The young hostess returned to her station after seating another lunchtime patron, a lone woman who was expecting a friend to join her. She glanced over at the cashier and caught the girl's eye. Looking around conspiratorially, she slipped over to the register and spoke in a hushed voice, "Did you see her?"
The cashier giggled and nodded. "Pretty big in the boob department, I'd say!"
"Tell me about it! She was huge! They looked like they were going to bust her shirt wide open!" Both girls snickered at the idea.
"I wouldn't mind having bigger ones, but that's just too big!"
"That's gotta be uncomfortable," the hostess remarked. She glanced toward the front door where another customer was just then entering.
Sarah walked into the restaurant wearing tight jeans and a large tank top. She had intended to wear a brassiere, but found that her enormous breasts had outgrown even her largest one. Her bosom wobbled and swayed cumbrously as she approached the speechless hostess.
"I'm meeting someone here who may already ah, there she is," Sarah said, waving to Mim who was waving back from a table in the dining area. "I'll just seat myself, thanks."
The blood had drained from the hostess's head, and she shakily ambled to the cash register and gripped the counter for support. "Did you see that?" she wheezed.
"How could I not?" the wide-eyed cashier replied. "They were as big as Saint Bernards!"
"I've never felt so flat chested in my whole life!"
As Sarah made her way toward Mim's table, people turned from their meals and stared in disbelief. Beneath her meager tank top, her huge breasts bobbed heavily with each step, threatening to untuck the garment from her jeans with their weighty rollicking. Harold Pittman, a retired chemical engineer, and his wife Florence were sitting at their usual table, eating their usual lunches at their usual time. Flo was talking, as usual, and Harry was doing his usual good job of pretending to listen.
After noticing Sarah's approach in his peripheral vision, his eyes came to rest on the biggest pair of boobs he'd ever encountered! He had often imagined seeing a woman with tits this size; he'd even dared to dream of holding such giant beauties in his hands and burying his face in the deep softness between them. His unswerving gaze absorbed the spectacularly busty vision as Sarah drew near and passed right by him, her massive breasts jiggling like duffel bags filled with Jell-O. He turned in his seat and continued gaping fixedly at the bosomy beauty as if his eyes had at last found their true home.
"So I thought I might as well tell Eileen," Florence continued as she skewered some overcooked green beans with her fork, "because sooner or later she's going to find out anyway, and it's none of my business if she Harry, are you listening to me? Harold! What are you looking... HAROLD! STOP THAT!" She reached across the table and slapped his arm, but he ignored her and continued staring at Sarah as she walked over to Miriam's table.
"Mim!" Sarah greeted her friend as she sat down across from her, scooting as close to the table as her huge bust would allow.
"Hey there, girl!" Mim replied, giving Sarah's hand a squeeze. "Notice anything?"
Sarah first looked at Mim's hair, and finding nothing unusual there, moved her eyes to her clothing. "Miriam Esterhaus!" she exclaimed suddenly. Mim straightened up in her chair and thrust out her chest, proudly displaying her dramatically expanded bust. "What happened?" Sarah demanded with a grin.
"I had 'em enlarged! I went to a plastic surgeon the day before yesterday and got implants."
"You did?! Wow! You look fantastic! What made you decide to do that?"
Mim laughed. "There you sit with breasts the size of Montana, asking why I want to be a little bigger? After hanging around with you, a double-D just doesn't seem that big to me anymore, so I went to a G-cup!"
"That's great! You look so sexy! Why didn't you tell me you were going to do this?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise. Besides, I didn't want you to talk me out of it."
"Why would I do that?"
"Well, I know how you feel about elective surgery."
"Yeah, but that's just me. What you do with your body is your business. As long as everything went well, that is. If that's not the case, however, I'll definitely have to sock you! So are there any complications?"
"None at all: the procedure went perfectly. Other than the fact that I have to buy all new bras now my only problem is that I can't have sex for six weeks."
"No sex for six weeks? Why?"
"Well, technically I can have sex it's just that my breasts can't be handled during that time. Same difference, as far as I'm concerned. I wouldn't ask any of my guys to go to bed with me without touching my boobs. That'd be like inviting a man to drive your Ferrari, and telling him not to touch the steering wheel! But that's okay," Mim continued. "Six weeks with no sex will pass just like six months!"
Sarah laughed. "Well, just think how great it'll feel when you're off restriction."
"Actually, I'm better off if I don't think about that! Speaking of big tits," Mim said with a glance at Sarah's enormous bust. "Yours certainly are swingin' free and easy today."
"Yeah, I just grew out of my last bra. Time to order bigger ones. So how do you like being a G-cup?"
"I love it! You should see the looks I get! Well, you get those looks all the time, don't you."
"Yeah. I love it, too!" Sarah confessed with a grin. "I'm glad you called me. I've been wanting to talk to you."
"You have? What's up?"
"I need you to baby-sit my web site again next week. Memberships are coming in like crazy! If they're not processed every day, the amount of work will be overwhelming by the time I get back in town! I hate to ask you again."
"Hey, it's not a problem! I enjoy doing it, in fact."
"I'm glad. I had the impression you did. And that leads me to my next item of business."
"Which is?"
Sarah paused and smiled before continuing. "How would you like to work for me?"
Mim scrutinized her friend's face and mentally replayed the question. "Work for you? Seriously?"
"Sure! My business is growing by leaps and bounds..."
"Like a couple of other things I could mention."
Sarah ignored Mim's remark and continued. "...and I can't handle it all by myself any longer. In fact, the reason I need you next week is because I'm flying out to see Ernie for dance lessons."
"Ernie?" Mim asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Ophelia Biggens, the stripper I told you about? Her real name is Ernestine Polk."
Mim snickered. "I can see why she changed it! Although Ophelia Biggens ain't much of an improvement, in my opinion. So you're gonna learn how to dance striptease, huh?"
Sarah grinned sheepishly and nodded. "If it works out, I'll be away on the road for weeks at a time and I'll really need someone to hold down the fort for me. I can't promise that my business is going to stay afloat forever, but I can pay you decently for the foreseeable future."
"Sweetie, your business will stop being successful only when men quit liking girls with humongous boobs, and I don't think there's much danger of that! So what's your offer, big shot?"
"How does fifty thousand sound for starters? Plus health insurance, four weeks paid vacation, and your own office."
"My own office? What are you going to do, put me at a desk in your bathroom?"
Sarah chuckled. "No, I've just signed a lease for office space in a business park not too far from here."
"Wow! You are going big-time!"
"You're darn right I am! Now, the space won't be available until the first of the month, so you and I will have to work out of my apartment until then if you want the job, that is."
"Can you give me a couple days to think about it?"
"Sure, no rush. If you decide to accept before I leave Sunday night, I'll put you on payroll immediately."
"Well, I'd like to give my boss a couple weeks notice."
"Sure! You can work out your notice during the day, and then mind the store after regular hours. You'd be doing that anyway, babysitting my site."
"I get paid for two jobs at the same time? Cool! Fifty grand, you say?"
"To start. If things keep going as well as they have been, that number will be higher pretty quickly."
"What the hell of course I'll take it! This could be a lifetime opportunity, and even if we're not successful, we'll still have a lot of fun! Besides, the real estate market is the pits right now. This would be a good time to get out."
"Great!" Sarah said, beaming. "Welcome to Sarah Covington, Incorporated!"
Stan's math homework languished as he sat staring at his computer. Logged on at Sarah's web site, he intently studied the video clip of Sarah's huge breasts growing to unbelievable enormity. He'd lost count of how many times he'd watched the sequence, rewinding it when it ended so he could behold the spectacle again.
Suddenly he heard his mom's footsteps ascending the stairs! With his privacy under attack, he quickly turned off his monitor and turned to the math book that lay open in front of him on the desk.
With a cursory knock, his mother poked her head through the doorway and asked, "How's it coming?"
Stan looked up and crossed his legs, replying, "Almost done."
She stood in the living room of Ernestine Polk's Los Angeles home, wearing only her panties. Sarah's enormous bare breasts were still reverberating after being heaved about as she worked on a new step. Except for a large boom box on the bare hardwood floor, the room's furnishings had been moved out to provide maximum area for dancing.
"All right, that was good," announced Ernie, AKA Ophelia Biggens. "Now try it again and this time, relax a little! You're doing fine! Don't be so self-conscious."
"That's hard enough when I'm just here with you how am I going to keep from being self-conscious when there's a whole crowd of people watching me dance naked?"
"You'll get used to it! Besides, if the audience likes you, they'll let you know, and their feedback will give you the confidence you need to really relax and give them your best performance. And I'm positive they're going to love you!"
"Yeah, if they have a sense of humor!"
"Now, hush! You've got plenty of talent! Later today, we'll video your routine so far, and you'll see how good you're lookin'."
"I hope you're right."
"Of course I'm right. Now, back to Bump and Grind 101. From the top!" she instructed, pushing the PLAY button on her boom box once again.
A truck from an office warehouse store had just finished delivering a load of desks, cabinets, shelves and tables, when the van from the computer store pulled up. The front door was still propped open as the larger truck pulled away and the waiting van backed into the vacated spot. As the driver/technician began carrying an assortment of boxes into the new offices of Sarah Covington, Incorporated, Miriam instructed the young man where everything was to go.
Sarah had come back to town long enough to set up the office, and would return to Los Angeles afterward for another blitz session of exotic dance instruction with Ophelia. Mim led the tech into Sarah's office and told him to set up the new computer on the desk. Repurchasing his hold of the large box in his arms, the man nodded, stealing a glance at Mim's big bust. Sarah was bent over in her chair as she transferred legal papers from a cardboard box on the floor into an empty drawer in her new desk.
"The computers are here!" Mim announced.
"Super!" Sarah responded, sitting up. She was wearing old clothes for moving day: a pair of faded blue jeans and an ancient sweatshirt that was barely big enough to encompass its wearer's enormous bust. Having put her brassieres in the wash upon arriving home from Los Angeles, she now lacked the benefit of such support. As she sat up in her chair, her big breasts wiggled and bounced cumbrously for a moment before settling down. Confronted by Sarah's extraordinary bounty, the startled technician involuntarily gasped with such force that he sucked a drop of spittle down his windpipe and started to cough.
At first the women were afraid he was in danger of choking, but he quickly recovered, so they relaxed and had a good laugh. "I'm sorry," Mim told him, putting a hand on his arm, "but the look on your face was precious! I thought you were going to need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!"
Still holding the big box containing a new computer, the young man's complexion turned a deep red as he chuckled sheepishly at himself. "I'm really sorry, ma'am," he said.
"Oh, don't apologize," Sarah. "It's not your fault."
"Yeah," Mim chimed in, "You couldn't help but be surprised, suddenly coming face to face with Boob-zilla!"
"Oh, Mim, hush!" Sarah scolded. "You're embarrassing him even more."
As the man eased the box down onto the floor, he briefly stole another glance at Sarah's tremendous boobs to confirm what he'd seen. This was going to be a fish story that no one would believe.
He opened the box, and as he began pulling out its contents, Mim motioned for Sarah to follow her out into the hall. "Hon," Miriam whispered, "I've got a hair appointment at 10:30, and I need to leave pretty soon. Are you gonna be okay if I leave you alone with him?"
"Oh, yeah," Sarah assured her. "Don't worry about me: he's harmless."
"Well, don't confuse 'harmless' with 'cute'! After all, Ted Bundy was 'cute'!"
Sarah nodded. "You go get your hair done! I'll be fine."
The man was setting the cardboard box aside when Sarah came back in her office. He tried not to look at her, but then, that seemed almost as rude as looking. He didn't know what to do.
"So," said Sarah as she flopped down in her brand new chair, rocking her bulky, unbrassiered bosom, "how about showing me what plugs in where?"
Sarah had made arrangements with the owner of a small local club to use their stage for her first performance. It would be a comfortable venue for the debut of her routine before a live audience. In addition, if things went badly, the damage could be more easily contained in a small house. Still, Sarah was nervous as she stood offstage peeking out at the crowd.
Mim had provided the inspiration for her costume, and later Ophelia incorporated the same theme into the dance itself, having her own costume designer make some special modifications to the outfit. Sarah wore a pair of big, black geeky stage glasses (which were actually uglier than the ones she used to wear regularly) and her hair was pulled back behind her head, held together in a tight bun by a special net that incorporated a quick-release mechanism. Her costume was a hideously conservative business suit, with a jacket designed to minimize the huge size of Sarah's bosom (to the limited extent that modern technology was able). The suit was of a gray tweed material, with a skirt that came down below her knees.
When Sarah heard the opening strains of her music track, she took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the curtain. Met with a smattering of applause, she pretended to be shy and lost, looking around at the inside of the small club as if she was wondering how in the world she had ended up there. Then she seemed to notice the music for the first time, and began gingerly tapping a toe to its pulsating rhythm. Meandering slowly toward the center of the stage, she started wagging her index fingers with the music: almost dancing, but not quite.
Even with Sarah's breasts compressed together against her chest, there was still enough volume up front to draw the curiosity of the more alert members of the audience. These few individuals leaned forward in their chairs to scrutinize the dancer's camouflaged figure more closely.
She pretended to try shuffling her feet around a little in her clunky black shoes. After a while, she began stepping around with a bit more animation, kicking off her horrible shoes and picking up her skirt. Sarah's facial expression became less prudish and dour as her performance unfolded.
Her hips began to join the dance, and a six-inch strip of tweed from the bottom of her skirt suddenly came off in her hands, and she tossed it aside with a shrug. As she continued, her movements grew less inhibited. Her shoulders joined in, her fanny started shaking, and a smile dawned across her face. She whisked her glasses off and tossed them away, followed by another six-inch section from the hem of her skirt, which she removed with a flourish. Her shortened skirt now revealed her pretty legs almost halfway up her thighs.
The music then changed key and increased in intensity, a cue for Sarah to pull the special release on her hair net. Suddenly unencumbered, her long tresses fell free, cascading down her back.
Now displaying a new aggressiveness, Sarah danced to the front of the stage and confronted her audience as she began undoing the buttons of her jacket starting at the top. While her attention was thus devoted, Sarah's lovely round ass was very busy swinging about. The more buttons she unfastened, the less resistance her bulky bosom met in its quest to be freed from restraint, bulging out ever farther within the confines of the white blouse she wore underneath. When the jacket was finally unbuttoned, she shrugged it from her shoulders, swung it around over her head, and let it fly. Men sat up in their seats now that the uncommon volume of the dancer's bosom had become more evident.
As Sarah danced across the stage, the audience watched with heightened interest, studying the large mass that bounced heavily under her tight blouse. The blouse was made of an elasticized material that hugged her huge breasts tightly to her torso. Instead of buttons, it had a zipper down the front, which she started pulling slowly downward after an appropriate period of wanton cavorting. The farther Sarah lowered the zipper, the more her bodice bulged, until eventually, her enormous bosom came pushing its way out, now constrained by only a giant sequined brassiere. The bra did little to hide or minimize her huge tits, but only served as a final tease prior to their imminent unveiling.
Sarah whisked off the blouse and began dancing with abandon now, having the entire audience in her spell, as well as the bar staff and house dancers. Her tremendous boobs swung and shook heavily, their weight nearly pulling the bra straps from her shoulders as she frolicked. Along the way, she discarded her skirt, baring her long legs all the way up to her fanny, which was now adorned in only a g-string.
Once again, she moved to the front of the stage and faced the audience, lewdly swinging her hips while toying with the single heavy-duty clasp that held the cups of her big bra together. Though the clasp was conveniently located in front, Sarah nevertheless had difficulty unhooking it because of the stress being exerted by the extreme volume of flesh the bra contained. Ophelia had covered such situations during their training, however, and Sarah kept her cool as she continued dancing confidently, allowing the delay to build up suspense.
At last the brassiere popped open, and her immense breasts leapt free, bouncing and wiggling exuberantly. Everyone in the room was now standing, craning their necks to see. Sarah slung her enormous boobs around handily, causing them to surge and wobble this way, then shudder and bounce that way, to the vehement acclaim of her little audience. She pranced proudly about the stage with her tits bounding about in all their hyperdeveloped glory. The sight of Sarah's remarkable mammaries was arresting enough, on the basis of their size alone: but to see her natural wonders flouncing around with such heavy animation was a unique experience.
At a corner table at the rear of the club sat Miriam, Owen, and Ernestine. Without her wig and heavy makeup, it was difficult to recognize Ernestine as Ophelia Biggens, especially with her enormous boobs hidden under the loose-fitting jacket she'd worn. Owen was videotaping Sarah's performance for future critique, while the two women watched the show with motherly pride.
The music ended as Sarah finished her dance, scooping up her huge boobs in her arms and cradling them high against her chest. The stage lights went dark and the audience roared with approval: screaming, whooping, jumping, and waving their arms wildly.
Owen turned off the camcorder after the video of Sarah's performance was over, and the image on the big television dissolved into static.
"Run it back, Owen," Sarah said. "Ernie wants to go over the rough spots with me." It had thrilled Owen to suddenly find himself on personal terms with the great Ophelia Biggens, but he was having trouble getting used to calling her 'Ernie'.
Ophelia held up a hand and shook her head with a grin. "Not necessary, Owen. I honestly didn't see any problems in the whole performance! I'd thought I might catch something on the video that I'd missed in the live show, but sister, you nailed it! I knew you could! You don't need my services anymore: you're a pro! I'd like to set you up with my booking agent. He's well connected and trustworthy, and that's a rare combination these days."
"Oh, that'd be great, Ernie! Thanks!"
"Well, it's past my bedtime, people. Owen, can I trouble you for a ride to my motel?"
"Sure, Oph Ernie." As Ophelia and Miriam stood and began negotiating with each other who should follow whom to the bathroom, Owen leaned toward Sarah and whispered, "I think Ernie likes me! Would it bother you if I if she and I..."
Sarah grinned and patted him. "Go for it, big boy!"
He smiled back and then kissed her before standing up.
Josephus Foster's studio was in a storefront of a small mall that had seen better days. In a slumping economy, retail businesses were failing and vacancies in the mall were on the increase, so the management chose to minimize its losses by leasing discounted space to tanning salons, upstart churches, and other off-the-wall enterprises. Foster's sculpture studio was such a business.
As Sarah approached, she saw that the large plate-glass windows in front had been painted black on the inside. There was no sign or name on the door, but the address agreed with what was written on her paper, so she knocked. In a moment the door opened, and a handsome black man appeared.
"Hi!" Sarah said.
"You must be Sarah Covington," Foster replied with a smile, opening the door wide. "Please come in!" He was glad he'd had some warning about what to expect, or he might have handled this meeting with something less than composure. When Sarah had first spoken to him on the phone, she'd told him about her 'condition', as she called it. She was some kind of stripper or something, and she wanted to commission him to do a bronze nude of her, to go in her business office. Doubts were now creeping into his mind as the excessively endowed woman walked in. It was difficult to believe her boobs could actually be so big, and Foster wondered if he was the object of some prank by one of his twisted buddies.
Sarah was wearing Capri pants and an extra large man's dress shirt that she'd bought to accommodate her unusual needs. She took off her sunglasses after she was inside, and extended her hand to him, saying, "It's so nice to meet you, Mister Foster!"
As he shook her hand, her forearm repeatedly bumped against the bulging flank of her enormous right breast, causing it to jiggle sumptuously. "Nice to meet you, too, Sarah. Come on in. You said Mike Hinkle referred you to me?"
"That's right."
He had never known Hinkle to be the type for practical jokes. Foster decided to play it straight for the time being. If he was going to do some preliminary sketches, her clothes would have to come off, and then he'd see whether or not those were balloons under her shirt.
Sarah and Foster chatted as he led her to a display room where a variety of his works were on exhibit. Unlike the cluttered studio area, this room was furnished and orderly, filled with sculptures of differing styles, sizes, and themes. "I put out some nudes to let you see the kind of thing I can do for you. This piece here is somewhat abstract, but it's still objective enough that it doesn't take much imagination to tell it represents a human body. And then this one here is almost classical in its realism. I don't know how representational you want your sculpture to be, but I can treat it however you want."
"All of these are beautiful, Mister Foster! I'm very impressed! At the risk of seeming too pedestrian, I do want something fairly realistic. Not necessarily like an ancient Greek or Roman statue, though I'd like it to have a modern flair. This style here is ideal, actually," she concluded, gesturing to one of the pieces.
"All right. Have you ever done any modeling before?"
"For photographers, but never for a sculptor."
Foster raised an eyebrow and asked, "Do you think you can hold perfectly still for a couple hours while I sketch you?"
"Really? That long? Wow! Well, I guess I can. I'll certainly try my best."
"Of course, you can take a break once in a while just let me know when you need to stretch your legs."
"Thanks, I appreciate that."
"Are you ready to proceed, then?" The artist asked.
"Sure!"
Foster led Sarah back into the main studio area. He set out an old steel-tube kitchen chair for her, saying, "I'd like to try a seated pose first." She eyed the dirty relic uncomfortably, wondering how she could tactfully tell the man that she had no desire to place her bare bottom on such a thing. As his model stood looking pensive, he went to a cabinet and took out a clean sheet, which he draped over the chair.
"Go ahead and take off your clothes and sit down while I find my sketch pad and some pencils," Foster said as he began searching through the clutter on an old wooden desk. "You can use the restroom in the corner to change in, if you want. Did you bring a robe?"
"No, I didn't."
"Well, when you're taking a break, just wrap that sheet around yourself, then."
After finding his current sketchbook and a couple of number-two artist's pencils of reasonable length, Foster turned around to find Sarah already nude and sitting on the chair, waiting patiently. He stopped in his tracks, gazing at her in awestruck wonder.
All doubt about the woman's figure was now gone from his mind: she was the real thing, all right! He'd never seen such enormous breasts! They were rotund and heavy, resting in her lap as she sat waiting for him. He stood gawking at her, and finally managed to utter, "That's quite an extraordinary body you have, Miss Covington!"
"Thank you, Mister Foster," she replied, pleased.
"Now, just relax and find a comfortable position, maybe with your legs crossed and one arm over the back of the chair: very serene and at ease. That's good! Do you think you can hold that?"
"I believe so."
After setting up his easel and paper, the artist began sketching. Though he enjoyed seeing a well-built woman as much as any man, he'd never had any particular fetish for phenomenally large breasts. But as he studied Sarah's lavishly bosomy figure and drew its likeness on paper, the graceful shape and tremendous size of her tits intrigued Foster, and he became quite fascinated by her spectacular buxomness. Though it was a very unusual thing for him, Foster found himself becoming aroused while he worked.
Trying not to move her lips, Sarah asked, "Is it okay if I talk while you draw me?"
He chuckled and replied, "Sure, Sarah! Don't worry about trying to keep your mouth still I'm not that fast!"
"To tell you the truth, I was thinking of a standing pose for this statue, not that I mind trying it this way."
"We can certainly try it. Actually, I plan to do sketches of at least three poses this morning, and you can choose whichever you like best. To be honest, I thought a sitting position might be better for balance. A standing sculpture might tend to fall forward with so much, uh..." Foster hesitated, not wanting to put his foot any further into his mouth.
"Yeah, tell me about it. With this much of me out front, I'm not exactly built for stability," his patron remarked with a chuckle that subtly jiggled her enormous boobs.
As the morning wore on, Foster sketched furiously, creating flesh out of graphite and paper, his loose strokes describing Sarah's remarkable body with an elegant economy. He continued layering line upon line as he explored the shapes and voids of the pose, and how they interrelated. He couldn't begin creating something in three dimensions until he had a sense of it in two.
"How are you doing?" Foster asked, breaking the long silence. "Need a break?"
"I'm fine, actually."
"Okay, keep that pose just like you are I'm going to change positions and sketch you from another angle," he said as he unclipped the drawing from his easel and laid it aside. After putting up a fresh sheet of paper, he moved the easel 90 degrees from his previous point of view, and once again he immersed himself in his work.
With this new perspective, he deepened his understanding of the form he sought to represent. Exploring her body with his eye and his pencil, his appreciation of her sensual beauty grew ever more keen as he negotiated Sarah's unique curves and contours.
After some time, the model said, "I think I'm ready for a break now."
"Go ahead," he replied.
As the outrageously busty woman stood up, Foster kept working on his sketch, reinforcing a few edges and deepening various shadows. He had expected her to wrap the sheet around her naked body, but instead, Sarah disdained convention and started walking toward him just as she was. Out of the corner of his eye, the artist watched her immense breasts repeatedly lunge downward and recoil in response to her footfalls. He was barely able to restrain himself from gawking at these heavy antics.
She stepped behind him and looked at the sketch in progress. "Mister Foster, you do such beautiful work! I love this!"
"Thank you, Miss Covington," he replied, almost thankful she was out of his field of vision.
Sarah padded over to the table where Foster had left his first sketch, and picked it up. Nodding in appreciation as she contemplated it, Sarah remarked, "You're really quite good. I can't wait to see the final product."
"I know how you feel, but please understand that casting a piece in bronze takes time. First we have to choose our pose, and from that I'll make a scale model out of clay. Then the life-size piece is sculpted, and after that, the molding process begins, which is also pretty involved."
"Don't worry, Mister Foster; I'm not trying to rush you. Take whatever time you need. There's no hurry."
Sliding his pencil behind his ear, he sighed. "Thanks. I guess I'm a little paranoid. A lot of my clients aren't as understanding. Some people seem to expect to buy quality art like they were ordering fast food at a drive-thru window."
Sarah chuckled. Laying the sketch back on the table, she glanced at Foster. He seemed somehow ill at ease as he stood at his easel, not looking at her when they spoke.
As she studied him, she mused how the man's muscular physical presence contrasted his gentle manner and artistic sensitivity. Hiding behind reading glasses, his dark face was as kind as it was pleasing to look at. Sarah fiercely hated stereotypes, and rebuked herself for wondering what might be lurking down in the artist's pants.
As if they had a mind of their own, her eyes darted to Foster's crotch without permission. There was, in fact, a noticeable bulge there.
She strolled in his direction, inquiring, "Are you married, Mister Foster?"
"No, I'm not," he answered.
"Steady girl?"
Finally he turned and looked at her, wearing a somewhat inquisitive expression. "No one in particular at the moment. Why?"
"You seem distracted."
He absorbed her observation with amusement. In a moment he replied, "You're a very perceptive woman, Miss Covington."
She came up to him, her nipples fluttering just inches from his stomach. "Is there someplace we could go to relax for a while?" She took his hand and smiled at him. "It's not fair for you to be so uneasy while you work. Besides, wouldn't it be good to gain a deeper familiarity with your subject matter?"
Foster set down his pencil. "I have a little apartment upstairs, Miss Covington..."
There was much to be done. Sarah and Mim would be leaving for Florida the next day to shoot Sarah's first video, and many tasks needed to be completed before they could go. The ladies had been working furiously in their offices all day.
When Sarah's phone rang again, she moaned in frustration as she picked up the receiver. "Yes?" she said.
"Outside call, sweetie. Sorry, but I think you'll want to take this one, it's Josephus Foster."
"Oh! Yeah, put him through, please!" In a moment she heard the line click. "Sarah Covington," she announced herself.
"Miss Covington! Josephus Foster here."
"Yes, Mister Foster! How's our sculpture coming?"
"Very well, actually. The bronze has cooled and solidified, and yesterday I broke open the mold and removed the castings. Because of the size of the piece, I cast it in two sections to make it easier to work with and transport. I'm very pleased with the way it turned out! I've removed all the excess sprue rods now, and I spent all day recreating the surface texture in those areas and sandblasting what remains of the ceramic mold. It's a time consuming process, but with any luck the piece should be ready sometime tomorrow."
"Ohh!" she moaned. "We'll be out of town!"
"Well, that's why I called first. I'd hate to haul this thing all the way over to your office and find nobody home. So when will you be back?"
"Monday. Will you be able to deliver it then?"
"Sure. What time would be good?"
"Oh how about right after lunch? Our plane gets in at ten, and that should give us plenty of time to get here."
"Say, about 1:30?"
"That'll be fine, Mister Foster. I'm excited to see it."
Yeah, he thought to himself, so am I.
Donny sat at his computer, laying out an article for the upcoming issue of the magazine, when he felt something bumping gently against the back of his head. He turned around to look, and was confronted by a pair of very familiar-looking giant breasts, tightly wrapped in an official Extreme Curves tee shirt! Heroically moving his gaze away from the huge glands and up to the face of their owner, he exclaimed, "Sarah!" and got up from his chair. As they kissed and embraced each other, he savored the proximity of his favorite immense bosom, into which he was being firmly clutched. "I wasn't expecting to see you until this evening!"
"I know, but my business manager rescheduled us for an earlier flight. How've you been, sweet man?"
"I've been good! Missing you. You have a business manager now?" he asked, jealously imagining some bull desk jockey possessively hovering over her.
"Yeah; I want you to meet her." Her. Donny immediately felt much better. As they released their embrace, Sarah called out the door, "Mim? Come here and let me introduce you to somebody!"
A voice wafted into the room from without, "Just a sec, hon!"
Donny, holding Sarah's hand, took a step back and inspected the woman's fantastic figure. "Good grief! Your boobs are so much bigger than the last time I saw you! They're gigantic!" he announced enthusiastically.
"You like?" she cooed, thrusting them out seductively.
"Oh man! I shouldn't do this on company time, but..." He put his hands on her enormous boobs and caressed them appreciatively.
"So how's Johnny?" Sarah inquired with her eyes blissfully half shut.
"Doing well, as usual," he replied as he continued fondling her. "He's almost as happy as I am that you're staying with us again."
"I'm looking forward to it too!"
"So, when do you start shooting your video?" Donny asked.
"In the morning. They'd wanted to start early and I mean, early early but I had them change it to ten o'clock."
"That's much more reasonable." Donny agreed, nodding. "Especially considering the fact that you might be up into the wee hours tonight," he added with a lecherous smile.
"Exactly," she said, lifting the front of her tee shirt to give him more intimate access. "But it wasn't a problem all I had to do was whine a little, and the producer said, 'Why, certainly, Miss Covington,' and poof: ten o'clock it is! Having breasts like watermelons gives a lady an incredible amount of power!" she observed contentedly.
"You bet it does," Miriam agreed loudly as she entered the room. Donny immediately jerked his hands away from Sarah's exposed boobs, looking very sheepish. "Don't mind me, sweetie," Mim added with a laugh. "I'm not here to police the company tits!"
"Donny, this is my business manager, Miriam Esterhaus," Sarah told him, pulling her shirt back down over her protrusive bust. "Mim, this is Donny McKee."
As they shook hands, Mim commented, "I've heard a lot of good things about you, Donny! Nice to meet you."
"Thanks! It's nice to meet you, too," he replied, briefly glancing at the woman's extra large bosom. "You two aren't related, are you?" he asked.
"No, just friends."
"Then it must be contagious!" Donny concluded. The women laughed, and Mim said, "Nature was good to me, but not quite this good. The rest is medical technology."
"Well, science has never looked better!" he affirmed.
"Thank you, Donny!" Mim said with a smile.
"Listen I want to invite both of you to the house for supper tonight. Dad's gonna grill some steaks out on the beach, and we'll have a bonfire and plenty of beer."
"Mmm!" Sarah growled hungrily.
"Sounds good to me!" Mim said. "Thanks for the invitation! Listen, I hate to rush off, but I need to catch Carl before he gets away. It was nice meeting you, Donny!"
"Same here, Mim," he replied, watching her leave. His gaze then gravitated to Sarah's enormous bosom, and he studied it with a concerned expression, glancing back and forth between her big bust and the morph of her that he'd made months ago, before they'd met.
"Something wrong?" she asked.
He walked over to the print and pulled it off the wall. "No, nothing's wrong at all. I just realized that your boobs are now as big as I made them look in this. Maybe even bigger!" He tossed the photo in a nearby trash can. "Not much point in keeping that any longer," he commented.
"Donny! What about all the work you did on that!"
He chuckled. "If every woman had your ability to grow boobs," he answered, nodding toward her lavish protuberance, "morphs would be obsolete!"
Hearing the sound of tires crunching upon the gravel driveway, he peeked through a front curtain. "They're here!" he called out to his dad. After watching the two busty women get out of the car, Donny opened the front door for them as they stepped up onto the porch. "Ladies!" he greeted them. Sarah stopped to kiss him on her way in.
Johnny came into the room from the kitchen and called, "Sarah!"
"Hey, there, Johnny!" she answered warmly, walking over to him and giving him a big hug. "Johnny, I want you to meet my business manager, Mim Esterhaus," she said waving for her to come over. "She's also my best friend and confidante."
He shook her hand and said, "Johnny McKee. It's good to meet you, Mim," restraining himself from glancing down at the woman's big bust.
"Same here! Johnny McKee..." she repeated thoughtfully. Suddenly her face brightened and she blurted out, "You're the Johnny McKee of the Castaways, aren't you?"
Surprised, Johnny smiled and nodded. "Guilty."
"Wow, that's so cool! Sarah told me you were a rock-n-roller, but I never made the connection until just now! I recognize you from the album cover!"
"Well, you're too young to remember that from the sixties where'd you ever see that album?"
"She's an oldies fan," Sarah explained with a grin. "That's almost all she listens to."
Mim began singing the chorus of the band's hit, 'Stop and Think', and Johnny joined her, adding harmony. After they repeated the song's hook, 'You'd better stop and think,' they all laughed.
"You should get out your guitar after supper, dad," Donny suggested.
"Oh, that'd be great!" Mim encouraged him.
"It'll be my pleasure."
The four of them sat on the beach under a moon that was nearly full and gloriously bright, shedding its otherworldly glow on the scene as they lounged on folding chairs, nursing their beers and occasionally passing one of Johnny's joints. Donny normally wouldn't have participated in smoking pot, but he made an exception for the occasion. Sarah smoked too, but only to be sociable: it hadn't had any effect on her when she'd shared the joint with Johnny a few weeks earlier.
Now and then Johnny would pick up his guitar and begin strumming. He had an impressive repertoire of classic oldies, which he rendered in fine style, accompanied by Miriam singing harmony. Sometimes he'd lightly fingerpick as he told stories of his rock-n-roll days, peppered with country humor and wisdom.
The tide was high, lapping lazily on the sand not far away, and a warm breeze was blowing in from the ocean. During a long but comfortable lull in the conversation, Mim noticed that Sarah seemed to be preoccupied, her eyes downcast.
Mim asked her, "Are you okay, sweetie?"
Sarah giggled and nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just looking at my boobs. You know, they're quite big!"
The others chuckled. "You mean you just now noticed?" Johnny teased.
Sarah laughed and said, "Of course not, I was just I don't know looking at them, thinking about how big they are. I mean, they're really big!"
Johnny laughed at her. "You got high this time, didn't you?"
"No, I just..." Sarah began, but stopped short. Then, pausing to reflect, she snickered and confessed, "You must be right! I didn't even realize it! How about that. But anyway, my boobs really are big! I mean look at them!"
They did. She was right.
Sarah sat up, and looking around at the others, she asked, "Would you guys mind if I took my shirt off? I'm not trying to show off or be an exhibitionist at least I don't think I am it's just that I really want to look at them! You've all seen me without my clothes before, after all.
After a few seconds of silence, Mim snorted a laugh, and Johnny said, "Your call, son."
"And when did you see Sarah without her clothes on, Johnny?" Mim teased. "Did you look at her pictures in that dirty magazine?"
"Who, me? No, I only read the articles. But I did happen to see the gal running around here in her birthday suit a while back."
"I skinny-dipped in the ocean last time I was here," Sarah explained meekly.
Donny smiled and said, "Well, I certainly don't mind if you take your shirt off, Sarah. Feel free that is, if it doesn't bother dad."
"There are some things I don't mind being bothered by, and that's one."
"Thanks guys," Sarah said, pulling the Extreme Curves tee shirt off over her head. Having bared her enormous breasts, she joined the others in gawking helplessly at them for a long, gratifying moment. Eventually, not wanting to be crude, the others somehow managed to pry their eyes away, but Sarah continued to stare down at them in fascination.
Time passed, and as they chatted idly about various matters of inconsequence, Mim finally sighed. "I hate to leave, but it's getting late and I'd better go check in at my hotel."
"Now, wait a minute," Johnny declared. "There's no reason for you to do that! We have a real comfy little guestroom, and I have grave doubts that Sarah is going to be needin' it tonight. Stay here with us. It's no trouble at all, and we'd love to have you!"
"Seriously?" Mim asked.
"Of course!" he assured her. "Besides, I feel another song comin' on, and if you don't sing harmony with me, I'm afraid Donny might start in!"
Donny chuckled. "And we certainly don't want that!"
"Well, in that case, pass me another beer!" Mim decreed.
Soon she and Johnny were literally howling at the moon as they sang Warren Zevon's classic 'Werewolves of London'.
Eventually, after another hour or so of music and merriment, Miriam announced, "Well, much as I hate to leave the party, I think I'll turn in, if you don't mind."
As she stood, Johnny also got up from his chair, saying, "Let me show you where the guestroom is, Mim, and get you settled in. I'm pretty sure the bed's made, but I'd better check. G'night, kids."
"Night, dad."
"Goodnight, Johnny, Mim."
As Miriam began to walk toward the house, she called back, "Now, don't keep her up too late, Donny!"
Sarah awoke the next morning and shuffled into the kitchen, hoping Donny had made coffee before he went out to meditate. Bless him, he had. After pouring herself a cup, she walked down the hall and knocked on the door of the guestroom to wake Mim. She had asked Sarah not to let her sleep past 8:00 o'clock, and it was about that time. "Mim!" Sarah called out.
"Yeah?" her friend answered, but her voice didn't seem to be coming from the guestroom.
"Where are you?"
A cascade of giggles emanated from the vicinity of Johnny's bedroom. "In here, sweetie!" she heard Miriam sing.
Grinning, she walked over to his door and knocked. "Come on in," Johnny said. Sarah cracked the door and peeked in. "Good mornin', darlin'," he drawled. There was Miriam, lazily snuggled against him under the sheets, looking quite happy.
"Aha!" Sarah declared, chiding them facetiously as she pushed the door open and folded her arms atop her huge bust. "I turn my back for a moment, and look what happens!"
"Sorry, mom," Johnny replied with a crooked grin.
"You wanted me to wake you no later than eight, Mim," Sarah reminded her. "It's almost eight now."
"Okay, thanks. Um I'll be out in a few minutes," she informed Sarah, smiling and wagging her eyebrows.
Following directions given them by the video production company, they drove for almost an hour until they finally saw the sign indicating their arrival at Coral Beach. Sarah read from her instructions, "It says to turn at the second entrance, and park all the way at the far end of the lot." As Mim pulled the rental car into the parking area, they saw a group of vehicles clustered together, including a van painted with the logo of the video outfit. "Here we are," Sarah announced.
Though it was a public beach, its remote location would provide sufficient privacy for the video shoot, especially during this time of year. They got out of the car and walked toward the sound of crashing waves, along a path that cut through some dunes. There on the beach, a number of people ran here and there, performing various urgent tasks. Someone spotted Sarah and Mim, and announced their arrival to the others.
The director turned and waved, trudging through the sand to meet them. "Hi, Sarah, Mim! Have any trouble finding this place?"
"Not at all, Gene!" Mim replied. "Sorry we're a little late."
"No problem!" he assured them, drawing near and offering his hand. "Eugene Franklin; nice to meet you, Sarah. Are you ready to make a video?"
She smiled and answered by opening up her beach robe and displaying her outrageously curvy body clad only in a tiny red bikini.
"Very sexy, babe! Okay, we've been shooting with Penny Pontoonz all morning, and we just finished with her." Lowering his voice, he continued, "Frankly, her segment won't be as long as yours, Sarah, but don't tell her that." With his eyes locked onto Sarah's bulging bust, he continued, "The first scene we'll shoot will be with you and Penny together.
"Doing what?" Sarah asked warily.
"Oh, playing together on the beach, rubbing oil on each other, stuff like that."
"You want me to rub oil on some woman I've never even met?"
The producer momentarily contemplated this new snag. "If that's a problem, we can skip the oil."
"Please do! I don't want to be difficult to work with, but I didn't sign up to do a lesbian video."
"No, it's really not like that. But if you're not into the baby oil thing, then that's fine, sweetheart. To tell you the truth, Penny wasn't exactly thrilled either. We'll work around it."
"Thanks!"
"Let's just start shooting the two of you playing in the surf."
"Playing how?"
"Umm, I don't know. Improvise something."
"Do you have a beach ball or something we can use as a prop?"
"Good idea." Scanning about to locate an assistant, he spotted one and hollered, "Pam!"
The young woman came trotting up to them, holding a clipboard in one hand. "Yes, Mister Franklin?"
"I need you to find me a beach ball for this next scene."
"Got one ready to go, sir. Good morning, Miss Covington."
"Good morning!"
"Pam, take Sarah to Diane for make-up."
"But I'm already wearing make-up!" Sarah protested. "I don't want to look like some whore in this video." The director's cell phone interrupted the conversation.
Pam took Sarah by the arm and patted it reassuringly as she led the ultra bosomy model away. "We'll just tell Diane that you don't want it too heavy, and not to overdo it she'll make you look good. Diane's one of the best. The thing is, you have to wear more make-up on TV just to keep your face from washing out on screen. Even men have to. I know it sounds weird, but you'll see. Trust me."
"Okay," Sarah conceded hesitantly.
Pam took her to a small camping trailer, and just as they were about to climb inside, an extraordinarily busty woman stepped out. She wore a black bikini that was making a valiant effort to constrain a sizable pair of mammaries that flopped heavily against her tummy as she descended. Her bleached blond hair was showing its dark roots, and she was wearing enough eye make-up to embarrass Tammy Faye Bakker. Though the woman's breasts were phenomenally huge, Sarah's were obviously larger.
"This is your co-star," Pam explained, "Penny Pontoonz."
"Hi, Penny!" Sarah said. "I'm Sarah Covington."
Without looking at her, Penny mumbled flatly, "Yeah, real fuckin' nice to meet you," and walked away, leaving Sarah dumbfounded.
"Don't bother about her," Pam whispered. "She can be such a bitch! She used to advertise herself as having the biggest natural boobs in the business, but now that you've come along," she confided, "she's no longer the top dog. I think she resents you for stealing her spotlight."
"Ohh, I see. And now I have to play in the surf with her. Great."
The director did his best to get sufficient usable footage of the two bosom queens romping together, however uncomfortably, but he eventually cut the scene short when it became apparent that Miss Pontoonz had no intention of being cooperative. After thanking Penny and sending her home, he called a break for lunch, but told everyone to stay on the set. Because the nearest restaurant was miles away and time was short, several pizzas were ordered.
After Mim had helped Sarah put her bikini top and beach robe back on, they strolled along the sand as they waited for lunch. When the pizza arrived, the crew descended upon the food like vultures. Mim ate voraciously, but Sarah was too nervous to have much of an appetite, thinking about being in front of the camera all by herself after lunch. She ate about a piece and a half, and then occupied herself by pacing up and down along the sand, sipping cola from a plastic cup.
She happened to notice a young man jogging toward her who was apparently not a member of the production company. His appearance was unkempt, but he seemed as happy and enthusiastic as a person could be. "Sarah Covington!" he called.
"Yes?" she answered, curious. As he approached, his gaze darted furiously between her eyes and her great bosom. His comical facial expression bespoke the degree of effort the boy was exerting merely to be that civil, and Sarah felt a certain compassion for him.
"Sarah!" he huffed upon reaching her. "Hi! You're so beautiful! I can't believe I'm meeting you in person! I can't wait for your video to come out! You're my biggest I mean, I'm your biggest fan! Can I have your autograph?"
Sarah chuckled merrily. "Well, thank you so much! Sure, you can have my autograph! What would you like me to sign?" she asked, surveying his empty hands.
Stan suddenly looked befuddled, and turned to look at his companion, who was standing some distance away, watching intently. "Dude!" Stan yelled. "Did you bring the magazine?" The other young man shook his head and shrugged.
"Shit!" he spat, stomping a foot. "I have to get your autograph! I just have to!" The poor boy seemed close to tears.
"Surely you have something I can sign. Maybe an article of clothing? Your shirt? How about your underpants?" Sarah suggested, wagging her eyebrows mischievously.
Of all days not to wear any. "How about on my body?" he suddenly blurted.
"Fine with me! Where?"
Slowly, a smile spread wider and wider across Stan's face as he stood there looking at her, until Sarah realized what he had in mind. "Oohh!" she said, nodding. "Okay: if you take it out, I'll sign it for you."
"Really?" he asked hopefully. "You wouldn't mind? It wouldn't be too gross?"
"Of course not. It might even be interesting," she murmured with a wink.
Grinning ebulliently, Stan took a leaky pen from his pants pocket and handed it to Sarah.
She examined the dubious looking ballpoint and asked, "You got a Sharpie?"
"No, I been circumcised."
Sarah burst out laughing. She laughed so hard, her tremendous bosom shook with great heaving shudders. She reached out and put a hand on Stan's shoulder, partly to steady herself, and partly in apology for her merriment at his expense. It struck her so funny that she couldn't immediately recover, and the longer she laughed, the funnier it seemed. She put an arm around the boy and hugged him to her side, pushing her huge bust against him. Stan didn't know what was so funny, but what a thrill it was to be so firmly nuzzled by his favorite giant mammary glands!
As her laughter finally began to subside, she gasped, "I'm so sorry! That was precious!" Panting as she collected herself, she spotted one of the production assistants. "Pam!" she hollered over the surf. As Pam trotted toward them with her hand cupped to her ear, Sarah called, "Do you have a Sharpie?"
Stan thought that was a very odd question to ask a girl.
"Sure!" the young woman replied, reaching into her pocket and tossing the pen to Sarah.
"Oohhh!" Stan murmured meekly.
Sarah took a step and nearly caught it, but the pen dropped. When she leaned over to pick it up, her immense boobs shifted downward within her robe, straining against its lapels and wrestling their way nearly to freedom. Stan watched, mesmerized. She grabbed the pen and as she stood back up, her hefty bosom slid back down onto her tummy. Popping off the Sharpie's cap, she said, "So! You really want me to sign your thing?"
Stan nodded. "Yeah, I do. Except it feels like it's all shrunk up, is the problem," he confessed contritely. "Thing is, I'm kinda nervous meetin' you, and doin' this."
"So we need to think of some way to bring it back out, don't we?" Sarah asked lasciviously, playing the part. "Why don't I show you my breasts? D'ya think that might coax it out?"
Stan paused, replaying her words in his mind, just to be sure. "You mean, like, naked?" he asked, daring to hope. "That'd be awesome!"
"All right, then," she said, smiling as she untied the sash of her robe and pulled it open. His eyes bugged out as he gaped at Sarah's huge boobs, scarcely covered by her tiny bikini top, and undulating right before him in all their fleshy rotundity. She wrestled with the top's clasp for a moment, and suddenly it fell away, baring her giant wiggling tits. Sarah proudly thrust them out for her fan's scrutiny.
"Wow," Stan whispered, staring wide-eyed at her naked tits. "They're so big!" he murmured.
"Yeah, they really are," Sarah agreed, lazily swinging them side to side. "By the way, did you just happen to be here and recognize me, or did you make a special trip to see me?"
"Oh, man!" the young man exclaimed softly as he watched her massive breasts sway heavily. "Yeah, we came out to try to meet you."
"So what's your name?"
"Stan Bickley. That's my friend Jimmy Sloan. Whoa!"
"Why is Jimmy hanging back?"
"He's chicken."
"Why? I don't bite. How'd you find out we'd be shooting here today?"
"Oh. Well, there was a rumor on a buddy list I belong to, that said you were making a video at Coral Beach, which isn't that far from my house, but it didn't say when. So I spent some time calling all the video companies in the phone book, pretending I worked for you and saying we'd lost the date you were scheduled for. Finally I called the right company this company," he said, pointing to the brightly painted van, "and they told me when it was. I didn't tell nobody else, though."
"I appreciate that. You're very clever to figure all this out, Stan. So how're you doing down there? Are we all fat and happy yet?"
"Yeah, for sure!"
Sarah held up the Sharpie and pantomimed writing in the air, indicating to Stan that the time to produce had arrived. He looked around to see if anyone was watching.
"Don't be bashful," Sarah coaxed. "After all, I'm standing here with my bare tits hanging out! This is the set of a porn video, remember!"
"Yeah, well, it's all new to me."
"Me too, actually. Not being nude in public, but on TV."
"Is it gonna be hard core?" Stan asked, self-consciously unzipping.
"No. Strictly soft. Just bouncing my big naked boobies around for the camera."
"Okay, I'm ready," nervously exposing himself. "What's the video gonna be called?"
"The working title is 'World's Biggest Nats'." Sarah stooped down with her knees widely separated to allow room for her enormous tits to dangle in between, and took the young man's penis in her left hand, supporting it on her palm. Though not fully erect, it was easily full enough for the purpose. "How do you want me to sign it?"
"How about, 'I let Stan Bickley see my naked boobs'?"
Sarah looked up at him with a most skeptical expression. "I've never met anyone who was hung well enough for all that. Maybe we'd better keep it simple."
"Yeah, that was s'posed to be a joke. Just your name will be fine." Savoring the fact that his swelling manhood was in the hands of the bustiest woman on Earth, he watched blissfully as she signed her autograph. "When's the video coming out?" he asked.
"It's supposed to be ready in three or four weeks. If you'll email me your home address, I'll send you a free tape. I'll autograph the cover for you, too."
"No kidding? Wow, that'd be awesome!"
"You're over eighteen, right?"
"Uh, oh sure. So what's your email address?"
"It's easy to remember: sarahcovington@email.com," she informed him, carefully finishing her signature.
Stan repeated the address under his breath, watching Sarah's enormous boobs repeatedly collide as she stood up. "Thanks a lot," he said, examining his penis for a moment before concealing it once again within his pants. "I'll never forget this! Not ever!"
"You're more than welcome, Stan. Is there anything else I can do for you? Within reason, I mean."
He hesitated, smiling bashfully. "Well..."
Sarah grinned. "What is it?"
"Would it be too much to ask if I could put my head between your breasts? Just for a second?"
She laughed, shaking her head at his audacity. Stan thought she was shaking her head as a negative answer, but his face brightened when she responded, "Why not. Go ahead and poke your noggin right in there, Stanley!"
Grinning big, he leaned over and pushed his head in between Sarah's mammoth mammaries until they covered his ears and bumped against his shoulders. As he relished his environs, his muffled voice commented from within her cleavage, "It's nice in here!"
After saying good-bye to Sarah, Stan's feet barely touched the ground as he walked back in Jimmy's direction, grinning like a fool.
"Dude!" Jimmy called when his friend was within earshot. "Awesome, man! She showed you her tits!"
Stan nodded blissfully.
"She had her arm around you!"
He nodded some more. When Stan reached his dazzled companion, Jimmy asked quietly, "What was she doin' there, man? Did I see her giving you a blow job?"
"Nope. But check this out!" he said proudly, unzipping.
"Oh, gross, dude, I don't want to see your whoa! Not too shabby! What'd you say to her, dude, to make her get all over you like that?"
"Nuthin'," he said. "She's just so nice!"
Jimmy turned his head and watched Sarah walk across the sand toward the director, with her huge tits flouncing about heavily under her robe. "She sure is!"
After lunch, the crew rechecked their equipment to make sure everything was still in working order, and Gene instructed Sarah to wear only her bikini bottom for the next scene. He told her to go down the beach about a hundred feet and play in the waves briefly, and then on his signal, she was to walk up onto the sand and begin running toward the camera.
The crew watched transfixed as Sarah took off her top and robe, and handed them to Mim. As she walked away, they marveled at the abundance of unrestrained flesh that could be seen bobbing heavily on the other side of her bare back. Gene immediately ordered the camera operator to begin rolling tape.
"She's so fuckin' big!" an associate murmured.
"Quiet!" Gene ordered, though ambient audio was rarely if ever used in these productions: a cheap background of canned music was usually deemed sufficient for this fundamentally visual art form.
After walking a good distance, she turned and gestured, wordlessly asking if she had gone far enough, and the director signaled his approval. She waded out into the waves, trying not to get her hair wet, and when the chilly water was up to her knees, Gene waved her into action. Sarah turned and trudged back out of the waves with her enormous bare breasts bobbing deeply. Once she was on the hard, wet sand, she broke into a jog that propelled her massive glands around wildly, swinging and wobbling as they slapped against her torso and crashed into one another.
"Good grief!" someone declared quietly, mesmerized by the elephantine mammary ballet.
Gene hunched down to watch on a monitor, commenting, "I think I'll run this in slo-mo when we get to post-production."
By the time Sarah came near the camera, the beating that her body was enduring had become somewhat uncomfortable, so she gathered her caroming tits in her arms and cradled them against her chest to quell the heavy buffeting.
"That's fine," the director assured her. "Now walk up to the camera and give me some glamour poses. ...That's far enough, good... Beautiful! Gorgeous! Yes!"
Sarah struck a number of postures that she'd learned, and when she'd run out of ideas, she simply began playing with her lavish breasts the way she sometimes did in private to amuse herself with the novelty of their extraordinary size. They rolled tape until she couldn't think of anything else do. "Is that enough?" she asked Gene.
"Okay, cut! Yes, dear, that was absolutely fantastic! Now I want you to sit down, and you're gonna smear oil all over your boobs. Somebody bring me a beach towel!" he barked.
Pam appeared with a large, colorful towel, and spread it out on the sand, in front of the camera. Someone else handed Sarah an economy size bottle of sunscreen, and she sat down on the towel. Upon being given her cue, she squirted it generously across her expansive flesh and grasped one monstrous gland at a time in both hands, thoroughly massaging the ointment into her skin.
The vigorous manner in which she handled her enormous breasts caused them to heave and surge in ways that had the crew's full attention. She'd acquired quite a lexicon of arousing manipulations over the past months, some of which she'd learned from Ophelia Biggens, some she'd gotten from watching videos, and some were original. Most of the moves that she'd devised on her own were unique, because only Sarah's tremendous natural breasts had the necessary size and suppleness.
After a long and thorough session of boob kneading, Gene called for a short break. While waiting to begin shooting again, Sarah asked for the beach ball that they'd used in the scene with Penny Pontoonz, and one of the assistants went to find it. Sarah stayed seated on the towel during this lull in activity, unconsciously rocking gently from side to side, which of course had a Newtonian effect on her immense tits, making them sway gravidly. Gene poked the cameraman and pointed to Sarah, silently urging him to roll tape while she was thus engaged. Though it was subtle action, especially in the context of a porn video, it was absolutely fascinating to watch.
The assistant returned and tossed the beach ball to Sarah. After brushing the sand off, she held it out in front of her chest and slipped the ball between her huge breasts. Since it was a medium size beach ball rather than one of the largest, it fit snuggly between her tits, and when she let go of it, the ball stayed in place. She gently swung her boobs back and forth to test how secure the arrangement was, and the beach ball remained snugly wedged between them.
"Can you use this, Gene?" Sarah suggested
"Already rolling, sweetheart," the director replied, grinning. "Go ahead and walk out into the water like that."
Sarah got up and strolled down into the surf with her tits and the beach ball bouncing in unison. She waded out until she was a little more than waist deep, clutching her hair against the back of her head to keep it out of the water. Turning to the camera with the ocean at her back, the next wave broke against her and nearly dislodged the ball. The rise in water level lifted the beach ball on its surface, along with the enormous breasts it was wedged between. The camera zoomed in as Sarah's great bosom rose and fell with the incoming waves. The cold water was making her nipples stand out in a delightful manner.
When the director had shot a satisfactory amount of this amusement, he picked up his bullhorn and called cut. Sarah removed the ball from between her boobs and walked back onto the beach. Gene motioned for her to come to him.
"Sarah, I've noticed you don't like to get your hair wet."
"Well, I'm just trying to keep it dry for the video. I didn't think the viewers would want to look at a model with wet hair."
"I appreciate that, dear, but trust me, they won't be looking at your hair. We're almost through shooting now, why don't you go for a swim don't worry about getting your hair wet we'll roll a few minutes of tape and then it'll be a wrap. Sound good?"
"Sure! Just tell me when," Sarah replied.
Looking at his camera operator, Gene asked, "How much tape you got?"
"Plenty," he assured the director.
"Okay: speed roll tape go, Sarah!"
As she pranced toward the waves, her footfalls greatly agitated of her tremendous breasts, propelling them in every direction as they slammed against her torso and each other. She dove into a breaking wave when she'd waded out deep enough, and after surfacing she let out a high shriek in response to the water temperature. She began floating on her back with her arms and legs spread out and her giant tits bobbing in the water on either side of her. She swam this way until a wave crashed over her and sent her involuntarily bodysurfing toward shore.
Laughing, she recovered her footing and started making her way back out to deeper water. When she'd gotten out far enough, she turned just as a large wave approached, and caught it perfectly, this time surfing to shore voluntarily. Sarah held her hands stretched out in front of her as she rode in toward the beach, shielding her protuberant breasts from scraping against the sandy bottom.
Her enormous boobs flailed about wantonly when she stood up in the shallows, settling down into weighty bouncing as she walked out of the water and onto the dry sand. Sarah drew near the camera and the director called, "Cut! That's a wrap, people!"
The crew started breaking down their equipment as Gene and Mim walked down to meet Sarah. "Great job, sweetheart!" the director called. "Fantastic! We've got everything we need to make a super video now. I think it's gonna be a hot item, too!"
"I hope so," she replied, taking the towel Miriam was handing her and wrapping it around her.
"Well, it's been a real pleasure working with you, Sarah! Seriously!"
"Thanks, it was a lot of fun! So, we're free to go?"
"Yep! All done here. Post production will take a couple weeks or so, and then we'll be ready to take it to market."
"That's exciting! Well, it was nice meeting you, Gene."
"Likewise," he answered, shaking her hand.
Mim extended her hand as well, asking, "Will you call me as soon as the video is ready?"
"I sure will. In fact, I'll courier you one of the first pre-release dubs."
As Mim picked up the telephone, she wondered how soon they could afford to hire a full-time receptionist. "Sarah Covington, Incorporated," she answered.
"Ah!" a voice exclaimed. "I was just calling to make sure someone was home. This is Josephus Foster, and I'm in my truck, on my way to deliver Miss Covington's sculpture."
"Yes! Oh, I can't wait! Do you need to speak with Sarah?"
"Not really. Just tell her I'll be there in about fifteen minutes."
Soon, the truck pulled up in front of their door and Foster honked the horn. As the two women came out to meet him, he rolled down the window and watched the cumbrous bobbing of Sarah's immense bosom as she approached.
"Do you have a loading dock in back?" he asked.
"Sorry, there's no dock. We'll have to bring it in this way, through the front door. We'll move our cars, and that'll give you these two spaces here to back your truck in."
"Yeah, that'll work," he said.
Foster had a manual fork lift that he employed to move the sculpture. After securing the bottom portion to the lift with straps, he raised it up and backed the heavy piece of bronze out of the truck. He then rolled it across the pavement and into the office, and Sarah showed him the spot where she wanted the statue.
She and Mim had argued back and forth for days about her desire to place a nude sculpture of herself in the lobby of her own business. The fact that it was visible from outside through the tinted plate glass only made matters worse. Sarah insisted that she had a right to display a work of art, and that Mim should relax because everything would be fine.
Foster lowered the bottom into place, being sure to orient it correctly before allowing its full weight to come to rest on the floor. Once it was in position, he rolled his lift back out to the parking lot. After retrieving the top half of the sculpture from the back of the truck, he began slowly pushing it across the sidewalk and through the door. The heavy strap from which the piece hung was wrapped underneath the statue's immense bronze breasts, which Miriam found comical.
After moving the top of the piece into position over the base, Foster slowly eased it down, rotating it to mesh with the key pins and lock into place. There was a resounding clunk when it finally docked, and both women gasped in delight, beholding the completed work for the first time. Sarah had chosen a standing pose, with hands clasped demurely behind her back, looking down thoughtfully at her enormous bare bosom. Foster had wanted her to be seated in order to avoid balance issues with the sculpture's huge bust, but since a paying client gets what she wants, he solved the problem with a counterweight in the base.
"That's just gorgeous!" Mim exclaimed.
"Thank you," the artist replied.
"It's everything I was hoping it would be, Mister Foster," Sarah asserted. "I'm very pleased!"
"I'm glad you like it, Miss Covington."
They all stood admiring it for a minute, and then Sarah said, "Well, if you'll step into my office, I'll write you a check for the balance of your fee."
As Sarah led Foster to the back, Mim offered, "I can cut his check if you want, hon!" She normally wrote all the company checks.
Sarah opened her door and held it open for the artist to enter, giving Mim a look behind his back and saying, "No, I'll get this one!" She followed him inside and shut the door behind them.
"On my way over here," Foster said, sitting in a stuffed chair, "I realize how attached I've become to that piece, and I've already started to miss having it around my studio! So I was thinking if you don't mind, I'd like to cast a duplicate to keep for myself add it to my personal collection."
Sarah sat nearby on the edge of her desk and smiled at him inquisitively. "I wouldn't mind that a bit, Mister Foster," she said as she began writing his check.
"I appreciate that." He watched her arm jostle the bulging flank of her right breast as she wrote.
She tore off the check and handed it to him, saying, "There's just one more thing I want from you."
When they emerged from her office forty-five minutes later, Mim was filing her nails at the front desk. "Good-bye, Mister Foster," she sang.
"Good-bye," he answered, perhaps a bit sheepishly.
As the door swung closed, Mim inquired, "It took that long to write a check?"
"Mister Foster was distracted. I helped settle him."
"You look pretty 'settled' yourself!" she replied with a laugh.
Sarah smiled and returned to her office.
Late that afternoon, the phone on Mim's desk rang, and failing to realize it was an inside call, she answered it saying, "Sarah Covington, Incorporated; how may I help you?"
"I just received an interesting piece of news," came Sarah's voice, both over the phone and echoing down the hall from next door.
"What's that?" Mim asked.
"It seems that Miss Penny Pontoonz has gotten implants!"
"Are you serious?"
"Sure am. Big implants, too. She bought them from Wanda Woblurz, who recently retired."
"No!" Miriam gasped. "She had Wanda's implants put in? Good grief! She must be incredibly huge now!"
"She is! Donny emailed me some proofs of a photo session she just did. She intends to claim the title of Biggest Tits in the World."
"This I've got to see!"
"I've got the pictures right here; come take a look!"
Mim hurried into Sarah's office and walked around behind her desk. Leaning toward the computer monitor, she saw a nude photo of Penny Pontoonz, whose boobs were now insanely immense, nearly twice the size they'd been before the enlargement! The woman's colossal mammaries ballooned out from her torso to an astonishing magnitude, fat and round, and hanging down to about her hip level.
Mim gasped. "Whoa! Her tits are totally humongous!"
They gazed silently, marveling at the shocking immensity of the model's monstrous breasts as Sarah clicked through the series of images Donny had sent.
"Why would she get implants when her boobs were already so enormous?" Sarah asked.
"Because of you, most likely."
"Me? What do you mean?"
"Penny had the largest natural breasts in the business until you came along and took that title from her. I suppose, in her mind, getting a pair of jumbo implants puts her back on top."
"Mm. I'd probably feel guilty about this if she weren't such a bitch," Sarah commented as they continued staring in wonder at Penny's colossal new pontoons. "Man, she's big now!" she murmured.
"You're not thinking of doing the same thing, are you?" Mim asked, glancing at her friend's immense bosom.
"Oh, no. You know I'm not into that! Besides, at this rate my boobs will eventually outgrow hers anyway, whether I want them to or not."
Mim surveyed Sarah's profound bosom and imagined it even larger than Penny's gargantuan glands. It wasn't hard to do, having already witnessed Sarah's development to such enormity from a mere B-cup.
"As long as you're in here, we need to talk about a new project I have in mind," Sarah said as they continued to stare in astonishment at the monitor, spellbound by the biggest tits known to mankind. "Is this a good time?"
"Sure," Miriam responded. "Are you going to be mercifully brief, or should I pull up a chair?"
"Pull up a chair," Sarah said with a grin.
Mim dragged a padded chair closer to her boss's desk and sat down. "What's on your mind?"
"I want to do a new video."
"Good!" Mim exclaimed. "Sales of 'Biggest Nats' is through the roof! The only problem is keeping up with the demand! We get a nice fat royalty check every month, and a new video would bring in at least twice that!"
"But the thing is, we're only getting a little piece of the pie. Extreme Curves gets their share and Penny gets hers, which is only fair, of course, since they were involved. But at the risk of sounding like a prima donna, I honestly don't think we need the magazine or another model to make a video that'll sell just as well."
Mim nodded. "I agree."
"Then on top of that, the video people take about fifty grand off the top, in exchange for which, we get production values that'd make Ed Wood roll over in his grave," Sarah sighed.
Mim nodded and asked, "So what's your plan, boss?"
"I want to start our own in-house video production group. We'll buy or lease the necessary equipment, and set up a studio right here!"
"Wow! That sounds great! But here? Where are we going to put it?"
"I talked to the landlord this morning, and we can get the space next door for a decent rate. It'll be available in two weeks. They'll put in a connecting doorway, and we'll have lots of room to grow."
"So you want to do everything ourselves? Neither of us know anything about video production, and frankly, I'm afraid we'd be getting in over our heads," Mim cautioned.
"Right! That's why we're going to hire an experienced professional to manage things and do the directing. That person will be responsible for working with the architect to design the floor plan, acquiring the equipment, setting up the shop, and hiring whatever additional people we'll need. He or she will need excellent broadcast quality skills, because I want our videos to be top-notch."
Mim grinned at Sarah and said, "This is exciting! We're going to hire more employees!" Her face suddenly darkened. "How will this effect our relationship with Extreme Curves? They've been good to us."
"Yes, they have. And we've been good to them, too. We'll let them sweat for a little while, and then offer them a reasonable distributorship deal. That way they're back in the loop, and we have a ready-made marketing machine. That should smooth things over."
"We need to start looking for someone right away, then," Mim remarked, "because none of this can happen until that position is filled!"
Don Blumenthal had heard about the job through Mike Hinkle, with whom he'd previously done business. Blumenthal had worked in local television for nearly twenty years, prior to taking a job with a large ad agency in town. It was a good move at the time, but he'd grown weary of constantly having to churn out screaming TV spots for car dealerships and furniture outlets.
He'd recently stopped by Hinkle's studio to pick up some product shots for a client, and had noticed several transparencies lying on the light table. Blumenthal was excited when he saw that they were unpublished photos of Sarah Covington. Being a fan of Sarah's, he was very interested to learn that Hinkle was her primary photographer, and that she lived and worked in the area. It was then that Hinkle had mentioned the opening for an experienced TV person to launch and manage her new in-house video department.
Now, as he stood outside the glass door lettered with the words, 'Sarah Covington, Incorporated', Blumenthal paused for a moment to center himself. A chime sounded when he finally pushed it open, and a very busty woman soon appeared.
"Can I help you?" Mim asked.
"Yes, My name is Don Blumenthal I'm here to interview for the video manager's position."
"Don! Yes, hi, I'm Miriam Esterhaus, we spoke on the phone," Mim explained, walking up to the man and extending her hand.
As Don shook it, he said, "Yes, Miriam; it's nice to meet you."
"Come in my office and let's talk." Mim shut him away for the interview before allowing him to meet Sarah, fearing the shock might effect his ability to concentrate. She found Blumenthal's résumé to be impeccable, and he seemed well adjusted and easy to work with. He was by far the most qualified candidate she'd interviewed, so after they'd satisfactorily answered each other's questions, Mim picked up the phone and invited Sarah to join them.
When the boss opened the door and walked in, Don did an admirable job of maintaining his composure, even though he felt overwhelmed in the presence of such a phenomenal body. Sarah's breasts were even larger than Don had been prepared for, and he couldn't help but watch as they settled fully into her lap when she sat.
The three of them spent time chatting about the job's requirements and the direction in which they wanted to move as a company. It turned out that Blumenthal was divorced with no children, and had no reservations about the type of work. He liked the idea of being able to run a shop the way it ought to be run, and he was in complete agreement that there was much room for improvement in the production of adult videos. Sarah shared her vision with him, explaining that she wanted the new division to become the Industrial Light and Magic of the industry. She wanted to not only produce their own tapes and DVDs, she also wanted other adult entertainment companies to farm their productions out to Sarah Covington, Inc.
Finally, Sarah ventured, "Don, can I ask you a personal question?"
"Sure!" he replied.
"Do you like big breasts?"
He chuckled: he'd never been asked that question at a job interview before! "Yes I do, as a matter of fact."
"Well, good, because you're going to be working around them if you want the job, that is!"
Don paused a beat as the offer sank in, and then responded, "I'm very pleased to accept, Sarah!"
Mim was surprised that she'd hired him on the spot, but relieved that the process was over and they could now move on.
Winter turned to spring, and Sarah Covington, Incorporated continued to prosper, marketing her lovely growing bosom in a variety of ways. One widely selling item was a poster of Sarah in a bikini, which was distributed internationally and sold publicly in retail stores. The photography was the work of Mike Hinkle, and though it celebrated Sarah's phenomenal attributes tastefully, its appearance caused a stir.
A group of activists took her to court in an effort to have the poster banned from public display, but the judge ruled in Sarah's favor. The defense's position was that for decades, stores had sold posters of many women who were equally or more scantily dressed, and since no public outcry had been made, the issue was a matter of breast size alone. Therefore no prohibitive ruling could legally be made based purely on the natural dimensions or shape of an individual's body.
Attorneys for the plaintiff had countered that Sarah's poster was an exception because her breasts had been artificially enlarged for lewd and objectionable purposes. It was a historical moment in American jurisprudence when council for the defense presented the court with its exhibits discrediting that claim.
Stan's mom and dad had finally driven off to some meeting, leaving him alone with his new prize: Sarah Covington's latest video! He'd snatched it from the mailbox that afternoon before his parents had gotten home from work, and had been anticipating this moment ever since then, waiting to be alone so he could privately enjoy his premiere viewing of the tape he'd heard so much about. All the reviews proclaimed it to be the "Sergeant Pepper" of adult videos, breaking new ground and setting new standards. It was entitled "Go Figure!"
He went to his closet, took his secret porn box from the high shelf and pulled out the tape. Before returning the box to its hiding place, he momentarily picked up Sarah's first video, "World's Biggest Nats", and once again read the note she'd written him, stuck to its cover below her autograph:
'Love'. Stan sighed.
He had considered buying the DVD version of this reputed masterpiece, but since the family DVD player did not reside in his bedroom, he was forced to settle for the tape. Sarah was on the cover looking lovely as ever and even more impossibly busty, wearing a little purple bikini that could do little to conceal her startlingly robust figure. After splitting open the plastic wrap and peeling it away, he slid the cassette out of its box and pushed it into the VCR. As the FBI warning appeared, he climbed onto his bed and settled in.
The video began with an impressive logo-ID segment that bombarded the viewer with a rapid-fire series of animations, morphs, and montages featuring Sarah's astonishing figure. (This had been the first piece of production from Sarah's new enterprise, brilliantly executed under Don Blumenthall's direction, and when she saw it, she knew she'd hired the right person for the job.) The images on the screen finally dissolved into a 3-D version of SCI's corporate logo, and then faded to black.
Before another image appeared, the audio track began with Sarah's voiceover accompanied by the underlying sound of high heels walking on pavement. "I'd been fairly flat chested all my life," she began. "I was never the kind of girl that anyone ever looked at twice. But for some unknown reason, one day I mysteriously started developing again," she continued as the picture faded up, "and my life has never been the same."
The camera followed her as she walked along a busy downtown street. Her giant bosom could be seen from behind, bouncing and shuddering with each footfall, leaving crestfallen onlookers in her wake. These were plainly not actors hamming it up for the lens, but were actual bystanders who had never imagined that such mammoth breasts existed. Without a cut, the camera caught up to Sarah as she walked, moving alongside to show the woman's extravagantly protuberant bust bobbing in profile. Then it overtook her, looking back as it dollied before her and slowly zoomed in on her immense wobbling bosom.
"My breasts continued to grow," Sarah narrated, "becoming so huge that I was fired from my job. None of my tops fit anymore, and it was impossible to buy a brassiere that was big enough unless I had one tailor-made. Even then, it was only a matter of time before a custom bra would become too small. To this day, my boobs continue getting bigger and bigger, but I've learned to enjoy them now, and I've found out in the meantime that a lot of other people are fascinated by them as well." Music faded in as Sarah outpaced the camera, plunging the viewer into the darkness of her cleavage.
The musical segue faded out as an office scene appeared, showing Sarah sitting behind her desk looking very businesslike, except for her gigantic tits that were sprawled out in front of her across the desk's surface. Looking up at the camera, she removed a pair of fake reading glasses and said, "Hello, I'm Sarah Covington; and until not too long ago, like more than half of all women, my breasts were small enough to pass the pencil test." The camera began moving slowly to one side in a wide arc while she maintained eye contact. As she turned in her seat to follow the camera, her massive bust slipped off the desk, dragging some miscellaneous office supplies with it. Those items clattered to the floor and her immense bosom fell on her lap with a heavy shudder, but Sarah remained poised, continuing her narration straight faced without missing a beat.
"What is the pencil test? For those who may not know, here's a short clip to illustrate." The picture wiped to a close-up shot of a modestly proportioned woman's bare chest. Sarah resumed her commentary. "With her blouse and brassiere removed, this young lady takes a pencil and places it against her chest, directly under one of her breasts," she said, waiting for the action to follow suit. The model cupped a boob in her palm and laid the pencil beneath the gland, where it sprouted from her torso. "Now let's see if she passes," Sarah said. The woman let go of her little breast and then released the pencil, which immediately dropped away. "As you see, her boobs are too small to hold the pencil in place. Women call this 'passing' the pencil test, but as far as I'm concerned, it's obviously a sad failure.
So for our purposes, let's change our terminology! From now on, if a girl's boobs can't support a pencil, we'll call it a failure; and if they're big enough that the pencil doesn't fall, then she passes! Now let's watch another girl try."
The scene changed, showing a more liberally endowed model. She slipped a pencil up under one of her plump tits, and upon letting go, the pencil stayed in place, leaving her quite pleased.
"Ah, here we have a happy lady who truly passes the test," Sarah declared as the clip faded and her own image returned to the screen. Returning to Sarah's extraordinary figure was somewhat shocking after looking at normal size breasts.
The first day I passed the pencil test," she remarked, "I was happy too. Tell you what let's do a little experiment now, and see if I can still pass!" As Sarah lifted the hem of her pullover, her bulky tits got caught up and were lifted in the fabric until they finally slipped out and fell naked into her lap, quivering mightily. She then took a pencil from her desk and showed it to the camera. Hefting one of her immense boobs in one hand, she placed the pencil under it and lowered the gland on top of it, covering it completely. "It stays!" she said proudly, as if there might have been any doubt.
"Now for a little experiment: let's find out what other items my breasts can hold! Of course, we'll have to remove the pencil first," she said, her voice trailing off as she reached under her mammoth mammary. Her brow knitted as she felt around without success. After several seconds had elapsed without locating it, she picked up her boob in both hands and ducked her head to peer beneath, but it was nowhere to be seen! She gave the camera a befuddled look as she lowered the great breast back onto her chest.
"No matter I have more." Sarah opened a drawer and pulled out an unopened pack of new pencils, which she immediately and unceremoniously thrust under one of her huge tits. Holding her palms upward, she proclaimed, "Once more, I've passed! But people don't use pencils much these days anyway: they use a computer."
She lifted both breasts atop one forearm and let the package of pencils drop to the floor. Turning to her desk, she closed the laptop that lay there, grasped it in her free hand and wedged it up under her looming tits as she rotated her chair to face the camera again. Sarah lowered her huge boobs onto the laptop and then slowly moved her hands away from her chest and the computer. The weight of her tremendous breasts was enough to trap the laptop, and she looked at the camera in triumph.
"It seems I've passed the computer test!" She yanked the laptop out and set it back on her desk, saying, "Let's see how many things my boobies can hold!"
As Sarah proceeded to take a flashlight off her desk and stuff it under her fleshy bosom, background music started playing, like something taken from the soundtrack of a 1950s television program. Without removing the flashlight, she began taking all manner of assorted items that were strewn about on her desk, inserting them one at a time between her torso and her giant tits. She was able to cram in a surprising amount before things finally started dropping.
From his bed, Stan sat mesmerized by the display. "Dude!" he exclaimed to himself.
"I guess that's my limit," Sarah announced with a shrug. The camera followed her as she stood up and continued, "Let's see what all we've got here." She grasped her enormous breasts, lifting them up and away from her chest, and a cascade of flotsam came crashing to the floor at her feet. "Gee," she commented looking down at the items. "It looks like I've passed the garage-sale test!"
With a flourish, she let go of her huge tits and they fell against her tummy, bobbing and nodding. The picture began slowly closing in on Sarah as she said, "Let's continue now with a different kind of experiment, this time a psychological study. We recently hid our cameras in a public park one Sunday afternoon and waited for a group of guys who play a game of football there every week. For our international viewers, this is American football, which is like rugby, except the rules forbid dismemberment of opposing players. So, let's watch what happened on the field after the game got started, and we secretly sent in our special team of girls..."
The picture dissolved to an outdoor scene, where about a dozen young guys were on the field playing their informal game. A group of attractive women casually entered the scene and sat on some bleachers to observe, dressed in brief shorts and scanty tops that celebrated their curvaceous figures. One of the women had a large towel draped over her shoulders and she sat hunched forward with her elbows on her knees as she watched the game.
When the men on the field noticed their audience, they started showing off like schoolboys, talking trashier and playing rougher. After a while, they took a time-out and wandered over to check out the babes.
"Afternoon, ladies," one of them said, grinning widely as they approached.
The women returned his greeting and invited the men to sit with them. "Good game, guys," one of them said. "Do you all play together a lot?"
"Every Sunday," a tall red-haired man answered.
"Have any of you ever played professionally?" asked a brunette with spectacular, long legs.
The men's heads inflated slightly. "Naw," said one. "We just like to kick each others' butts."
Everyone chuckled. A busty blonde asked, "Do you think you can kick our butts?"
The guys laughed until they saw the earnest expressions on the women's faces. "Seriously?" one of the jocks asked.
"Unless you're scared to take on a team of girls..." the one with the towel teased.
"Hey," said a squarely built black man, holding his hands up, palms forward, "if you're serious, we'll take you. You should understand that we won't go easy on you, though!"
"Fair enough."
The red haired man called, "We'll play shirts and skins you all are the skins!"
The guys laughed and hooted at this, but the ladies exchanged glances, nodding in agreement. The script had counted on one of the men cracking this joke so the girls wouldn't have to be so obvious as to suggest the idea themselves. They stood and whisked off their tops, exposing their bare wiggling breasts to the crestfallen male victims. The men's astonishment deepened when one of the women dropped the towel from around her shoulders and pulled her top off over her head, revealing the most enormous breasts any of them had ever seen! They stood transfixed as they gawked at Sarah's giant naked tits, dipping and wobbling ponderously as she began trotting onto the field.
"Let's play some football, boys," she called over her shoulder. "Or are you gonna forfeit?"
The gentlemen collected themselves and began walking back onto the field, briefly looking at one another in stupefied wonder before they went back to ogling their challengers.
The game commenced and the hidden cameras followed the action, feeding video to a mobile production studio in the back of an unmarked step van parked nearby. Two camera operators were assigned to follow Sarah exclusively, and two more covered the rest of the action as bare breasts bounced and shuddered amid the tumult of the game.
At the beginning of each play, the ladies were quite a sight as they crouched at the line of scrimmage with their large naked tits dangling low. The men delivered the aggressive contest that they'd promised, but their motivation was not so much to make touchdowns as it was to connect with the half-nude bodies of their lovely opponents. Their hands were all over the girls' exposed flesh, sometimes maintaining a pretext of accidental contact, but on the whole displaying little subtlety.
At one point, Sarah had the ball and was being hotly pursued. She abruptly changed direction to avoid being tackled, causing her massive breasts to suddenly swing around and slam a man squarely in the head. His feet flew out from under him and the back of his head hit the ground with a thud. His teammates started to laugh at him until they realized that he wasn't getting up. The game immediately stopped.
The scene replayed in slow motion, showing the collision from various angles with gruesome sound effects dubbed over the action. Sweat and saliva splattered in every direction as Sarah's giant mammary gland hammered against the man's face and then reformed into distorted shapes in response to the impact. The poor fellow's eyes rolled back into his head as he slowly crashed onto the mud of the playing field.
The video then returned to normal speed. Sarah cast the ball aside and knelt down next to him to check his vital signs, while the rest of the players gathered around. "I think he's okay," Sarah announced hopefully, opening one of his eyelids with her thumb. As she squatted there, one of her enormous breasts was resting on the man's arm and shoulder.
Suddenly his eyes flickered and he looked around. "What happened?" he asked.
"I clobbered you with one of my big boobies," Sarah said apologetically.
"I was afraid she might have killed you with those things, pardner," one of his teammates teased.
Gazing up at the woman whose colossal breasts seemed to be cascading down upon him, he replied, "Can't think of a better way to go!"
Sarah chuckled and playfully patted his face. "Well, are you gonna play some football, or are you just gonna lie there?" she asked. As she got to her feet, her immense breasts swung out and bounced heavily against her torso. The scene immediately cut to a slow motion replay of this action.
Stan picked up his remote and backed up the tape so he could run the sequence again. He watched Sarah's immense tits shake and wobble, marveling at how much bigger they had become since he'd met her in person, and doing his best to avoid defacing her autograph.
Though Sarah chose not to renew her exclusive contract with Extreme Curves when a year had transpired, she still graced its pages regularly. The magazine also continued running her monthly column, which consisted of a page of small daily photos taken at her facility (also available on-line, for easy animation by those following her development). Sarah's column also typically contained commentary from her, plus a chart that tracked her monthly growth, and some new studio photos of her, if any were available.
She also began appearing in other men's magazines, which drove her popularity even higher. It was surprising that there were still breast-men who hadn't seen the giant-bosomed beauty, nevertheless, new fans flocked to her web site daily, hungry for more images and information. Her official fan club had become tremendously popular as well, offering photos not otherwise available, and giving away Sarah's huge outgrown brassieres to randomly selected members.
Audiences in movie theaters were stunned when they unexpectedly encountered Sarah in a cameo appearance in a popular film. She was seen relaxing in a hot tub alongside the movie's villain, with the water bubbling up to her shoulders and concealing her phenomenal figure. When the hero of the story entered the scene and confronted the villain, the script called for her to leave so the two main characters could speak privately. As Sarah stood up, wearing only a bikini bottom, water fell from the contours of her immense swinging breasts and poured in rivulets from around her nipples. The hero was supposed to have maintained grim eye contact with the bad guy during this, but regardless of how many times they reshot the scene, the actor couldn't help but ogle Sarah's tremendous bare bosom, so it was left that way in the final cut.
After her bust measurement had surpassed the 60-inch mark, she realized that her cup size was technically greater than a Z! Though this was a mere mathematical calculation, as the corsetière who custom-made her bras used a specific series of special measurements rather than standard cup sizes, Sarah considered it a milestone. She called Carl Wilkins on his personal cell phone, and when she proposed that they celebrate the fact in Extreme Curves, he loved the idea and started the wheels turning right away. The next issue of the magazine featured Sarah's bosomy form on its cover (as was often the case), accompanied by the headline, She's Off the Chart! This issue sold out so quickly, a second printing was necessary.
Sarah sat at her desk (or as close to it as her tremendous bosom would allow) and examined a prototype of her company's forthcoming product: the Sarah doll. It was the same size as a Barbie doll, except for the proportionately gigantic bust. The doll featured expandable breasts, along with breakaway bras and tops (sold separately), and would be marketed to adult males through magazine ads and the web. There had been some discussion along the way whether grown men would buy a doll, but the product proved to be surprisingly successful.
As Mim sat nearby watching, Sarah disconnected the little hand-pump from a nozzle in the doll's back, and once again pressed the switch that released air from the little in-board holding tank, inflating the doll's soft plastic boobs. A Velcro strip that fastened the blouse in front made a ripping sound as the toy tits suddenly burst forth. She nodded and set the doll on her desk without comment.
"You're not happy with it?" Mim asked, regarding her friend's quiet demeanor.
"Yes, I am. It seems to work just fine. Let's give the manufacturer the green light."
"You don't seem very pleased."
"It's not that I'm just preoccupied."
"What's wrong, hon?"
Sarah was silent a moment. "I've turned into a slut," she whined.
"What are you talking about?" Mim asked.
"I'm going to bed with a lot of men constantly. Whenever I see a sexy guy, all I have to do is ask, and usually Sarah gets what Sarah wants. One look at my great big boobies, and he's mine for the taking. It's like being a kid in a candy store where everything is free. It's fantastic sex with fantastic guys, mind you, but I never used to be this way! How did big tits change me into a slut?"
"Come on, Sarah, you're not going to bed with that many men! Are you?"
"Well, let's see," began Sarah, looking off. "I did it with Owen, I did it with Bill Rahall, I did it with Donny..."
"Who's Bill Rahall?"
"My brother's friend since high school. I also did it with Mike Hinkle..."
Mim gasped with wide eyes. "You went to bed with Mike? Cool! I always wondered if that's what goes on behind the scenes with those nudie photographers. Who else?" she prompted eagerly.
"Tony Castillo, Errol Sweeney..."
Mim knitted her brow. "Who are Tony Castillo and Errol Sweeney?"
"We met them at that bar you took me too: Larry's. Remember? I gave them each my number and they called me. Such lovely men," Sarah sighed, dreamily. "You should have seen the looks on their faces when they realized that my boobs had gotten bigger!"
"Wait a minute. You weren't with both of these guys at the same time, did you?" Mim queried.
"Hm. No, actually. One at a time seemed fine, then."
"Uh-huh. So, what happened?"
"Well, it turns out they were both initially attracted to me because of my big boobs. The first time they picked me up to take me out, they kept doing double takes at my chest!" Sarah chuckled.
"It still sounds like you dated these guys in tandem."
"They kept glancing at my tits, thinking they were being subtle about it, trying to figure it out. Errol asked me about it over dinner on our first date."
"A bold boy," Miriam observed.
"You don't know the half of it," Sarah murmured. "Anyway, when I told him that my breasts actually had gotten bigger and were still growing, he looked like he'd just won the lottery!"
Mim cackled with laughter. "Did the other guy ever say anything about it?"
"Not for a while. Tony doesn't move as fast as Errol. But he's thorough real thorough. He waited until after we'd been to bed together a couple times before he brought up the fact that I'd grown six cup sizes in the time we'd known each other." Sarah giggled and continued, "He asks me, 'Didn't your breasts used to be smaller?'"
Mim chuckled. "I remember Errol, because of the name I guess, but I don't remember what's his name?"
"Tony. Tony Castillo. He was wearing that really nice tailored suit? You commented on him that night at Larry's."
"Oh, him! Yeah, he makes my panties wet just thinking about him! If you ever decide to dump that one, send him my way!"
"See? All my life, the best I could do was to dream about all those beautiful men out there. Now I have the power to simply look at almost any guy I want, and he'll come to me like a puppy! It makes me feel so giddy like I'm shopping in a store where there are no price tags!"
"There's always a price tag, sweetie," Mim advised.
"That's what I'm afraid of. Now that I have this power, I find myself using it all the time! I'm screwing everybody!"
"You're not screwing everybody. You named, what four guys?"
"Six. And I didn't finish the list yet."
"Oh?"
"I went to bed with Bill Donovan, from the firm I used to work for; Mac Eldridge, a guy I let pick me up at an ice cream place; and do you remember that cute little guy that delivered our computers when we first moved in?"
"You didn't!"
"On the love seat in my office. I don't know why they call such a small sofa a 'love seat'. Your legs hang way over the edge when you do it on one of those. It was very nice, though. He told me I was a fantasy come true!"
Mim giggled. "He must have been all of, what, 18? I bet you made his day!"
"And last night I didn't feel like cooking, so I ordered a pizza. I banged the delivery guy!"
"Really? The first time you'd met him? You said, 'Thanks for the pizza, come on in and get your tip'?"
"Not exactly. He recognized me. Turns out he's a big fan. He asked for my autograph, so I told him to come in while I looked for an 8 x 10 for him. He was a hunk, I was in the mood, so I had him."
"Sarah, you need to be careful!"
"Oh, I am. No condom, no nookie."
"Well, yeah, that's good, but I don't mean that. I'm saying that you never know when the next guy is gonna turn out to be some kind of serial killer!"
"Maybe I'm being naive, but there's just something about breast men, Mim. They're big cuddly teddy bears who turn to putty when they see huge boobies like mine! I've seen it time and time again."
"That may be true, dear, but you still need to be more careful!" Miriam scolded.
"You're right," Sarah sighed. "It's just that good sex seems to make me even hornier."
"I understand, but no more screwing men you've just met! That's an order!"
"Okay."
"Now. Who else?"
Stan had managed to preserve Sarah's autograph for quite a while now, having refrained from washing that area and being as careful as possible whenever he 'churned the butter'; but alas, her signature had finally been rubbed nearly to obliteration. It was a vicious cycle: the autograph always brought to mind the transcendent experience of his outlandishly endowed dream girl signing his privates, which in turn resulted in further wear.
One day it occurred to him that he could photograph the memento. He cursed himself for not having thought of it sooner, but better late than never. Documenting his trophy proved to be harder than he'd anticipated, however. Since Sarah had signed it on the side, he could see only the top portion of the autograph when looking through the viewfinder of the camera, so he held it out to the side and blindly aim it at his privates. Standing in his locked bedroom with his jeans at half-mast (which was not much lower than he usually wore them), he clicked off several pictures, hoping that one of them would be adequately framed.
After finishing the roll, Stan wound it back and removed it from the camera. He pulled up his underwear and pants, and set the exposed film and camera amid the clutter on his dresser. Now all he had to do was figure out where to have it developed. He'd been told that there was no law prohibiting nudity in snapshots, as long as a sexual act was not depicted, so all he needed to do was find some far-away, impersonal mail-order house to process it, and his privacy would be preserved.
He glanced at his watch and was startled: he should already have been on his way to the Wal-Mart store where he worked as a stock boy. He scrambled down the stairs and out the door, hoping traffic wouldn't be too bad.
His mom heard the front door slam, and hurried to try to catch him before he got away, but by the time she had stepped out onto the porch, his ramshackle old car was already screeching out of the driveway. "Take it easy, Stanley!" she yelled in vain. She'd wanted to get her camera back from him before he left, but now she'd have to find it herself.
Shaking her head, she went back inside and climbed the steps to the second floor. Like most teenagers, Stan didn't like anyone to go into his room without permission, but his mom really had no choice at this point: little Lisa's dance recital would start before Stan got off work, and his mom needed the camera. She suspected that he'd purposely arranged his hours to escape attending Lisa's annual recital. She wished her son were more sensitive to his sister's feelings.
Pushing open the door to his room, she could tell by the smell that there was a pile of dirty laundry hidden somewhere, but that was another battle for another time. She looked around at the mess and breathed a sigh of relief upon spotting the camera. Snatching it up with a sense of victory, she noticed the roll of exposed film beside it, and decided to swing by Wal-Mart on her way to the recital and drop it off to be developed as a favor for her son. He'd appreciate that.
"I had an intense dream last night," Sarah murmured lazily, looking down at her lover as she basked in the afterglow of a morning quickie that had turned into a not-so-quickie.
"Yeah?" asked Donny, caressing her enormous breasts. He was still inside her, remaining fairly erect due in part to his continued fondling.
"Uh-huh. I was in this huge theme park where everything was about boobs. Big boobs. It was great! There were little streets and villages, with all kinds of rides and amusements. It was like Disney World, except for adults only. Knockerland," she said, testing the term out loud. "I wonder if that name's taken."
"What do you mean, 'taken'?"
"Copyrighted."
"Why?"
"I think this is my quest. My vision. My destiny," Sarah mused. "After all, I've got way more cash than I need, with more coming in every day. These days my bank account is growing even faster than my boobs! So I'm thinking I should use this opportunity to do something: something not just for myself, but for other people, too. Boob people. I imagine it'll take a few years to complete, but I believe I'll do it!"
"Knockerland. I like that idea."
Sarah ground against his waxing erection and replied, "I can tell."
The women in Caroline's family shared a condition that had burdened them for generations. Tucked into their DNA was a mutated gene that lay dormant within the girls of the clan until they reached puberty and began turning into young women. They matured normally enough at first, but more often than not their adolescent mammary glands developed with such fervor that they attained a remarkable size by the time they'd fully matured. Their breasts typically became so large that it was a source of embarrassment for them. They were taught to dress in ways that hid their abnormal buxomness, and to avoid situations that might be revealing, such as swimming in public.
Though Caroline shared this genetic trait, her case was different in two ways. First, her particular blend of DNA had further mutated, producing the most pronounced breast development in her family's history; and second, Caroline was proud of it! She was delighted to be endowed with such extraordinarily large boobs, and displayed them to a degree that usually embarrassed her family.
It was still early in the morning as she stood in line with her friends, waiting to be let in the gates of Knockerland. She was wearing an abbreviated pair of shorts and the top of a bikini that did little more than hide the areolae of her huge breasts. Caroline was as excited about spending the day in the adult theme park as her boyfriend Rick was, who considered himself to be a very lucky tit-man. They were accompanied by Caroline's friend Anita, who was escorted by her current beau, Lamont.
"I heard everything is real expensive inside," Rick fretted as he looked through his wallet, counting cash and making sure he had his credit card.
"Same as any other theme park," Caroline countered. "Once you get in, the rides and shows are free all day, so even if we run low on money, we can still have fun. Besides, I'm going to get in free!"
"You keep saying that, but are you really sure?" he asked.
"Says so right in this brochure! Listen. 'Any female visitor whose cup size is D or larger shall receive a discount admission based on a sliding scale...' and then it shows this chart here basically the bigger your boobs, the less you pay."
"Then maybe I can get a discount, too: I wear a C-cup, but I'm a big C," Anita said. "I'm not wearing a bra, so how could they tell what size I am?"
"You could be a D-cup easy, girl. Just say you are, and they'll have to prove otherwise," Caroline suggested.
"So with this sliding scale, are you say saying your boobs are so big that they'll let you in free?" Rick asked enthusiastically.
"Well, probably, but listen to what it says here at the bottom of the chart: 'Any woman willing to go topless during her stay in Knockerland will be admitted free of charge'! There's also half-price admission if you wear just your bra."
"I'd be willing to do that, if I'd worn one," Anita declared. "You're not really thinking of going topless, are you?" she asked her friend.
"You bet I am! What a great chance to show these mamas off!" Caroline said proudly, patting her jumbo bosom so it quivered in the skimpy top. The young men looked on helplessly.
"What if someone took off her top to get in free, and then put it back on again after she was inside?" Anita asked.
"They give everybody a wrist band when they enter, and you get a certain color if you go in topless. They watch for that," Rick explained.
"How many women do you think will do that: spend the day at an amusement park nude from the waist up?" Lamont asked with vested curiosity.
Anita gave him a look and said, "Down, boy!"
"Why don't you go topless, too, Nita?" Caroline asked. "It'll be fun!"
"No way! Even if I had a mind to hang out my naked boobies with you today, there's no way I'd let them be seen next to your big ol' honkin' melons! You'd make me look like a eight-year-old!"
The ticket windows opened at 8:00 AM, and suddenly the line began moving as entering visitors were processed with speed and efficiency. Behind them, trams from the parking lot continued shuttling more people to the end of the line, and it grew to its normal snaking length for a summer's Saturday morning.
At the park's entrance gate was a huge molded fiberglass façade portraying the frontal view of a busty woman lying on her stomach with her head propped on her hands. All that was visible of her was her head, shoulders, arms, and breasts, which were splayed out on the ground before her, huge even in proportion to rest of the colossal image. Ticket booths were located inside each breast, with the ticket windows on the inner sides, and once visitors had paid for their admission, they entered the park through a gate deep in the giant woman's cleavage.
It wasn't long before Caroline and her friends reached the entrance to the park. The girls who worked at the ticket windows were legally required to be dressed because they were technically in a public place, but they made up for that by wearing tight shirts with deep necklines and no brassieres.
When Rick stepped up to the window, it took him a second to speak as he looked at the beautiful girl and her lusciously large bosom. "Uh, One admission for me, and um, she's going in topless," he explained to the ticket taker's abundant tanned cleavage.
The girl craned her neck to look at Caroline, and said, "Wow! Alright! You should apply for work here, ma'am. With a figure like yours, you could make a great salary! That'll be forty-five dollars, please." Rick handed her the money, and she wrapped a blue plastic band around his wrist. "Okay," she said, "now I need to put one of these on your date just stick your hand through here, ma'am." Fastening a red wristband on Caroline, the young woman explained, "This means you must wear nothing above the waist for your entire stay inside the park today. You may, of course, wear a hat, glasses, or sunglasses, and we strongly urge you to be sure to use plenty of sunscreen. There we go! Just take off your top as soon as you're through the gate. Thank you, and enjoy your stay!"
They went inside and found themselves in another world, where tits abounded: big ones, bigger ones, clothed, naked, bouncing, swinging, bobbing, and jiggling. They could be seen everywhere: on statuary, posters, employees, visitors; pictured on tee shirts and molded into balloons; landscaped in flower beds and topiary, and incorporated into rides and games. There were bare breasts of all sizes, from the more modest bosoms of some brave female visitors, to the enormous tits borne by the celebrity guest models that strolled the park. It was truly Knockerland! The entrance opened onto a commons that was laid out like the town center of a little village, lined with shops, restaurants, taverns, and brothels.
Rick and Caroline looked around in awe as they waited for their friends. A female park employee was measuring Anita's bust to determine her eligibility for a D-cup discount admission. The girl held a calculator that was specially programmed to automatically compute cup size, and after she had entered the band and bust measurements, Anita was pronounced qualified. Grinning ebulliently, she gave a thumbs-up sign to the couple inside.
A park security guard quietly stepped up to Caroline and politely reminded her that her red wristband required her to remove her bikini top. She apologized and immediately began untying it behind her neck. The knot was stubborn, but Caroline soon loosened it and the top fell open, spilling the young woman's naked, bulging boobs onto her tummy, where they bobbled for a delightful moment. By the time she had wadded up the top and put it in her fanny pack, Lamont and Anita were through the gate and ready to party.
"Whoa, Caroline!" Lamont exclaimed, eyeing her glandular anomalies.
Anita slapped his arm and scolded, "Don't you look at her, mister!"
"Hey!" Lamont protested. "Now, I came here to look at titties, and that's what I'm gonna do!" he asserted.
"Well, just watch it!"
"I was watching, but you hit me!"
"That's not funny, Lamont!"
It wasn't just Lamont who was looking at Caroline's enormous exposed tits; everyone in the vicinity was turning to stare.
"Well," Rick said, also eyeing Caroline's wiggling bounty, "let's not stand here and argue, let's go enjoy the park."
The two couples began strolling around the little village courtyard, looking in shop windows, savoring the aromas coming from the food vendors, and occasionally pointing out to each other a passing bosom of noteworthy size, as did others when they saw Caroline. (Ever since her remarkable mammaries had erupted from her chest during puberty, Caroline had always enjoyed the extra attention their enormity brought her. She now especially liked displaying them nakedly there in the park for people to admire without pretense.)
In the center of the village square was a bronze statue standing atop a low granite base, one of several that graced the landscaping here and there. They stopped in front of it, and as they looked up at the spectacularly busty nude, Caroline read the plaque: "Sarah Covington."
"I coulda told you that," remarked Rick. "She's the only woman in the world with tits that big!" he proclaimed, eyeing the statue hungrily. "Except now they're even bigger," he added. The others absorbed that information with sober appreciation. After a long moment of respectful wonder, they moved on.
The avenues of Knockerland were lined with various concessions catering to the breast-obsessed. There were theaters featuring such entertainment as 3D animated and live-action films, live burlesque and strip shows, as well as plays adapted from popular big boob and BE short stories. There were also numerous shops where customers could fulfill various breast fantasies. In some establishments, visitors were photographed in the company of a bosomy model or a giant-breasted life-like mannequin; other stores fitted people with huge fake boobs, and there were also many studios offering custom morphing services.
As they walked along the main street, Caroline idly examined the brochures given to her when she entered. In addition to the standard literature, there was also a leaflet touting Knockerland as a career choice for the busty woman, with a ten-dollar coupon tucked inside. "Hey!" Caroline announced. "Look at this! A coupon for ten dollars off food or merchandise inside the park! It was in the stuff they handed me."
The other three searched through their literature, but found no such coupons. Anita narrowed her eyes and said, "I bet they only gave one to Caroline because of her big boobs."
"What do you mean?" Rick asked.
"Well, Caroline got in free because she's topless not because her boobs are so big. Any woman who goes topless gets free admission, even if she's flat chested. Since the park wants this kind of scenery," she argued, gesturing to her friend's huge naked mammaries, "they kind of owe her I bet that's why they gave her the coupon."
"Sounds logical," Caroline said. Studying the pamphlet, she continued, "I found the coupon inside this other brochure they gave me. Listen to this. It says, 'Knockerland employs many well-endowed women, paying them generously according to bust size. All female employees are encouraged to work topless, and those who do receive a higher pay scale.' Hey," Caroline interrupted herself, "this might be worth looking into. Anyway, it goes on, 'Less busty women who chose not to work topless are asked to wear a special bra with gel-core padding to make their breasts appear bigger.' There's a drawing here that shows how they do that, she said, turning the brochure for them to see. The diagram showed padding on the outer sides of the bra, designed to push the wearer's boobs together, enhancing her cleavage.
Anita took a moment to experiment by pushing her respectable breasts together as she looked down her shirt. Her modest cleavage suddenly leapt high on her chest, looking very voluptuous and full. "I'd like to get me one of them bras," she murmured.
They strolled along, taking in the bosomy scenery, until Lamont noticed that their group had lost someone. He stopped in his tracks and asked, "Where'd Rick get off to?"
"He's over there at that souvenir hut," Caroline answered, as she and Anita also came to a halt.
"While we're waiting, we ought to figure out where we are," Anita said, holding up her map and turning it this way and that in an effort to read it. "Ah!" she finally declared, "I get it. We're at the north end of the Village Square." She pointed to their location. "Okay, apparently there are three main areas of the park where we can go: there's Natural Land, Implant Land, and B-E Land."
"What's B-E?" Caroline asked.
"It stands for Breast Enlargement or Expansion," replied Lamont.
"Well, how would Breast Enlargement Land be different from Implant Land?" asked Anita.
"B-E is fantasy. Except when it's real," Lamont explained.
"Ah, well that certainly makes it clear," Anita commented dryly.
"What I mean is, B-E is stories and morphed pictures mainly, but sometimes it really happens."
"Like when girls develop?" Caroline suggested.
"Or when new mothers nurse their babies?" Anita added, recalling how glorious busty her older sister had suddenly become right after giving birth.
"Yeah, and it also happens spontaneously sometimes. Like with Sarah Covington. But mostly, B-E is a fantasy thing."
Caroline heard her boyfriend's voice calling, and when she turned to look, he was waving at them from the concession stand. "I think Rick wants us," she informed the others.
They wandered over to the small hut where Rick stood examining a Buck Rogers style toy ray gun made of red translucent plastic.
"What's that?" Caroline asked, looking at the pistol skeptically.
"Look at all this stuff!" he replied, ignoring the question. "They've got all kinds of cool boob toys here. I never even knew most of these things existed!"
Every available square inch of wall space was clustered with various breast-oriented novelty products. Among the items were giant inflatable bras containing huge boobs and jutting nipples; latex dickeys molded in the shape of cleavage, to be worn under a low necked top; and tee shirts with the Knockerland logo emblazoned across the chest, from which a pair of big latex breasts appeared to be bursting out, complete with shreds of torn fabric.
They looked through the various mammary-centered novelties, chuckling at them and showing each other items of interest. Rick finally took the ray gun to the checkout girl who waited happily behind her cash register, wearing nothing whatsoever above her waist except her official hat. (Since she had no shirt on which to pin her photo ID tag, it hung from a strap around her neck instead.) Though the pretty girl's breasts were not abnormally huge, they were nicely larger than average, and just as perky as they could be.
"Hi!" she sang energetically as Rick handed her the toy. "Enjoying your visit to Knockerland?"
Caroline didn't like the calculated way the girl was moving, as if to provoke her plump boobs to jiggle their best. It was plain to Caroline that the little hussy was flirting with Rick, and that she enjoyed wagging her little titties around in front of him.
"Will this be all?" the topless clerk asked.
Rick nodded. "Yeah, for now."
"Okay, how many credits do you want me to load the gun with?"
"Uh, how much are they?"
"A dollar per credit."
"All right, gimme ten."
The girl took a thin cable that was connected to her cash register, and plugged the other end into a small port in the handle of the gun. After tapping a few keys, the cash drawer automatically slid out and she announced, "That'll be twenty-two dollars, please." Rick handed her the money, which she put in the drawer. As she counted out his change, she asked, "Do you want a bag?" Caroline couldn't tell if the girl had said 'bag' or 'bang'.
"No, I'll just carry it, thanks. Now, how will I know which girls this'll work on?"
"They're all located in the B-E Land area, and you can recognize them from their costumes. There's a picture on the back of the package. It's the kind of dress that laces in the front," she explained, drawing a zigzag with her finger between her lovely bare breasts. Rick's eyes lingered there for an extra moment after the visual aid had concluded.
He then turned the package over and saw an illustration of a woman wearing a peasant dress with a laced-up bodice. "I see. Thanks!"
"Sure! Have a nice day," she said with a wink.
"You too!" Rick responded. He turned to his friends as he unwrapped the pistol and stuck it into his pants, ignoring the dirty look he was getting from Caroline. "I want to go to B-E Land first," he proclaimed.
On their way to B-E Land, they stopped for a photo opportunity at a life-size fiberglass figure of an exceedingly busty woman wearing only panties. Her breasts were about three times the size of her head, and had been formed with a hand-shaped impression molded into each, as if an invisible person were clutching them from behind. Rick and Lamont each took a turn standing in back of the statue, placing their hands in the indentations and grinning like fools as they pretended to feel up the bosomy mannequin for the camera. The ladies elected not to pose.
Outside the entrance to B-E Land they saw Fulta Burstyn signing autographs, wearing nothing but a brief bikini bottom. The woman's phenomenally large breasts hung heavily from her well-toned body, nodding assertively whenever she shifted her position. One of the park's well-muscled bodyguards stood nearby. All of the celebrity models were escorted by a male bodyguard whose uniform was simply a pair of tight shorts and no shirt. These buff male physiques were part of the park's effort to make Knockerland appealing to women as well as men.
The two couples approached, all gawking in amazement at Fulta's immense tits. There were precious few bosoms on the planet that rivaled Caroline's in size, and it was startling to see them naked and in the flesh! Anita pulled Caroline close and whispered, "Good grief, girl, her tits are even bigger than yours!"
"Yeah way," Caroline agreed soberly, staring in awe.
Instead of proceeding through the entrance to B-E Land, Lamont and Rick diverged from the group's course and walked over to talk with Fulta and her enormous bare breasts. The girls stopped short, watching their men vie for a chance to speak with the huge-bosomed star.
Caroline looked at Anita and murmured, "Two can play that game!" They strolled over to the hunky bodyguard and struck up a conversation with the young man, finding him very receptive.
After a minute or two, Lamont touched Anita's arm and asked, "Hey, how about getting a picture of me and Rick with Fulta?"
Anita sighed. The bodyguard hadn't taken any notice of her, being too busy ogling Caroline's huge bare boobs, and Lamont remained completely unaware of Anita's attempt to visit her jealous vengeance upon him. Glumly taking the camera, she snapped a picture of the boys and the balloon-breasted celebrity, deliberately framing it from the shoulders up only. She'd pay later, but revenge was sweet.
Rick and LaMont thanked Fulta for her autograph and regrouped with their girlfriends. As the four of them began walking under the big BE-Land arch, a woman wearing nothing but a very brief g-string strode by them in the opposite direction. Her bare breasts were preposterously gigantic, each about two feet in diameter at their fullest part, and hanging so low that they were continually being bumped by her knees as she walked! Their conical tips were crowned by huge nipples that traced crazy arcs in the air as her gargantuan boobs wobbled and bounced ponderously.
The two couples stopped cold when they saw her, staring mutely as she ambled past them with her stupendous breasts caroming all around, until she turned a corner and passed out of sight.
"Shit!" said Rick.
"Damn!" said Lamont.
Caroline and Anita exchanged dumbfounded looks. "Those can't be real," Caroline said.
"They sure looked real to me," Anita murmured, still dazed.
"They're fake. Her tits were even bigger than Sarah Covington's," LaMont proclaimed. "Nobody's that big!"
Soon after entering B-E Land proper, Rick suddenly hooted and stopped to draw the toy gun from the waist of his pants. An attractive girl was strolling in their direction, wearing a peasant dress with a laced up bodice as illustrated on the package of Rick's gun. Brandishing the plastic weapon, he said to the others, "Watch this, everybody!"
He walked toward the girl, who stopped when she saw his pistol. Smiling sweetly, she asked, "Gonna shoot me?"
"I sure am! Are you ready?"
"Fire away!" she responded, thrusting out her average-size bust.
"How many shots does it take?"
"That depends on how big you want them to get," she explained cheerfully.
Rick aimed at her chest, and as he repeatedly pulled the trigger, the ray gun produced a tinny laser sound effect. The pistol beamed an invisible infrared signal to a receptor disguised as a piece of jewelry on the girl's costume, registering the number of shots fired. A series of small compressed-air canisters automatically vented, which forced aliquots of water through plastic tubing, filling empty bladders inside the prosthetic latex breasts hidden under her clothing. As these expanded, the laces of her costume came unraveled and her blouse appeared to rip open, allowing her swelling synthetic tits to push their way into view.
The girl hammed it up appropriately, shrieking and putting her hands to her head, and watching in feigned horror as her ersatz boobs blossomed forth into naked grandeur. They attained a grand size in just a few seconds, bobbing and swaying very realistically due to the action of the water inside them. The girl's new head-size tits drew a round of applause from Rick and his friends, as well as the passersby who had stopped to watch.
A twinkle could be seen in the pretty young woman's eye as she pretended to be angry with him for having enlarged her bosom to such enormity, glaring at him with arms akimbo. "Look what you did to my breasts!" she stamped, as if he wasn't already looking. After some more theatrics, LaMont took a snapshot of Rick and his 'victim', and then the girl scampered off, her fake boobs flailing all about, on her way to a hidden station where her costume and prosthetics could be reset for the next customer.
Wandering along the avenues of B-E Land, they saw a crowd gathered around a small stage a short distance away, where a man in a nineteenth-century suit was addressing the audience in the manner of an old-time snake-oil salesman. Beside him on the stage stood an attractive woman wearing an abbreviated one-piece costume that looked fairly historical but exposed a generous portion of her extra-large bosom. Above and behind them was a banner that said, Dr Grevus Melonphatner's Miracle Bust Enlargement Tonic. The woman posed silently while the man spoke.
"...mistaken for a boy?" his voice rose as they approached. "Are your nipples the only things keeping your brassiere from falling down around your waist? Well ladies, fret no more! My Miracle Bust Enlargement Tonic is the answer to your problem! I discovered this amazing elixir during one of my many excursions to the Far East, where Hindu medicine men have handed down the formula for generations. It's guaranteed to enhance your figure immediately, or your money will be cheerfully refunded," he called, waving a brown bottle in the air.
"Are you an A-cup and you'd like to be D-cup?" he continued. "Just three ounces of Doctor Grevus Melonphatner's Miracle Bust Enlargement Tonic, and you'll have those D-cup beauties in just seconds! That's correct, friends it only takes a single dose, and the effect is nearly instantaneous! My lovely assistant Colleen here had a scant 34-inch bust measurement until she tried my tonic." The doctor then stepped aside as Colleen took center stage.
"That's right, doctor," she affirmed. "I was as flat as a fritter before I tried Doctor Melonphatner's Miracle Tonic, and now well, just see for yourself!" She grasped the front of her costume and bent forward slightly, peeling the bodice down until her hefty breasts came spilling out. They were delightfully fat and full, and Colleen merrily shook them about for the audience. "Do you think I might have taken a little too much?" she asked, baiting the onlookers. They energetically expressed their strong disagreement.
Without covering her exposed tits, she straightened up, stepped back, and resumed her posing. The doctor came forward again and barked, "Now, how many of you ladies have ever wished for a little more up front? Come on, be honest! Wouldn't you like to turn heads when you enter a room? Imagine yourself wearing something low cut, showing off cleavage like Colleen's!"
Rick heard a woman in front of him whisper to her boyfriend, "Is this for real?"
Just then a voice from the audience shouted, "I want to buy a bottle!"
"Now, there's a wise woman!" declared Doctor Melonphatner. "Come on up here, madam, and step right onto the stage!" She pushed through the crowd, shouldering her way to the small platform where the doctor and his buxom assistant waited. A smattering of applause acknowledged her as she climbed the stairs. She was an average looking lady of medium build, and though not quite pretty, she had a pleasant, likable face.
"Tell us your name, my good woman," Melonphatner said, thrusting his microphone at her.
"Linda Philips," she replied nervously.
"May I call you Linda?" he asked. She nodded her permission and he continued, "Tell you what I'm gonna do, Linda. How would you like me to give you this bottle of Doctor Grevus Melonphatner's Miracle Bust Enlargement Tonic, absolutely free?"
She hesitated, but answered, "Uh, sure that'd be great!"
"All you have to do is take a dose right here, right now, so these fine people might witness for themselves," he bellowed like a fire-and-brimstone preacher, "the amazing efficacy of this wonder drug from the orient! Will you do that for me, Linda?"
"Well okay," she replied guardedly. The crowd responded with a round of applause, enthusiastically led by Melonphatner and Colleen, whose large exposed breasts shook and jiggled heroically as she clapped her hands.
Opening his bottle of tonic, the doctor asked, "Linda, tell me exactly how much bustier you would like to be!"
She giggled and pointed to Colleen. "I want to look like her!" she answered. This evoked supportive hoots and whistles from the audience.
Melonphatner turned to his assistant and studied her lavishly buxom form with a hand on his chin. "Colleen, would you be so kind as to tell me what your bust measurement is?"
"Certainly, doctor. I have a 42-inch bust," she informed him. An appreciative murmur wafted across the onlookers.
He then turned to Linda. "And yours, my dear?" She glanced around self consciously, unwilling to follow Colleen's impressive statistic. Instead, she whispered it to the doctor.
"Thank you, madam 33 inches, then!" he loudly announced to her chagrin. He picked up a drinking glass from a small table at the rear of the stage, and poured out a measure of the viscous brown sludge.
Linda made a disgusted face and asked, "Does it taste as bad as it looks?"
Melonphatner shook his head. "Worse," he replied, handing it to her. "But just hold your nose and think of the benefit you'll derive," he encouraged her, gesturing toward the very busty Colleen.
Linda nodded and hesitatingly lifted the glass to her lips. She curled her lip and hesitated when the stuff came under her nose, but she dutifully drank it until the glass was drained. An agonized expression came over her face, and she desperately pleaded with the doctor, "Can I have some water?"
Suddenly she shrieked and her gaze snapped down to her chest. Dropping the glass she'd been holding, Linda staggered to the front of the stage, clasping her chest as the doctor looked on with scientific interest. Ripping and popping sounds could be heard, and the woman raised her hands in dismay. Her breasts began to expand, swelling out boldly within her blouse, until suddenly, with an audible snap, the burgeoning mass suffered a complete loss of support and sank several inches.
Reaching in through one of her sleeves, Linda pulled out her ruined bra and held it up to survey the damage, but when she belatedly realized that everyone else was also looking at it, she quickly hid it behind her back. Shrieking again, she stared in dismay at her beleaguered blouse as it gradually filled to capacity with her growing bust. Over the public address system, the audience could hear the subtle sound of buttons hitting the stage floor and rolling away. One lone button held out until the last, struggling against the inevitable tide of Linda's bulging boobs until finally, it too succumbed.
The woman's bare breasts leaped into view like hounds being let out for the hunt. They had attained an enormous size, much bigger than Colleen's healthy pair, quivering and bouncing in their newfound abundance as Linda attempted to hide them with her hands. Unable to do so, she threw her arms up in a panic and ran to the stage stairs, her huge tits flopping comically as she hastily descended. She ran through the crowd, her enlarged breasts slinging around wildly as she darted this way and that in search of the quickest route of escape.
"I must have miscalculated the dosage," mused Melonphatner, studying the label of the bottle he held.
As the hapless volunteer ran past Caroline and her friends, Anita asked, "That was a put-on, right? Like that girl Rick shot with his toy ray gun?"
LaMont laughed at her and teased, "Come on, Nita, don't be such a dumb bimbo!" As the words left his lips, he recognized that it not had been a very wise thing to say.
Anita turned and stomped away, teetering between tears and fury. Caroline had heard the exchange, and scowled at LaMont as she started after her friend at a jog (the effects of which were quite distracting). With a shrug, Rick followed Caroline, leaving LaMont alone to ponder his straits.
Anita refused to speak to LaMont or walk beside him as the group toured the streets of Knockerland. He suffered thus for over an hour until her frosty silence was finally broken by a ride on a roller coaster named The Big Bra. The coaster's cars were, of course, shaped like the cups of an enormous brassiere, spring loaded to bounce and sway on their individual frames as the train clattered along the track. This caroming action frightened Anita, and she grabbed LaMont, clinging to him for the entire ride. Though forgiveness was not uttered, it was understood.
Each car was also equipped with an inconspicuous little video camera that looked back at its occupants, feeding the signal to a bank of monitors that kept visitors entertained as they waited in line for their turn to ride. The chief operator would choose one of the video images (often that of a busty rider) and send that to a large-screen monitor. Predictably, Caroline turned out to be the star of the show during her ride on The Big Bra, as her great naked tits pitched about wildly. When the ride was over, she even received some appreciative applause as she disembarked and made her way to the exit.
They ate a late lunch at a little restaurant that had topless waitresses and topless entertainment. As they enjoyed their pricey sandwiches, a girl wearing nothing above her waist sat on a small stage singing and playing guitar. When the two couples first sat down, the young troubadour's chest was hidden by her instrument, but soon she sat up straight on her stool to sing a high note, and a pair of impressively large boobs popped into view from behind her guitar. They then rested atop the instrument, shaking deliciously as she strummed away. The group didn't linger after finishing their lunch, because the next item on their agenda was something they'd all been looking forward to.
They were hoping they hadn't gotten in line too late a sign said that Queen Sarah would be receiving for only another 30 minutes, and at the rate things were moving, they would be lucky to make it. It wasn't just Rick and LaMont who were anxious to meet her: their girlfriends were equally excited to meet the international star with the biggest breasts in the world. When it finally came time for them to have audience, they were ushered into an anteroom, where they waited to be admitted into the Queen's chamber. Finally, an attendant touched a finger against his earpiece for a moment as he listened, and then nodded to them, opening the large door.
The scene was a little intimidating as the four visitors approached, with Sarah sitting on her throne at the far side of the large room, flanked on either side by burly bodyguards. She was wearing a gauzy, topless gown, and her gigantic bare breasts each rested on their own contoured tray that projected from the frame of her throne. The anomalous size of the woman's boobs astounded the visitors as they drew near.
Queen Sarah's kind smile disarmed their trepidation as she greeted them. "Hello there! Thank you for coming to see me, and thanks for visiting Knockerland! Please feel free look at my body, ask me any questions, make requests or take pictures." Directing her gaze at Caroline's large exposed tits, Sarah commented, "Wow! Aren't you busty! What's your name?"
"Uh, I'm Caroline."
"You must be at least a G-cup!"
"Yeah, about. I'm a little too big for most G-cup bras, actually, but I make do."
"I know how that is. I appreciate that you're brave enough to go for the free topless admission! Caroline, your boobs are so big, you could have gotten in free, just on the basis of their size!"
"Well, I wanted to go topless anyway. It's been a lot of fun!"
"Good for you! Were you given a coupon when you entered the park?"
"Yes, I was."
Turning to one of her attendants, Sarah instructed, "Give them each a day's pass, and a free meal ticket." As the man took these items from some stacks on a nearby table and passed them out to the visitors, Sarah asked, "Where do you work, Caroline?"
"I'm a cashier at a Food Flood store."
"So they probably pay you a little more than minimum, right?"
"Yeah," Caroline answered, "not very much more, either."
"Would you like to make about three times that?" the Queen asked. "More, if you're willing to work topless."
"Are you serious?" Caroline asked incredulously.
"I sure am! We offer benefits, holidays, health and dental insurance, and a great work environment. We'll also cover your moving expenses if you live out of town. With your figure, you could have your choice of jobs here."
"Shit! Oh excuse me. So who do I see?"
"Give her a form, please, Jerry," she told the attendant. "Just fill this out and give it to any of the employees before you leave the park." Addressing the other three visitors, Sarah said, "My apologies for taking your time. Now who'd like to ask me a question?"
"Uh, me," Rick ventured. "What are your measurements?"
"Ah, I get asked that a lot. I keep an extra-long measuring tape here for that purpose," she replied, as an attendant handed it to Rick. "Go ahead and check how big they are today," Sarah urged.
He tentatively reached for the tape, saying, "Really?"
"Absolutely!" the Queen answered, rising from her throne and stepping down to the floor. She raised her arms over her head and thrust out her gigantic swaying tits. "Help yourself!"
The two couples exited the Throne Room and blinked at the bright sunlight as they looked around to get their bearings.
"Awesome!" exclaimed Rick.
"Did you see the size of her tits?" LaMont asked rhetorically.
"Gee, no," Anita dryly replied. "I missed that."
"They were the size of Winnebagos, man!" proclaimed Rick. "I still got me a boner after measuring her like that," he elaborated, providing the others with more information than they wanted. "Caroline, they rent rooms by the hour here, you know."
LaMont and Anita giggled at him, but Caroline rolled her eyes. "I didn't come here to spend all day in bed with you! We can do that any time! Come on, let's go see the Wax Museum!" This attraction featured effigies and biographies of famous large-breasted women from various eras and walks of life, such as Dagmar, Chesty Morgan, Virginia Belle, Dolly Parton, Morganna, Tina Small, Isabelle Lanthier, as well as contemporary models and strippers with notable busts. Caroline and Anita started walking in the general direction of the museum, and their young men fell in behind them.
In a hushed tone, LaMont advised, "Dude the brochure says they have lap dancing services in these little burlesque places we keep seeing."
"Come on, man you know the girls would never let us do that!"
"Then, maybe we could sort of get lost from them for a while and go visit a brothel," LaMont suggested with a leer.
Rick looked at his friend questioningly. "Those are real whorehouses? How can they get away with that legally?"
"Because you don't pay for it! It's like everything else here you pay to get in, and all the, uh, rides are free! If no money specifically changes hands for the deed, it can't legally be called prostitution. It's like, a loophole."
"Cool! But if we ditched the girls, they'd be so pissed."
"Not if we told them we needed to visit a masturbatorium," LaMont suggested, pointing to his brochure.
The Hotel Covington was the world's only five-star hotel that employed topless bellgirls. Located on the grounds of Knockerland, the building also housed the worldwide headquarters of SCI, as well as Sarah's private office and adjoining penthouse apartment, where she stayed when she was working at the park. Sitting at her large desk, she thumbed through the brand new issue of Sarah! magazine, her own quarterly that exclusively featured photos of her ongoing development. After having leafed through it once, she closed it and gazed pensively at its cover. The photo showed Sarah wearing one of her gigantic orthopedic brassieres, specially designed and constructed to support her monstrous breasts.
Studying the incredible size of her bosom in the photo, Sarah wondered how much bigger her giant mammaries would eventually become. Though their rate of growth had slowed over the past few months, her breasts continued their relentless expansion with no sign of stopping. She was beginning to have doubts about the future of Sarah Covington, Incorporated. Her extraordinary figure was still generating an impressive income, but her bosom had now expanded to such insane immensity that she questioned how much longer her fans would continue to find her exaggerated figure attractive.
Sarah's breasts had become so radically enormous that she had to be very careful about keeping her balance: when she walked, her gigantic tits tended to swing about, and their considerable mass would cause her center of gravity to constantly shift. She could no longer fit behind the steering wheel of a car, and had to be chauffeured. Her colossal boobs had attained such a tremendous size that she was now listed in the Guinness Book as the woman with the world's biggest breasts, with or without implants, regardless of body weight. Sarah's hair had also continued to grow, and was now so long that she had to scoop it aside whenever she sat. She tossed the magazine back on her desk and sighed.
She'd not quite finished looking at some revisions that Ed Boggs had made to her web site, and the computer was still logged on to the page where her time-lapse growth animations resided. These two digital movies had been updated on a weekly basis ever since Sarah had launched her web site, and they'd proven to be very popular among her fans. Boggs had contracted with a third party to create and maintain the movies, one showing Sarah in profile, the other from the front. Because the images had been taken in different locations with varying equipment, a new background had been stripped in, and the color of the individual frames had also been adjusted so everything matched. She hadn't bothered to watch the animations in quite a while, busy as she'd been with her business interests, so she clicked one of the links and ran the movie.
The sequence opened with the crude Polaroid stills that Mim had taken of Sarah standing profile, bare from the waist up. Her exposed grapefruit-size tits, which had seemed so large at the time, now appeared so dainty. The initial frame suddenly came to life and her boobs started to swell, bulging out from her chest as if they had a will of their own. Their increasing mass drew them ever lower, progressively slipping down her chest and onto her tummy as they ballooned. Sarah's hair kept pace with her bosom, inching down her back as her mammaries continued to blossom.
It was interesting to note the differing shapes her breasts assumed as they expanded, sometimes rounded at the tips, and at other times more conical. She would never have been aware of this phenomenon if the movies hadn't been compiled. It was also possible to detect the ebb and flow of her growth rate, as her boobs occasionally surged ahead in a sudden burst of more intense development.
Sarah watched the image of her naked breasts as they grew bigger and bigger with each passing second. They were relentless in their effort, increasing until they'd achieved their current astounding magnitude. The sequence ended and the final frame remained static, allowing the viewer to contemplate the grand spectacle of the largest tits ever grown. She then navigated to the other animation and watched her transformation shown from a frontal view.
A few months previously she had received an email that included an altered version of this movie, sent to her by a man who, like many of her fans, had an artistic inclination. He had morphed a blouse on top of her image, and as Sarah's breasts enlarged, the blouse appeared to stretch and pucker accordingly, until it finally popped its buttons and burst open, spilling her immense boobs out into view. The bouncing that resulted looked a bit contrived, but the overall illusion was effective and fun to watch. It had been created a while back, and the final size of her bosom was not as extreme as in the current version of the video that she was now watching.
After the movie ended, Sarah sat gazing out her office windows overlooking Knockerland, fretting over whether her boobs had become simply too massive, and wondering if they would ever stop growing. The abrupt ringing of her telephone jolted her out of her reverie. She picked up the receiver and her receptionist informed her, "You have a Mister Guilford here to see you, Miss Covington."
"Owen?" she asked, sitting up. It had been months since she'd seen him.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Send him in!"
As she carefully rose from her chair and stood, the door to her office opened and Owen walked in.
"Hey there, girl! Wow!" he said as he saw her colossal bust. Sarah was wearing 'work clothes': a silky red sleeveless gown tailored to cling snuggly to the contours of her excessively curvaceous figure. The dress was slit all the way up to her hip on one side, and had a wide, deeply cut neckline designed to expose a vast tract of her awesome bosom. Her breasts had become so immense that they hid her waist with their broad, protrusive bulk. Her hair now hung to her thighs.
As they embraced, Sarah held Owen tightly and purred, "It's so good to see you!"
"It's good to see you too! Real good!" he added with a smile as he stepped back and contemplated Sarah gigantic boobs. "Man, you look good!"
"Thanks! You do too! Have a seat. I hope you can stay a while."
"I'm here all week. I'm on vacation, and I wanted to come see you and spend some time visiting Knockerland. This is quite a place you've built here!" he said as he sat down in a big stuffed chair.
"Thank you! I wish you'd told me you were coming you didn't pay to get in, did you?"
"Sure! It's easier than climbing the fence. Besides, I wanted to surprise you."
"Well, let me give you a pass for the rest of the week so you won't have to pay any more. I'll take you on the grand tour and let you see the behind-the-scenes stuff," Sarah said as she sat on the edge of her desk, facing Owen.
"Hey, that'd be great!" he told her gigantic bosom. "Pardon me for staring, babe, but I just love how incredibly huge your boobs are! I can't get over it!"
"Yeah?" she asked, smiling. "You really like them this big?"
"Man, I love 'em! They're absolutely beautiful!"
"Well here, let's give you a better look at them," Sarah said with a wink, grasping the thin straps of her gown. She slipped them from her shoulders, lowering her tremendous bosom and letting the dress's top fall open to expose her mammiferous glory.
Though Sarah's boobs had become so ponderously enormous, they were still firm, full, and pleasingly shaped. Free of restraint, her gargantuan bare tits swayed and wiggled heavily just beyond Owen's reach, their huge nipples nodding at him eagerly as if encouraging him to do what he had in mind.
"Remember the first time I showed you my boobs?"
"I'll never forget it. They were the biggest, most gorgeous things I'd ever seen. They still are."
"That's so nice to hear thanks, Owen! And do you remember what we did right after I let you see them?" Sarah asked with a grin.
"You bet I do! That was some of the best sex I've ever had! Do you feel like it right now?"
"That's why I'm standing here in front of you with my giant boobies hanging out."
"Fantastic! Then let's go somewhere now! I'm getting such a hard-on looking at you there's no room for it in my jeans, and it's starting to hurt!"
"Well, you poor man! Fortunately, we don't have to go anywhere," she said, walking toward a door at the rear of her office. Owen watched as Sarah's colossal mammaries bounced and shuddered heavily with her footsteps, and when she opened the door, he saw a spacious, nicely furnished apartment. "We're already somewhere! So go ahead and take off those pants and let that thing come out to play!"
As he began carefully unzipping his jeans, Sarah bobbled over to her desk and picked up the phone. "Nancy, I'm going to be in conference with Mister Guilford for a couple hours. Hold my calls, please."
Owen pushed his pants and underwear down to his knees, letting his extra large, erect penis spring out into freedom.
"My, my, my!" Sarah cooed as she sashayed toward him with her monstrous tits wobbling cumbrously.