Boobs for Brains

When "maitre Phillippe" was a lad, his papa (in order to compensate for his lack of parenting skills),  purchased him a riding horse: a black stallion with a horrible temperament.  Equally unruly, the kid-animal duo terrorized the 5 square kilometers surrounding the chateau Phillippe called home.     
They galloped through vine yards and crops, they blew through town overturning stands at the marketplace and knocking over pedestrians and their breakable goods, they raised hell and dust through every small village in that provincial southern part of France, and convinced many chickens that they could fly.  The horse's name was Money but the French thought it was Monet.   Phillippe got a kick out of that.

At about the same time, maman (in great need of a good woman to take over the task of looking after her hyperactive child) hired Nenette, a red headed, big busted (very big busted) peasant girl with a good heart and skin so milky, Phillippe's first impulse was to bite her because she looked like some lactose based product.

It was a delicate time in the boy's life, a time when boys begin to stare at female body parts and Nenette was all hills and valleys or to put it more crudely, she was all tits and ass.  It took Phillippe no time to figure out that if she ran, she bounced, and so he made her run around all day. 
- "Phillippe no!" she would scream, eluded by authority.  No! As she tried to contain him, feed him, stop him from running out of the house or through the dining hall filled with pretentious afternoon guests sucking on biscottes.
- "Pardon Madame, il est terrible..."  she would murmur apologetically as she ran by maman and the horrified onlookers.

Yet as much as he tortured the poor girl, that's how much she loved the boy.  She felt bad for him and having no children of her own, she bestowed upon him all her affection.
It wasn't long before she allowed him to fall asleep on her generous bosom, clueless to the fact that she was providing the little oinker with continuous adult material. 
And because Philippe was at that delicate time in his life when the hard drive of the subconscious is being programmed, popping buttons over bulging breasts became a subliminal message which forever triggered in his brain a sensation of mindless bliss.

Phillippe grew and Nenette got a little fuller, a little thicker... And as he grew he got so horny he was practically on constant watch for fear of seducing all the hired help. 

- "Youth and hormones!" would say papa, brushing off the incessant complaints with the secret satisfaction of knowing that at least the hateful little monkey was a real man.

Eventually maman and papa shipped the boy off to La Flaiche, convinced that the structure and discipline of military school would prepare their only son for the task of carrying on the family name with a semblance of dignity, yet such unreasonable expectations were quickly tempered in the beginning of the first trimester.  They had to buy off the headmaster's silence to avoid the scandal and Phillippe was mailed back home on the first train available, which happened to belong to the postal services.
Bored, the boy pleasured himself all the way to Aix-les-Bains, leaving a sample of his DNA for all of France to ponder over as they struggled with the sticky mail.

By now Phillippe had clearly identified his id and expected out of life nothing but to follow the simple principles of pleasure.
Gifted with remarkable intelligence he managed to survive through his university years and bloomed into a charming gent.  He had the looks (the chicks really liked his thin mustache and his neatly groomed head) and he was blessed with the genetics of a tank, towering above the smaller males of the species and sporting an equally impressive dick which had become a legend among the bourgeois ladies he visited with.

The black stallion of his childhood no longer lived.  They put him to sleep in the summer of '89 when he escaped the stables and broke his leg falling off a muddy cliff.  But Phillippe never forgot him.  And so, during one of his expensive trips to America (Las Vegas) he purchased a shiny black Dodge Viper he named Money.

Idle, rich and bored, the young man spent frivolously and took no interest in the paternal estate.  When papa was found stiff, holding his left arm, Phillippe was put in charge of the family fortune. 

All would have gone well if.....
Should have, would have, could have...
Yeah, yeah, yeah...

By this time in his life Phillippe had already a very thick file stored with the Universal Karmic Bureau of Investigation, section Urantia, Ch. Disobedience.  And it would not be long before the forces would give him a memorable squeeze...

1999-
Becoming increasingly irritated with the small town his family had owned for so long, bored with furry French pussy, missing the open spaces of the new world, longing for Money and a big busted stripper he would rent for the night, Phillipe decided to close the Chateau la Pipe and take permanent residence in his favorite American city.

No sooner did he make the decision, that it was done.  Rothchild had manifested an interest in the property several years prior to papa's permanent departure.  They paid good money.
Maman and Nenette moved to St. Tropez and Phillippe was granted permanent residence in the United States as soon as he revealed the astronomical amount of his accumulated wealth.

He set up shop in Las Vegas, in a spacious loft he decorated in Italian industrial design, black metal and aluminum.  The place was all neon and black lights and it wasn't long before he became notorious for his parties and his debauchery.  Yet unlike in the small town of Aix-les-Bains, in Las Vegas he became a superstar.
Everywhere he went he crossed the velvet ropes and left a long lasting staggering impression and a trail of boob jobs.  Preprogrammed since early childhood, his unusual excitement at the sight of large breasts only grew as he got older, and empowered by unlimited finances he took great pleasure in buying large breasts for his girlfriends.  There was only one catch to this, the women had to go big.
Nothing under 800 cc's !  Now granted, most of the girls he helped out were strippers and so they didn't mind, but he did succeed in manipulating one college girl from the mid-west into getting a pair of boobs so big that by the time their fleeting affair was terminated she could only drive comfortably, while seated sideways. 

It became a local joke.  Whenever a girl would get a pair of big implants it was like writing "Phillippe was here" on the wall.

The perverse plastic surgeon who went along with this twisted game became Phillippe's best friend.  His name was Doctor J. and together they loved to hunt for customers (victims) at the local trendy gym where they pumped iron together. 
Those were the days.

And the cup was full.  One more drop of saline water and the scales were tipped.

One night, incapable of controlling his ever growing passion for larger and larger fake breasts, Phillippe got 'stuck.'  It was the first time such a thing had happened to him and it was already early morning when he realized what had happened to him. 
He had lost an entire evening and wasted (wasted? maybe not...) thousands of dollars getting one never-ending friction dance from a girl who's breasts were so large it appeared that she had been implanted with two full honeydew melons.
To most she would have been a freak but to some she was Nirvana.

By the time he got home and showered, the wheels of Karma had been set in motion.

The telephone rang again and again as Phillippe stood in the shower, letting the water wash down his sweat.  He was terrified and enchanted by the recent events, unable to understand what was happening to him.  His erection refused to go away and his mind kept playing again and again the imaginary film...

By the time he came out for air, he had lost another hour. 

Doctor J. was quick to join the fan club.  In no time, Phillippe, Dr.J and a certain number of men from their entourage became regulars at the Mango-Snapper, where "Ms. Mountain Tops" delighted them day and night with her enormous, freakish implants.

If poor old Nenette would have known where her little monsieur Phillippe had ended because of her, she would have never forgiven herself. 

Phillippe lost control and became a total addict.  Plagued with a severe case of Paraphilia he became increasingly obsessed with larger and larger breasts, begging his friend Dr.J to allow him to witness those special surgeries when big girls wanted to go bigger.
- Just let me see you add the saline! he would beg his friend, but the doctor valued his license enough to politely refuse.

t wasn't long before Phillippe began to resent the repeated denials.  After all, he harvested most of the business, paid for it and didn't even get a piece of the action.  He was being a true friend while Dr.J was getting a completely free ride.
Seen from that perspective, the unfairness of the situation became an unlovable obstacle between the two best friends.

Yet they each had something the other one wanted.  They had formed such a codependent and symbiotic relationship only a Shakespearean tragedy could have ended the alliance.

If Dr.J would have truly known just how insane his friend had become he probably would have bailed out of town anonymously but the good doctor was too happy counting the cash and living in his own little world. 

Ms. Mountain Tops and Phillippe became romantically involved.  It was a natural progression since she had been rubbing his dick for two months and he wasn't going away.  She had a hard time sitting in Money, with its taut suspension taunting her freakish implants over every bump and road imperfection, as well as the taut seat belt digging into her breast flesh .

Ms. Mountain Tops thought she was smart because she was hot and all the guys flattered her.
Bull shit.  In reality, she was just as stupid as the next bird and when Phillippe asked her to blow up her chest even further, her only concern was that she would have nothing left to wear.
She even whined about it in her submissive little voice and Phillippe promised her a tailored spring collection should she decide to look "even better."
- "But nobody will want to talk to me! she complained.  I'm already bulging out of all my tops."
- "Nobody talks to you anyway."
- "But I'll be too big."
- "Too big???  Because you're not too big now?  You'll just be bigger."
- "You think?"
- "Huh, yeah."

Dr.J didn't think he could do the procedure.
As if he wasn't already in the dog house, he had to actually back out of the greatest moment of his career!  It infuriated Phillippe beyond anything anyone had ever done to piss him off! 

- "I can't do it Phillippe!  Her skin will not stretch any further.  Her armpits are already where her nipples should be.  She is bursting.  This is insane."
Such talk only made Phillippe want it more. 

Dr.J was no longer a friend.  He even went so far as to convince Ms. Mountain Tops that she was "big enough."  What a jerk!  What a horrible cock block!!! 

Of course, Dr.J had no clue how busted he was.  The two of them continued to socialize even as Phillippe plotted to usurp Dr.J position of power.

The opportunity presented itself soon enough.

One morning, as Dr.J was getting ready to jump into his scrubs, something happened.
It was one of those days when students were going to join him in the operating room and he felt very important.  He would brag about performing in front of rookies to all his friends, all the time, especially the day before.
From somewhere behind him a strong arm curled around his neck and another one knocked him out.  He fell unconscious to the floor, was stripped, gagged and buried in the closet under a pile of dirty hospital gowns.

You-guessed-who  stuffed his muscular frame into the doctor's clothes.  Hiding his perverse smile and his thin mustache behind the surgical mask, he made his entrance into the operating room, ready to perform the surgery he had dreamt of witnessing.

The nurses thought the doctor looked a little ... tall?  but the clock was ticking and anesthesia is expensive.

The woman laying before him was there because she wanted to go bigger.
And the girl was already big.  Not as big as Ms. Mountain Tops but totally out of proportion.
A good subject to work with.
- "Who wants to slice?"  asked the impersonator, looking around for volunteers.
It was unusual for the doctor to pimp the scalpel.
- "Well?  You want to become plastic surgeons, no?"
Did he have an accent?  There was a brief moment of confusion and finally someone put a hand up.
And so, the surgery progressed as the false Dr.J delegated all the slimy work.  He would have never been able to pull this off without the experienced interns!
It was very unorthodox but the place soon turned into one big surgical party as they removed the old 1000 implants and inserted the super-expandable prosthesis which slowly started to inflate as Dr.J-not-he took control of the saline.

Under the horrified eyes of the onlookers, the woman's chest expanded further and further, larger and larger, rounder and rounder, raising the sheets off the helpless, unconscious woman and still, growing larger.  Her breasts were being inflated fuller and fatter with each passing moment, as the saline continued to flow and fill her enormous implants.  Some of the students fainted, others left the room disgusted.  The nurses backed away in horror.
- He lost his mind, "oh no, somebody stop him!" screamed one of the witnesses, but there was no stopping him.
Phillippe couldn't have taken his finger off the saline pump if he would have wanted to.  He was stuck there, a stupefied look in his eyes, his brow sweating profusely while his breathing became heavier and heavier.  And the skin stretched and became shiny...YESSSS!

When he was done, he was alone with the woman.  She looked so beautiful, laying there filled with water.  Even the incisions became irrelevant.

After that, basic big blur.  Ms. Mountain Tops came to visit him in the mental institution but  by comparison, her boobs seemed so small he barely gave her a second glance.  All she wanted was money anyway.
After a couple of visits she never came back. 
He went into shut down mode.

Dear reader, you probably wonder by now if Phillippe's faith would be forever sealed within the walls of that cold building with barred windows.
Would he remain sedated and blank?  Would his mind ever return?  Would he forever be consumed by the lingering memories of his last conscious day?  Would his Viper be sold, his loft turned into a Disney Store and his fortune distributed among all the rioting women who now screamed through their law suits? 

Quite a case study, this good looking socialite who smiled as he stared into empty space.

That's how Alice found him.  She had been a psychiatric nurse far too long and dreamt of going back to school and becoming a true psychiatrist.
She enjoyed being kind and listening to the patients and even credited herself with helping some of them make progress.  She had been warned about the new patient but didn't quite understand the severity of his condition until she actually paid him her first visit to administrate the soothing meds.

At first he seemed like another crazy fuck with the facial hair of the homeless.  He stood there, staring out the window, his hands tied to the arms of the chair he sat in.
Speculative rumor had already accounted for his sins.  They said he was good looking but she had a hard time thinking that.  Even close up it was hard to tell because he was a mess.
- "You could be a looker I guess," she murmured, looking into his face. 
No response.
- "Fine," she said.  "You've only been here two days.  In a week you'll either talk to me or they'll put you in shock.  Seen it happen so you better wise up."  \
She was not a bad looking chick, this nurse.  And the more she got in his face, the more he blinked.
After the first week she could have sworn his eyes were following her around the room.  And when it became obvious that they were, she got so scared she almost ran out.

He sat there staring at her, into her, and the poor girl found herself all out of juice.
- "What is wrong, Miss?  You're not flirting with me anymore."
He sounded very awake and very normal.
- "Can you please loosen up these straps on my wrists?"
She stood there, stupefied.
- "Miss?  Can you please set free one of my hands?"
Alice was completely taken aback by the unexpected request.  
- "I... I can' do that. "
- "Why?"  He wasn't very pleased by her refusal.
 - "Miss...  Alice I believe?   I need one of my hands.  Why can't you do that for me?"
It seemed like a genuine question.
- "You may strangle me.  I can't do that."
He laughed. 
- "It's not you I need to strangle.  But I do need to... strangle...something."
- "No."
- "No?  Alice, are you saying no?  Let me explain something.  If I don't jerk off soon, I'll really go crazy."
- "WHAT???"  Alice should have known better than to engage the patients.  She decided to ignore him. 
 - "Alice, have a heart.  You have no idea how long and tedious my time is here.  If I could indulge myself it would make my stay here a lot more pleasant.  Come on, be an angel and let me have my right hand.  Or my left hand.  I don't give a shit.  You pick!"

Every day he kept asking, growing more charming by the minute.  He flirted with her, complemented her and always ended with the same request. 
After a while it became a joke between them.  She would come in to shave him and he would sit there and stare at her and say such obscenities she actually grew to like him.  He was funny in a very twisted way. 

And as a complicated friendship developed between them the conversation branched out into two or three other subjects until one day there was enough trust between them, for her to reach out and pull on the buckle which held his right wrist.  
He didn't expect it but after the initial surprise his hand immediately traveled down and he started stroking himself as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

He did that all the time.  He could sit there and talk to her about anything and everything but that hand just kept going.  And it wasn't always easy for her to look away because he was hung like Ron Jeremy.
She told him a little about herself.  There wasn't much to say.  Not like him, all international and well traveled.  She came from a small town, lived in a large city, wore boring panties.
And life went on, day by day, while they talked and talked about absolutely nothing of importance.  But there was something important to be said.

One morning when Alice came in, Phillippe was gone.  At first she thought they had transferred him.  She was very upset over the loss of her new friend but didn't dare express any concern.  She had a hard time understanding why she was so upset over the transfer of that psycho.  But she was very upset.  On the verge of tears upset.  And as the minutes turned into hours she actually realized she missed him and his crazy talk.  And then she found the note.

It was neatly folded and placed into her mail slot at the front desk.

It read:

	"Dear Alice, 
	I was thinking about you and it happened.
	I finally came.  And with that, I gained back some control over my life.  
	By the time you get this note, I'll be far away and I'm counting on you to 
	delay the hounds.  When they find out I escaped, they will blame you.  I 
	apologize for ruining your career at that beautiful resort but you're going 
	to get fired.  I take full responsibility and will compensate you 
	adequately.
	You see, I think you could use a nice pair of boobs.  The bigger the 
	better.  I'll get you the boobs and you and I can live happily ever after.  All 
	you have to do is believe.  If you're a player, I'll be waiting. 

	Thanks a million, 

	a bientot
	P. "


Alice was overwhelmed by a rush of adrenaline and had to rub her temples in order to keep herself from fainting.  Before anyone could say anything, she was rushing out of the building in a panic.  The severity of the situation was equal only to the growing feeling that she actually wanted to find him.
Now she knew how people felt when they lost their minds. 


***


Somewhere in Arizona a gentleman with delicately carved facial hair and a lady with freakishly large breasts were dining on a terrace overlooking the horizon.  The sky was red as the sun fell into a bucket of dusk.

- "My darling Paula," said the man with a charming foreign accent, "I drink to the success of our circus!  I finally came full circle."
- "Good my dear Alex!  That means you can put your hand on the table now."

Down below, by the heated pool, the entire act was enjoying a little happy hour.  
This was a great little traveling circus.   Promoting thirty gorgeous strippers with oversized implants to the local clubs...




Dr.J retired early. 
Maman and Nenette both had plastic surgery and married two Italian Jews. 
Ms. Mountain Tops exploded. 
The banks confiscated some of the money, some was transferred to the Islands.
Money was stolen and sold secretly to an Arab elitist.


Phillippe and Alice were never heard from again.



La Fin
