
Anne Hill woke up horny, her massive udders straining with milk.
Her huge bust was bigger than a 50 gallon drum, and contained
enough milk to flood a bathtub. The shimmer made the tightness
in her breasts amp up her sex drive, so since she always woke up
full, she always woke up horny. It would have driven an ordinary
woman mad with pleasure, but Anne was a very strong willed woman.
For her, it was easily manageable, if every so slightly annoying.
Fortunately for her, people absolutely hated it when she was annoyed,
so there was no end of people ready to help her do something about
it.

She pulled on a pair of lululemon leggings that the brand had
created specifically for her, she could hardly fit into anything
off the shelf when each of her powerful legs were six and a half
feet long. It was that way for all her clothes, but fortunately
she never had to pay for custom work. Brands and designers considered
themselves so lucky to have her wearing their clothes in public
that they pretty much all made custom items for her and sent them
to her team of stylists in the hopes of being selected. In fact,
they considered it so important that Anne choose them, that they
oriented their whole design philosophy around her, letting it
bleed into the rest of their clothes. It meant their clothes
didn't look as good on other women, but if it would make Anne
look better they were willing to make the rest of womankind
less fashionable.

Walking out of her bedroom, she passed a small army of servants
diligently working to scrub and polish her already flawless
mansion to perfection. As she walked past them, they prostrated
themselves on the ground, as if to a queen. She barely took
note of their supplication, accepting it as her due.

Arriving at her office, the thick double doors swung open
as two servants pulled them open for her. She plucked a pair of glasses with
a chunky black frame from her desk and put them on. The thickness
of the frames was annoying. It didn't really go with most of
her outfits, but it was the best the technology allowed at the
moment. Fortunately, the problem should be solved eventually.
There was a ten billion dollar a year effort going to miniaturize
the complex machinery in the deceptively simple glasses. It would
have cost five times that amount if everyone involved
wasn't so eager to be working on a project for Anne that they
took massive pay cuts. Anne was the only one who could use the
glasses, mostly due to her incredible intellect, but also because
they had been tailor made for her. The technology could have been
generalized, but everyone agreed that took second place to
improving the user experience for the one user who really
mattered: Anne Hill.

A beautiful woman in the uniform worn by all of Anne's servants
stood respectfully at the edge of her office, her eyes downcast.
She would wait like that for days if Anne wanted her to. Elinor
Park had been a high powered lawyer on the cusp of making partner
at a big law firm before she managed to beat out all the competitors
to become Anne's nursing coordinator. Now, she had what was perhaps
the most envied job in the world, and she spent every second of
her life being grateful to the goddess who had selected her.

"Alright Elinor, you can bring them in," Anne said absently as
she rested her bare breasts on her desk. 700 pounds of tit
spread out over the hard wood, making it creak beneath the
weight. Anne could have had that fixed of course, but she
rather liked the way her monster rack effected the sturdy
piece of furniture.

Elinor bowed slightly, "yes, Goddess." It had taken her a long
time to be able to maintain her professionalism in the presence
of her employer, but she had managed it with the same single
minded focus that had put her on the cusp of partner so young.
She turned to leave the room to fetch the morning's lucky
guests. As always, Elinor envied them. She still recalled
vividly what it was like to suckle from Anne. The transformation,
the clarity, the realization of purpose, was so magical
she knew she would never have a happier moment.

With a thought, Anne pulled up the schematics for the next
generation robot her design team had sent her for review the
previous night. As always, she had designed the core of it and
expected them to work out the finer details. They did their
best, but to Anne's eyes their efforts were childish and
sophomoric. They were the brightest robotics minds in the
world, which was why they were able to understand her designs
by pulling 80 hour work weeks and dedicating themselves to
filling in the trivial details for her, but there was a limit
to what they could manage. She set about highlighting parts
of the design and filling in comments, manipulating the
image projected on her glasses lenses with her thoughts.
There were several places that were so pathetic that she
made notes to have the engineers responsible fired. When
they got the news, she knew they would be beyond devastated.
The first time she had fired someone after becoming the
CEO of Microflight Systems, back before the shareholders
had gifted her their shares so she could take it private
and rename it the Anne Hall Group, they had committed suicide
hours later. She didn't exactly feel guilty, but it didn't
really fit in with the image she wanted to project, so now
her employees were reminded that they needed to atone for
displeasing Anne by dedicating themselves to finding new
ways to please her rather than just throwing their lives
away.

As she worked, the first of her guests arrived. None of
them had seen her before, and when they saw her they
couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the sight. They
all knew what she looked like of course. It was pretty much
impossible to avoid Anne's image, what it it being plastered
on half the billboards in the world, filling the
pages of glossy magazines, and being the subject of fawning
news coverage 24 hours a day. They were familiar with
her supernatural beauty and her overwhelming sex appeal,
but seeing it in person was completely different. It wasn't
just that they were feeling the effects of her pheromones
for the first time, though that was of course part of it.
There was something about her physical perfection that just
couldn't be captured by any camera. The glow of her fiery
hair was never really captured perfectly in video, as if
it was glowing in some impossible spectrum reserved for
goddesses that merely mortal equipment couldn't capture.
No amount of pixels could capture just how utterly
flawless her skin was. The hypnotic grace of her every
little moment that demanded to be watched couldn't be
captured in film, at least not completely. Finally,
her sheer size wasn't driven home the same way unless
you were really looking at her. Everyone knew she was
big, but it was impossible to get the same visceral feeling
of inadequacy by simply knowing that she was 10'6".

If Anne was merely beautiful and sexy in the same way as
ordinary shimmer girls, they might have stopped there,
unable to move as they were captured by her perfection.
She wasn't like other shimmer girls though. They made people
horny, but she had another effect on people. As horny as
she made them, it was her desire to be pampered that
really grabbed them. The first positive emotions that
Anne had felt when she got the shimmer had not been sexual,
but had instead been about people being nicer to her, so
that's what the strange condition had latched on to. Now,
her pheromones and milk demanded that people were nice to
her, so nice that they forgot about themselves. After
she had popped her shimmer cherry and experienced a huge
growth spurt that put her just over the 10 foot mark,
her beauty had started doing the same. The effect was
far weaker than that of her milk or even pheromones, but
it was still definitely there. Even attenuated by
photo and video, Anne was so gorgeous that people fell
in love with her at first sight. All anyone had to do
was look up at a billboard of Anne smiling down at them,
and their priorities would shift. With her face everywhere,
few things were more widely agreed upon than that Anne
deserved the best of everything.

It was this overwhelming urge to make the red headed goddess
in front of them more comfortable that prevented Anne's guests
from becoming uselessly lost in her beauty. They had a job
to do. Everyone knew that Anne's giant boobs were perpetually
filling up with milk. The fact that this made her slightly
uncomfortable on occasion was constantly discussed with the
same utmost seriousness that people used to talk about major
economic crises, climate change, or the prospect of a war.
Anne's slight discomfort was considered one of the major
ongoing challenges that humanity faced. Young people regularly
worked themselves up into states of despair at the intractability
of the problem. "How can you joke like that when Goddess Anne's
boobs are so full?" was a sure way to deflate anyone enjoying
excessive levity before Anne herself had mentioned off hand
that such questions made the speaker sound lame.

There was one thing the people of the world could do for their
goddess. They could suckle from her, releaving the pressure a
tiny bit. Of course, she was so busty, and her milk so thick and
nutritious, that it took 350 people to drain her breasts. She
was productive enough that she had to be drained four times a
day, so her massive udders ran through a 1400 people a day.
There were no end of volunteers for the task, despite what it
would do to them. Everyone was obsessed with Anne of course,
but once someone tasted her milk that was elevated to a whole
new level. Anne became their whole worlds. Suckling from the
massive woman was a religious experience, and after getting
their bellies pumped full of her hot cream, they became her
most zealous worshipers. Most people referred to her a
"Goddess Anne," but it was these milk drinkers who formed
the core of the budding Church of Anne, the ones who really
truly bought in to the idea of her divinity.

This was a routine morning for Anne, but for the cohort of
lucky guests in front of her, it was the most pivotal moment
of their lives. The first pair came forward, climbing up the
staircases set against the front of Anne's massive desk before
crawling forward to latch on to her nipples. Her nipples were
too large to fit in their mouths, but they opened their mouths
as wide as they could and pressed against them. To their surprise,
their lips adhered to her flesh. A moment later, hot milk burst
into their mouths, gushing down their throats and filling up
their stomachs like balloons. Anne sighed in contented relief
as the two volunteers were brutalized by her let down. She knew
she was hurting them, but she didn't care. The more they sacrificed
for her, the more pleasant and relaxing it felt to her, besides
she knew they were grateful for the opportunity, despite the
pain. When she cut off the flow, they were so wracked with
pain that they would have fallen over if they weren't already
on their hands and knees. They weren't done yet though. She
gave them a few more seconds to try to suck down the last few
drops of her milk before releasing the grip her nipple skin had
on their lips. They remained in front of her nipples, licking off
the last few drops to prevent them from falling on the surface
of her desk before shuffling to the side and collapsing. The
next pair crawled forward and four strong men in servant's uniforms
swooped in to whisk away the first pair.

A dozen servants hurried into the office pushing four laden
carts of food. The best chefs in the world competed tooth and
nail to be able to cook for Anne. They were only allowed to
cook for her after enduring a brutal selection process administered
by their peers, and once they made it their jobs were never
safe. They could be challenged to compete against chefs who
hadn't made it yet, and Anne could and frequently did get
bored or annoyed with their dishes. Once that happened,
they were out, and would have to work to hone their craft
for at least a year before being allowed to try to gain the
right to cook for her once again. At first, it had been a
permanent dismissal and blackballing enforced by the culinary
community, but when Anne had expressed her annoyance at how
the talent pool was drying up because they wouldn't let people
try again, they had switched to a one year exile policy.
It was still a devastating blow for Anne to find their food
wanting.

Anne continued to nurse the brigade of volunteers while
her servants came forward to feed her. She was a big woman
with an even bigger appetite, so there was twenty times
as much food as an ordinary person would have eaten.
Her servants fed her with the practiced precision and
grace of dancers, which made sense since most of them
had been exactly that before they started working for
her, and they practiced feeding her with the same intensity
of focus that had made them top dancers before being
granted the right to work for her. This was the breakfast
crew, so they were able to focus on honing that one meal
to perfection. She had three more teams, one for lunch,
one for dinner, and one for snacks. The last was the
most prestigious because it was the most varied and
therefore required the most skill. The snack crew also
was often present during her public appearances, so they
had to be absolutely perfect.

She finished up her feedback on the design and was halfway
through choosing the location of her next factory when
the line of volunteers tapered off. Her breasts were
noticeably lighter than they had been, though there
was no sign of change from the outside. Shimmer girls
breasts barely swelled when full of milk, or rather
they barely shrank when empty, as they retained the
extra space inside. Her breast's shape didn't even
really change since the ultra strong structure of her
milk glands kept her boobs perky even when weighed down
with milk.

Her breakfast servants continued to feed her as she
finished up, bringing a steady stream of delectable
pastries, pies, pancakes, and waffles to feed her
sweet tooth. Anne loved the way the shimmer let her
eat whatever she wanted without any consequences.
She was already full, but her metabolism worked fast,
so she could keep eating pretty much indefinitely
as long as she slowed down a little. It would make
her boobs fill back up a lot faster, but that was easily
solved by nursing more people into her permanent slaves.
Elinor noticed that Anne was lingering this morning
and shot off a message to a few score standbys informing
them that it was their lucky day and they could join
the next batch of volunteers.

Eventually Anne decided to put her next factory in
Vietnam. They had offered her more incentive money
than Thailand, but not so much that they would
bankrupt themselves like Singapore. That done,
she rose from behind her desk. Her servants
immediately withdrew, falling prostrate to the
ground on either side of her.

Two well built young men jogged through the doors of
her office as the doors were smoothly opened by the
doormen. One of them held a folded up piece of fabric
which the other took hold of as they came to a stop.
They unfolded it with expert motions and knelt down
one one knee, raising the fabric up above their heads
in supplication. Once unfolded, it was evident they
were holding a sports bra in the same dark red of
her pants. Seeing their submissive display brought
heat to Anne's pussy. They were both very attractive, as
were all of her servants, especially the male ones. She
might have her way with them later, but maybe not. She
all the hottest men in the world at her fingertips,
all so very eager to please, each more submissive and
worshipful than the last, someone else might catch
her eye.

She bent down and took the bra, pulling it over her
head and stretching it over her massive bust. It's
deep U-neck left a yawning chasm of cleavage big
enough to swallow the torso of most men, and she
noticed the way her creamy flesh was pooching over
the edge of the bra. Her nipples stiffened in delight
at the sight. Anne's life was amazing, but moments
like these were her favorite by far. Normally, after
popping her shimmer cherry, a shimmer girl would stop
growing. After one final growth spurt, the experience
of popping her cherry would lock her in at her current
size and level of arousal. That hadn't happened to Anne.
Her sex drive had stopped increasing, but her body never
stopped growing. The process slowed down, but her bust
just kept right on swelling. Her ass became bigger and
juicier with every passing day. She stood taller and
taller. Her muscles grew stronger and stronger relative
to her size. Her mind grew sharper.

Even better than
the fact that she was still growing was what she
wasn't doing: aging. Anne had already been feeling
the effects of age when she had gotten the shimmer,
and the condition had made her rapidly age in reverse
until she looked about 22. Once a shimmer woman popped
her cherry, this process would stop and she would
begin aging normally. That hadn't happened to Anne.
She looked just as good now, a few months past her
70th birthday in the same way she had on her 60th.
Actually, that wasn't entirely true. She looked better.
She had never stopped getting more beautiful.

Anne wasn't sure why she had never stopped growing.
Maybe it had to do with the way she had waited so long
to pop her shimmer cherry. Maybe it had to do with the
fact that she had done so by fucking a thousand horny
studs into submission. Either way, it had happened,
and she was unique. There were a lot of things that
made Anne unique, but this was the one she was proudest
of.

Her creamy flesh spilling over the lip of her bra was
a sign of the way her body was growing. Her servants
could have factored in her growth and kept her supplied
with clothes that perfectly fit of course. That's what
they did for most of her clothes, but she had instructed
them to wait for her say so before replacing her bras.
She liked the reminder of the way her body was overwhelming
her clothes, dominating them the way she dominated everything
else. She would have to get this bra replaced soon, but
she wouldn't do so quite yet.

She sauntered to her home gym, her massive hips swaying
as she walked. Anne didn't need to work out to maintain
her body, but her vision of a sexy woman included someone
who took care of herself, so the shimmer had made her
enjoy the act of working out enough to do it for the
sake of enjoyment. Since it would have felt futile and
unsatisfying to work out for no gain, the shimmer had
made it so she would get stronger by doing so even faster
than she would have by just lazing around. Since her
feminine muscles already looked perfect on her, and any
more would make her look worse, she didn't get any bigger
by working out, she just got stronger. If her hypnotic
beauty and glowing hair wasn't enough proof that there was
something supernatural about the shimmer, her impossible
strength fully established it. Not even Anne had figured
out how her muscles could be so powerful.

The doors of her home gym were opened by a pair of servants
and she strutted in. Fifty young men were lined up in smart
rows, their muscles bulging against their shirts as they
stared forward at parade rest. "Hey boys," Anne gave them
a mind melting smile and a saucy wink, "I'm gonna break
my squat record today ok?"

"Yes Goddess!" they chorused. A film crew pointed half a dozen
cameras at Anne as she walked over to the oversized squat
rack that had been specially designed for her. A team of
eight men rushed forward to slide the bench out of the
way and set it down in front of her. She stepped forward
and sat down. Three pretty young women rushed forward and
leapt up onto the bench behind her, immediately getting to
work pulling her shimmering mass of hair back to begin
brading. Anne loved the feeling of their expert hands
working on her hair. She knew they were focused on their
task with the utmost seriousness. Just like all her
other servants, the three girls had gone through an
intense selection process to be allowed to braid her hair
like this. They weren't even her full time hairstylists.
This was their one job. She had a different set of girls
for each hairstyle she liked to wear regularly, plus
an ultra prestigious team of generalists to handle any
whims or fancies she had.

As her hair was being braided, her male assistants began
placing lead core weights on her oversized bar with
laser focused efficiency. It used to be that Anne just
hired personal trainers for this job, but her gym team's
most important members were the forklift operators. As
muscular as the men were, they couldn't shift her monster
truck tire sized weights, even working in huge teams.
Despite their pathetic weakness compared with the
domineering redhead waiting for them to finish their
job, with the help of their equipment, they manged it
quickly an efficiently. Anne could have designed robots
to do it quicker and easier of course, but that wasn't
the same as having a team of hunks do it.

Getting under the bar she gave a dazzling smile to
the cameras focused on her. Her image was getting
beamed out all over the world, taking over all
tv channels, 99% of streaming traffic, and getting
projected in busy squares in cities around the
globe. "Ok everyone, I'm going to try for 51,000
pounds today. You think I can do it?" They did.
Of course they did. If Anne said she could put
the sun out by sitting on it they would have
believed her, and they had watched her break her
personal records every day for the last 10 years.

She lifted the massive bar. It bent slightly under
the weight despite its solid thickness, then she
stepped forward and went down, her form perfect.
She was shown from all angles, with most of the
world's attention being sucked up by her massive
ass getting projected it. Her leggings strained
as her muscles flexed. The world held its breath
in suspense as if watching their home team
desperately trying to win in overtime. It was
a ridiculous reaction. Anne did this every day.
Nevertheless, they were as engaged with the spectacle
as they had been the first time it had aired, maybe
even more so now. After all, Anne just kept getting
more beautiful. Her grip on the world's hearts stronger.

With a surge of strength, she hoisted the overladen
bar. Her muscles looked pathetically tiny compared with
the burden imposed on her. She had fitness model muscles,
not powerlifter or body builder muscles. Despite this,
the jaw dropping weight could only yield to her. She
finished the rep and the world went wild. She had done
it again! They cheered and hugged as if they hadn't
expected it from the beginning. Anne went down for another
rep and the cheering intensified.

The world remained glued to their screens as Anne finished
the rest of her workout. She reminded them that they too
should make sure to take care of their bodies, even if they
would never be able to get as strong as her pinky as long
as they lived. At this point it was beyond superfluous to do so.
One offhand remark was all it really took to reshape the world's
fitness landscape, but it gave her the opportunity to gloat
a little.

After her workout, Anne ordered her bra bearers to be sent
to her master bathroom. It as massive as everything else
in her mansion, the bathroom alone was bigger than some starter
homes. Most of it was taken up by a huge pool more reminiscent of
a swimming pool than a tub. It was already filled with bathwater
and a froth of bubbles covered the surface. She didn't go in
immediately though. She stripped down and tossed her sweaty
sports bra, underwear, and leggings aside, then turned to
the two bra bearers who were prostrated submissively along
with all her other bathroom servants.

"Get up," she commanded, and they rose. She stepped forward,
looming over the one on the right. Her pussy hung a few
inches over the top of his head and his eyes were dilated
with desire as he looked up at it. Her servants weren't allowed
to cum, or he would have been convulsing on the floor with
the biggest orgasm of his life already. "Lick," she commanded.
One of her bathroom servants rushed forward to place a small
step stool in front of the bra bearer. He stepped up and
pressed his face against her hot snatch. Anne bit her lip
in delight. "You," she snapped her fingers, pointing to the
other one, "eat my ass." Another step stool materialized in
front of him. He stepped up and did his best, but try as
he might he couldn't push Anne's ass cheeks far enough
apart to get his mouth on the rim of her anus. His
futile struggles were even more of a turn on than his
success would have been.

Anne rubbed her own nipples, letting the pleasure build.
It came quickly, stoked by the heightened libido the
shimmer gave her. Before long she reached down and grabbed
the man in front of her by the back of the head. It was
an inescapable vice grip for him, but she was actually
being delicate. She could pop his head like a grape if
she wanted to. She shoved him deeper into him and her
pussy lips spread over his whole face, stretching
to accommodate him. He couldn't breath, but he didn't
worry about it. The most important thing was Anne's
pleasure. Who cared what happened to him?

Anne moaned softly at his dedication, then lowered her
hips slightly, shoving his whole head into her snatch.
She stood back up again, and he had to go up on tiptoes
on the stool. The servant who had placed the stool there
in the first place rushed forward and took it away so
that he dangled freely beneath her. Everyone knew this
was a possibility, so all of Anne's male servants trained
to be able to hang from their neck like this following
techniques first developed by some Shaolin monks. Their
"iron neck kung fu" allowed them to remain comfortable
while being hung by the neck after several years of
training. "Try to escape," she commanded. If she didn't
let him know it was okay to try to get out, he would
just hang their until he passed out, his instinct for
self preservation overridden by his desire to please
her.

He shoved up with all his strength, desperately pulling
himself out of the vice grip of her pussy. His progress
was slow, but eventually he managed to take a desperate
gasping breath. As soon as he did, Anne's pussy rippled
and he was sucked back in, his shoulders once more
pressing up against her flesh. To take another breath,
he was forced to repeat the whole struggle once again.
There was a reason her male servants spent so much of their
time free diving. Anne's hair glowed brighter and brighter
as her arousal built with each desperate, gasping breath
he took. Every time, she would suck him back. He was
slowly drowning in her pussy. Despite all his training,
it was a losing battle. If this continued, he would not
survive. Fortunately for him, Anne was quite sensitive,
and it didn't take too long before her hair flashed
bright enough to blind. Her bathroom servants kept
their eyes screwed tightly shut through the flashes.
It wouldn't do for them to be unable to see for a few
hours when they hadn't even attended to their goddess's
bath.

When her pussy finished clenching, she finally relaxed
her grip, letting her poor servant tumble down in a
boneless heap. Two muscular bathroom servants quickly
scooped him up to get the ravaged man out of Anne's
sight, while the second bra bearer hurriedly withdrew.
As soon as he was out of the room he began to cry
tears of shame. He had been unable to fulfill the
command that Anne had given him. Could there be any
greater shame in this life?

Inside her bathroom, Anne relaxed while her bathroom
servants sprang into motion. Divers slipped beneath
the surface to scrub her all over while a few girls
from her hair team rushed forward to attended to her
glowing locks. Her hair didn't really need any care,
but that didn't mean she didn't like it. She lay her
head back while a team of four young men rushed forward
to give her an intricately choreographed facial massage.
She closed her eyes in contentment as dozens of hands
pampered her massive, perfect body. It was a good start
to the day.
