now practically on call whenever my breasts need attention. He helps me button up my shirts, he even washes my hair and massages lotion on my skin, preparing it for that time, soon, when we can go to the next level. The time when I can go bigger. He lives for that moment. So do I. My dream now is to go up to 4000CC. I don't know if that will be possible in the near future but as I watch my enormous breasts expand slowly, I know I want more. Once upon a time I took pride in being a natural and perfect B. Now I know I was meant to go bigger... all the time. It has become my ambition and the focus of my life. My therapist is beginning to agree with me. She's still trying to figure out Scott but I think she's thinking of getting implants too. ���� To be continued.
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